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Chapter 7 – Conflicting Interests


Cleaning her house a few days later, Buffy felt like she was going stir-crazy. She didn’t know what was worse: sitting around waiting for a phone call as if she was in high school again, or being forced to stay away from work because it might blow her cover.

Her house was almost spotless after all the attention she’d been able to give to it, burning all of her nervous energy. She’d even managed to repaint the two guest rooms. Sorting through her desk in the living room, she left the piles of useless papers on the flat surface. Everything incriminating had been removed from her home or locked away when she found out she was going to be trying to track Angelus O’Neill, knowing that he wouldn’t be above breaking into a woman’s home and searching through her things. Buffy honestly didn’t think Spike would do the same thing, but she didn’t want to test the theory and run the risk of him discovering who she really was.

Flipping through the stacks of paid bills, receipts from some of her favorite stores and various odds and ends, she stopped when she heard her phone ring.

Buffy quickly jumped up and ran into the kitchen, grabbing the cordless. “Hello?”

“Good morning, lamb.”

“Hello, Spike,” she said, walking back into the living room to sit on the couch, curling her legs up beneath her.

“I had fun the other night,” he said in a sensuous voice.

“Me, too,” she replied, slightly surprised that she was telling the truth.

“Care to have dinner with me tonight?” he asked, faltering when Buffy didn’t answer right away.

“Tell you what- we’ll do dinner, but tonight you come over to my place.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, a smile in his voice. “Tell me where and when and I’m all yours.”

* * * * *

Opening the door later that night, Buffy offered Spike one of her thousand-watt smiles when she saw him. “Hi!” she said in a chipper voice that immediately brought a smile to his face.

“Hi, yourself,” he replied, looking her up and down. After seeing her three nights in two weeks, this was the first time she actually looked completely comfortable and relaxed. Wearing stonewashed blue jeans with a ripped knee and a spaghetti-strapped white tank top, she looked like she was a teenager. Taking in her lack of make-up and her long blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail, his smile widened at the fact that she was comfortable being so natural around him after such a short period of time.

Walking into the house, he held up a bottle of wine, offering it to her.

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” she said, accepting the bottle and kissing him on the cheek, letting her lips linger on his skin longer than necessary before pulling away. “I’ll go put this on ice,” she said, happily walking into the kitchen while Spike took off his coat, smiling to himself that she seemed to be so at ease with him already.

He was also shocked at the way he seemed to automatically relax around her. The vibrant quality that she exuded practically radiated through the room. Hearing her moving around in the kitchen, he tossed his coat over the banister before walking into the living room, taking the opportunity to look around the room.

Wandering around the comfortable area, he took in the overstuffed couch and chairs, the fireplace mantle that was covered in pictures, and the large desk in the corner that was piled high with papers. Artwork and pictures hung from each wall, but Spike’s attention was soon drawn back to the fireplace. Slowly moving to stand in front of it, he looked at the painting that was hanging above the mantle.

“Drink?” Buffy asked, holding out a martini as she walked into the room.

“Thank you,” Spike said, smiling at her before turning back to the art. “Ice Floes Morning Haze,” he said softly, the words practically rolled off his tongue as he stared at the reproduction of Monet’s painting, swallowing a good portion of the drink. “What happened to The Artist’s Garden at Giverny? I seem to remember that being your favorite.”

“Just because it’s my favorite doesn’t mean it represents me,” she said softly, avoiding his eyes as she looked into her glass.

“And this is you?” Spike replied with a raised eyebrow, gesturing toward the reproduction.

“I think it could be representative of a lot of people…don’t you?” she questioned, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I would have figured you more for Japanese Bridges,” he said with a slight smile, avoiding the question.

“Ice is better,” she said, taking a sip of her drink, letting the alcohol burn its way down her throat.

“Why’s that?” he asked, tilting his head as he waited for her response.

Turning to study him for a long moment, Buffy never looked away from his strong gaze. “Because…to live in this world, you have to be hard. You have to have a mask.”

Lightly biting his lip, Spike looked at the floor, apparently deep in thought before turning to look at the painting. “And if you look below the surface?” he asked, staring at the glassy water, reflecting everything around it.

“You might not like what you see,” she said softly, unsure of what she was talking about. Setting her drink on an end table, she turned and walked toward the kitchen, leaving Spike to think about what she had said.

Slowly following her, he stopped in the doorway, seeing her standing at the island, chopping vegetables.

Feeling his eyes on her for several long minutes, Buffy gritted her teeth together as she tightened her hold on the butcher knife. “What?” she asked in irritation.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

‘Oh nothing,’ Buffy thought to herself as she continued slicing through the vegetables. ‘I’m just having all kinds of wrong feelings for the man who I’m working to arrest and I don’t know what to do.’

“Why do you think something is wrong?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him as she met his gaze with an indifferent expression.

“You seem a little worked up,” he said, tilting his head to study her.

“I’m fine,” she replied, grabbing a tomato and cutting into it, jumping when she felt Spike walk up behind her, pinning her against the counter with his arms on each side of her.

The move was so similar to what he’d done the night before, but Buffy still tensed at the unfamiliarity of someone being so close to her. Reflexively maneuvering the knife into a more defensive hold, she closed her eyes when his hands came up to rest on her shoulders, too close to Buffy’s neck for her comfort level.

“You just need to relax,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers racing along her spine as a mixture of raging emotions ran through her- fear, contentment, anxiety, exhilaration. Completion.

Exhaling in a gasp when his hands began kneading the muscles in her back, she trembled when his lips brushed against her throat, traveling lower until he felt her tense again.

Standing up a little straighter, Spike gently rubbed her shoulders for another minute before letting his hands abandon her soft skin, trailing down her body to rest on her hips. “Guess it’s time to eat,” he said with a soft smile when she glanced back at him.

“Um…y-yeah.”

Helping Buffy carry the food to the table, Spike had to smile. “She’s beautiful, sexy, successful, and she cooks…be still my heart. Martha Stewart better watch her back.”

Giggling as she shook her head, she replied, “First of all, Martha Stewart knows jack about hand-cut prosciutto. Secondly…beautiful?” she asked softly, turning to look at him with a hopeful expression.

Spike smiled but didn’t answer as he bit his bottom lip, turning around to grab the wine off the counter.

There was something so endearing in that expression that it nearly took Buffy’s breath away. She had to remind herself, not for the first time, that this wasn’t a date. This was her job.

An assignment that she was dealt, and she shouldn’t be getting this much… enjoyment out of it.




Thanks so much to: caatje, Mischa, Li, Cordykitten, Mariana, Caitie, Tahmoe, dev, Kelly, gypsy_jin, Yash, Franchesca, Carrosparro, willowmouse, Livia, Juanita, BuffyandSpikeForever, Raven, Bint, B, baby spikes, Kimber, & Crystal Pegasus for reviewing!





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