A/N: Okay, I wanted to insert a bit of Spuffy ‘thoughts’ into this summary or ‘note’ or whatever. I am staying up, way too late for me to try and get this chapter up. I’m going to introduce our Spuffy in this one. It might not quite be the Spuffy we like, for now, but it’s necessary for the plot. Please read and review. Thank you (spuf takes another sip of cabernet wine)!
Buffy’s Revenge: Chapter 10 ‘The Bronze’
Dinner with Riley and Cordelia had been a nightmare. Angel was the perfect gentleman, Riley acted like a pandering idiot to Cordy, Buffy and Angel. And Cordelia? Well, she was the perfect Queen of the Country Club; propriety above all else, right down to her perfectly manicured fingernails.
Buffy would have liked to scratch Cordy’s eyes out with her own polished nails. Frankly, it was a mystery to her how everyone behaved so cordially, without at least laughing in mock horror at the stupidity of the whole situation. Angel was boinking Cordelia, Buffy was boinking Riley, Riley was boinking (at least one would hope) his fiance Cordelia. Angel was boinking Buffy, his wife, well…some of the time, anyway.
After the dessert, which consisted of after dinner drinks for all at their exclusive table, Buffy feigned one of her terrible migraines.
“Angel,” she whined, “can we go, please? I’ve got a terrible headache and no medicine with me?”
Angel shrugged at his dinner companions and offerred his rather meaty arm to his wife. Riley smirked (not nearly as cute as Williams smirk) and winked at Buffy, knowingly. Cordelia looked down her $10,000.00 or so nose job and glanced at Buffy, her expression cynical and cold.
“I told you to go see the Doctor about those damn headaches, Buffy, darling,” she stated with her demeanor of royalty.
“I know, Cordy,” Buffy said meekly, as she studied her husband intently, “but I’m a bit afraid of shots, you know.”
Cordelia looked at Buffy like a social worker would at a mentally challenged six-year-old.
“Well,” the Queen of SunnyD began, “if you’d have gotten that silly nose of yours fixed like I told you, years ago…” she left the sentence unfinished.
Angel took the gap in conversation to excuse himself and his wife and lead her to the door of the Club. The valet brought his Mercedes promptly.
The Travers drove in silence most of the way home, until Buffy asked, “why do we socialize with them, Angel?”
Buffy’s husband didn’t answer right away, but when they got to the next red light, he replied simply, “the Chase’s are my firms’ best clients Buff, we have to be civil, at the least.”
When they got home, Buffy hurried upstairs and washed up for bed. After taking a rather large sleeping pill, she crawled into her bed and tried to relax enough to sleep.
That’s when she noticed Angel’s private phone line, lit green, and couldn’t resist picking up the phone to listen in.
Angel sounded very businesslike: “you get this done, hear me, Spike?” he sounded angry, too.
Spike didn’t answer right away, then finally his deep British accent broke the silence: “You know, Peaches,” he began, “maybe you should come clean with your wife about your rather ‘questionable’ business practices?”
Angel snapped back, “you keep your pansy British ass out of my business and my marriage, you prick! I don’t pay you to be a marriage counselor, just a lacky!”
Buffy couldn’t listen to any more and carefully replaced the phone back on the receiver.
It was Tuesday night, a week after the nightmare of a dinner and Angel was on another business trip, New York this time. Buffy took this opportunity to take a break from her naughty activities and just have a night out with the girls.
She met Willow and Tara at the Bronze on a that night, just after Angel had left to fly to La Guardia Airport in NYC. It was a simple plan; Buffy, Willow and Tara, at the Bronze for burgers (the best in town) and then a couple of drinks at the Country Club, via Buffy of course, to listen to Tuesday Night Jazz.
Xander had been a nightmare! Buffy had to plead a night out with Helen Travers, Angel’s Mom, just to get out of meeting him for supper, drinks or whatever.
“But Helen keeps insisting,” she’d whined to Xander, “hoping he wouldn’t catch on.”
It was getting to be a problem, not only with Xander, but with Riley and Connor. However, she didn’t want to think about ‘that’ tonight.
Buffy chose a simple pair of tight leather pants, a red halter and her hair down, around her shoulders; light makeup to finish the ‘look.’ She met Willow and her love, Tara at the Bronze at 7:00 PM, on the dot.
When she strutted through the main bar and grill, all eyes were on her, she could feel them. It empowered her, made her feel like a Goddess. The added plus was the fact that Buffy didn’t feel the need to go scouting about for any more men in her life.
Three paramours were quite enough, thank you very much. Willow, who sat next to her girlfriend, Tara in a large booth in the Grill waved her over and Buffy sidled in across the table from the two lovebirds.
“A Double Martini’ Buffy ordered from the waiter as Willow shot her that ‘careful’ look of hers. Tara slapped her girlfriend’s arm, gently, “let her have some fun!” she admonished, “I’ll drive if she gets soused, promise!”
