Just as promised, promptly at nine, Buffy arrived to take him to the interview. She prepped him in the car, giving him a list of the possible questions that would be asked, and the answers he should steer away from.
Spike was barely paying attention. “Where’d you meet him?”
Buffy stopped talking, looking confused. “Who?”
“Angel.”
“Oh. I met him at a poetry reading.”
“He writes?”
“Yeah, he writes. Okay, so I’m thinking you should not mention how many—“
“You love him?”
“Am I being interviewed or--?”
“I’m curious. Gotta look out for you, you know.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“Buffy, even if you never liked me. . . I always liked you. No matter what you’ll always be in
my life. I can’t just cut you out like that. I’ll always be here, you know that, don’t you?”
She didn’t know what to say and so she sat back and stared out the window for a long time,
Spike watching her intently the whole time. Finally, she turned to him and stuck out her hand.
“Truce. Again.”
He took it, fitting his hand against hers perfectly. He felt a jolt of electricity rush through
him and wondered if she felt it too. He looked up at her. Their eyes met.
“Truce,” she said again, prompting him.
He nodded, “truce.”
She took her hand back and started in again with the questions. For now, he let his questions about Angel slide.
“Spike, word of advice, you don’t need to flirt with every single female that comes within a mile radius.”
“Why not?”
“Do you want a rep like Colin Farrell?”
He pretended to think about it.
“Okay then. Maybe you do, but I would rather not have you, my client, have that rep. You
don’t want to get somewhere just based on how many girls you can nail.”
He stared at her, “jealous pet?”
She rolled her eyes, “yeah, I’m jealous. I’m being serious Spike. I’m representing you. That
means that you don’t act like a man whore. Got it?”
“Got it,” he smiled broadly. “See, this is why I picked you. You know me better than anyone
and you know what’s best for me.”
Her jaw dropped, “I know you better than anyone? How is that possible?”
“You’ve known me for how long? Forever it seems like. You’re the only one I know that can
push all my buttons. Why? Because you know just what buttons to push. Anyone who knows me
well enough should know just what buttons to push on me. You know what makes me happy, sad
and angry. This is why you’re my publicist.”
She stared at him.
“And my friend,” he added, looking directly in her eyes.
She nodded slowly and sat back, silent. She stared out the window and Spike watched her,
wondering what was going on in that beautiful head of hers. He just hoped it didn’t have anything to
do with Angel and instead had everything to do with him.
She was still silent when they returned to his home. He expected her to follow him up, but
she didn’t. She sat in the limo, watching him expressionless.
“Pet? You coming up?”
“No, I’ve got some work to do. I’ll be in touch.”
He sighed, “aren’t you hungry?”
“I’ll catch something at the office.”
“I want you to come in.”
“Spike—“
“Please?”
She sighed heavily. “Fine. I just need to call Angel. I promised after the interview was done,
I would.”
Spike just nodded, trying his best not to make a smart ass comment about Angel. That
would just send her off.
He led her up to his loft and she silently followed, probably figuring how surreal this all was.
They’d never hung out in high school alone. They always had a slew of people around them. There
was a reason for that.
She couldn’t stand him. Which would work out all well and good if not for one small
problem—he was completely smitten with her. He figured the more of a hard time he gave her;
the more she paid attention to him. It was better than her ignoring him. As long as he had her
attention, she wouldn’t be going anywhere. At least not in his mind. So, even after all these years past high school and college, he still stuck around to torment her. This time though, he wasn’t smitten. He was in love. The problem was, she still couldn’t stand him. He thought maybe if he started to treat her differently, worked with her, slowly ripped down the walls she had up against him, she’d come around. Now he had another barrier to get through: Angel.
“You have a nice place,” she told him simply as she took in her surroundings. “You even decorated. I’m impressed.”
He grinned, “was that a compliment?”
She gave him a look, “don’t push your luck. Phone?”
He sighed inwardly. “This way.”
He led her down the hall and into the study. “Privacy here.”
“Thanks,” she said quietly and reached for the phone.
“What does the lady wish for lunch?”
“What do you have?”
“How about. . . pancakes? I bet you didn’t have a proper breakfast this morning, did you?”
She shook her head, grinning. “I didn’t. That sounds really good.”
“How about bacon and sausage to go with it?”
“You’re making my mouth water,” she laughed.
“Breakfast coming up. Orange juice?”
“Iced coffee?”
“Coming up.”
When she rejoined him later, she couldn’t help but smile as she found him flipping pancakes
over a wide grill and moving the sausage and bacon around.
“Your secret is out. You can cook.”
He turned and smiled at her. “That’s not something you can put in a magazine. That’s our
secret.”
“Why? I mean, if word got out that you could cook, do you know how many girls would be
banging down your door?” She told him as she pulled up a stool and sat down next to him, watching him work.
“I don’t want a slew of girls, contrary to popular belief among, well, you.”
“Color me surprised.”
