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Okay, before we get in deep with this story I should be up front about a couple of things. Mainly: Buffy is currently dating Angel. He is her boyfriend and will make the occasional appearance in the fic. This does not mean I will subject you to long or graphic romantic scenes between the two of them. I mean, seriously, yuck. That said, I've mapped out many chapters for this fic and will admit that the Angel situation won't go away for a little while. I think you will like it anyway. I just ask that nobody panic. You know me, you know I'm not going to try and sneak a Bangel fic on you. ;) So don't worry about the Angel thing, this is a love story and it will focus on the two people who make up the couple in this love story. If you've read any of my author's notes lately, then you know that I am in love with this fic--mad love-Spuffy love. I am hoping to get someone with graphic skills to make me a banner and an icon. I have a couple of ideas if anyone is game. :) Thanks for reading. I'm super excited to see what you all think of this one. :)
Oh-and Yeah-This fic was somewhat inspired by Jason Mraz's song entitled If it Kills Me. ;) It's a great song.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
“No.” William Pratt, called Spike in surprisingly affectionate tones by his friends and family, was not amused. He shook his head. “Not a chance.” He quickly pretended to be very busy with a sheet of paper on his desk.
“Oh. Come on, Spike, it’s not a big deal. It’ll be fun. I promise.” Fred, an unfortunately named woman who was luckily gifted with a petite frame, wavy brown hair and pretty elfish features stood in front of him, ignoring his attempt to ignore her.
He scoffed. “Sorry, pet. You’re going to have to find someone else to let you play pimp.”
Fred rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that and you know it. It’s just a fundraiser. We auction off a date with you and raise lots of money.”
“I’m not a piece of meat and I’ve no wish to spend an evening playing cabana boy for some bored housewife.” He was being a tad melodramatic and he knew it. It was his only defense. Spike did not want to be bachelor number ten on Fred’s auction block. It truly wasn’t fair for her to ask him. He couldn’t say no, not really. Fred was Spike’s greatest weakness.
“It won’t be like that.” She implored him with big brown eyes and he knew he was about to lose the fight.
Spike had fallen for Fred the night his roommate brought her home for the first time. Twenty minutes after they’d shared a hello, Spike knew he was a lost cause. Winifred Burkle was cute and clever and sweet. When she smiled at him, Spike knew that he’d do just about anything to make her smile at him again. But she was Wesley’s girl. It was obvious from the start. And so, on that same night, the night when Spike Pratt realized for the first time that he wanted a nice girl, he knew that he’d be keeping his feelings secret forever. Wesley was more than just a roommate, he was family. Spike had a bit of a reputation for causing trouble, he liked that reputation and worked hard at maintaining it, but he was never the kind of man who’d make a play for his cousin’s girl. Besides, he’d thought, Wesley is a better man and she deserves a better man. He prided himself on keeping his feelings to himself, but over the years it had become obvious that they were a bit of an open secret. Wesley never really said anything to him; he was a stand-up bloke, not the type to rub his good fortune in someone’s face. In fact, the closest they’d ever come to talking about it had been on Wesley and Fred’s wedding day. Spike had served as best man and while helping his cousin prepare to take a wife, he’d shared the biggest truth he knew, that Wesley was a disgustingly lucky man and that he deserved to be. He’d ended the statement by promising to break Wesley’s nose if Fred ever regretted marrying him. Wesley had stared at him quietly for several seconds before nodding. “I know”, he’d said, “I know.” And then he’d given him a hug, the only one they’d ever shared outside of his parents’ funerals, and they walked down the aisle. William smiled as his cousin married the only girl that either of them had ever truly wanted. In time, he’d tamed his crush. He still loved her, but he was generally able to direct that love into a big brother-type role in her life. His inability to disappoint Fred had become obvious though, over the years, and was commonly taken advantage of.
He knew that this would be another case of that, but he argued anyway. “There’s got to be someone else you can ask.”
She shook her head. “I’ve tried. There’s no one as good as you. You’re handsome , you run your own business—you’re practically Sunnydale’s most eligible bachelor.” He scowled, but she wasn’t even a little intimidated. “Please, William, I need you.”
He dropped into his seat and sighed. “Can’t I just give you a donation?”
“I know the whole auction thing comes off a bit—but that’s the point. It seems racy and so we get lots of extra publicity. You know how important this fundraiser is. We could raise enough money tomorrow night to keep the shelter open for months. Think of all the kids you could help.”
