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25: ‘Interview Chapter With A Curator’


A/N: This is a mere interlude between a lot more Spuffyness. I only allude to Spike and Buffy’s encounters here because I wanted to concentrate on Buffy’s pursual of a career and such. Thanks, Luv, Spuf


William was sound asleep next to her, spooned up against her with his arms wrapped tightly about her back and shoulders. Buffy glanced around the room to the clock and gasped, “Oh God, it’s nearly midnight. I’ve got to get home!”

While she was trying to figure out how to loose herself from him, without waking him up, it dawned on her that he would have to take her back to her car at the mall.

“Oh damn!,” she muttered, “I can’t go anywhere without waking him and he looks so darn cute asleep.”

His hair was all mussed up and there were little blond spikes that stuck up here and there all over his head. A part of her knew she should get home, but the other part, the ‘isn’t he adorable asleep’ part told her to stay here in this comfy bed, with this comfy man.

“Oh well,” she sighed in resignation, giving into to her ‘isn’t he adorable’ part, “might as well be comfy and stay for the long overnight haul.”

It wasn’t as if there was anyone waiting for her at home and the gardner could have cared less if she wondered into her house after daylight. Both sets of her neighbors were on vacation, and anyway, surprisingly, the entire neighbohood seemed to mind their own business. No one would even know she’d been gone all night, nor would they care that Buffy Travers had not ‘gotten home before dawn.’

“Besides,” she giggled under her breath, “Will’s so lovely when he sleeps, he seems like an angel.”

A thought came to her, “angel my ass,” she mumbled a little louder, “he sure doesn’t ‘sound’ like an angel. Especially when he’s whispering little hot naughty things in my ear when we’re making love.”

‘Making Love!’ she thought stunned, ‘did I just say that?’

“I spose you’re plottin’ your escape Princess?” he said with a smirk, his eyes still closed tight.

“You’re not even asleep you big faker,” she squealed and began to tickle him mercilessly.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he grabbed her and pinned her arms up above her head, against the pillows, “only I get to tickle, you, and I feel more like kissin’ you right now then teasing you, so……”

He began an assault on Buffy’s neck with his lips that trailed down to her left breast, looked up at her and smiled wickedly, “still want to escape?”

Buffy giggled uncontrollably, “no!” she choked out, “I’ll stay all night, I mean if you want me to.”

She suddenly became quiet and he stopped licking her nipple to stare at her, “bloody hell, Buffy, I want you to stay all week,” he responded honestly.

“I can’t,” she whispered shyly, “but I’ll stay tonight with you Will.”

Spike broke into a huge grin and rolled onto his back, pulling her up on top of him. “I know you can’t stay all week, luv,” he whispered, brushing her silky hair out of her face, “just wish you could, that’s all.”

A warm feeling began in his stomach and slipped up into his chest as he stared into her warm green eyes. She had a little half-smile on her lips, her hair was what could only be described as wild all about her head and she wore the look of an extremely well shagged lover.

Even after their sleep, she looked all kiss swollen and sated, just like he must look right now. It just made him feel so happy and good about them both that he had to bury his face in the side of her neck; he felt like he might tear up from happiness and didn’t want her to see it.

“I really should get home before 8:00 AM, though, Will,” she said, her little face scrunched up in thought. “No need to tempt fate and I have a ton of things to do today.”

He looked at her, tried to smile, but only succeeded in a pout, “yeah, I know,” he sighed. “Would you come back this evening Buffy?” he asked hopefully, trying to read her face for an answer.

She twitched her pretty mouth and gazed into his eyes, thoughtfully, “yeah, I will come back tonight, Will,” she smiled. “But I can’t stay too late, I wouldn’t dare to. Can I park at the little mall again and have you drive me here? I probably could stay until say 11:00 PM or so, if that’s okay?”

Spike ran his hand down the side of her face, “that’d be great, Buffy,” he murmered, placing a chaste kiss on her warm cheek.

“I wish I could take you on a real date, Princess. Someplace real nice,” he said wistfully. “Oh, I know, too risky, someone might recognize you,” he added somewhat sadly, “just wish I could take and show you off all over.”