“I like to flirt and have fun, but I’m done with the one night stands and flings.”
She bolted up and touched the back of her hand to his head. “Are you feeling all right? I
don’t need my star getting sick on me now.”
“Ha bloody ha,” and he grabbed her wrist, bringing her hand off his forehead. A shiver went
through her and she snatched her hand away.
“So, shall we take out an ad for what Spike Marsters is really looking for?”
He looked down at her, studying her for a long time that she began to fidget under his gaze.
“No. When the right girl comes along, I’ll know.”
“Will she?”
He stared at her intently, “Oh yes. I’ll make sure of that.”
Feeling awkward all of a sudden, Buffy jumped down from the stool and started opening
cabinets. “Plates? Cups?”
He sauntered over to where she stood, opening cabinets and stood next to her, so close she
could feel his body heat and reached up slightly in front of her to grab cups. He turned into her, handing them to her.
“Buffy,” he breathed. Her heart was racing. Why was her heart racing?
“Yeah?” She said loudly and stepped away from him.
Whatever spell he had woven around her for that brief moment, fled.
“The plates are over there,” he pointed across the kitchen.
“Thanks,” and she went for them.
“So was it all bad to spend some time with me alone?” Spike asked as she gathered her
things.
She shook her head, “no. Surprisingly no.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said dryly.
She laughed, “habit. Come on, it wouldn’t be us if we didn’t insult each other at least. . .well,
any chance we got.”
“But, friends?”
She smiled and nodded, “friends.” Then she pointed at him. “Just don’t piss me off!”
He laughed and held up his hands. “I’ll try not to. Can’t make any promises.”
“I know. It’s you.”
True to her word, he did manage to piss her off two days later when he refused to play a free
concert a Boston radio station was holding.
“Are you being serious right now?” She asked him, her tone neutral, but letting him know
that she thought he was being an idiot.
He glared at her. “Very. I’m paying you to promote me, not sell me out.”
“Spike, you have to start somewhere. You’re not just going to make an album and boom—everyone suddenly knows who you are and records by the trillions are sold. You need EXPOSURE.”
“Not for a bloody pop concert where the headliner is Ashley Simpson.”
“So, what are you saying? If the local rock station was doing a free concert you’d do it. But
you won’t do it at the largest event that stars from all over are TRAVELLING to do?”
“’S’ right.”
“I knew it couldn’t last long,” she muttered as she stormed past him to her office.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, closing her door.
“I mean it was just a matter of time before you managed to piss me off.” “Sorry that I’m
not some automaton that does whatever you think is right when I think it’s wrong. It’s my job too
here!”
“Then if I’m doing such a shitty job why don’t you find someone else?” She shouted at him,
not caring if everyone on the floor could hear them.
“I don’t want anyone else!” He shouted back to her.
“Why me? For Christ’s sake, I obviously don’t KNOW you if I was willing to ‘sell you out’!
Find someone else!”
“I.Don’t.Want. Anyone. Else.” He told her through gritted teeth, their faces inches from
each other as they glared daggers.
“Why. Not?” She gritted back.
He relaxed a bit. “Because I want you. Only you. No one else will satisfy me.”
The tone, the softness, the tenderness in his eyes—it made her gasp and stand back.
Something told her he wasn’t just talking about her PR for him. Her eyebrows knit as she stared at
him, not sure what to say or do next.
“Maybe you should go so I can make some phone calls. I’ll call you,” she mumbled, turning
her back on him.
She heard him sigh as she started blindly fumbling through the papers on her desk and then suddenly she could feel him, behind her, surrounding her it seemed. She could feel him everywhere on her skin; she could feel his heat, his breath on her neck.
“Buffy.”
She froze, “what?”
He ran a hand down her bare arm, eliciting goose bumps. “Don’t be mad at me. I know you’re doing your job. I’m difficult, I know I am.”
She spun now, “difficult?” She let out a bitter laugh that got caught in her throat at the sight
of his tender gaze.
“Forgive me?” He whispered.
“Uh-huh,” she agreed, her eyes transfixed on his playing with a strand of her hair.
“Did you know that you were beautiful?”
Her eyes snapped up at that. “What?”
“You’re bleedin’ beautiful. Does Angel know how lucky he is?”
She was, for once, at a complete loss for words. All she could do was stare at him wide eyed.
He smiled saucily, “he doesn’t know does he? How lucky he is to have you?”
This was a game, was the only thought running in her mind. This was a game to him. With
that angering thought, she shoved him away from her. He looked at her, surprised. At least he had
the decency to do that.
“Don’t think your charm can get you out of every situation Mr. Marsters. I’m not a pawn in
your little head games.”
“Buffy.”
“I have calls to make. Please leave my office,” she told him coldly.
Sighing heavily, Spike nodded and left.
Buffy slumped in her chair and put her head in her hands, trying to calm her racing heart.
“What the hell is he playing at?”
Revelations by Brat
[Reviews - 280]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 6023 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +