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Chapter Two:

Buffy hadn’t lasted even an hour at the party. In fact, she lasted about 32 minutes. That was how long it took for Riley to end up with his cock in some skanky slut’s mouth. Buffy figured that must be some sort of record for him. His mistake. If he’d waited a little bit longer, she would have been too intoxicated to steal his car. It was amusingly easy to get his keys. They’d actually fallen out of his pocket when he’d dropped his pants freeing his dick for that whore. Buffy just scooped them up off the floor and ran for it. She knew Riley wouldn’t be catching her with his pants down around his ankles.

She drove for hours, entertaining the notion of wrecking Riley’s shiny new BMW. But no, she simply had too much respect for personal property. What a laugh that was. She couldn’t even disrespect the property of someone that did nothing but disrespect her. When had everything gone so wrong? Riley seemed like the perfect gentleman when they started dating last fall. Then, three months into the relationship, she caught him with his hand up the shirt of one of her sorority sisters. He swore that it had never happened before and that it would never happen again. Naively, she believed him. But it did happen again…and again…and again. And she had her pride, oh yes, she tried to dump him. Her father found out that she had given Riley the old heave ho and laid into her about ruining the family. So what if Riley’s father was best friends with the mayor, she shouldn’t have to put up with him. But she did. Eventually, it became second nature to just forgive his indiscretions, no matter how frequently they occurred. She had graduated the university a month prior, so she didn’t even have her daddy’s threats of withholding tuition hanging over her head anymore. It just seemed easier to appease her family rather than sever the relationship. She told herself that she would end it for good if she ever found anyone else that she wanted to be with. However, she was so disillusioned about romantic entanglements at this point, that finding the desire to enter into another one was highly unlikely.

Buffy had noticed the gas tank getting low and ended up crashing for the night at her parents’ guest house. She didn’t want to risk waking anyone by entering the main house. That opened up the possibility for questions, and she wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated. She awoke with the sunrise and checked her cell phone messages, knowing that she had probably caused a stir with the haste of her departure from the party the night before. Twelve new messages…but not one from Riley. She sighed. She figured Riley was still at the party, passed out in some corner with the skank. Having lost the appeal of having his car in her custody, Buffy grabbed the keys and headed out the door to return it. There was bound to be someone left at the lake house who could give her a ride.

Buffy arrived back at the house having decided on the ride over that she would let Riley know exactly what she thought of his behavior the night before. She figured striking while he had the inevitable massive hangover was a clever tactic. She headed into the house and stepped over the bodies passed out in the foyer. She was disappointed when she didn’t find Riley in the sitting room. That meant he was most likely passed out in one of the upstairs bedrooms with, at least, one bimbo by his side. Buffy climbed the stairs. There were five bedrooms on the second floor. She picked a door and knocked. Just as she expected, there was no response. She pushed the door open and saw a few naked girls passed out on the bed. Okay, no Riley there. She was about to knock on the door across the hall when she heard a sound coming from the master bedroom. It sounded like crying. Buffy walked to the door and knocked. The crying continued, so Buffy tentatively pushed the door open. Her eyes widened at the scene before her.

Lindsey was passed out on the bed, oblivious to the activity in the room. Faith looked distraught. She was sobbing noisily, rivers of mascara running down her face, most likely burning her eyes. Buffy was horrified to see her roughly slapping the face of an unconscious man reclining in the lounge chair. Buffy had never seen the man before. He had platinum blond hair and was wearing beat-up jeans and a black t-shirt that bore the name of some band she had never heard of. Buffy thought that he would be quite attractive if it wasn’t for the vomit on the side of his face.

“Faith, what are you doing?!”

Faith turned her head and regarded Buffy with a crazed expression. “He won’t wake up! We were high! I didn’t know he was going to take half my pills too! I didn’t know, B! He threw up, that’s good right, he threw up! He threw up, B!”

“Faith! Shut up! You need to get him to the hospital!”

Faith let out a pathetic laugh, “Yeah, bring him to the ER pumped full of drugs. Right, B.”

Buffy waved her hands in the air. “God, Faith, just drop him there or something!”

“You gotta help me fix him, B. We just got to get him to wake up. He’s breathing now. I know he’ll wake up if you fix him.”

“Whoa, Faith,” Buffy shook her head in shock, “he wasn’t breathing. I’m not a doctor, how do you expect me to fix this, Faith?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Faith mumbled, tears still streaming down her face.

Buffy rubbed her hands over her face. “Okay, well, he’s breathing now, and hopefully he threw up some of the pills. I’ll get a cool rag for his head. We’ll just leave him be for now, but Faith, if he seems worse…at all…we’re calling an ambulance. Understand?”

“Yeah, B, yeah. Thanks. I knew you’d fix everything. I knew you would.” Faith slumped to the floor, leaning back against the bed.

Buffy shook her head. This was the last thing she wanted to get dragged into. She knew that Faith’s drug habit was bound to get her into deep shit one day. The more she thought about the situation, though, the less worried she was. The guy was breathing, well now at least, and he looked like he’d probably used his fair share of toxic substances before. Buffy guessed that the chemicals in Faith’s system were partially responsible for her hysteria. Buffy wet a couple of washcloths in the attached bathroom and returned to the room. She approached the man and began using one of the cloths to wipe off his face. Hmm…he is an attractive guy. She threw the soiled rag to the floor and placed the other cloth on his forehead. She noticed his eyelids begin to flutter.

Spike felt like shit. In fact, it had been over a year, since he remembered feeling quite this shitty. He tried to open his eyes, but it was proving to be quite difficult. He groaned as he managed to crack one eye open. Everything was blurry. He forced his other eye open and the world became a little more focused. He could make out a form hovering over him. As his vision sharpened, he saw golden hair and big hazel eyes. He let out a humorless chuckle. Well, you’ve gone and done it, mate. You’ve finally killed yourself. Didn’t expect them to send an angel, though. Guess all the demons are away.


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