It was Buffy’s turn to run her fingers lightly down his cheek, “it’s okay, Will, honest. Believe it or not, I really like your place and I ‘do’ feel comfortable here. Please don’t worry about it, kay?”

He nodded then changed the subject, “what do you want to do? What do you want me to cook you?” She giggled, a delightful sound to his ears and he longed to hear it so many more times.

“Why don’t we watch movies, maybe order a pizza!” she squealed like a teenager. “Hey, I know,” she sat up, cross legged on the bed next to him and continued, “we can order a pizza and those hot wing thingy’s you use to love! You still like them, don’t you Will?”

He felt his heart stop for a minute and he had to catch his breath, ‘she remembers,’ he thought happily. “Yes, luv,” he chuckled, “I still love them and I think the bloke that invented them is a bloody genious!”

With a gentle tug, Spike pulled Buffy back down on top of him and shot her a mischiveous smirk, “that settled,” he purred, “what was that about ‘little hot naughties in your ear?”

Buffy hurried into her house, via the back door. It was nearly 9:00 AM and she needed to get out of yesterday’s clothes and into another shower before it got too late. The answering machine by her bed blinked two messages at her and she felt her heart jump up into her throat.

“Oh shit,” she hissed, “please, please let it not be Angel, please!” She didn’t suspect it was Angel, since he would have called on her cell phone or at least called Willow’s and since her friend never called Buffy, she was pretty sure all was safe on that end.

After punching the listen button, she heard her mother’s voice, “Buffy, it’s Mom. I haven’t seen or heard from you in ages. Is everything okay there? Give me a call when you can, dear. Love you.”

Willow’s voice was on the next message, but it turned out to be her friend just letting her know that ‘all was clear’ (leave it to Wills to be cryptic!) and that she’d discussed the Gallery thing with Tara.

“Give us a call later today, Buff,” Willow chirped, “maybe you can drop by and talk more to Tara?”

She called her Mom back first and had a nice long chat with her, ending the conversation by promising profusely that she would come up to Santa Barbara and visit, soon. Joyce Summers would probably not visit them in Sunnydale, Buffy knew her mother disliked Angel, deeply.

After making herself some coffee, Buffy settled down to return Willow’s call. Tara answered and told Buffy she would be happy to give her references, but that she would need her transcripts and records from the University. More importanly, Tara assured her that she’d help set up an interview with a Curator, who was a good friend of hers.

“Olivia D’ Brisset is a wonderful woman, Buffy,” Tara gushed. “She’s smart, married with two kids, but really independent and knows where she’s going. She’ll just love you Buffy, like we all do.”

Buffy made plans to go to Willow and Tara’s for lunch and chat the whole thing over. “This is so cool,” she sang. The shower felt great and she decided to wear a pretty sundress to their apartment, so she could go to Will’s later, kind of dressed up. Today felt so special to her that she wanted to look special too and kind of thought that Will would like her in the little powder blue sundress. Buffy just couldn’t wait to talk to the girls about the position at the Gallery.

Tara answered their apartment door when Buffy got there about 1:00 PM that same day. Willow was somewhere in the kitchen and Buffy could hear the banging of pots and pans as she prepared their lunch.

“Well, do you think you might like to interview with Olivia, Buffy,” Tara asked as she sipped a soda right from the can.

“Like!” Buffy squealed, “I would so ‘love’ to have an interview at the Gallery. My Mom worked there you know, well before she left for Santa Barbara, after I got married and all,” she finished on a sad note. The young woman sitting in the chair across from Buffy gave her a sympathetic look, but said nothing.

“You’ll need your transcripts from the University, like I told you. That would normally take a little while for you to get, but I’m going to get them sent to Olivia on Monday. In fact, I’ve already talked to Olivia today and she’s all set to speak to you as early as this Tuesday. I mean if you really want to?”

Buffy couldn’t believe her ears and began to squirm around on the couch with unhidden excitement, “oh Tara, do you think I could! That would be so awesome, I mean just to get into an interview that soon would be fantastic!”

