Chapter 20 – Boiling Point
Walking into the mansion the next night, Buffy nervously adjusted the straps of the long, black halter dress, insuring that they covered up the swollen area on her neck that Spike had inflicted on her the night before.
For the first time in weeks, she felt uncomfortable around him, and that made her more nervous than she cared to admit. The foreign feel of the gun strapped to her thigh, that had once seemed so familiar, was now a welcome distraction as she walked through the house.
“There she is,” Spike said with a bright smile, standing up to greet her, obviously putting on a show for the men who were sitting around the table. “Right on time, as always.”
Walking over to her, he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, letting his hand brush along her back. “Buffy Summers, allow me to introduce you to some of my business associates. This is Robin Wood, Lindsey McDonald, Caleb Parson, Daniel Clement, called Clem, and of course you already know Gunn.”
Offering a polite hello to everyone in the room, Buffy allowed Spike to guide her to her seat, leaning over to brush another kiss to her cheek. “Beautiful dress,” he breathed, admiring her cleavage from his standpoint before straightening and taking a seat next to her.
Buffy remained unaffected by the looks she was generating from some of the men, trying to focus on why she was there in the first place.
Listening to the men chat about Spike’s company while dinner was served, she ate in silence. Turning around in surprise when the dishes were cleared less than an hour later and the doors were locked, she looked around the room in confusion.
“Alright, gentleman,” Spike said, leaning back in his chair when everyone was sitting at the table once more. “The focus is on O’Neill.”
Buffy’s eyes nearly shot over to look at him in shock before carefully hiding her surprise.
“Anyone know where Hamilton is?” he asked, looking around the table.
“Angelus sent him to New York. Scouting something out there,” Lindsey said, idly playing with a pen as he looked Buffy up and down from his spot at the table.
Spike adjusted his tie as he stood up, slowly nodding. “Easy enough,” he said, picking up a large, flat object, wrapped in brown paper. “As you all know, I want him out of the picture. Easiest way to eliminate Hamilton is when he’s not around Angelus. So we need something that will ensure that… bait,” he continued, flipping open a switchblade and cutting the paper with ease, revealing a Renoir beneath.
A stolen Renoir.
Buffy closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as her emotions began to take over.
‘Stay cool, Summers,’ she told herself as Spike carelessly tossed the painting onto the table with a cold smile.
“I think that oughtta do it.”
* * * * *
Pacing through the large living room less than an hour later, Buffy tried to regulate her breathing. Spike had asked her to step out for a moment, needing to talk about something with his employees. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what they were discussing.
Catching a glimpse of herself in the antique mirror on the wall, she pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to work through the situation.
‘How did I get here?’ she asked, gritting her teeth as she looked at the door. ‘How could I possibly put myself in this situation?’
Needing to do something, her gaze turned to the locked cabinet in the corner of the room. Not thinking about her actions, she quickly crossed the room, pulling a bobby pin out of her hair as she knelt in front of the cabinet, easily picking the lock and opening the small door. Picking up the folder that was sitting inside, Buffy stood up, opening the file.
Seeing what she expected and never hoped to see, she briefly closed her eyes, only to reopen them and look at the papers and photos in front of her.
Surveillance pictures of her house- of her walking out to her car, fixing dinner, changing clothes. Buffy suddenly felt sick. Flipping through the file, she saw scribbled notes from Ethan Rayne, realizing his purpose in Spike’s life, and the nauseated feeling hit her full force. Covering her mouth with one hand, she continued to look through the file, seeing records and pictures from high school and college, phone records, receipts… her most intimate moments with Spike.
Her life.
Hearing the door open behind her, she slowly closed the file, never turning around as Spike’s footsteps could be heard walking through the room.
Looking up in time to see him standing behind the bar, pouring himself a drink, she felt rage flow through her. Walking over to him, she angrily threw the file down on the flat surface of the bar.
“Work, huh?” she asked, nearly shaking as her anger grew.
Hearing her voice, he slowly turned toward her, holding his glass so hard, he was surprised it didn’t shatter with the pressure.
“What did you expect, Buffy? That I would keep incriminating evidence in every corner of my home? Not bloody likely.”
“What was tonight?”
“A way for me to show you off,” he replied with a wicked smile.
“So, that’s what I am now, Spike?” she asked, every nerve on edge, her body practically exploding with tension. “Just the dirty little secret you keep on the side? Just your whore?”
“I never said that!” he yelled, throwing the glass in her direction, causing her to cower when it flew over her shoulder, shattering on the wall behind her.
So preoccupied with the glass, she never noticed when Spike crossed the room to throw her against the wall, pinning her against it, his body pressed intimately against hers.
“Don’t pretend that what we have is meaningless,” he said in a low whisper.
“What we have? You’re the one who’s been keeping surveillance on me twenty-four hours a day and doing background checks. You’re trying to tell me that I actually mean something to you?” she cried in disbelief, angrily shoving him away, sending him stumbling back several paces, giving Buffy the chance to get around him and move to the center of the room, needing the distance. “I’m nothing to you. You would sooner kill me than love me.”
“Is that a fact?” he asked in such a cold voice, she felt a sharp tremor of fear pass through her that she had never experienced when he took a menacing step forward. “Care to test that theory?”