Willow gave her girl a warm look, “okay,” she replied simply.
Buffy made small talk; what was going on at the University where Tara taught English Literature and Willow taught Computer Science.
“Professor Walsh is a tyrant, still!” Willow giggled and Tara concurred.
“Another, Martini,” Buffy ordered with alcohol fueled confidence.
The food came, they ate and chatted about University life, computers, Shakespeare and Art.
“I have to pee!” Buffy blurted out as she jumped up from the booth.
“Too much info, Buffy,” Willow giggled as she waved her good friend off to the bathroom.
Buffy weaved her way to the nearest bathroom, the one just outside in the hallway, just outside of the main bar. She was tipsy, no doubt, but she held her head high as she sauntered into the bar, appreciating the ‘stares’ of the male patrons (and some of the female patrons) in there.
She was halfway into the darkened bar, way to far to make a casual escape when she saw ‘him.’ There he was, William Giles, his platinum blond hair slicked back, those black clothes, and of course, the usual cigarette hanging from ‘mouth’ of his. Couldn’t miss him for the world.
Before she could turn and make her escape he called out to her, “don’t run away now, Buffy, luv. Have a seat with me and let’s chat a bit.”
Buffy turned bright red, but felt obligated to sit in the small chair William had pushed out with his foot. For some odd reason, Buffy could never turn down William and always seemed to rise to his bait.
(A/N: I will now freely jump from Spike’s POV to Buffy’s POV and visa versa. I write this way more because I’m kind of lazy then for any other reason. Anyway, the story will be told from both Spike’s and Buffy’s POV from now on.)
William (or Spike as the case may be) pushed the bar stool next to him over with his Doc Martin clad foot.
“Sit down, Princess,” he purred, his blue eyes never leaving Buffy. “Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”
Buffy did as she was told, reluctantly.
“Hey, William,” she mutterred, “what brings you here?”
He never really answered, just lit up a cigarette and stared at her, the whole time.
“Want a drink?” he asked her, real gentlemanly like.
“Yes,” she replied, a bit too quickly, “I definitely want a drink.”
William ordered a Martini from the waiter and Buffy had to wonder how he ‘knew’ just what she had been drinking.
“What brings ‘you’ here, Princess?” he asked evenly as he stared at her again.
“Needed a night off,” she murmured, “needed some space.” She stared right back at William, measuring his reaction, but got nothing but a blank look.
Spike’s POV (for the moment):
There was nothing like a Buffy Summers (Spike would never call her Travers) ‘deer in the headlights’ look. Just like the one she had now.
Spike (or William as Buffy always called him) loved that look from Buffy. Her hazel/green eyes would widen, she’d get that ‘what did I do?’ look and mere mortal men would be helpless against it. Spike was not an exception, he was the rule; but he’d never let Buffy know that.
The Giles men, Spike/William and his step-father Rupert had never been immune to the likes of Buffy Summers and her Mum, Joyce; they had been victims of them.
From the first time Spike had ever seen ‘Her’ he had been helpless under her spell. He had just moved here, to Sunnydale, California; he was only seventeen-year’s-old and a Junior in High School. His Mum, Anne and his step-dad Rupert Giles had moved from Liverpool, England, to this small town in Southern California to live.
Rupert was to be the Sunnydale High librarian and although William, or Spike as he was called now, liked the idea of change, he was a bit wary of the new atmosphere he’d been so rudely shoved into. Upon landing in this berg, Sunnydale, he’d sought out the most popular place to go, the one all the best kids in town went to hang out. The Bronze.
When Spike (or William as his Mum still called him) walked into the Bronze, he was happy to note that the crowd seemed to part for him. Some alternative rock song was playing on the loud speakers and Spike swaggered (he’d got that down pretty well) up close to the stage where some locals were dancing.
That’s the first time he had seen ‘Her’ his Buffy. She was shimmying around, a bit too much like a stripper for his taste, with some big oaf of a whelp (boy) who was trying to keep up with her but was failing miserably. Her honey blond hair, long and loose was swaying to her movements and the idiot she was dancing with was practially drooling over her.
This little angel, no bigger then a minute, looked up at Spike, gave him the shyest of smiles, but then proceeded to flip her golden tresses about with her tiny hands; sidle up this oaf of a dance partner and rub herself slowly up against him.
For whatever reason, Spike nearly roared his displeasure, pushed his way into the crowd and up to the little blond tease; where he pulled her from the local yokel and closer to himself.
“Mine!” he thought viciously at the time, “Mine!” From that point on, he, Spike was a permenant fixture in ‘the group’ of Buffy’s friends, but always kept his own growing feelings for Summers to himself.
Buffy’s POV:
“So, Spikey,” Buffy purred, using his nickname for the first time in forever, “what do you want?”