Right then, they were interrupted by Willow who came flying out of the kitchen door with a platter of something and place mats.

“Slops on!” she cried cheerily, “hi Buff!” Tara and Buffy both jumped up to help the red head set the table and serve their lunch, which seemed to consist of a totally vegetarian diet. Which of course, was just fine with Buffy, especially when the whole time they ate, they talked about the Gallery, her chances of working there and art.

Willow never once brought up the subject of last night’s covert operation in which she’d played a part of. Either she trusted Buffy to tell her everything when she felt it was time, or had decided not to discuss it in front of Tara at this time. The afternoon just flew by, and Buffy heard the ‘Felix the Cat’ clock on the wall meow four times, signaling that it was now 4:00 PM.

“I should go, guys,” Buffy said, standing to prepare to leave, “I’ve got some plans and I really should get going.” Tara waved goodbye from the couch, Willow stood up to walk Buffy to the door.

“Buffy,” Willow said to her lowly just before she left the apartment, “please be careful, we really care about you, kay?” Buffy nodded and gave Willow a warm hug of thanks and left.

On the way home, Buffy dialed Will’s number; he answered on the second ring and sounded so pleased to hear her voice.

“Can I come over about 5:30 or so, Will,” she asked shyly, still embarrassed about calling men in general.

“Of course, Princess,” he responded warmly, “come when you like. I’m just here, waiting for you. Just ring me before you get to the mall, I’ll come over and pick you up.”

Buffy smiled, ‘why do you pamper me so much William Giles’ she thought to herself, ‘and do I really deserve this?’

“I’ve got an interview with the Gallery Curator on Tuesday, Will,” she crowed into the phone, too excited to keep it to herself any longer. “We can talk about it when I get there, over our pizza and hot wings, but it looks pretty good and all. I just can’t wait!”

She heard his pleased chuckle from the other end of the line, “that’s wonderful, Princess,” he said sincerely. “I’m sure you’ll knockem off their feet, luv.”

When she pulled into her driveway, it dawned on her that Will’s reaction to her good news was exactly how she wished Angel’s could be. But, the truth was that her husband would never be that elated about it, not in a million years.

Sunday morning came way too early for Buffy. As promised, Will had seen that she’d gotten herself home before midnight, even following her on his Harley to the end of her block. However, it was only half past 7:00 AM and Buffy heard the sounds of the back door being opened, with a key naturally, evidence that her dear hubby was home from LA.

She had not mentioned anything to Will about her uneasiness regarding Angel’s reaction to the job interview, which was probably the best thing. Will seemed to bristle at Angel’s name and that seemed reasonable enough, he was sleeping with the man’s wife after all. Buffy had also come to the conclusion, however deceitful, that she would not mention the possible position at the Gallery to Angel, at least not until it was a sure thing. There was no need to rock the boat anymore, especially since the Gallery thing might not work out.

If and when she got the position, then Buffy would come up with a plan to ease Angel into the idea as gently as possible. After all, it would do none of them any good to get all worked up over it; she was going to take the position, if it was offered to her, and that was all there was to it. Angel’s ‘pride’ be damned.

“Hey Buffy,” Angel nodded at her when he entered their bedroom, “how’s it going?”

He tossed his Armani overnight bag into the walk-in closet and set at the end of their bed.

“Okay,” she mumbled, not looking at him, “how are you?” If Buffy didn’t know better, she’d think they were a couple of teenagers on a first date; they were that uneasy with each other now.

“Okay,” he sighed and flopped back onto the bed next to her, “all of them started to get on my nerves, Dad, Tofutti,” and he chuckled here which caused her to smile, “and even dear little Dawnie.”

Buffy looked over at her husband and tried to remember when they’d been really happy together; it seemed like an eternity ago.

“When will Dawnie come home,” she asked quietly, not sure she even cared anymore.

“Not sure,” Angel responded, “her big birthday thing that Mom has planned for weeks is in a couple of months; I’m sure she’ll be around for that. Also, the fact that Connor will probably bug her until she gets back will be a big draw for her.” Buffy flinched at the name of Connor, but pushed it aside as best she could.

