Chapter 31: ‘I’ll Miss You Something Awful!’
Relationships were tough, Buffy ‘Summers’ Travers got that. Even the most forthright, upstanding and ‘normal’ relationships were a pain in the ass to anyone in them. Will’s and hers wasn’t tough; it was rough, hard and past ridiculous; it was sublime.
‘But damn, the love making was great!’ Buffy assured herself, watching Will sleep in the overpriced Inn they were staying at. A sudden thought grasped her and she leaned over to her lover’s ear.
Whispering softly, barely audible, “Will,” she sing-songed. He didn’t stir, just lay there in a dead to the world stance, a smile of contentment on his face. “Willie,” she murmered again, this time adding a little lick of her tongue to said ear. This time, Will made some movement, turning over onto his other side, his back to her. Buffy sighed in frustration.
“William Giles!” she cried, loud enough to wake him and half the hotel, “wake your delicious, sexy British arse up and face me!”
Will bolted up from the bed, his eyes still closed from sleep, “wha, what did I do now?” he stammered. Buffy burst out into laughter from watching her lover clamor around in their borrowed bed, lost in sated sleep and private dreams.
“You shagged me senseless, Mr. William Giles,” she hissed, “then you fell fast asleep and left me here ‘alone’ still horny for some unknown reason and still wanting you.”
He opened his gorgeous blue eyes at that declaration and smirked at her, “still wanting?” he inquired, his naughty, scarred left eyebrow raised in question.
“Still,” Buffy giggled, snuggling down into him.
“Well, bloody hell, Princess,” he chuckled, “we can’t have that, now, can we?”
Buffy entered her house, she was calling it her house now, not her’s and Angel’s home, since neither of them seemed to be there much anymore. At least together.
Checking the phone messages, she found out that her husband hadn’t bothered to call there either, ‘just as well,’ she surmised, ‘I’m past caring to talk to him.’
Will and her had gotten back to Sunnydale fairly early that morning, in time for her to shower again and get ready to go the Gallery for a few hours that afternoon. Later, after work, she was going to Will’s place to be together, something she had begun to look forward to regularly.
She caught a look at herself in the full length mirror of her bedroom, ‘you look good, Buffy,’ she told herself proudly, ‘you look happy for once.’
After she’d stripped down and slipped into a nice warm tub, Buffy relaxed and thought about her conversation with her mother. One of the things that kept coming back to her mind was something her Mom had asked her twice.
“What price is your happiness worth, Buffy,” Joyce had asked her, “what would you sacrifice or suffer through to be happy?”
She stretched out in the large tub, relishing the warm mixture of water and bath oils she’d used.
“Mom’s right,” Buffy whispered, “no price is too great to pay for happiness, or freedom.” Will felt the same way, she knew that and was fully aware that he’d back her leaving Angel tonight if she wanted to. In fact, Will would encourage it.
The problem was, Angel wouldn’t back her, ever, if she decided to leave him; he’d make her and Will’s life a living hell, or worse.
Earlier, Will had mumbled something about a plan he had, him and Clem to convince Angel to let Buffy go, but she hadn’t asked him to expand on it and he’d dropped the subject.
Buffy had become more and more agreeable to getting away from Angel, but a part of her feared him immensely and worried about his reaction to her leaving.
‘What a mess,’ she muttered, dunking her whole upper body into the tepid bath water.
When Buffy finished her bath, she wrapped up in a huge plush towel and padded out into her bedroom to prepare for work.
She found Angel sitting on the comfort chair she’d bought from Saks, years before.
“Angel!” she gasped, startled, “you frightened me!”
Angel laughed heartily, “sorry, babe. Just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give you a scare.”
Buffy became agitated, but tried to cover it, “thought you were staying in LA until tomorrow,” she stammered, pawing through her wardrobe for an appropriate work outfit.
“I finished early, decided to pack Dawnie up and drag her home a day early,” he explained, coming up behind her and wrapping his huge arms about her.