Reflexively pulling her gun from beneath her dress, she leveled it on him with a cold glare, seeing the brief shock and surprise on his face. Her eyes widened when he pulled a gun out with lightening quick speed, aiming it at her stomach.
Locked into a battle of wills, Buffy was the first to break.
“You’re not shooting to kill,” she said with a clenched jaw, never taking her eyes off his.
“Not yet,” he said in a deadly tone. “So tell me, love. What’s the plan?”
“Plan?” she asked, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.
“The Feds. When are they planning to bust down my door?”
Feeling the air sucked out of her, Buffy’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Spike. “You know?” she asked in disbelief.
“That you were sent to spy on me? Yeah, Goldilocks. Figured that out. What I can’t figure out is how far you were willing to go for the sake of your job. Was fucking me all part of your strive for a promotion?”
“Last night…”
“Yeah,” he said through clenched teeth. “I knew. Wanted to test you…wanted to see how far you would go in the name of your job,” he said, practically spitting out the words. “And guess what, pet? You go pretty damn far. I’ve seen whores who aren’t as good at their profession as you are. You missed your calling, lamb.”
“Don’t,” she said in a cold voice, trying to shut off her emotions.
“Don’t what?” Spike taunted, raising his eyebrows as he gave her a challenging look. “Don’t let you know the truth about yourself? That you sold yourself out for a nice badge?”
“It’s not like that,” she whispered, her resolve cracking as she looked at him, seeing the disbelief in his gaze.
“Then what was it like, Buffy?” he asked, noticing her eyes watching his gun as it slowly began moving higher, raising with his temper.
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Or maybe it’s that I would understand a little too well, is that it?”
Staying quiet, Buffy swallowed, her finger tightening on the trigger.
“Get out,” Spike growled.
“I can’t,” she whispered, staring into his eyes.
“Why’s that? You need to do your job? Or you want a goodbye fuck?”
“Spike…”
The sound of her own breathless voice nearly had her turning around to look for the foreign sound, not realizing that it was her.
“If that’s what you want, I can easily accommodate you,” he said in a degrading tone. “Up against the wall?” he asked, gesturing with the gun before leveling it on her again. “The chair? On the bar? Your choice, Buffy.”
“Don’t do this,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t demean what we-”
“Get the fuck out of my house,” he said in an even tone. “Unless you’re planning on leaving in a body-bag,” he growled, his gun now aiming at her chest.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why stick around? You’re gonna kill me? Try it.”
Pressing her lips in a firm line, Buffy tried to ignore the doubt that was making itself known. She had never questioned her job or her duty in her years with the Bureau, and here she was with a gun trained on a man she was supposed to hate, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to pull that trigger.
“Let me tell you a little something about yourself, Agent Summers. You don’t know shit about me. You’re terrified to go against what you know might be right because it will endanger the life that you’ve painted for yourself.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” she said, clutching the gun in her hand.
“You know I don’t deserve whatever they’re planning,” Spike continued in a low voice. “You know it, Buffy.”
“You’re a murderer,” she said in a sharp whisper, clinging to the one fact that she knew to be true.
“And you aren’t?” he challenged, eyeing the gun that was trained on his heart.
“That’s different.”
“Why? Because you’re ordered to kill people and I’m the one who gives the orders? We go after the same people, Buffy, even if it’s for different reasons.”
Opening her mouth to reply, she quickly stopped, hearing the sound of Spike’s employees approaching.
Clenching his jaw for a moment, Spike risked a look to the door before looking at Buffy. Slowly lowering his gun, he kept a careful eye on her. “Get out,” he whispered, seeing her falter for a moment.
“You know I can’t do that,” she said softly, shaking her head.
“Put down the gun,” he said in a commanding tone.
Taking a deep breath, Buffy briefly closed her eyes, gasping when she felt his hand encircle her wrist, twisting her arm at an angle until she was pulled against his body. Trembling when his lips gently brushed along her throat, she stayed still, trying to relax when the door opened.
Spike slowly raised his eyes to the door, glaring at the men as if they’d interrupted something completely different. “Out.”
“We just wanted to check on you, sir. We heard… something,” Gunn said, studying the two of them before his eyes settled on the shattered glass on the floor.
Carefully keeping the guns concealed from their view in the folds of Buffy’s dress, Spike raised an eyebrow at his men. “As you can see, we’re fine. Get out.”
Waiting until the door was firmly shut behind them, he jerked the gun out of her grasp, pushing Buffy away.
“That goes for you, as well,” he said with a cold look.
“Spike…”
“Get out,” he growled, narrowing his eyes on her as his hand tightened on the gun. “I won’t tell you again.”
Risking a glance at the door, Buffy hesitantly met his cold gaze. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you know.”
“Thought it was supposed to be exactly like this, Agent.”
Bravely turning her back on him, Buffy walked toward the door, half-expecting a bullet in the back, mildly surprised when she reached for the doorknob without incident. Taking a deep breath, she glanced over her shoulder, seeing Spike standing in the same position, staring at the floor.
“Spike-”
“I don’t want to hear it,” he said, never looking at her. “I don’t want to see you.”
Buffy looked at the floor for a moment before slowly nodding as she opened the door. “Then you won’t.”
Thanks so much to: Cordykitten, DK, 3988Akasha, Dee, Becky, denise & Melissa for reviewing!
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