“Well,” she sighed, “maybe it’ll be good for both Dawn and your Mom to be apart for a while. I know that when I was seventeen it was pretty rough between my Mom and me. Give them some time, it’ll work out.”

Angel reached over and took her hand in his, “I missed you, Buff,” he murmered.

“Good,” she responded, “remember that the next time you ‘try’ to stomp all over my feelings and my pride.”

Before either of them could say more, Buffy jumped up and rushed into the bathroom, “I’m going to take a bath,” she called out, “if you want coffee it’s all set up to go on the kitchen counter. Maggie and Jenny should be back in a couple of hours and they can make some breakfast.”

She thought she heard him say something like ‘sure babe’ but she couldn’t be sure, she’d already turned on the bath water.

All of Sunday night and Monday evening, Angel and Buffy side stepped each other pretty successfully. Of course he had work to go to on Monday morning, so Buffy was free to just have some alone time and think about her interview at the Gallery on Tuesday. Like she’d promised herself, she hadn’t told Angel anything about it and she intended to keep it that way, until at least, she got the job.

By Monday night, Buffy had been victorious in avoiding any physical contact with her husband, sexual or otherwise. Not that he had pursued the issue; no, he seemed more then willing to avoid the physical aspect of their home life, completely, which was fine by Buffy. As much as she’d like to fix her marriage, the thought of having sex with her own husband simply annoyed her at the moment and she couldn’t explain why, even to herself.

They ate their Monday night meal in total silence and soon afer dinner Buffy headed up to bed. She could hear Angel downstairs, listening to some Barry Manilow ( ‘Mandy’ for God’s sake) and probably drinking himself into a stupor. When he stumbled up to bed, almost after 11:00 PM, he plopped into their bed with a heavy thump.

“Buff,” he slurred drunkenly, “I wanna’ play.” She feigned a very deep sleep and he eventually passed out

Buffy’s appointment with Olivia at the Gallery was at 10:00 AM, sharp.
After Angel had gone to work at 8:30, Buffy frantically tried to pull herself together enough to make some kind of a positive impression on the Art Curator. She’d chosen a simple navy blue skirt, the hem line hit just above her knee, with a sleeveless white silk top and two inch pumps. Tara had called her Monday night to tell her that Olivia had indeed received her transcripts from Sunnydale U. and was very impressed with her.

Buffy choked down a piece of toast and some of Maggie’s famous coffee and rechecked her look in the mirror for the twentieth time. Her hair was up in a loose bun, the make-up was definitely subdued and she had to admit, she looked pretty darn smart, even to herself.

“Here we go,” she bolstered herself and headed to the Camaro.

Olivia D’Brisset was everything Tara had said she was and much more. The woman was stunning in looks and stature. To Buffy, Ms. D’Brisset resembled a beautiful Egyptian Queen; tall, dark and self assured. She’d seen statues of Cleopatra VII and Olivia came about as close as a living model could to that formidible woman. Not only was she beautiful, Olivia had the most interesting British accent, a mix between upper class English with just a hint of Jamaican to it.

“You come highly recommended Buffy,” Olivia was saying, “I put a lot of stock in what Tara McClay has to say and she says you are perfect for this position. But, I’m curious, what do you say, Buffy?”

Buffy hesitated just a moment then stated with a new found confidence, “I say I’m perfect for the position also, Ms. D’Brisset.”

The lovely Curator smiled warmly, “I do believe I agree with both you and Tara, Mrs. Travers,” she responded. “Now, here’s the problem; the position is part time and doesn’t have medical benefits or pay exceptionally well, but I think you might be quite happy in it. What do you say Buffy, you want to give it a go?”

With a shake of her golden head, Buffy assured Olivia that money was not a priority for her, neither were medical benefits.

“I see,” mumbled Olivia, “that says a lot Buffy. You seem to really ‘want’ this position and it’s important that you develop a true love of the work. You will start off assisting me, part time, here at the Gallery. Eventually you’ll be taking on more responsibilities as I will be going various places to purchase art for the Gallery. I think you have the right stuff Buffy, in fact, I know you do.”