She’d had him when she’d uttered the words “I need you”, the pitch that followed was just for show and they both knew it. Spike couldn’t even pretend that the shelter Fred and her friend, Anne, ran for homeless teens wasn’t a great cause. It was. He knew that the shelter held a special place in Fred’s heart and that she’d worked far too hard and long to give up on it now that it was finally showing signs of being a success.
“What…” He groaned. “What exactly do you need me to do?”
Fred smiled her blinding smile at him and darted behind his desk to give him a hug. “Thank you, Thank You, Thank you. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”
Friday, September 24, 2010
Buffy Summers was not in the mood to go out. She’d explained that several times and had then been outvoted by her friends. Sitting at a prettily arranged table at a gala-style fundraiser for a local charity, she was just beginning to wonder how that voting thing had worked. What twisted sense of democracy had led her to believe that the phrase “Willow and I outvoted you,” meant that she actually had to put on a dress and style her hair? She could have stayed home and wallowed in peace.
A waiter placed the drink her friend, Cordelia, had ordered for her down on the table. It was pink, served in a martini glass and had a tiny plastic sword full of fancily cut fruit hanging from its rim. She stared at it and tried to keep hold of her grumpy mood. It was too cute. The drink’s adorableness mocked her bad mood.
Buffy wasn’t normally a grumpy person. In fact, if asked to describe her in one word, most of her friends would have said happy or perky, even. Well, the girls would have said happy and the guys would have said perky and grinned. There were only a few things that could bring Buffy down. The most powerful of those things, her on and off again boyfriend, Liam “Angel” Collins, was the source of her particularly deep slump that evening. They were very much off again.
When she saw Buffy reach for the glass and take a sip, Cordelia Chase signaled to the waiter to bring them another round. Two rounds later, she was enjoying a much more entertaining version of Buffy. “See, I told you this would be fun. You can’t let Angel get you down like that. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, Buff, plenty of fish that are swimming around thinking that they’d love to have a chance with a hot, fun girl that also has great taste in friends.”
Buffy grinned at her pretty, dark-haired friend. She loved that Cordelia always managed to end the compliments she gave other people with a self-affirmation. She knew that Cordy, as she was called, wasn’t the most modest of people but figured that faking the quality was worse than simply not having it. “I’m not looking to go swimming with the fishes, Cordy. I love him. We’ll work it out.” She frowned. “I think.”
Cordy sighed. “Enough thinking. Tonight is about having fun and not thinking. And definitely not talking about your idiot of an ex.”
“I think we should do shots.” Cordy turned to the much quieter, red-haired, girl at their table. “Don’t you think we should do shots, Willow?”
Willow didn’t actually think that shots were a great idea. She preferred her alcohol mixed with enough fruit juice to cover even the slightest hint of actual liquor flavor. She nodded anyway. “Yeah. Sounds…fun.” The plan was to cheer Buffy up and if Cordy thought tiny drinks with obscene names were going to do it, she wasn’t going to go against the grain. They’d taken a taxi to the event and would take another one home; she’d already played her role as the responsible one. Now was the part where she smiled and nodded and made the occasional corny joke.
A half hour later, all three ladies were giggling about Cordelia’s dramatically told tale of the worst date she’d ever had, a set-up made by their mutual friend, Xander. “And then, he says, and I’m totally serious here, he says that his pet monkey must have snatched his wallet from his jacket pocket as he was leaving and….” Tears formed at the edges of her perfectly made-up eyes and she dabbed at them delicately as she attempted to regain enough control to finish the story.
Willow stopped laughing. “Oh! A monkey? Monkeys are so cute.”
Cordy raised an eyebrow at her. “Not the point, Willow.”
Willow looked to Buffy for support but she just nodded. “It’s really not.” Buffy turned back to Cordy with an amused grin. “So he tried to stick you with the bill, right? What did you do?”
“I told him that I understood completely and that I just needed a moment in the ladies room and then I left.”
“You just left?”
Cordy nodded. “It gets better. I found out from Xander—he really does have a wallet stealing monkey. He was probably telling the truth.”
Buffy covered her mouth in an attempt to keep back the giggles. “But that’s awful. You’re totally a bad person for laughing about this.” Her shoulders shook.
Cordelia nodded triumphantly. “I know, right?”
Willow frowned. “But that is awful. How can you…you just left the poor guy there waiting for you to come back from the bathroom. He probably sat there for a really long time.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “It’s awful.”
