LITTLE MISSY; THE MARKER
Chapter 1: ‘A Friend In Need?’
“So, tell me again, Harris,” Spike grumbled as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building. “Why the bloody hell do I keep you around, anyway?”
Xander Harris grinned at his employer; his boss and actually, yes, his best friend, Spike Jameson.
“You keep me around because I’m funny, a straight shooter and I play a mean game of poker, right? The added attraction is that I’m a smart guy, who reads you like yesterday’s horse racing page.” Xander snorted loudly when he took in his Spike’s frustrated expression.
“Maybe,” Spike muttered with a derisive snort. “Or,” he continued sarcastically, “it could be because you do everything I say and follow me around like a bloody puppy? That gives a bloke a sense of power you know?”
It was Spike’s turn to laugh now, wasn’t it? However, the blond bookie halted his raucous laughter when he spied the seriousness in Xander’s brown eyes.
“Can I ask you something?” Xander inquired carefully of his moody boss. “And will you give me an honest answer this time?”
“Shoot,” Spike grunted, lighting a cigarette for himself as he turned off the ignition to his car.
“If you still love ‘her’ like you obviously do? Why did you ever let her run off, years ago?” Xander didn’t even bother to look at Spike, he just watched his employer’s cigarette smoke float above them, as if mesmerized.
“If by ‘her’ you mean Buffy?” Spike mumbled lowly. He always spoke ‘her’ name, to everyone but himself, in a tender, almost gentle tone. “What the bloody hell was I supposed to do, Harris? Buffy took off from me; I really had no choice in the matter. Was I supposed to chain Buffy up? In my apartment and force her to stay with me?”
Spike halted his tirade, momentarily, as he got the visual of ‘his’ Buffy, chained up in his loft. She’d be locked onto the wall, naked preferably and no one would be able to hear what was happening inside of the apartment.
Xander must have tuned into what he was thinking, because Spike noticed that the dark-haired, brown-eyed man had gotten awfully quiet, all of a sudden. His right-hand man, Harris, had a dreamy kind of look in his eyes. Spike shot his ‘help’ a dirty look and threw the driver’s door open.
“Why are you bringing this up? Now?” Spike growled in exasperation. “That was almost four years ago, when Buffy left me. She’s with Peaches now, remember?”
It was Xander’s turn to snort loudly. “Yeah, she’s with Angelus. So what? It’s not like everyone can’t see what’s going on in that blond head of hers. Or yours, for that matter,” he added with a smug grin.
“So, oh brilliant one, tell me what’s going on in Buffy Summers’ lovely head,” Spike grumbled as he led his friend up to his apartment.
“Well,” Xander began matter-of-factly, “you know that my girl, Anya, and Buffy are pretty tight, right?”
“I guess,” Spike shrugged, trying for the world to seem less then caring about this conversation.
“Anya is Buffy’s dressmaker, for her shows,” Xander continued amicably, ignoring the irritated look his boss was giving him. “She makes all of Buffy’s dresses for her show at Angel’s club.”
“Don’t mention Peaches, Harris,” Spike muttered in warning, “not if you want to have a drink, at my place.” He finished by jamming his keys into his apartment door.
“Oh for Pete’s sake, boss,” Xander spat, “if we’re talkin’ about Buffy, we have to talk about Angel. Not that he’s that important in her life, you know?”
“No,” Spike mumbled, “I don’t know. Peaches seems pretty fucking important to Buffy, at least to me. She’s practically shacked up with him and…”
“Yeah,” Xander chuckled as he helped himself to a nice bottle of whiskey from his employer’s large bar. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? Buffy is ‘almost’ shacked up with Angel O’Connor; but not married to him. Don’t you think that’s a little off?”
“How so?” Spike inquired with a raised dark brow that did not match his blond-silver hair at all.