“So what do you say, Buffy?” Olivia D’Brisset asked again.

“I say when do I start?” Buffy answered with her own excited question. Olivia showed the Gallery’s newest employee around the premises, starting with ancient studies to the works of the Dark Ages.

They came to a painting that struck Buffy as particularly ‘dark and gothic’ and she just had to ask her now employer, “who’s that? This painting looks circa 15th century and ‘he’ looks really evil.”

With a sigh, Olivia assured Buffy that yes, the man in the painting was more then evil. “That, Buffy,” she said softly, “was Vlad Tepes, or Vlad the Impaler, the son of Vlad Dracul of Romania.”

Buffy nodded, “I know this guy, he’s the one Bram Stoker based his Dracula on, right?”

Again Olivia nodded, “too true, unfortunately, this monster in the painting was more of a horror then any man could imagine.” Buffy shivered and they passed on to the next piece of art.

Buffy left the Gallery, her heart beating a mile a minute and she felt like she was on top of the world.

“I got the job,” she sang in her car, toodling down the main highway, “I got the job!”

Then, she suddenly burst into happy tears and had to pull over to the side of road. She needed to talk to someone, the people she cared about most. Her first instinct was to call Angel at the office and tell him her wonderful news, then she remembered, he wouldn’t think the news so wonderful. Willow and Tara would be in the middle of their summer classes and she hated to bother them. Mama would be at her own museum position in SB and frankly, Buffy wanted to talk forever with her about her new job.

That left one important person, perhaps the one that supported her the most about her new found career in her field, William. She dialed his number, nervously, hoping he’d answer his cell phone.

“Giles,” came his clipped accent and masculine voice.

“William?” she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Buffy!” he cried, concerned, “what’s the matter? Are you alright? Talk to me, where are you? Buffy dammit, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Will,” she choked out, “everything’s great, honest. I got it Will, I got the position! Can you believe it?”

Spike gasped in relief, he’d been a wreck when he first heard her tear choked voice at least until she could explain why she was crying.

“Yes,” he responded fairly calmly, “I can believe it Buffy. I can believe in anything you want to do, because I believe in you Princess. Always have.”

There was a pause between them as Buffy apparently tried to catch her breath, “I start Thursday! I know I’m going to love it and I can’t wait to get started!”

He took a deep breath, not really wanting to ask the next question, but compelled to, “what does Angel say, luv?”

Another long pause, “I wouldn’t know,” she quipped, “I haven’t told him yet, although, I doubt if he’ll be as thrilled as you are.”

Trying to suppress a growl, Spike thought to himself, ‘he better not deride you, my love. He better not berate you, chastise you or even raise his voice to you. If he does and I find out about it, I’ll rip his throat out and shove it up his arse, twice!’

“It’ll be fine, Buffy,” he said instead, “and I’m so proud of you Buffy, you have no idea.”

“Hey,” he said suddenly, “why don’t ‘you and I’ celebrate, Thursday after your first day? Peaches will be golfing with Captain Cardboard, you and I can do something special, anything together. What do you say Buffy?”

Buffy giggled soft and low, “I say okay, Will, but answer me something. Just why do you call my husband Peaches?”

He thought about it for a moment then finally answered, “I guess it’s something I came up with to describe his ‘peachy’ personality, luv,” he laughed.

“Riiighght,” Buffy responded drawing out the right. “I’ll see you Thursday Will,” she promised.

“See you Thursday, Princess,” he answered, “I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll set something up, okay?” She confirmed it and clicked off the phone, never hearing his last sentence; “I’ll miss you until then, Princess.”


A/N: I skipped over any real intimate scenes between Spike and Buffy because I wanted to concentrate on her future career. I’m wondering, did anyone get the ‘home before dawn’ nod I threw in from Restless. Which by the way still confuses me to know end! Forgive me for the Vlad the Impaler nonsense, just wanted to throw some vampire lore in there someplace. Please read and review. Thx, Luv, Spuf





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