Chapter Three
Osborne House was impressive looking—grand not only in stature, but in design, too. The palazzo-style building was a chalky-cream colour and looked very majestic indeed against the backdrop of the bright blue sky.
Buffy had been a little apprehensive on arrival; to reach the house you had to walk along the sweeping driveway and through the gardens, and Liam’s ominous warning rang in her head. Don’t go into any gardens. She shook the feeling off with a shrug of her shoulders and followed the group up the steps and towards the visitor’s entrance to the house.
Simkins waited until everyone was gathered near the welcome desk before starting the tour, and Buffy put all thoughts of Liam and his ridiculous premonitions out of her mind.
As their guide, Simkins took them around the house, telling tales of the ghostly Queen Victoria haunting the upstairs corridors, mourning the loss of her husband. The mysterious sound of bagpipes was often heard in the garden late at night, he assured them.
Despite not truly believing in the supernatural, Buffy couldn’t help but get caught up in the rich stories Simkins told, as he weaved together the pieces of a ghostly patchwork that stretched back generations. She was enthralled.
The tour took up most of the morning, and, when it was finished, Simkins set them free to explore the grounds and gardens on their own, recommending the cream tea at the café. Reminding them to be back in the car park by four, he settled himself down with a picnic blanket and a book.
Buffy didn’t even have to ask Spike if he wanted to go with her; he fell into step almost immediately, and they stared at one another shyly.
The gardens were beautiful even now, so late in the season, and as immaculate as any Buffy had seen. She said as much to Spike.
“You ought to see Kew in the summer,” he said. “Breathtaking.”
“I should try and visit more places,” she replied, with a sigh. “Giles used to be all about taking us around the museums and stately homes when we first got here. I kinda miss that.”
“We? Giles?” Spike raised an eyebrow.
“Oh! Sorry. Dawn—my sister—and I. And Giles is my step-dad. Mom moved us over here when she and Giles got married.”
“How’d they meet?”
“He used to be a curator for the British Museum, and my mom owned an art gallery. There was some kind of a charity benefit going on at the gallery, and that’s where they met. Giles said it was love at first sight, but my mom is always saying that it was love the first time she heard him talk.” She shot Spike a sideways glance. “She’s always been crazy about the British accent.”
“And how about you?” Spike asked, lightly. “What accent sends you all a-quiver?”
“The Irish one used to make me all knee-shaky,” Buffy said. “One cheating ex-boyfriend later and I’m so not seeing the appeal anymore. In fact—” she shot him a sly glance “—I’m finding a lot more to like about the English accent lately.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” Buffy said and let his deep voice roll over her. “Definitely.”
They passed under the shade of a wide-branched tree, and Spike paused. “Want to sit for a bit?” he asked, gesturing towards the ground.
She nodded and inspected the ground thoroughly for mud before sitting down. Satisfied that she wouldn’t get her jeans dirty, she tucked her legs beneath her and settled back against the trunk of the tree. Spike sat down beside her, his arm lightly touching hers, and they were quiet for a couple of moments, taking in the silent beauty of the place.
It was late in the season, so there weren't many visitors other than the group from the ghost tour. The grounds were quiet and peaceful, vibrant with colour and alight with the scent of a hundred autumnal flowers. It was warm, for England in October, especially after the dreary weather of the day before.
"Do you feel anything?" Buffy asked, after a while. Spike frowned, the colour rising on his cheeks, and Buffy blanched, realising how her question had sounded. "I mean, ghost-wise,” she hastened to explain. “Simkins said that sometimes you can tell when there's a presence around..." Trailing off, she plucked at the grass and waited for Spike to reply.
"Not really," he said, and reached across to still her restless hand. "Nothing ghostly, anyway. Have to say, I thought you were asking me something else for a moment there."
"And if I had been?" Buffy asked despite herself, her heart in her mouth.
"In that case," Spike said, slowly. "I'd say yes. I definitely feel something."
"Oh."
"You don't sound too happy," he said, and Buffy could hear a false light-hearted tone to his voice, as if he were trying to protect himself from whatever she would say next.
She hesitated. “I… just feel like I should know what form these feelings take, you know? ‘Cos we only met yesterday—but it feels like I’ve known you so much longer than that. We should take things slowly, right? There’s no rush. Or is there a rush? We’re only here for a week… Oh God, I'm babbling. Babble-Buffy, so not attractive—”
She looked up from the ground to see Spike staring at her fondly, before he leaned in and silenced her with a kiss on the lips. It was quick, barely more than a peck, but Buffy felt the effects all the way from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She pulled back and stared at him, wide-eyed. “What was that for?”
“Couldn’t help myself.” He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Been wanting to do that all day. Since last night, even.”