“You gotta’ ask yourself, Spike,” Xander flopped on the large, rather old sofa and put his huge feet on the coffee table. “Why hasn’t Buffy married Angel, yet, anyway? To hear Anya tell it, the guy’s been beggin’ Buffy to marry him for months. But, Buffy holds out? Why? Anya’s been talkin’ to Willow and Willow’s been tellin’ Oz and Oz told me that…”
“I think the whole bloody lot of you just talk to hear yourselves gab,” Spike spat, impatiently. “Besides,” he scowled angrily, or was that in jealousy, “Angel’s just what Buffy wants. Isn’t he? He has power, money, lots of money, right? The bloke can keep my Buffy in jewels and furs for eternity.”
Spike blushed, unfortunately, when he realized he’d referred to Buffy as ‘his’ again. Buffy Summers had not been his for nearly four years now.
‘Flashback; four years before; Spike’s POV’
Spike Jameson walked into his apartment and glanced about, anxiously. He had just had the worst fucking day, evening and night of his entire miserable life.
The only thing in the world that could save this whole day was if Buffy was home, early, from the club she worked at. All’s he wanted to do was to have a quick drink; take a bath, preferably with Buffy in the tub with him; and get between the sheets with his golden princess, Buffy.
Happily, Spike noticed Buffy’s new fur stole, flung over the sofa in the front room. He had just bought that for his girl, Buffy, for her birthday last month.
Although Buffy kept certain items; personal things and clothes and such at his place? For a night, or nights, as the case usually was, that she spent with him? The stole went with her everywhere, even to work at the Easy Street Club; the joint she worked at. Spike himself had gotten her the job, just over two years before.
Smiling, gleefully, like a small boy at Christmas, Spike strode over to the bar and made himself a drink.
“Buffy!” He finally called out to his girl, “I’m home. Get out here girl. I’ve waited all day to see you.”
Spike was so excited that he could barely contain himself. After the violent ugliness of earlier today? A night spent in Buffy’s arms was more then welcome for him.
“The bloke had it comin’ to him,” Spike tried to reassure himself and assuage his own guilt. The ‘bloke’ he was mumbling about had been a regular client of Spike’s, and Angel’s since he worked for him.
Sam Snyder was into Angel for thousands of dollars; mostly from bad bets. When the bloody fool had decided not to pay off his debts? What choice did Spike have but to teach the idiot a lesson. Angel demanded some kind of payment due and it was Spike’s job after all.
Spike himself had stopped meting out punishment and ‘lesson’s personally a while back. It had been at least a year since he’d busted a guy’s head, or broke any arms or fingers. Well, he had beat up a guy, lately, but that was because the whelp made a move on his Buffy. What else was a guy in love supposed to do?
Now, the blond bookie left the punishment up to his two muscle boys, Riley Finn and Jesse. They were the ones that beat the shit out of poor Snyder, on Spike’s orders of course; and he had to be there for it.
“Buffy!” Spike yelled again, “get your luscious arse out here!”
He drank down the whiskey in his glass, quickly and turned to the bedroom door.
Buffy was standing there, in the doorway, but not looking at all how Spike thought she would. He’d imagined she’d still be wearing the slinky dress from tonight’s show, at the Club. Or maybe even one of the naughty little negligees that he’d bought her recently. Instead, Buffy wore a simple light grey dress; almost prim and proper in style.
Spike reared back at the sight; not that Buffy wasn’t gorgeous in anything she wore and all. But, he preferred her naked and willing to…
“What’s this?” He suddenly asked, puzzled by Buffy’s dress and her distant attitude with him.
He set his empty glass on the bar and quickly closed the gap between Buffy and him. The alarms were going off in his head that something was way off here. This inner fear was confirmed when Spike reached out to take Buffy in his arms and she pulled away from him. Buffy never, ever pulled away from him.
“Okay Princess,” Spike sighed heavily, “what’s with the ice act? What’s got your knickers in a twist this time?”
