Chapter 2 Reluctance
A phone rang unanswered on the top floor of a well maintained building in the southern outskirts of Sacramento, California. The three story, turn of the century structure was constructed of deep-red bricks, which encased large windows. On the east side a few decorative stained-glass panels lit up in the morning glow of the sun.
The bottom floor housed a mortuary that had been operating there since the building was originally constructed. The mortician, who was also the owner of the building, resided with his family on the second floor. And for the past year, Spike called the top floor home. He rented the loft for an excellent rate, but of course, who else but a vampire would want to live above a mortuary. The vampire’s living arrangement was especially convenient in that his landlord was half demon and happy to provide his tenant blood drained from his deceased customers, which would otherwise be disposed of. As a result, Spike was pleased to no longer drink pig’s blood or deal with curious butchers.
In the loft, Spike’s current décor had a more modern feel than his crypt had back in Sunnydale, before it was blown up by an impotent, intruding GI. Leaving the nineteenth century of his birth behind, the vampire joined the twenty-first century with clean lines and curves, leather furniture, and a kitchen of stainless steel and black granite, equipped with all the newest appliances. The colors were predominately black, of course, with accents of rich blues and greens. His floor still had the loft’s original wood throughout, and the few plain accent rugs were kept to a minimal. He had decided against replacing his oriental rugs because they would only remind him of Buffy, such as lying under them with her after one of their heated moments together. And since that only caused him pain, any such objects were banned from his current residence. He could live and even savor his memories of her, but direct reminders made his memories feel more like open wounds again. If he wanted to see outside during the day, his windows had roll-up shades that were heavily tinted, but still translucent. To block out all light, if preferred, heavy black drapes with blue and green stripes hung from the ceiling to floor.
Overall, Spike was pleased with the updated flat. Happy, that is, with all except the sodding cell phone, which was currently sitting in its charger in the living room. It’s persistent ringing insisted on waking him up.
Opening one eye to glance at his clock beside the bed, the vampire growled when he saw that it was only eleven in the morning. The job he had been on the night before had taken until five A.M, and he hadn’t made it to bed until seven-thirty, leaving only three and a half hours of sleep. Well aware that Spike only worked at night and not questioning why due to his impressive results, all the bail bondsmen that used his services knew the unwritten law to not call before three in the afternoon. In fact, he had violently reinforced that rule on more than one occasion when he had first entered the profession, helping to spread the word through the grapevine to others in the business. But eleven o’clock in the AM? He didn’t have a clue who wanted the impending pounding, but he really didn’t care. So he left the caller to be handled by his voice mail. The pillock could leave a message and then maybe later, if he was in a better mood, he would ring them back.
When the phone stopped its annoying racket, Spike rolled over onto his side and tried to go back to sleep.
No such bleedin’ luck. On the first ring, Spike surged out of bed. “The bugger must have nuts the size of billiard balls, but I’m about to cut the bloody things off with a dull, cerated blade.” Jerking the phone out of its cradle, the vampire growled as he hit the button to answer the call. “WHAT?”
“Uh…hi?…I’m looking for William, and I was given this number.”
“Who?” At first he was taken back by the female voice on the other end of the line, and the sleepy vampire was stumped. She certainly didn’t sound like a bail bondsman, and who the hell was she looking for? But then that “Oh, shit” feeling started churning in his stomach.
“His name is William.” The voice on the phone now sounded more confident. “I don’t know his last name, but he has bleached hair, these really blue eyes, and a British accent. Maybe you know him?”
When he identified with certainty the voice on the other end of the line, Spike felt his anger at being woken up deflate as the “Oh, shit,” turned into a “Bloody Hell”. ‘What do you do now, you sodding ninny?’ He wondered as he began to pace. Luckily he hadn’t said enough for her to catch his accent.
“Hello?…Are you still there?”
“Yes.” Cringing, Spike hoped his attempt at an American accent fooled her.
On her end, Beth was becoming thoroughly confused. She paused to regroup but wasn’t giving up over this small obstacle. “Well, do you know him or not? He’s so not the type of guy you would forget.”