“I’m late for work,” she mumbled quickly, pulling away from him and carrying her black pant suit to the bed.
“Oh, right, your job,” he muttered, obviously cut by her indifference to his presence.
“Anyway,” he sighed dramatically, “I’m home and I was wondering, could we go out for dinner tonight, just you and me babe?”
What could Buffy say or do? Of course she had to go with whatever her husband wanted at this point, even if it meant disappointing the man she…..’
“Sure,” she murmered, pulling on the pants of her suit, “we can go out.” Hurrying about, getting ready for work, Buffy blatantly avoided any physical contact with Angel, something she was sure he noticed. She was dressed and now sat on her little vanity chair, brushing out her long golden locks.
“Where are we going for dinner?” she asked trying to feign interest.
“The club,” he stated simply, already searching about the bedroom for the Saturday Wall Street Journal. “Hopefully we won’t see anyone there that wants to join us for dinner,” he grumbled, finally finding his precious paper.
“Yeah,” she sighed, “hopefully not.”
The minute she got to the Gallery, Buffy dialed Will on her cell phone.
“Buffy?” he asked, concern in his voice. “I can’t see you tonight, Will,” she whispered, glancing around her boss’s private office. “Angel came home early, he wants to go to dinner tonight……I’m so sorry.” He didn’t say anything for a minute or so then, “I know you are, Princess, I’m sorry too. I’ll miss you something awful.”
Buffy thought for a minute then murmered, “I really, really……will miss you and can’t wait to see you again. Please believe that.”
This seemed to placate Will and Buffy clicked off her phone. “It’s going to be a long evening,” she stated out loud, ignoring the funny look Olivia gave her when she entered her own office.
Buffy went through the motions that night. At the ‘Club’ during dinner, she pretended to listen to Angel and even be somewhat interested in what he had to yammer on about. However, her thoughts kept going back to Will and what she wanted to tell him, in person that is.
“Anyway,” Angel was rambling on, while shoveling filet mignon into his mouth, “I closed the deal early in LA. Course that’s no big deal, I’m the number one guy at the firm, you know Buff? Buff?” he repeated, snapping her out of her reverie.
“Yes!” she cried, bolting up in her chair, “you’re number one with a bullet, Angel. I know.”
He smiled at her warmly, “you’re looking great, Buffy,” he said, rewarding her with a roguish wink, as if he hadn’t seen her in years. “In fact,” he added, gulping his whiskey, “you look better then you have in ages. I’m beginning to think this ‘job’ of yours is doing you some real good.”
‘Doing being the key word here, and not job wise,’ she mused, trying not to laugh out loud.
“Maybe it’s a good thing that I let you go back to work,” Angel reasoned, “I mean, you look great and at least you’re not nagging me about babies that we’re not ready for.”
That did it, Buffy was getting ready to go ballistic any second, but pushed the urge back down, “yeah,” she smirked, “you’re right Angel, neither one of us is ready for children.” Then she let the subject drop and concentrated on her Cordon Bleu.
That night at home, Buffy rushed up to their bedroom and quickly washed up for bed, hoping that her husband would become caught up in some sports program on ESPN or even paperwork from the office. It was getting to the point that Buffy could not stand for Angel to touch her in any way, shape or form.
Once again, she saw the green light of Angel’s private line flash on her receiver and stealthly picked up the phone, holding her hand over the mouthpiece.
She jumped when she heard Will’s voice on the other end of the line, “it’s done,” he stated simply.
“Good,” Angel responded, “about time. And, Spike,” he continued, “make sure that all the ‘t’s’ are crossed and the ‘I’s’ dotted, kapish?” No answer. “Kapish?” Angel asked again.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever Peaches,” William responded. Silence.
“Hey,” Angel chuckled sarcastically, “I’d think a big stud like you would be out, hunting pussy tonight, being Saturday and all, what’s up, Spikey, dry spell?”