Buffy looked up from the floor and finally met his gaze; her green eyes were wide and troubled. Spike’s senses went on high alert and he realized that this time, something was very, very wrong with his lover.
“We need to talk, William,” Buffy whispered, her green eyes serious and pained. “I…” her voice trailed off and she glanced at something on the floor, next to her.
Spike finally noticed the small suitcase that sat next to Buffy’s petite well-heeled feet. He recognized his girl’s little suitcase and realized that it was packed, neatly no doubt, to the gills.
“What the fuck is this!” Spike roared, his blue eyes narrowed into slits of confused anger. His clenched left fist pointed at the ugly suitcase on the floor.
He had momentarily forgotten that Buffy hated blatant profanity. His golden princess only enjoyed that kind of talk during their lovemaking; then she seemed to thrive on it.
“Don’t swear, William,” Buffy snarled as she crossed her arms over her ample chest and stuck out her chin, defiantly. “You’re better then that,” she added in a much less nasty tone then seconds before.
“Buffy, what are you playing at?” Spike murmured rather calmly, he felt; for him anyway. “Why is your suitcase packed, with all of your things stashed here; I figure anyway?”
Spike was trying so fucking hard not to let the panic in his voice show. This was one of those times he needed to be all big bad Spike with Buffy. But, frankly, his little firecracker was scaring the shit out of him. Especially since she was in her ‘Buffy goes to war’ stanza that could terrify his most hardened man.
He took another step closer to her and watched as she took two steps back from him.
‘At least she’s moving into the bedroom,’ he thought with some relief. ‘If I can just get her, on the bed and…’
As if Buffy could read his mind, she stopped in her tracks and placed her hands on her lovely little hips. The pain in her green eyes was gone; replaced by something else that Spike couldn’t quite place.
“What did you do today?” Buffy finally asked, though Spike sensed she already knew.
“Worked,” he grunted as he crossed his own arms across his chest. “What else would I do?” He replied with a raised brow, “Besides, I asked you what the bloody hell this was about.” Again, he pointed, accusingly, at the ugly suitcase.
“This is about me leaving you, William,” Buffy sighed deeply, her voice tinged in sad defeat.
“Leaving me!” Spike couldn’t help but scream again. “You’re not leaving me,” he added angrily as he reached out and grasped Buffy to him, forcefully.
“I am, Will,” Buffy insisted in a very quiet voice. “I have to go; this isn’t working between us and…”
“What the fuck do you mean this isn’t working between us! It’s fucking amazing between us!” Although he was trying hard, Spike’s irrational panic was overwhelming him. All’s he could think of is that Buffy was leaving him; leaving from him; going away from him.
“Please Will,” Buffy whispered in a strained tone, “This just isn’t working. For me, anyway. I’ve tried to make it jake; our thing we have and all, but…”
“Tried to make it jake,” he repeated in a strangled scream. “You’ve been working at ‘us’ is it?” Spike couldn’t believe this. It was like some fucking nightmare and he was totally lost by now.
“Where’s this coming from, Buffy,” he asked in a more rational manner. First, he had to take a deep breath and swallow hard, though.
“What’s to work at?” He continued harshly, “we love each other. We have bloody amazing sex; I give you everything you want, don’t I?”
“Yeah,” Buffy whispered, unable to look at him, but still in his arms. Frankly Spike was pretty amazed that she hadn’t tried to struggle free from him. This was new, especially when they were having one of their famous rows.
“You’ve given me everything a girl could want, honey,” she continued sadly, shaking her head. “But I just can’t live on jewels, furs and money, baby. I need more and…”
“Marry me,” Spike blurted out, ashamed of how desperate his tone sounded. “If you wanna’ get married, we will. Tomorrow; tonight if you want. You know I wanna’ marry you, baby, so we’ll just go and…”
“No, Will,” she mumbled, finally looking him in the face again. He saw the tiny tears that filled her beautiful green eyes and felt his heart break into a million pieces.
“Then what is it I’m not giving you, Princess,” he choked out, trying to fight his own tears.
“Your true self,” Buffy mumbled half-heartedly.
“My what?” Spike asked incredulously. “Buffy, baby, I’ve given you all of myself that I know how to. I want to marry you; have babies with you, live out our lives together. What the hell can I do to give more to you?”
“You’re better self,” Buffy murmured, finally pulling out of his arms. “Your real self, not the two-bit hood you’ve become.”
Spike wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right, but when she bent down to pick up her little suitcase, he snapped completely.
“Fuck this!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, yanking the suitcase from her hand and throwing it back into the bedroom.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he roared as he spun her around and pinned her against the nearest wall.
“I am,” Buffy retorted sternly, but she pouted, just a bit, he noticed.
‘I love that lower lip of hers,’ he thought sadly. ‘How can she do this? Just come in here and tell me she’s dumping me? What…’
A very ugly suspicion began to worm its way into Spike’s horrified mind. He suddenly got a visual of ‘his’ Buffy in the arms of another bloke. Now, things were beginning to make some sense.
“Who is he?” Spike snarled down at her upturned, slightly fearful face.
“Who’s who?” Buffy spat back in reply.
“Whoever you’re fooling around with, behind my back. What’s he got that I don’t? More money?” Spike hated the fact that he sounded like some bleedin’ nancy boy or cuckolded husband.
“There is no ‘he’ in the picture, William,” Buffy groaned audibly. “For God’s sake Will,” she continued, “I don’t need a man so bad in my life that I’d leave ‘you’ for one. I…”
“Right,” Spike spat back nastily, “remember something Goldilocks. I know you, inside and out and I know what makes you tick, pretty much anyway. You’d have to have a good time bloke around to pick up the slack if you walk out on me. What’s he got? A bigger dick then me? What did it take for your lover boy to get you to spread those dimpled knees of yours? Did he…”
He was stunned, kind of, when Buffy swung her right hand up and hit him full force on the cheek. Actually, he was surprised the hit wasn’t more forceful. His girl packed a mean punch when she wanted to.
“Asshole!” Buffy snarled, pushing him away from her.
While Spike took a moment to recover, Buffy strode over to her suitcase and picked it up again.
“Thanks for making this a hundred times easier,” she spat as she flew by him and through the bedroom door. “I’m not taking the mink, or the last bracelet,” she called over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t take them if my life depended on it!”
“Buffy!” Spike yelled, basically running after her at a full sprint. “Listen,” he ordered as he grabbed her arm and spun her to face him.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I know there’s no other bloke, it’s just you’ve thrown me this time. Everything is so good between us and all. I love you, so much. Why? Why are you leaving me?”
If he wasn’t so confused and upset, Spike would have been mortified by his whining and pleading. He loved Buffy, desperately, and there was no way he could let her leave him.
“It’s not because of another man, I promise,” Buffy murmured in a lost little girl’s voice. “It is because of you, Will,” she added with a sad shake of her head. “I do love you, Will. I do, but you just don’t get it. You’re not the man I fell in love with anymore; not even close to him. You’re not my poet, William; you’re Spike and frankly, seeing you, as you are now? It breaks my heart because I miss my wonderful William so much.”
Buffy pulled away from Spike and turned for the door. “I gotta’ go William,” he heard her mumble. “My ride’s waiting downstairs.”
“Don’t! Buffy, don’t leave me, please.” Spike pleaded as he rushed after her.
She stopped and turned to face him at the door; tears streaming down her pretty face. “I have to,” she said simply and then, she was gone out of Spike’s front door. And his life.
Spike spent the night getting stone cold drunk and passing out on the living room floor. When he woke up, with a hell of a hangover in the morning, he began to seek out Buffy everywhere he could think of.