“You—you don’t think it’s too soon?” Buffy asked. She felt like it was, in a way, but at the same time she wanted nothing more than to grab hold of Spike and never let go.
She’d never felt this sort of instant attraction and deep connection with anyone before. Liam had been in her classes at university and he’d been her friend prior to becoming her lover. This was different. Spike was different. She’d never been one for taking chances or living in the moment. Perhaps that should change. She should Carpe the Diem.
Mind made up to trust her instincts, follow her heart, and see where things led her, she leaned back towards Spike’s questioning gaze and kissed him.
***
They rejoined the group in the car park, holding hands and grinning like silly schoolchildren.
As well as the kissing—and there’d been a lot of that—they’d talked, sharing stories to get to know one another. She’d told him how she’d just started work as a nurse after finishing her degree the previous year, how stressful but rewarding she found the job, and how this vacation was sorely needed, despite not being her first choice of destination.
In turn, she’d learned that Spike was a teacher, and that had surprised her. It wasn’t what she’d have pegged for him, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised that it suited him. He’d talked a little more about Drusilla and her illness, and how he, along with their older brother Wesley, helped to take care of her.
By the time they arrived back at the minibus, Buffy believed she knew Spike far better than before and she felt much more comfortable jumping into whatever this thing was between them. She hoped he viewed things the same way. Precedence kept her from thinking too far ahead but she’d found out that they both lived in the suburbs of London—opposing ends of the city but close enough for a tube ride—should they want to take things further once the week was over.
Simkins eyed them with a knowing glint when they approached the bus, a smug grin on his face as if to say, “I know what you’ve been doing.”
Buffy blushed and, when she turned to look at Spike, she saw that he’d gone a similar shade of red but was smirking.
Simkins didn’t say anything, however, and they all traipsed onto the bus, settling in for the long, and inevitably bumpy, ride back to the hotel.
***
Nothing ghostly had been planned for the evening, but Buffy felt suddenly full of energy. After seeing Spike back to his room with a promise to join him and Drusilla for dinner, she returned to her own, but found herself too restless to settle down.
She left her room and wandered downstairs to the hotel lobby. Behind the reception desk sat a girl who looked to be around Buffy’s age, and for that Buffy was grateful. Had it been someone older—Simkins’ age for example—she’d probably be recommended the local church bingo.
“Hi,” she said approaching the desk and coming to a stop in front of it. “Do you know if there are any clubs around here?”
“Not many,” the girl replied. “There’s Bogey’s, that’s not far.”
“Bogey’s?” Buffy asked, incredulously.
“Colonel Bogey’s.” The girl nodded. “Know how silly it sounds, but it’s a bit of an institution—been around for years. It’s good for dancing.”
“Is it far?”
“About fifteen minutes by car. I can call you a taxi…?”
“That’d be great,” Buffy replied. “I just need to check in with someone first. I’ll ring down if I do need a cab.”
“All right. Just let me know.”
“Thanks,” Buffy said with a smile, then headed back upstairs and to the door of Spike’s suite. She knocked twice and waited. She heard footsteps from behind the door before it opened, and had to bite back a gasp at the sight that met her eyes: Spike, wearing nothing more than a towel, his hair and body damp from the shower.
“Um… hi,” she said, trying very hard not to stare.
“Buffy!” Spike sounded surprised to see her, and ran a hand awkwardly through his hair. “I thought we weren’t meeting till half-seven?”
“Yeah, about that…” she replied, her eyes following the path of a water droplet as it travelled from his collarbone, down his chest and stomach, and finally disappeared into the Vee of his hips at the waistband of his towel. She gulped. “I thought we could take a rain-check on dinner and go dancing instead? Dru, too.” She added as an afterthought, not wanting to exclude Spike’s sister. “I asked the girl at the reception desk, and there’s a club not too far away. If you’re interested…?”
“Why, Miss Summers,” Spike said, teasingly, “are you asking me out on a date?”
“We were already going on a date,” Buffy replied with a roll of her eyes, though she couldn’t help the smile that formed on her lips.
“Dancing it is, then.”
“Great! Meet you downstairs in about an hour?”
Returning to her room, Buffy showered in record time, excitement propelling her movements. She took a little longer to choose an outfit, eventually settling on a black dress, then did her hair and make-up.
By the time she was done, it was almost eight, so she made her way downstairs. There was no sign of Spike yet, but she did see Drusilla sitting on a chair in the lobby. Buffy approached her hesitantly; she was still slightly uncomfortable in the other woman’s presence despite the rapport she’d built with her brother.
“Hello,” Dru said, standing when Buffy reached her. “William’s forgotten his wallet. He’ll be back soon.”
“Okay.”
Drusilla hummed something under her breath before speaking again. “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”
“What’s tomorrow?” Buffy asked. “Simkins hasn’t exactly been all that forthcoming with the itinerary.”
“We’ve got a vigil!” Dru seemed ecstatic at the thought. “In amongst the flowers. See if we can talk to any friendly ghosties.” She licked her lips.
Buffy looked away, not sure how to respond. She was saved by heavy footsteps on the stairs and the appearance of Spike, his cheeks flushed.
“Sorry.” He held up his wallet. “Forgot this.”
“It’s all right,” Buffy replied. “I don’t think the taxi’s here yet, anyway.”
Spike nodded and they fell into silence. Buffy wanted him to take her hand or greet her with a kiss—she’d even settle for one on the cheek—but it felt wrong to do so with Drusilla standing right there, staring at them curiously.
“Uh-oh,” Dru sang, suddenly. “Nursie doesn’t like me.” She sent Buffy a sharp look and a wicked smile, and Buffy shifted uncomfortably.
“Dru,” Spike interjected, “leave Buffy alone. She was nice enough to invite you tonight, wasn’t she?”
“All right, William. I’ll behave.” She pouted, crossed her legs primly and looked down at her lap.
Spike mouthed ‘sorry’ at Buffy, just as the hotel doors pushed open and a man entered the lobby. “Taxi for Summers?”
“That’s us!” Buffy jumped up—anything to get away from the strained atmosphere Drusilla’s comment had forced them into. She was starting to regret organising the night out.
They piled into the cab, Drusilla in the front next to the driver, Buffy and Spike sitting on opposite sides of the backseat. Buffy’s discomfort was slightly assuaged when Spike took her hand in his, and she thought that the night might not be a total loss.
***
Bogey’s turned out to be a lot like every other night club that Buffy had been to: loud, crowded and thrumming with life.
Spike had bought a round of drinks on their arrival, and Buffy sipped at hers now, watching Drusilla dance. The girl swayed alone, her movements long and slow despite the fast beat of the song.
Buffy felt her feet tap in time to the music, then her glass was taken from her by Spike, who held out his free hand.
“Dance?”
She nodded and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. They moved slightly awkwardly at first, his hands darting from her hips to her shoulders and back, finally settling at her waist. Soon, however, they found a rhythm and the dance began properly. The song had a low, sultry beat and their movements soon matched it perfectly.
They danced for some time, with Spike pausing every now and then to make sure Drusilla was okay but never leaving Buffy alone for long.
Eventually they slowed, until Buffy admitted defeat and returned to the table.
“I’ll get us some water,” Spike said, and she nodded gratefully. Her face felt hot and blotchy from the energetic dancing.
Spike was at the bar for some time and, in his absence, Drusilla returned. She sat down next to Buffy and sent her a bright smile. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m having such a good time.” She sounded more lucid than Buffy had heard her yet.
“I’m glad.” Buffy glanced at the bar, where Spike still waited in line, before returning her attention to the woman next to her. “Drusilla, listen, I hope you don’t feel like I’m imposing too much. I feel kinda bad that you’ve come away with your brother and he’s spending all his time with me.”
“Oh don't worry, pet,” she replied. “I’m pleased for you. Goodness knows William deserves some happiness. Besides, it's all falling into place. Everything is going as planned.”
Buffy raised her head sharply. “What did you say? What’s planned?”
“Hmm?”
“You said that everything is going according to plan.”
“Simkins plan, of course!” Drusilla looked away towards the dance floor. “Oh, look at all the lovely colours!”
Buffy sighed. She'd lost her; the lucidity of the past few moments had faded. Instead of trying to draw Dru back into conversation, Buffy sat back and waited for Spike to return with their drinks.
***
His kiss tasted of alcohol and chocolate, a heady combination. He had her pressed against the door to her room, and was giving her a very pleasant goodnight. It felt as if every inch of him was pressed to her, and his hands were never still, roving over her body without pause.
Buffy broke the kiss and let her head fall back against the door. She gasped for breath but barely had a chance before Spike captured her lips once more.
When she felt his hand slip under the hem of her skirt, she pulled back, set her hands on the firm planes of his chest, and lightly pushed him away. “Spike, stop.”
He pulled back, confusion mixing with the lust that danced on his face. “Something wrong? This not okay?”
“It's okay.” Buffy swallowed heavily. “More than okay. That's the problem.”
“I don't understand.”
“This.” She gestured between them. “I like you a lot and I don't want to ruin it by rushing into something we're not ready for.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I... couldn't exactly think straight and if we carried on...”
“I understand,” Spike said. “Feel the same way.”
“You do? You're not disappointed?”
“Gotta admit, a little bit. But I'd rather wait.” He smiled, then leaned in to kiss her slowly and languidly. “Goodnight.”
“Night,” she managed to reply.
***
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you again to the readers and reviewers of chapter two. :)
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought by leaving a review. :)