Buffy was ready to bolt. She had officially slept with a strange man. No—she had fucked a strange man. And now said strange man had one arm loosely draped over her stomach, casually caressing her ribs with his fingertips. She had no idea what the protocol was in this situation. He had implied that this was just meant to be a meaningless sexual encounter and nothing more. Do I flee without looking back? Do I get up and say "thanks for the sex, gotta run?"
Buffy figured the first step would be to get dressed, so she carefully removed the arm from her body and moved from the bed, taking care not to look at her companion. Buffy knew that if she gazed into those deep blue eyes, she would—well, she didn't know what she'd do, but it probably wouldn't be of the good...or it would be too good. She was confused enough as is.
As she slipped on her panties and pulled her dress over her head, she could feel his eyes boring holes into her back. Once she was dressed, she stood there, not knowing how to proceed.
"Ya know, you can look at me, luv."
Buffy's back stiffened at his voice, but she forced herself to turn and face him, not wanting to appear weak—weaker.
"I—I'm just—we're done...right?"
Spike's eyebrows went up at that. A moment later he responded with a wry chuckle, "Right, pet, you best be toddling off now. You've done your part. Quite impressively, I might add. It's really a wonder why that wanker boyfriend of yours doesn't think you're enough. Well, don't worry, I'm sure you'll work it out. I'll be out of your hair tomorrow just like I promised."
While nothing Spike said should have been outright hurtful given the circumstances, every sentence stung in its own way. Buffy couldn't help but feel that was what he'd intended. She had no reply for him but a jerky nod as she turned and left the room.
Spike flopped back down on the bed. Why was he letting this bint get to him? And now he had one less night of guaranteed shelter! He was such an idiot. As he lay there with the scent of sweat and sex on his skin, he couldn't hold back a small grin. It was worth it.
Buffy stumbled back up the road to the main house. It was clearly too late to call Riley now. He would be furious when she called him tomorrow. As is, she was beginning to feel tremendous guilt over her recent activities. Since Riley had rejected her attempt to dissolve their relationship, she felt like she had cheated on him. She knew that wasn't really fair, but she never claimed to be rational or logical. And sure, Riley had affairs all the time, but she just wasn't built that way.
As she reached the front door, all she could think about was crawling into her nice, soft bed. That seemed really odd considering she'd spent all day sleeping in her bed, then she'd spent time in the guest house bed doing...other things. She knew if she was lost in slumber, she could forget everything for awhile. She could forget Riley, Spike, even her father and Faith. She'd worry about it all in the morning.
Buffy did not, in fact, worry about anything in the morning, because she managed to sleep until late afternoon. She didn't want to admit to herself why she was so worn out. That would just open up a whole series of items for her to analyze, and she really wasn't in the mood. She grudgingly phoned Riley and had a lovely time listening to him chastise her for her lack of respect. She thought she would give it another go with the whole break-up business, but somehow ended up agreeing to go to The Greens with him—a popular upscale restaurant located on the fringe of the business district. She really was under the impression that Riley was perfectly sane, so she couldn't fathom why he was this hard to get rid of. Though, she knew some of the blame had to land squarely on her own shoulders.
Riley would be picking her up in about two hours, so Buffy knew she would have to start her multi-step beautifying process soon. Despite that, her mind kept drifting to one bleached blond miscreant. I should go check and see if he's cleared out. Ya know, just so I can tell the maid to go clean the place. Making up her mind, she hopped up from where she had been lounging on her bed and slid on her flip-flops to go along with the jean cut-offs and navy blue tank top she'd slipped on earlier.
Once again, she found herself on the road to the guest house. Only this time, she found that she had an extreme case of the nerves. What would she do if he was still there? What would she say to him? Her communication skills weren't exactly stellar the last time she saw him. She reached the front door of the house and let herself in without knocking. She glanced around, peeping in the immediate rooms. She noticed Spike's t-shirt and jeans were missing from the couch. Seeing no one in the living room or kitchen area, she tentatively moved towards the back of the house.
"......come on, mate.......no! There's nowhere else.............yeah, I thought so too, but I fucked it up. I'm out now.........wouldn't really matter. I'd be just as fucked tomorrow..........just—just get her to talk to me.........please! Just for a minute, one minute. I promise......thanks, mate.........Wills?..........but........no, I......I'm not like that anymore..........I wouldn't!........I loved him too!........Willow? Willow? Are you there?..........yeah, Oz.....yeah.......I'll—I'll wait awhile before I call again.....bye."
Buffy heard the phone being clicked off and a soft thud that must have been the receiver landing on the bed. She was sure Spike wouldn't have wanted her to overhear his conversation, so she thought the best course of action would be to quietly return to the living room. She took a step backwards and promptly knocked into a framed print on the wall behind her, setting it askew—a second later, Spike stepped through the bedroom doorway.
He tilted his head, "What are you doing in the hallway, luv?"
Buffy sincerely hoped she wasn't screaming deer caught in the headlights."Oh...I...um...oh..."
"Already said that, pet." A dark expression crossed his face, "Oh, I get it. You're just here to make sure I'm gone. Well, don't get your panties in a twist, sweetheart—I just have to fetch a cab, and then I'll no longer be your problem." He curled his tongue behind his teeth, "But really, thanks for all the hospitality."
Buffy's face burned as she watched Spike stalk back through the bedroom door. A moment later, she heard dialing. She blinked...and sprinted for the bedroom.
"Wait!" Spike looked at her in surprise, but he heeded her command and clicked off the phone...and waited...and waited.
"Kitten? What are we waiting for exactly?"
Buffy took a breath. "Oh, it's just—you don't have to go right now. I mean, I told you two nights, so it wouldn't be fair..."
Spike gave her a tight smile, "That's a nice thought and all, but I made you a deal, and I do my best not to go back on my word. It wouldn't be right after what you—after what you gave me."
Her heart sped up as she considered exactly what she had given him. "Yeah, but I never actually said that I agreed to those terms, did I?"
Spike thought back to the previous night. There had been moans and screams, gasps, and several oh gods, but she was right—she had never actually said that she accepted his deal, and yet she'd slept with him anyway.
He raised an eyebrow, "Well, that begs all sorts of questions, doesn't it, luv?"
She crossed her arms. "We're not going there, Spike."
"But—"
"We're not going there, Spike."
He pouted, jutting out his lower lip and crossing his arms, "Fine...I guess I'll stay tonight. Nothing else going on..."
Buffy rolled her eyes, "'Kay. Great. I've gotta run. It's been fun as always."
Spike grabbed her arm, "Hey, wait. Why don't you stick around and watch a DVD or something. You have enough of them by that giant TV in the living room."
"Sorry, I have plans." She shook off his hand and headed for the front door, Spike trailing behind.
"What kind of plans?" he asked suspiciously.
"The kind that aren't any of your business. Bye, Spike," she said as she opened the door and slipped out into the warm late afternoon air.
Spike scowled at the door before flopping down on the expensive leather couch.
Bollocks.