He found out that she had quit her job at Easy Street; sublet her apartment and fled New York City, apparently. Spike made hasty calls to his connections to see if Buffy had returned to her parents’ home in Sunnydale, California. But, no go. Buffy had simply disappeared from the face of the earth within the last thirty-six hours.
After that, Spike got drunk again and stayed that way for at least a month. Finally, Xander Harris showed up at his place, blathering on about a ‘friend in need’ and made sure that Spike sobered up enough to handle business, at least.
Once he’d taken care of certain things, Spike sought out Buffy again. Unfortunately, he was unable to find her through anyone he knew.
About three weeks after Harris played the white knight and made Spike sober up, the dark haired man showed up at the apartment one night. He somberly walked into Spike’s living room and flopped on the couch, laying what looked like the New York Times Society Page on the coffee table.
“Spike,” Xander began with pause, “you know that little seamstress that I just started steppin’ out with? Anya?”
“Yeah,” Spike replied, taking a deep drink on his whiskey and an even deeper drag on his smoke.
“Well,” Xander continued, reluctantly, “she’s into reading the ‘Trade’ and Times Society page. Anya loves the gossip and all…”
“What’s this about Harris?” Spike asked impatiently. Anymore, if the conversation wasn’t about work or Buffy, Spike didn’t give a fuck about it.
“It’s Buffy, Spike,” Harris sighed as he pointed a circled news item. “She’s in this article.”
Spike grabbed the paper and stared in disbelief at the rather long news item in the paper.
Buffy’s name was there, being linked with some bloody idiot by the name of Parker Abrams.
“Anya says that this Abrams kid? He’s rich with Daddy’s money, some big shot steel guy, in Philly. That’s where Buffy must have gone, when she left,” the usually animated man’s voice trailed off weakly.
“That fucking bitch!” Spike roared, ripping the paper in two and flinging it about his living room. “She did leave me for another guy! That lying little deceitful little whore!”
“Now wait a second, here,” Xander stood and raised his hands, almost defensively. “You shouldn’t oughta’ talk about the girl you love like that, Spike. Buffy told you she didn’t leave you for another guy; I believe her. She’s never been a liar, Spike, just a little confused sometimes.”
Spike glared at Xander, but he knew his friend was right. Buffy wasn’t a liar, at least never to him. The rich whelp must have befriended her and…
“I can’t fucking believe this,” Spike muttered miserably as he flopped down the couch himself. “She’s really gone, Xander,” he whispered in disbelief. Then he broke down and began to cry like a little boy.
‘Present Day’
Xander was rambling on about some ‘normal’ bollocks that yanked Spike from his trip down memory lane. He glared at the dark-haired man, angrily.
“What’s this crap about Buffy and normal?” Spike asked impatiently. “Angel’s about as normal as a serial killer in Attica,” he finished with a gruff snort.
“Yeah,” Xander chuckled, “so what’s deal then? Buffy’s with Angel, true, but she sure as hell ain’t marrying him, is she? And just how long did that thing with Parker Abrams last?”
“About a year,” Spike mumbled in reply. “She ran back to New York City, soon after…” He didn’t finish his sentence.
“Right,” Xander blurted, “she came back, right after that mess with Abrams was finished. Got a job at Angel’s joint and then ended up with him. But, Jesus, Spike,” he continued, “why don’t Buffy marry Peaches, as you call him? Because she doesn’t love him,” Xander answered smugly.
“She’s not a good enough actress, Harris,” Spike grumbled, taking a long swig on his drink. “To fool even a moron like Peaches? Buffy’s not that good of an actress at all. As far as Abrams goes? I always figured that his folks finally saw through Buffy like a just cleaned pane glass window. Saw what a gold-digger she really is and…”
“You don’t buy that, Spike,” Xander snorted. “A dame like Buffy wants things from life, you know? Things that maybe some dames like my Anya don’t give a rat’s about. Look,” Xander leaned over the coffee table and stared at his boss, thoughtfully.
