A/N Okay, I feel the need to emphasize that, although I toned it down, this is still a DARK fiction. I’ve never written anything like this, the most comparable would be Fire and Ice, but if you don’t like that kind of story, stop reading, because you won’t like this one.
Chapter 2 – Broken Promises
Buffy walked into her apartment, shaking the sand out of her hair from
laying out on the beach most of the afternoon. She had been trying to get
her tan back to the golden color it had once been, and she was happy to see
that she had almost accomplished her task. Turning to the right, she
quickly walked down the hall to the guest bathroom, not wanting to leave a
trail of sand all the way through her bedroom.
After a quick shower, Buffy quickly put her hair up in a towel and wrapped
herself in a terrycloth robe before walking through the living room to the
spacious kitchen in the back corner of the apartment.
Spike was coming over tonight, and Buffy wanted to make an effort and go all
out for him. Buffy began arranging everything in the kitchen, setting out
the ingredients for her homemade spaghetti sauce as she set the water on the
stove to boil later.
Ten minutes later, she smiled as she looked around the kitchen. The French
bread was sitting out, waiting to be warmed. The sauce was in the beginning
stages and simmering on the stove, and Buffy turned on another burner for
the water to boil. Tonight was their six-month anniversary, and Buffy wanted
to make it special for Spike.
Buffy quickly left the kitchen and passed through the smaller dining area.
Once she entered the living room, she looked at the clock above the
mantelpiece and realized she was going to be late if she didn’t hurry.
Hurriedly changing into an elegant black dress that hugged her curves, Buffy
appraised herself in the mirror. With the draped neckline that showed a
generous amount of cleavage and the hem that was daringly shorter than she
usually chose, Buffy nodded at her reflection. This dress was sure to knock
Spike’s socks off.
‘Or some other piece of clothing,’ Buffy thought with a giggle as she walked
into the bathroom and began drying her hair.
Letting the natural curl shine through, she applied some mascara and lip
gloss, not wanting to overdo the make-up. Slipping on her strappy sandals,
Buffy made it back to the kitchen just as her water was beginning to boil.
As she was putting the spaghetti in to boil and checking on the sauce, Buffy
heard the phone ring.
Grabbing one of the many cordless phones from a base in the kitchen, Buffy
pressed the talk button.
“Hello?”
“Hello, luv.”
Buffy had to smile at the soft tone that she was greeted with. “Hey,” she
said softly, the smile still on her face. “Are you on your way?” she asked,
covering the spaghetti before stirring the sauce as she waited on his
answer.
“No,” he said quietly.
Buffy froze, her hand gripping the phone as she waited for him to say more.
“I’m sorry, luv, but Dru made reservations for us in some fancy restaurant.
If I could get out of it, I would, but I only just found out.”
Buffy fought the tears in her eyes as she tried to control her breathing.
“So you’re not coming over at all?” she asked, feeling as if her heart was
breaking.
Spike paused for a minute, and Buffy could almost see him biting his lip as
he postponed the inevitable. “No,” he said in a gentle tone.
Buffy took a deep breath before slamming the lid down on the pan of sauce
and turning off all the burners on the stove.
“What was that, pet?” he asked worriedly.
“Nothing for you to be concerned about,” Buffy said in a harsh tone. She
knew he didn’t plan this, but it wasn’t the first time something like this
had happened, and Buffy wasn’t exactly feeling generous tonight.
“Buffy, listen to me, I-“
“You didn’t mean for it to happen,” Buffy interrupted, trying to keep the
rage out of her voice. “You didn’t mean to hurt me, you didn’t mean to
break another promise. Save it, Spike! I’ve heard it all before!”
“Buffy, I’ll make it up to you,” he said in a soothing voice. The same
voice he used when he was talking to clients of his company.
“Yeah,” Buffy said sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep from crying.
“That’s what you’re best at, isn’t it, Spike? Making it better. Public
Relations really is your strong suit…”
Buffy trailed off at the knock on the door. Walking through the apartment
in confusion, she opened the door and was met with a huge floral
arrangement.
“Buffy Summers?” the small man holding the flowers asked.
Buffy took the phone away from her ear as she nodded, letting the man in and
gesturing for him to set them on the coffee table.
“Thank you,” she mumbled as he walked out before turning her attention back
to the phone. “You’re a piece of work, do you know that?” she asked, her
eyes shining. “You can’t buy me off when you do something like this.”
“It’s worked before,” Spike said, trying to lighten the mood but only
serving to make it even worse.
“So, what’s next?” Buffy asked. “My guess would be diamonds.”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t,” she said softly, shaking her head, even though he couldn’t see it.
“Just don’t,” she whispered before disconnecting the call.