Buffy laughed until her stomach hurt. “Okay, you were right. This was fun, but I think it’s time to call it a night.”
“No way. You haven’t seen the best part yet. They are going to auction off men.”
Cordy gave her a satisfied feline grin. “Nope. It’s part of the charity thing. Whoever makes the highest bid gets a date with the hottie.”
“Isn’t that…well, tacky?” Buffy asked wrinkling her nose.
“Totally tacky. We have to stay and watch.”
Buffy looked skeptical, but Cordelia wiggled her finger at the waiter and once again there were fresh and fruity cocktails all around.
The room was quieted before the auction and treated to a brief and almost sobering slideshow about the charity they were there to support. Buffy grasped Cordy’s arm afterward and whispered with drunken determination that they should definitely try to help Pylea, Sunnydale’s teen shelter and support program, more.
They weren’t the only table of women that started giggling when the auction started. The waitstaff had all been rather busy serving drinks. Later, Willow would realize that the planners were very clever to hold off the auction portion of the evening until after most of the guests had been drinking. Just then, she was more focused on the list of increasingly silly things Cordy and Buffy were coming up with for the various auctioned off dates to do.
“Do you think he would consider washing my car a date? Maybe washing my car without his shirt on?”
Buffy shook her head. “No. Unless—unless maybe there was music and dancing. You could play the carwash song.” She giggled quietly, trying not to draw attention to their table.
The girls had complimentary things to say about a handsome carpenter and an obviously confident lawyer, but mostly they just laughed about the foolishness of it all. When the small brunette girl emceeing the auction announced that she was bringing out the last guy, Cordy held her finger up to her lips to get the other girls to quiet down. She wanted to know his info in order to make funnier puns and fake date suggestions.
Buffy gasped softly. The man on the stage was gorgeous; his hair was bleached outrageously white, he had sharp features but soft-looking lips and an obviously fit physique under his sports coat and dark jeans. She could see the startling blue shade of his eyes from her seat. He was easily one of the best looking men she’d ever seen. If she hadn’t drank quite so many pretty pink cocktails she would have kept that thought to herself. Instead, she whispered in a slightly awed voice “That has to be the most beautiful man in the whole world.”
Cordy laughed delightedly at her friend’s announcement and raised her hand. “In that case, we’ll just have to buy him.”
Buffy realized her mistake instantly and tried to grab at Cordelia’s arm. When that did work, she began pleading in an earnest whisper. “No. Please, Cordy. I was just kidding. Don’t. Oh god! Please.” As she pleaded, Cordy entered into a bidding war with a very determined older woman.
The next several minutes blurred in Buffy’s mind. All that mattered was that Cordelia had not only bid on the handsome blond man, she had made the highest bid. Buffy stared at the pretty green tablecloth under her empty cocktail glass in horror.
After making a few general announcements and thanking everyone for coming, the emcee walked over to their table with the handsome blond man in tow. She smiled. “Thanks y’all so much for coming! This is most successful event we’ve ever had. We’re going to be able to do so much good.” She turned to look at Cordelia. “You’re the lucky gal that get’s to spend an evening with Spike, right?”
“Spike?” Cordelia sputtered laughter and shook her head. “Oh no. He’s a special present for Buffy. She thinks he’s beautiful.”
Buffy looked at her laughing friend in shock and wished once again that she’d never left her bedroom.
Spike had watched the short bidding contest between the busty brunette and the woman who reminded him eerily of his middle school librarian with a mixture of bewilderment and dismay. He honestly hadn’t cared which of the ladies in question won. He’d been determined to do his duty either way. He’d charm them for an evening before focusing his attention on the serious business of forgetting the entire humiliating debacle. Now he stood silently beside Fred and studied the tiny woman with artfully arranged honey-colored curls and bright red cheeks standing beside the busty brunette. In Spike’s mind, the evening had suddenly taken a vastly amusing turn. Fred was still talking with the dark-haired woman. They were nodding and smiling and Spike was ignoring them. He wondered what exactly the little blonde with the silly name had said to inspire her friend’s rather sizable donation to the shelter. He wondered if she’d ever stop gawking at her friend and look directly at him with her wide green eyes. He wondered how any girl as adorable as the one in front of him wasn’t already taken. He smirked and held out his hand. “Hello, cutie.”
Chapter End Notes:
Anyone wishing that Cordy was their friend and that she'd buy them a Spike? :)
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