Again, silence then Will spoke, “I’ve found someone, Peaches, a wonderful woman. But then again, you wouldn’t know a wonderful woman if she came up and bit you on your arse, would you?”
Angel chuckled loudly, “oh shit, stop the presses, Spike’s in love.”
More silence and Buffy held her breath.
“By the way, Angel, how’s your gorgeous wife?” Angel didn’t respond right away and Buffy strained to hear any kind of breath or reaction.
“My wife, Spike,” Angel finally said, “is no concern of yours. Just remember that, she hasn’t been your concern for over ten years and she’s not now. Besides, she could care less if you died in a alley, no, make that a filthy gutter.”
William chuckled and said “night, Peaches,” then hung up. When Angel came up to bed, Buffy did her best to pretend to be asleep.
On Sunday, Buffy slipped out of her marital bed early in the morning, before Angel could wake up. She pulled on her pretty little pink silk robe and wandered into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.
‘Wonder what Will’s doing?’ she pondered, a bit insecure.
“There’s not been anyone since we got together, Princess,” he had assured her; she believed him.
“Will,” she whispered to the empty air, tears threatening in her eyes, “there’s not been ‘anyone’ for me either, promise.”
Buffy hoped against hope that Angel would leave for the day, go play golf or something, anything to give her a moment’s time to herself; time to collect her thoughts and feelings. Pouring a cup of hot Starbucks brewed coffee for herself, she sat at the kitchen table and mulled over the heavy thoughts that invaded her mind.
“Buff,” Angel called out to her an hour later while she sipped her third cup of coffee on the patio. “I’ve got some business to take care of, gotta go, but I’ll be back about 5:00 tonight. That okay?” He looked so damned innocent, her husband, all scrubbed and flushed from his shower, wearing the Levis she’d bought him just a couple of months ago.
Buffy shrugged indifferently and concentrated on her Sunday Times crossword, “whatever,” she quipped at him.
‘Business, I’ll just bet it’s business,’ she grumbled to herself, “Chase business!” “Have a nice day,” she sang as he strode out to the garage and his beloved Mercedes. “Oh, and Angel,” she added, “I’m going to the Gallery for a few this afternoon, see you later tonight.”
Buffy listened intently while her boss, Olivia, explained some details of an art purchase she was going to make in Chicago.
“It’s really important, Buffy,” Olivia said with her musical accent, a mix of British upper crust and Jamaican overtones. “This art sale in London could be a great boon to the Gallery, much like the one your Mother secured before she left here.”
With a nod of her golden head, Buffy assured Olivia that she understood exactly what she was saying. Olivia was going to Chicago to purchase some pieces, Buffy was to keep things going on the straight and even here at the Sunnydale Gallery. Due to the tuteledge of Olivia, Buffy should have no problem in dealing with anything that came up while her mentor was gone.
Olivia was in her office, finishing up some last minute details before she went on her four day buying trip to Chicago. Buffy was tidying up some paper work and cataloging some new Gallery purchases. This was nothing unusual or out of the ordinary for either of them, although this was the first real business trip that Olivia would be taking since Buffy joined the Gallery. While she sifted through the voluminous amount of mail that the Gallery got daily, Buffy seperated each and every piece into their proper stacks. Junk, advertisements, requests and even endowment suggestions, last but not least……personal mail.
A plain white envelope caught Buffy’s eye, one addressed to her, solely, via the Gallery. She plucked it up and in one swift movement, opened the unobvious envelope.
When she read the paper inside, what it said and implicated? Buffy was immediately spiraled into a state of shock.
On simple lined paper, the kind an elementary school student would use, was printed the five letter word:
WHORE!
In bold, black letters.
A/N: Well, someone in Sunnydale knows about our two ‘Spuffy’ love birds! I’ll give you all a hint; it’s not Angel. Thanks for reading, please review, luv Spuf
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to anyone reading this. Thank you for reviews, you inspire me to continue to submit this here.
Luv, Spuf
Luv, Spuf