“My girl is happy, with things the way they are. Anya just wants good sex, which I give her,” Xander chuckled smugly. “That and an allowance from me. Money and sex, that’s the ticket for my girl, Anya. So,” Xander shrugged, “she’s happy with things the way they are. But Buffy…”
“Buffy?” Spike asked, still a little confused for some reason.
“Buffy needs more,” Xander mumbled, not looking at Spike. “She needs a guy who’s got more of a 9 to 5 stint. Something legitimate for her and kids. It’s not like she doesn’t love you, still…”
Spike snorted in disbelief again, but he decided to listen to Xander, completely, for once.
“I get the feeling that Buffy always thought you were better then this,” Xander added quickly. “Like being a bookie wasn’t good enough for you, much less her?”
“Hmmm,” Spike muttered as he took a drink from his glass and another long drag from his smoke.
“For all her tough dame act? Buffy’s as meek as a kitten, boss, you know that,” Xander finished earnestly.
“Yeah,” Spike mumbled as he stared out at the scene from his balcony. “Maybe.”
Buffy stared at her reflection, in the mirror of her special dressing room at the club. She looked like crap lately, really, since there were dark bluish rings under both her eyes.
Angel, her boyfriend, was supposed to go to Chicago in two days and Buffy supposed there’d have to be a big ‘goodbye’ scene before he left. Hopefully, not tonight, though.
William being at Heaven’s Haven last night had really thrown Buffy for a loop. She was still pretty unnerved by her ex-lover’s presence at her job. Not that he hadn’t been there before, of course, because he had. However, he hadn’t been there in a while and Buffy had kind of numbed herself to his sudden appearances until now.
Angel took that moment to saunter into her dressing room, without a knock even. Again.
‘Will never would have done that,’ Buffy thought with a tinge of resentment. ‘He always respected me, at least,’ she remembered sadly.
“I’ve gotta’ go to Spike’s tonight,” Angel announced without any greeting. “Business and such, before I leave town. I’ll stop by your place tonight, after and…”
The large dark man had embraced Buffy roughly, from behind, and pulled her to him. There had been no premise of tenderness or words of affection before Angel had ‘claimed’ Buffy physically. He just strode into her room; grabbed her in a vice-like grip and started spewing crap, as usual.
“I have one of my bad headaches coming on!” Buffy blurted out without thinking. “It’s a bad one, too. I think I was off key on the last song, baby,” she muttered as she stared at her jewelry box on the vanity.
“You were perfect,” Angel protested, brokenly. “Your voice is better then ever, baby,” he added smugly. “Good place to work, for once and you’re doing better then ever.” He ran his meaty hand down the side of Buffy’s tender cheek.
“Do you mind if we put off the ‘goodbye’ night until tomorrow?” Buffy whispered, still staring at her jewelry box. “I’ll be in much better shape and all. I can really send you off, to Chicago, in style,” she turned and winked at Angel, wickedly.
“Okay,” Angel replied in a disappointed voice. “We can go to supper, paint the town and then head back to ‘my’ place for dessert, huh?”
“Yeah,” Buffy whispered as her man kissed the top of her golden head, affectionately. “We’ll have dessert at your place,” she finished mechanically.
“I’ll be at the Club, tomorrow then. Skip the last two shows and we’ll go out, eh?” Angel grinned at the mirror to Buffy’s reflection.
“Sure,” Buffy mumbled as Angel turned and left the dressing room..
‘Oh brother,’ Buffy sighed inwardly, ‘I’m a really crummy girlfriend to Angel. Always have been, really. Maybe it’s because when Angel calls me baby? It’s just not the same as when William did.’
A/N: Next chapter: Angel leaves town after making business arrangements with Spike and his cronies (it involves a race horse).
A desperate man, with a young daughter, pleads with Spike to help him and unknowingly sets events in motion that will alter everyone’s lives.
Thanks for reading, please review, spufette.
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