“Hold on.” Spike bought some time. Damn, even with the four words he had said so far, he did a lousy American accent and was even worse at lying, especially to the slayer. He had to find a way to climb out from between this current rock and a hard place, fast. Unfortunately, the only idea that came to mind was wrong, wrong, wrong. He was fit for the loony bin if he thought he could talk with Beth again and not make a slip revealing the true past. No bloody way. Totally fucking impossible. Absolutely, positively not.
‘Bloody hell,’ he thought, ‘I never could resist a challenge or Buffy. That Whistler bloke said I couldn’t tell anyone about the slayer, but he didn’t say I couldn’t talk to her. Just not remind her of her real past.’
“Beth? Sorry to make you wait. I just woke up, and I’m still a little foggy.”
“William? Oh, I’m so glad this was the right number.”
“How *did* you get my number?” Not that Beth could see the gesture, Spike raised an eyebrow, accentuating his question.
“Elementary, Watson. I know, cliché much? Anyway, you said you worked for bail bond guys, so I started calling the ones in the yellow pages until I found one that recognized your description.”
“Resourceful,” Spike commented while he wondered which bugger he needed to remind with a fist to the face that he liked his privacy. Well, Beth was an exception to his no early calls rule. “So what can I do for you, luv?”
“I called because…uh…See, I’m in town again and thought we could meet for dinner or something…Since you’re the only one I know in Sacramento besides my dad and he has a business dinner tonight and I have to eat and don’t know which restaurants are good or which are bad…Babbling now which is definitely of the bad. Shutting up now.”
Spike laughed. “So in an abridged version, you want to meet for dinner.”
“Let me say ‘huh?’ on the abridged, but yes on the meeting for dinner part.”
Unable to refuse her any longer, the vampire resigned himself to that a jump from that infamous frying pan into the fire. “Ok, pet, where are you staying?” Spike gave her directions to a Mexican restaurant located close to her father’s house where she was staying and told her that he would meet her at seven. As he ended the call, he was already kicking himself for not saying six-thirty or six even.
*****
For another good reason, Spike arrived at the Mexican restaurant early. Not wanting to accidentally break his agreement with Whistler, he needed to park the DeSoto a couple of blocks away, hiding it from Beth’s view. And shock of all shocks to anyone who knew him, he had left his duster at the loft, let his hair curl on the top instead of slicking all of it back. He dug out of his closet the few clothes he owned that were not black, which was a dark purple, button down shirt, blue instead of black jeans. However, he stuck to Doc Martens, just brown shoes instead of black boots. And just so that the vampire would still feel all big bad, he wore black briefs. Lame but he felt a little better.
Now Spike was standing outside the restaurant, pacing. Well after the appointed time, he started to convince himself that her phone call had been a new version of a wet dream, but then he recognized an older, green Jeep SUV approaching. He should have guessed Beth would be driving Joyce’s old car, he thought as he headed toward where she was parking.
Spike met her before she could make it out of the car, and Beth looked up with a warm smile when she saw him. “Hi and sorry. Ms. Late Girl is finally here. Since I haven’t been to Sacramento very many times, I’m still pathetic at finding my way around this large town.”
“No problem, pet. I’m in no hurry.” Looking fondly at the Joyce’s car one more time, Spike shut her door after she got out. “Like your car.”
“Thanks. I’ve always loved it, and when Mom bought a new car last December, she gave this one to me as sort of a oversized Christmas gift.”
Startled, Spike nearly stumbled into her. He had expected her reply to include a mention of Joyce, but not in that way. “What did you say?”
“What part?” She tried to think of what she had said to cause such a shocked look on his face. Surely she hadn’t put her foot in her mouth. At least not yet.
“The mum part.”
“You know, it’s that lady that was pushing when you were born. I promise everyone has one, and mine’s back in Sunnydale.” Instead of laughing, he looked even more stunned. “Hellooo. Zone much? That was a joke. Pretty good one, I thought.” Beth shrugged.
After a couple of false starts, sound finally came out of Spike’s mouth. “Your mum...I…uh…thought your mum was dead.”
