Last chapter…
Faith smiled. “No problem, B. We just hit it off in the US. We’re originally a British band. Two days before we came to America our lyricist dropped our ass. We are ok for now but we really need a new one and also someone to pair with Spike here.” – She pointed to her brother – “Vocally, that is. And we think you may be that person.”
%@%@%@%@%@
Buffy’s chin hung a foot off the ground. She stared back and forth between Faith and Spike and at that point was wondering if they maybe had drunk too much. She decided to voice the question. Just to be sure.
“Are you high?”
Once again, Faith’s musical laugh could be heard and this time Spike joined her. Buffy froze up at the musical sound of his laugh. Something soared inside her chest, like a burn; at the same time, her stomach constricted and a tingling sensation shot up her spine, making the light hair on her arms rise in goose bumps. He was beautiful. His whole face lightened up when he laughed, eyes twinkling with mischief, his cheekbones even higher.
Spike noticed the girl’s look like a caress on his skin. He had analyzed people enough times to know when someone was doing the same to him. Not just in an appraising his body kind of way, but deeper, almost soul searching. His laugh slowly turned into a smirk as he realized the potential for something amazing. Of course at that precise time, he only wanted to get in her pants. But little did he know that it would turn into much more.
“We are not high, B. We are serious as heart attacks. You have a beautiful voice and that song was really nice. Spike writes too, but he’s better with the music. He tends to get a tad distracted in the creative process, though.” Faith smirked at her brother, teasing him. Truth was, after Cordelia, all he could seem to write were “hate you” songs. And the band could only sing so much of those before starting to feel dangerously depressed and angry.
“Oi! That’s not true!” Spike replied in indignation.
Buffy giggled. He stared at her, mesmerized. She looked like a little girl when she did that. Bloody adorable.
“How old are you, pet?”
“I turn 22 next Friday.”
Well, that just wasn’t possible. She looked no more than 16.
“Hey, Buffy! I need help over here!” Ben yelled, trying to keep up with all of the screaming costumers.
“Sorry, gotta go. Can I maybe… think about it? Give you my answer tomorrow?”
“Of course, B. We’re staying at the Sunnydale inn, just call us sometime tomorrow. We can arrange for you to meet the rest of the band, maybe you can sing some more of your stuff for us?”
Buffy nodded. “Of course. I’ll call you, then. If you maybe… I don’t know, change your minds or anything, here’s my mobile and my home number.”
She handed Spike a card and at his appraising look, tongue curled behind his teeth, she flushed beet red.
“I’ll hold on to this tightly, luv. It was a pleasure.” His lips caressed the back of her hand. Her pulse skyrocketed. Spike smirked knowingly.
There was no way she would resist.
*******
Buffy’s shift ended not too long after that. She dragged her tired, disheveled ass two blocks down towards her minuscule apartment on the first floor. She promptly fell asleep on the couch, clothes and all, like she did most nights.
And was woken up by the phone, 8 hours later, feeling like she hadn’t slept at all. The shrilling noise made her bolt upright, jolted out of a dreamless sleep. She rolled out of the couch, almost falling and searched blindly for the phone, still half-asleep. Her hand knocked it from it’s cradle.
“Shit! Where is it?” Buffy cursed, now on all fours, trying to fish the phone from under the couch. On the other end of the line, Spike frowned in confusion. “Gotcha! Hello? HELLO?”
“No need to yell, pet.”
Spike’s stomach curled pleasantly at the sound of her voice, still husky from sleep, a little annoyed. Buffy slapped a hand on her forehead in humiliation.
“Did I wake you?”
Good God, the man’s voice was like an instant orgasm. There was no way he wasn’t aware of what that British accent, completed with that low, slightly rumble tone did to a woman’s body. Buffy shook her head to dispel the sexual fog she was in and clutched the phone tighter to her ear.
“Just a little.” Buffy replied, then promptly smacked herself on the forehead again. Just a little? What kind of answer was THAT? She was surprised when Spike chuckled from the other side. She didn’t know he was thinking she was even more adorable then when he had met her.
“I’m sorry, luv. I’m just calling to schedule that meeting with the band.” He said, apologetically.
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Ok, I can do lunch. What time do you want me to come?”
I can make you come anytime, kitten. Spike thought, but answered instead: “You can come right now if you want. We’ll just order something when you arrive.” He smirked.
Buffy flushed on the other side of the line. “O..Ok. I’ll… Hmmm… I’ll just take a shower and be right over.” She stammered. Stop blubbering, you fool!
“We’ll be waiting, luv.”
******
She arrived at the Sunnydale Inn two hours later, panting and rushing. It had taken her forever to find something to wear that wasn’t too formal and not too informal either. So she decided on her favorite pair of jeans, that were blue with lighter tones on the back pockets and knees from use, a fluffy white sweater, since the weather was a little chilly that day and a pair of nice, pointy, ankle high boots. She hadn’t had the time to blow dry her hair so it fell in soft waves around her face then down to her waist. She really needed to take some inches off. But she liked how it swirled around her back when she walked. Well, maybe just an inch or two. Otherwise she would end up sitting on it.
“Hi, may I help you?” The receptionist asked, a pleasant smile on her face. Buffy placed both hands on her back pockets, suddenly nervous.
“Yes, I’m here to see Spike Devlin, please.” The woman behind the counter looked at her in disbelief. “Spike Devlin? From Devlin’s Poetry?”
Buffy nodded. “Yes. I have a... meeting with him and the band. They’re expecting me.”
The woman made an “Yeah, riiight.” face.
“Hold on just a moment, please.” She grabbed the phone, expecting to hear that they had never heard of that girl before and not to send her up. To her surprise however, Spike Devlin himself answered the phone and told her to let Buffy up with a smile on his voice. She stared at the petite woman in front of the counter in disbelief and with a fake smile gave her the room's number. Who would’ve thought?
Buffy gave the woman a small smile and walked towards the elevator. By the time she arrived at the third floor (they were at the 7th) her palms were sweating, her stomach was filled with maniacal butterflies and she was dangerously close to giggling like a crazy person. She checked her appearance several times, cracked her knuckles and wiped her palms on her jeans until the elevator finally came to a stop on the 7th floor.
Her heels clicked against the marbled floor as she walked slowly towards door 711. When she raised her eyes from her feet, she was surprised to see Spike hovering against the doorframe, barefooted and incredibly gorgeous, smiling at her.
“Hello, luv.”
*****
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks a bunch to all of those who took the time to read this and also to those who took it even further and left me a review. Hope this one entertains you as much as the first one. ; )