"Wha-a-a," Buffy stammered, eyes wide, pulse quickening.
Spike nodded at the ball of clothing in her hands. "Can't let you leave with my pants, luv. Hand 'em over."
Buffy blinked. Evidently, being this close to his smoothly muscled body was affecting her comprehension skills. "Huh?"
Spike let out an impatient breath. "My pants, pet, give 'em here."
"You want your pants?" Buffy asked slowly.
"Are you daft? That's what I've been saying? Not a very smart bint, are you?"
At that, Buffy's brain kicked back into gear. "Excuse me?! I'm sure I'm a hell of a lot smarter than the...bints you normally hang around. I'm just a little bit confused, because you're suddenly trapping me and demanding your nasty jeans back. Not like I'm gonna steal them or anything. Though, I'd be doing you a favor if I did."
Spike rolled his eyes, "Just hand 'em here." She raised her eyebrow. "Look, I just...prefer to handwash them is all."
Her eyebrow moved a fraction higher, "You are going to handwash your jeans?"
"Yeah, s'matter of fact of, I am."
Buffy shook her head and handed him the pants, "Well, have fun with that, I guess." She moved to take the doorknob again when suddenly his hand slapped the door in front of her face. "Aaaugh! Stop doing that!" She whirled around around so fast that she lost her balance and ended up bracing herself with her hands pressed against his bare chest. She quickly jerked them away bumping her back against the door in the process.
Spike chuckled, "Just want to know your name, pet, since I'm living with you and all."
She huffed, "You're not living with me. You are temporarily staying at my guest house. And my name is Buffy Summers. My father is Hank Summers, one of the best corporate attorneys in the state." Spike wouldn't have been surprised if she had added so you better watch out to the end of her statement.
He attempted a charming smile, "Well, Buffy Summers, daughter of Hank Summers, I'm Spike."
Buffy opened and closed her mouth a few times before finding her voice, "Uh-uh, I don't think so. No way am I letting a guy named Spike stay here. I don't care what Faith—"
"Oh for Christ's sake, my name is William Pratt...but it's Spike, okay?" He shook his head, wondering if he was going to be able to deal with this crazy bint for the next couple of days. Too bad he really didn't have any place to go.
"Great, well, Spike, I'm gonna head out now. Please, try not to do anything stupid." This time when she opened the door, he allowed her to slip out. He flopped down on the couch, jeans in hand. Sober for a year before last night and that pretentious snob treats me like a common junkie. He fished the packet of white powder out of the back pocket of his jeans. He had almost forgotten snagging it from Faith's purse. Little Miss Buffy Summers would have ripped him a new one if she had come across it. He shifted it around in his fingers for a moment before taking it to the bedroom and shoving it into the back of a dresser drawer. I'll worry about that after a shower and nap.
As Buffy pulled up to the main house, she noticed a red viper pulling in behind her. She stepped out of the BMW at the same time Riley and Forrest stepped out of the other vehicle. And boy, did Riley look pissed. Deciding to sacrifice her purse, Buffy shoved Spike's soiled shirt inside. She didn't even want to try to come up with an explanation about Spike. She certainly couldn't bring Faith into the equation. Riley hated Faith enough as is. No, it would be better if she just pretended Spike didn't exist for now. She and Riley had too many other unresolved issues to comb through first anyway. Riley walked up to Buffy with his hands on his hips. By the time he reached her, Forrest had already climbed back into the viper and peeled out. "Buffy...Sweetie," he began with a tight grin, "I see you still have my car."
"Uh..yeah..sorry," she shook her head, "wait...what I'm saying? I'm totally not sorry, you ass! You fucking cheated on me and humiliated me again! The least you could do is let me borrow your damn car!" With that, she threw his keys at his chest. He stood there red-faced and fuming as they bounced off and hit the ground.
"Don't talk to me like that, Buffy. You know I hate it when you get mouthy. How do you think your dad would feel about this?"
She let out a humorless chuckle, "Well, Riley, he'd probably be pretty pissed at me. Like you, my father has a problem keeping his dick in his pants."
"Well, maybe if you spent more time in the bed fucking me rather than feigning headaches, I wouldn't need to look elsewhere." He shook his head. "Buffy, just admit it, you checked out of this relationship a long time ago."
"I have checked out, Riley! But only because I have a boyfriend that sees no problem with cheating on me every other week! Just let me go! I don't want to be with you anymore!"
"No!' he yelled grabbing her shoulders. "We're good together. If you'd just try a little harder, we'd be great together. You know it, Buff." Loosening his grip, "It makes our families so happy to see us together. Don't you want your family to be happy?"
Her shoulders sagged. "Don't I deserve to be happy," she mumbled. "I can't do this right now, Riley. I'm...I'm just really tired. Why don't we talk about this later, okay?"
"Okay, Sweetheart," he said leaning in and kissing her forehead. "Give me a call later."
Buffy nodded, backing away and heading towards the house. With a sigh, she walked through the front door.
The sun had set before Spike began to stir. He had managed to sleep the entire day away. If he hadn't needed to recover so badly, he would have felt worse about wasting precious time that could have been spent searching for alternate housing. He had no doubt the girl would kick him out as soon as his two days were up. He felt pathetic when he could only come up with one possible option, and even that one was unlikely. He desperately wanted to go home to Dru and forget about everything that had happened, but he knew that wasn't possible...not after what he had seen. Shaking those thoughts from his head for the time being, he picked up the phone next to the bed.
"Hey, Oz...........yeah, I know. I don't think I'll be there tomorrow either.............well, tell him to fire me if he has to. I really don't care at this point. Some bad shit has gone down, mate............no, I don't feel like talking about it at the moment. Listen, I was calling because I'm in serious need of a place to stay. You think Willow would be okay with me crashing with you guys...........you don't...........I know, mate. It's just...it's been two years. Is she ever going to forgive me.............I know, I know.............listen, mate, I gotta go. I'll get in touch with you soon.............all right. Later."
He clicked off the phone and tossed it on the bed. Trying to keep his breathing even, he put his hands over his face. How did everything go so wrong? Fuck. I've screwed up everything. Willow hates me. Drusilla doesn't want me. God, I would have done anything for her. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He felt moisture on his hands. "Fuck!"
Buffy's nap had turned into a whole day affair. When she awoke, it was dark out. She opened her bedroom door and found a wicker basket on the floor with Spike's folded t-shirt conspicuously stacked amongst her own designer clothes. She picked up the basket and moved it into her room, setting it on her bed. She removed Spike's t-shirt and held it in her hands. It felt so soft and worn. Not crisp and starched like all of Riley's expensive button downs. Oh fuck. I'm supposed to call Riley. She glanced at her phone then down at the shirt in her hands. Maybe I'll just go drop this by the guest house, then I'll think about dealing with Riley. After slipping on a white sundress and a pair of flip-flops, she made her way out to the guest house. It was a warm night and the walk felt especially peaceful, well-lit by the full moon.
She walked up to the front door of the house and raised her hand to knock. Why am I knocking? It's my house. With that thought in mind, she entered the house without giving notice. Upon entering, she found that all the lights were turned off. She didn't bother switching any of them on, as she could see fairly well by the light of the moon through the windows. She noticed Spike's jeans lying on the couch. Handwash, my ass. As there was no sign of him, she assumed that he was either sleeping or gone. She set his shirt on the couch and started to head back to the door when she heard a slight noise from the back of the house. She paused for a moment and heard it again. She flashed back to that morning at Lindsey's lake house, when she had found Faith distraught in the master bedroom. And like she had that morning, she felt compelled to follow the sound. She slipped off her flip-flops and walked silently through the house. When she came closer to the bedroom, she realized that was where she would find the source of the mysterious little noises. As quietly as she could, she peeked through the crack in the door...and gasped. Spike was lying in bed on his back with his hands covering his face. It was clear now to Buffy that the sounds she had heard were the whimpers of this strange man crying. She furrowed her brow. What's going on in his head? She lightly pushed the door open a tiny bit more and her heart stopped at what she saw. Whereas, previously, the door had obstructed her view of his lower half, she could now see that he was completely naked. Buffy has seen his upper body earlier, but hadn't really allowed herself to focus on it, as she didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing she was checking him out. Now, she allowed her eyes to drift over the ridges of his abs, taking note of the thin trail of hair beneath his navel. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help but allow her eyes to follow the line of fuzz down to where it ended in a nest of dark curls. Her heart sped up as she let her gaze fall on his thick shaft. She was surprised by the expanse of his girth even though he was completely flaccid. Her eyes widened when he began to grow right in front of her. She watched in fascination as his body became aroused to the point that his penis was pressed tightly against his stomach. What could have brought on this sudden change in the weeping man? Buffy shifted her view back to his face and met red-rimmed blue eyes. She drew in a quick breath. In the moonlight, she could see the tear tracks on his face. But at that moment, there was no mistaking the amused little smirk playing on his lips. She opened and closed her mouth, not knowing what to say.
"Wanna play, luv?"