As they entered the restaurant and waited to be shown to a table, Beth took a turn at being shocked. “Mom dead? Not if you count that she said a few hours ago that it scares her to death when I drive long distances. I think she was just being nice because I scare her even on short distances. But as soon as I hit town, I called on my phone to tell her I got here safe. She sounded alive then.”
“But you don’t have any brothers or sisters, right?” Spike almost didn’t want to hear the answer, since he had assumed that the mystical key sister would not be part of her new life.
“No to either. Just me to terrorize mom.” Beth brushed the mom issue aside when they followed the hostess to their table. After the waiter took their order, Beth peered hard at him across the table. “I know I’ve asked already but are you sure we haven’t met before? I feel like I should know or know things about you, and it’s funny, you make me also think of dancing. Now instead of Late Girl, I’ve moved on to Insane girl.”
At the mention of dancing Spike was reminded of the slayer she was not anymore, and he felt the familiar sadness and pain of the past year seep back into him. “No, pet, you shouldn’t know me. Maybe you saw someone who just looked like me.”
“The hair was what drew my attention to you at the music store, but…” She studied his distinctive features for a moment and then shook her head. She got hot just looking at him. “No, I’m sure I’ve never seen anyone else that looked like you.”
“The hair, uh? So what do you think you know about me, luv, after two meetings?” Spike felt odd saying only two meetings when he could remember so many more times they had been together over the years, including the few months that he and Buffy were lovers.
“I’m not a psychic, but I can read palms.” She rolled her eyes and gave an impish grin.
But before he had time to realize what she intended, she grasped his right hand, which had been lying on the table, and pulled it across the table toward her. As she did, he would have bet his duster on what she would say next.
“Your hand is cold.”
‘Bet with himself won, but if I stay around her, it was bound to eventually come up,’ he thought, ‘so let’s get it over with now.’ “I’m cold natured. Extremely cold natured. It’s a condition that I’ve had for years, which also makes me allergic to sunlight. I burn in direct rays.” However, instead of recognition or even disgust, he only saw curiosity in her eyes.
Still holding his hand in hers, Beth landed dead on the bizarre truth about him without even realizing it. “You sound like a vampire, except that you don’t have fangs, a cape with a stiff collar or have to drink blood.”
Thankful that he was not able to blanch any paler than he already was, Spike held an unnecessary breath, apprehensive of what would come out of her mouth next.
“You’re not like dying from this condition thingy, are you?” Beth’s mind was racing. ‘No, no, I just hunted this hottie down.’
The vampire was relieved by the direction her thoughts had turned, or rather where her thoughts had not gone. Her words confirmed her ignorance of his true nature. “No, I am not going to die.” ‘Well, that is true,’ Spike told himself, wanting to still stay close to the truth. ‘I’m already dead, aren’t I?’
Obviously pleased with his answer, Concerned Buffy changed back into Flirtatious Buffy. “Besides, if you were a vampire, you would bite people, wouldn’t you?” She looked at him through her lashes and gave him a teasing smile. “So, William, the million dollar question is do you bite?”
“Only if you ask me to, kitten.” Comfortable that his own secrets and the secrets of the past were again safely tucked back in the closet, Spike joined in the playful flirting. “So you think you are a fortune teller, do you?” He gave a nod toward his hand. “Why don’t you give it a go?”
Beth thought she was going to purr when he called her “kitten.” Actually, he was so sexy that he could have called her a lamp post, and she would still get turned on. She gazed at him intensely for a moment more before looking back down at his palm. “You have a long life line, if I knew where that was.”
Spike chuckled, wondering if she meant his life or unlife.
“You will have good luck, I guess.” Beth ran her thumb across his hand. At her soft touch on the sensitive part of his hand, Spike was glad that the table covered his instant arousal. Unaware, she continued, “You are loyal, like you would do anything for anyone you love.”
Spike watched her adorable blush at the use of the word, “love,” when she realized the implications, but as much as he wanted to, he didn’t read much into it. ‘Write it off to first date jitters, mate.’
“Anyway,” Beth continued, “what the world sees is the image you’ve developed for display, all to cover up the true, soft marshmellowy William insides. And you’ve been doing it for a hundred years.”