Buffy felt her chin quiver as she stared at the flowers. Did he really
think this would work? She looked down at the phone in her hand that was
incessantly ringing. Caller ID informed her that it was Spike- as if she
couldn’t have guessed.
Buffy took a deep breath as anger seemed to cloud her vision. Pulling her
arm back, she let the phone fly across the room, connecting with the wall
and effectively dislodging the battery. But of course, the ringing didn’t
stop. After all, there were about five different phones in the penthouse.
Grabbing her purse off the end table, Buffy looked at the display of flowers
again. For a moment, she thought about throwing it to the floor.
Shattering the beautiful crystal vase and sending glass shards flying over
the hardwood. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she would
have to clean it up.
Dropping her purse, Buffy picked up the flowers and walked into the kitchen,
depositing the vase in the trash and resisting the urge to throw it into
the metal wastebasket. She took the flowers and dumped them in the sink,
shoving what she could down the drain as she flipped the garbage disposal.
When over half were effectively gone, Buffy turned off everything and walked
out into the main room again. Picking up her purse, she left her cell phone
sitting on the coffee table, knowing that Spike would try to call it soon,
since the main line had stopped ringing a few moments ago.
* * * * *
Twenty minutes later, a tearful Buffy found herself in front of her best
friend’s house.
“Buffy,” Willow gasped as she opened the door. “What happened to you?”
Buffy let the other girl lead her inside and direct her to the couch.
“Buffy, what’s wrong?” Willow asked worriedly as her girlfriend Tara
walked into the room.
“It’s nothing,” Buffy said, sniffling and shaking her head. “It’s
just…tonight was our six month anniversary, and…”
“And he broke the date?” Tara supplied softly, sitting down next to Buffy.
She nodded miserably. “I don’t know why I’m so surprised. It’s not like
he’s great at keeping his promises,” she continued with a wry smile.
“You care about him,” Willow said, soothingly rubbing her friends back.
“But does he care about me?” Buffy asked quietly, not directing the question
to anyone in particular.
“You know he does,” Tara said softly.
“I know…otherwise I wouldn’t be so miserable when he doesn’t show up,” Buffy
said, trying to control her tears.
* * * * *
Later that night, Buffy was unlocking the door to her apartment. She’d spent
the last four hours eating ice cream and popcorn while watching cheesy
eighties movies with her friends. It was a long overdue, spur of the
moment girls' night, and Buffy felt a hundred times better.
At least until she opened her front door and encountered Spike standing in
the middle of her living room with a lit cigarette in his hand.
Despite his imposing presence, Buffy refused to be intimidated in her own
home. Dropping her keys and purse on the table, she never made eye contact
with him as she headed for the bedroom. “There’s no smoking in here,” she
said in a strong voice, knowing that Spike would be following her. “You
should know that, what with as many times as you’re NOT here.”
Buffy slipped out of her dress with her back to him, not caring if he was in
the same room. Pulling out a cream-colored, sleeveless satin nightgown that
skimmed the floor, she was about to slip it on when she felt his arms wrap
around her waist.
“I’m here now, baby,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck.
“Forget it, Spike,” she said, pushing him away and pulling on her gown.
“You’re here too late.” Turning around to face him, she gave him a long
glare before continuing. “I’m guessing the Mrs. didn’t feel like putting
out tonight.”
Spike’s gaze turned cold as he stared at her. “Careful, Buffy,” he said in
a menacing voice. “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”
“Yeah,” Buffy said with an agreeable nod. “And I’m just your whore.”
Spike clenched his jaw and looked at the ceiling as Buffy left the room,
passing through the living room on her way to the kitchen. Spike caught up
with her at the doorway, grabbing both her shoulders and spinning her to
face him.
“I’m sorry about tonight, Buffy. I didn’t know you had all that planned,”
he said, gesturing into the kitchen. “And I have never treated you like a
whore.”
Buffy turned her head as Spike moved in to kiss her. “Go home, Spike,” she
said softly.
“I can stay another hour, Buffy.”
“Just what a girl wants to hear,” Buffy replied with a fake smile. “Please,
come over for an hour and fuck me so you can go home to your wife and do
whatever the hell you want.”
“Buffy…” Spike trailed off as Buffy pulled away from him, walking into the
kitchen.
“Go home to your WIFE, William,” she called with her back to him, not
wanting him to see the tears in her eyes.
“I’ll call you in a few days,” he said softly before walking out the door.
Buffy closed her eyes, trying to will away the tears as she heard the door
shut behind him. Losing the battle, her head fell into her hands as the
sobs started.
‘God, I want him so much,’ she thought. ‘But not like this. I want to be
the only woman in his life. Not the other woman.’
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