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Author's Chapter Notes:
Been a long time coming. I'm hoping as my new life stabilizes, I'll be able to write more. I've missed it so much.
Chapter Seven:

“Luv…?

“Mrrph…” was Buffy’s muffled reply against Spike’s chest, where her face had taken up residence when they’d been plunged into darkness by the ferocity of the storm.

“Luv…the lights are back on. I’d be more than happy to have you stay right where you are, but I figured I should let you know as you’ve questioned my…hands on approach with you multiple times at this point.”

“Hmm?” Buffy furrowed her brow against Spike’s shirt before lifting her head and regarding him with wide eyes. “Oh! Oh…sorry…the st-storm…it was…I mean…dark…”

Spike smirked at the blonde girl who was no longer pressed tightly against him but was still in his arms all the same. “I think you’re trying to say you were a bit startled by our sudden black-out, pet.”

“Yes…” Buffy pushed away from the slim man and crossed her arms across her chest. A bit more forcefully, she nodded and replied, “Yes, sometimes I’m just a little jumpy, that’s all…I mean with the storm…and being in an unfamiliar place…those paintings…”

Grinning widely, Spike looked at her questioningly, “You’d like to see some more of my collection, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Buffy muttered not thinking, “I mean no! No…no more of your…collections. I think I’ve had all I can handle for the night.”

He shrugged at that. “Fair enough, luv, but I’ve quite a few more intriguing works here and there throughout the house.”

Buffy snorted, “I’m sure you do, but I think your taste runs a bit…more exotic than mine.”

Spike smiled and murmured, “I’d love to introduce you to a few more of my tastes, pet,” he continued before Buffy could verbalize the response clearly on her lips, “but that will be for another time.”

Buffy bit her lip and stammered, “I-I don’t really know if there should be another time, Mr. Blackwell.”

Spike looked amused. “Back to Mr. Blackwell, are we?” He laughed softly and ran his fingers lightly down her shoulder. She couldn’t help the slight shudder from his gentle touch. “There will be another time Ms. Summers. However, for now, I think you should be heading on your way while the storm seems to have abated for the moment.”

“Yeah…that would be good…definitely of the good. And I totally haven’t agreed to come back or anything, just so you know.” She pursed her lips and crossed her arms more tightly against her body.

Spike chuckled, “Of course not, pet.” He smiled as he gestured for her to follow and led her down the corridor and descended the stairs.

Buffy was surprised to see a driver already waiting by the front door, but she guessed a man like William Blackwell could have whoever he wanted at his beck and call. Well, except her, of course. She’d never give into his so-called power…or charisma…or deep blue eyes…or chiseled abs…

Buffy furrowed her brow as she mentally slapped her head trying to remember what she’d been thinking in the first place. Oh yeah, driver…car…heading home.

She turned towards Spike, unsure of what to say. This seemed to be a common theme when she was in his presence. While she was pondering her options, he took one of her hands in his and pressed a gentle kiss to her palm.

“Thank you for coming out tonight, luv. Sorry for the storm, but the weather is one thing I can’t control.” That fairly innocuous statement still sent a shiver through Buffy’s body as she realized that he really could control most everything else…or so it seemed.

She felt determined to not fall under the scope of his power. Though, there was something a bit intriguing…a bit erotic, even though she blushed at the thought…of being under the control of such an enigmatic and powerful man. Shaking her head to chase away the thought, she attempted a small smile. Her time with Spike might be getting increasingly odd, but he was still her host, and she was brought up to be gracious.

“Thank you for inviting me. Tell Maggie that the meal was delicious. And thank you for showing me your…art.” She nodded to herself, yep, that sounded fairly diplomatic.

Spike turned towards the driver, “I imagine the roads are slick, please take care as you’ll be transporting precious cargo.”

Buffy truly couldn’t decide how to take that. It sounded sweet in a way, but a bit odd to refer to a human-being as cargo. She decided to just let it go. The driver opened the front door and she began to walk through, pausing for just a second when she heard Spike’s murmured, “See you soon…”

She continued down the stairs in front of the house and slipped inside the limo in the front drive after the driver, which she had begun to think of as random driver number two, opened the door for her. She wondered what would happen if she ever opened the door herself. She giggled thinking that the driver would probably scream in terror, afraid that he would be punished in Spike’s dungeon. Buffy rolled her eyes at the thought. Funny how people start the silliest rumors. Like a respectful businessman has whips and chains and who knows what else just laying about in his basement. She scoffed. People just love a scandal, even if it’s obviously false.

The ride home was fairly uneventful. The driver drove a bit slower than necessary. Had to keep his cargo safe afterall. She noted he didn’t pull out of her front drive until she was safely walking through her front door. She couldn’t really decide if it made her feel safe or just strangely…watched.

She shook her head and turned to head up the stairs to her bedroom. As she did, she collided with a large body.

“Dad! You scared me! I thought you’d be asleep by now. Aren’t you meeting with a potential investor in the morning?”

Her father looked weary, “Looks like this one is gonna fall through, sweetie. Have to find someone else.”

“What’s the product this time, dad, stick-proof coasters…hammocks for dogs…mirrors that take off ten pounds? Heh, could use a few of those around Spike’s place. I was checking my makeup by my reflection on a spoon tonight.”

Hank suddenly looked eager, “So, how are things going with Mr. Blackwell. I hear his estate is incredible…I was thinking—”

“No, dad,” Buffy interrupted, “I’m not talking the man into investing in any of your crazy schemes. I don’t even know if I’m going to see him again.”

Buffy was startled by the look of alarm on her father’s face. “Baby! It’s important that we have ties to people like Mr. Blackwell.”

She sighed, “Why is it so important, dad? I mean really?”

Hank gave his daughter a forlorn look, “I hadn’t wanted to tell you this, sweetheart, but we can’t hold onto the house much longer. Your mother just isn’t pulling enough in at the gallery.”

“What?!” Buffy exclaimed, “I knew things weren’t as good as they could be, but you didn’t tell me we could lose the house!”

He put his hands on her shoulders, “I didn’t want to worry you, baby. But you see? You have to keep seeing Mr. Blackwell…he could be the key to us getting back on our feet.”

Buffy tried to hide her look of disgust, “Dad, I can’t just use—”

“You want us to keep our home, right?” Hank spoke matter-of-factly.

Buffy shook out of his grasp, “Dad…I just…I have to think.” And with that she quickly ascended the staircase and locked herself in her bedroom. Leaning against the door, she realized that she couldn’t even begin to process the direction her night had taken.

She pushed away from her door and began undressing in front of her mirror, scoffing at the marks still visible from Spike’s nibbles in the pool house. She sighed deeply. What was she supposed to do?


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