When he quickly drew his hand back, she laughed at his started expression, misinterpreting the reason for his reaction. “Sorry, I meant to say it feels like a hundred years. My bad. Believe me, you don’t look a hundred years old.” Actually, she thought he looked like one of her dreams come true, but due to her perceived blunder, she was more than ready to change the topic of conversation. “How old are you anyway, gramps?”
“Twenty-nine.” Spike replied, while thinking, ‘give or take a hundred years.’
Since she had been worrying that he was an “older man,” Beth liked that answer. ‘If he had said forty-seven, Mom would have had a fit, but twenty-seven was yet another green light.’ “So British William, why Sacramento? Why not LA, San Diego, New York or Moscow for that matter?”
Spike thought about his answer for a moment. “I have been in California on and off for the last few years. I did spend some time in Brazil, but I’m always drawn back to this area of the world. Why Sacramento? When I started to work chasing down bail jumpers, this seemed the likely place. It’s the capital, which means lots of courts, lots of accused, and lots of people needing bonds.”
“What you told me before sounds so interesting and exhilarating. I would love to put some excitement into my life. Let me go on a case.” Beth eyes sparkled.
What could he say? He couldn’t tell Beth that her life used to be filled with too much excitement. That if she went with him, it would not only be very dangerous for her, but that hunting with her would remind him of how they use to hunt together. That was the reason he didn’t want to hunt demons any more. So he got into hunting humans but just not killing them. The job may not be as exciting but rewarding putting humanities scum back in jail. Not to mention, the gig paid well.
Spike shook his head. “No, luv. When all the cases are divided out, only the most dangerous are left, and those are the ones I take.”
“I still don’t understand why I can’t go. Why do you take those cases? Could you take an easy one that I could go on?” Beth tried a pout out on William.
Reminded of the time he and the slayer were engaged while under Red’s spell, Spike wanted to lean across the table and nibble on her lower lip that was jutted out. He shook himself so he could concentrate on answering Beth’s question. This wasn’t the slayer that could take care of herself in a fight, but was sweet, young woman that didn’t know anything about going blow for blow with some wanker. So Spike stood firm on his decision no matter how beguiling she was, his urge to protect her was greater. “I take those cases for three reasons, luv. The pay is better because the bonds are usually higher and so the ten percent pay is higher. Second, they are the cases that no one has balls enough for or are stupid enough to take. The last reason is the thrill I get from taking the bugger down. The last two reasons are why you can’t go.”
“Are balls mandatory?” Beth asked with mock naiveté that had Spike laughing at her bawdy wit. Enjoying the sound of his laughter, she made a promise to herself to make sure she heard it more.
*****
When they left, Spike unwittingly fell back into his Victorian manners. He opened the door for Beth to walk outside, and without consciously noticing, he lightly placed a hand on her back, guiding her into the fresh night air. Yet, Beth noticed and enjoyed his old fashion courtesy, but when he first touched her back, his cold hand made her feel hot. Just to feel his touch longer, she wanted to walk right past her car and around the block. She made a mental note to send a gift basket or something nice to the bail bondsman who gave her William’s phone number.
When Spike realized where his hand was resting, he couldn’t take it off of her. Before he had come to the restaurant, he hadn’t been sure what to do with this Beth, but after talking to her, inhaling her unique smell and now feeling her warmth again after so long, he made his final decision. He would keep his word to Whistler and respect Buffy’s wish, but if Beth chose to spend time with him, he wouldn’t say no or even hesitate with a yes again.
They arrived at her car too soon for both of them, but he held the door open for her to climb in. Before completely in, Beth looked up at him. “Do I have to make up another lame excuse to see you next time I’m in town, like another round of guess the underwear?”
Spike gave her one of his grins, which she had rarely seen so far, before he closed the car door to the Jeep. Beth hurried to roll down the window to hear his reply. “No, pet, just give me a ring. That was my cell phone number that you hunted down, I always have it with me.”
As he watched her drive away, Spike made a promise to himself to never leave the flat without his cell phone and to get a new car. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to break the news to the DeSoto, but he would give the lady his personal guarantee to put her in a nice storage facility and visit often.
*****
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