Her words just dripped with honey, she knew that. She watched the reaction in William’s steel blue eyes. He not only looked confused, she thought, but he showed signs of something she had seen before in him; something like want.
“So,” he smirked down at her as he lit another cigarette, “it’s Spike now?” Buffy giggled, drunkenly, “okay,” she threw her hands up in mock defeat, “Will. William, Willie?”
Buffy made a move to get up and leave, but William grabbed her arm and held her fast.
“Not so fast, Buffy,” he whispered as she peered about to see if ‘anyone’ had noticed. “Why don’t you and me have that little chat I spoke of?” he finished, his scarred eyebrow quirked up a bit.
“And what would that be, Spikey?” she slurred, feeling the affects of way too much Vodka and way too little food. “And,” she went on, “by the way. How come you smoke in places you know you can’t?”
The pout of her mouth caused a smile in the handsome face of her enemy.
“I told you, Princess,” he whispered, huskily, as he leaned close and ran his slim middle finger over her palm, “I do what I want.”
Buffy actually shivered, her body filled with all kinds of unholy tingles and an inner horror that she had willingly allowed William Giles to touch her like that. It was a more sensuous feeling then some sex acts she’d done with other men and it made her very, very uneasy.
Once she gotten her breath back, she stared boldly into Spike’s amazingly blue eyes and leaned so close to him that their lips could have met in a kiss.
“So,” she purred, her voice almost a whisper, “what is it, exactly, Spikey, that you want?”
The minute she had spoken, Buffy knew she’d made a terrible mistake. Asking William a loaded question like that was just asking for a major problem. But, instead of giving her a smart ass answere, or one of his patent snarky smirks, William just looked at her, wistfully, and softly ran his finger over the pulse in her wrist.
She was sure he could feel just how fast her pulse was racing, expecially when he looked at her like that, and touched her there. She could only hope he couldn’t hear her heart beating out so loud. ‘Geez they can probably hear it behind the bar!’
“You’d be surprised what I really ‘want,’ Buffy,” he finally spoke, so softly she could barely hear, his eyes never left hers. “Then again,” he added, “maybe you wouldn’t be so bloody surprised.”
This stunned Buffy momentarily, as she tried to analyze what Will meant by this and he looked away from her.
“Did he just blush?!” she asked herself, even more stunned then before. “Hmm,” she continued her inner conversation with herself; “this is interesting. Maybe I’ve misjudged Will. Maybe he’s not ‘in the shadows’ as much as I thought. Maybe he just wants a normal life like the rest of us?”
Now, this was a very sobering thought for the young blond woman and she muddled it over, in silence, while William smoked his cigarette, also in silence.
(per Spike)
Finally, Buffy broke the silence between them, “I hope you get what you really want, Will,” she sounded very sincere, “I want you to be happy, I do.”
Spike realized he must have looked quite puzzled at Buffy’s tender side coming out. Especially where he was concerned.
Before he could reply, she stood, patted his hand gently and whispered, “the problem is, William,” her face was a study in wistfulness, “we don’t always get what we really want, do we?”
Spike thought she seemed reluctant to leave and when she spoke next, her face was serious.
“This is going to sound redundant, Will,” she sighed as she touched his arm once again, almost tenderly, “but remember that Rolling Stones song? The one where Mick keeps talking about ‘getting what you want’ and all?”
He watched her beautiful eyes and nodded quickly, “well, it’s true, Will. You can’t always get what you want, but, if you try real hard…you’ll get what you need.”
Spike watched Buffy turn and walk away from him, headed towards the women’s loo in the back of the bar. He sat and mulled over her words, just for a minute or so, then tossed a $20.00 and $10.00 bill, each, on the small table.
A man with a mission, he strode quickly to a small emergency exit that was right next to the very bathroom that Buffy had gone into and just stood, waiting. The hallway, thankfully, was completely empty, except for him and being Spike, it wasn’t too hard to disengage the emergency alarm attached to the door.
It was only a minute or so before the object of his desire, Buffy, exited the bathroom, oblivious to his presence and apparently caught up in her own thoughts. That’s when he made his move. He grabbed Buffy by her slim arm, not too roughly, but just enough to manuveur her out of the exit, into the alley behind The Bronze.
When he got her out into the dark alley, he checked around to make sure they were alone and slammed the exit door closed behind them with his foot.
Buffy was so shocked by his element of surprise that she could only look at him, wild eyed and mute.
That lasted all of a few seconds, because when he pushed her up against the brick wall behind her, she gasped and cried, “What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”
He smiled at her and replied huskily, “getting what I want, and, what I need!”
Then he slammed his lips down on hers in a bruising kiss; which, finally, at least for the moment, shut her the hell up!
A/N: Wonder what William was doing there, huh? Thanks for reading and please review. Luv, Spuf
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