CHAPTER FIVE -- The Curse
Spike sat in the midst of piles of satin, lace, and many other white materials that he could not identify. Head in his hands, he continued to wallow in his own self pity as Anya and Willow, who was splitting her time at Fairytale with getting her Master’s in computer science and had missed Spike’s grand entrance, sat packing the bridal paraphernalia in delicate pink boxes. Suddenly, Spike sat up as epiphany over his current company hit him.
“Perhaps you can help me . . .”
“It has nothing to do with you personally.” Anya answered as if she had been holding her breath, waiting for the proposition.
“What?”
“Not agreeing to the article, I have a not so hidden habit of eavesdropping,” she revealed, bright eyed.
“Then why won’t she do this for me?”
Willow, who had apparently been filled in on the latest battle between the lifelong foes, chimed in, “She’s not turning you down to punish you, she’s insecure.”
“About what!?” The girl had everything, a successful business and a slew of great friends. Spike truly could not understand what kept the girl on the bitchy edge all the time.
Anya was already getting impatient with his inability to understand the female psyche. “Good god, Spike!” She then turned to her fiancée, who had just entered the room, “He hangs around too many models.”
“A fact that I will be incredibly jealous of until the day I die.”
As Anya gave Xander a kiss to make up for his misfortune, Willow sighed and gave it a try, attempting to coax the reasoning out of his own brain: “What do you know about Buffy?”
“Well,” he contemplated. “She wears the same knee-length skirts, loose blouses, and plays the same boringly professional-conservative she was in college. I mean, look at the girl, Red, if she has misfortune with men, it’s only because she’s asking for it.”
This wasn‘t exactly what Willow was looking for, but she went with it, “Well, do you remember any of Buffy’s college boyfriends?”
Spike furrowed his brows at the random question, “No, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention.”
“Don’t you remember?” Anya asked the rest of the group, annoyed. “Buffy and Spike spent a good four years berating each other into the ground. They both despised what the other stood for. Buffy concentrated on her studies and Spike jumped into bed with every easy girl he came across.” Anya shot Spike dagger-eyes and Spike’s eyes darted to the ground. He specifically remembered saying some pretty horrible things, but nothing that wasn’t encouraged by Buffy’s own verbal tirades.
Willow continued delicately, “You don’t remember any of her boyfriends because she never had any.”
Spike blinked, “You mean she . . .”
“Is a virgin! I know!” Anya blurted, “She’s wasting time that could be spent having many orgasms.”
Spike balked slightly, “That’s not what I was talking about . . .”
Willow struggled to find the right words to explain the rhyme and reason of her best friend to another one of her closest friends, neither of which had ever understood each other. But Willow was convinced that the reason why they never got along was because they are so much alike in one big, annoying aspect -- stubbornness and the inability to admit to the character flaw. “This is about her insecurities with men -- her dad left and she’s never had a serious relationship. She feels awkward posing in a wedding gown, without having any idea what it feels like to be in love.”
Xander turned to him, a cream-filled pastry in hand, “I mean, think how horrible she must feel to stand for something she’s never experienced and doesn’t believe in.”
Good God, even Xander seemed to get it -- why couldn’t he? Spike stayed silent for a moment before standing up and making his declaration clear to the three witnesses before him:
“Then I’ll make her believe in it.”
________________
It had been a couple of hours since Spike’s arrival and things were winding down in the process of closing up the shop for the day. He had stuck around, piddling around and helping Xander, making sure to stay far out of the vicinity of Buffy. Earlier in the night he had gotten in her way when she was trying to move a stack of boxes while he was carrying a group of dresses over his head. He was rewarded with a sharp cardboard edge to the abdomen.
Yet all through the night, Spike continued to steal glances in Buffy’s direction, waiting for the right moment, preferably when she wasn’t armed, to proposition her with his next plan of action. He got his chance when the only ones left in the store were himself, Buffy, her kid sis, and Xander, who was in the back room. Spike made sure Xander was still around because if Buffy tried to kill him, he wanted to make sure someone heard him scream. Spike waited until Buffy descended the couple stairs that led to the floor where during the day future brides marveled at themselves in a wall of mirrors.
“Buffy . . .” he started, stepping down onto the floor himself, Buffy showed no sign that she had heard him. He sighed, blue orbs pointed to the ceiling of florescent lights in silent pleading. “Look, I’ll make you a deal. Anya told me everything.”
Buffy slightly stirred in reaction to his words, but tried not to show it. “And what exactly does ‘everything’ entail?”
“Why you won’t do the shoot.”
“Oh, really? And why is that? Enlighten me.” Buffy had turned on her heels to face him, arms crossed.
“You don’t believe in love!” He exclaimed accusingly, puffing up his chest, proud of himself for reading into her -- finally -- and having the courage to say it to her face. Well, OK, technically Xander had successfully read into the enigma that was Buffy Summers, but all the same . . . .
“I don’t believe in love?” She spoke slowly, smiling at his stupidity. “Spike, I own a wedding store. I make hundreds of girls’ dreams come true. I’m a modern day fairy godmother, for pete’s sake.”
“Yeah, well the fairy godmother never got laid, now did she? To concerned about other people’s love lives than deal with her own.”
“Spike, I believe in love . . .”
“Well, then you’re scared of it, I don’t know.” His nonchalantly complained words caused Buffy to flinch, causing much more of a reaction, albeit an unnoticed one by Spike, than his earlier tone. “But I want you to hear me out.”
“I’m all ears,” she replied, fixating on him intently, giving him the vast amount of attention he seemed to crave at all times.
Spike nodded, under the pressure of her gaze he faltered before starting, “You’re so quick to turn me down -- like you won’t get something out of this . . . .”
“Embarrassment. Humiliation.” She offered.
“Companionship. Love.” He contradicted.
“Love? I thought you said you were trying to get the fairy godmother laid?” She tried to undermine him.
“I’ll find you a guy in one month in exchange for the project.” Buffy looked at him. He was serious.
“You? Find me . . . ?” Then she huffed, “Don’t make me laugh.”
“There’s no one gigglin’ here, luv.” His eyes shone desperation.
“And just how do you plan on being able to do that?”
Spike replied confidently, “I know what women want.”
“Just because you fucked every girl on the face of the planet you claim you know women?”
Spike reacted to her words by encircling her closer, purposely making her feel uncomfortable by his violation of her personal space, before harshly whispering into her ear, “How else do you think I get so many notches on my bedpost?”
“That proves you know whores, Spike, not me.”
“OK, Aunt Linda.” Dawn’s voice snapped at Buffy from the top of the stairs, who had been watching the exchange in the mirrors.
Buffy swished around to face off her sister, her voice retracting into high school snobbery, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dawn put on an evil glare and dropped her voice to scary-campfire-story range. “The Curse of the Summer’s women.”
“The . . . Oh, Dawn, come on!”
Spike looked on at Buffy’s reaction with interest. “What’s this now, Bit?”
“The Curse of the Summer’s women -- Aunt Linda and Aunt Sue. Both in their fifties and never married. Then Mom’s marriage didn’t work out. Buffy’s afraid she’s the next victim.” She replied smartly, showing off more of her ability to read her older sis’ diary then anything else.
“Aren’t you afraid, Nibblet?” Spike wondered.
Dawn stuck her chin out defiantly, “I’m not scared. If you don‘t believe in it, it can’t hurt you.” Spike smiled at her innocent bravery, a saying her mum told her to keep the monsters out of her closet doubled as her motto in life.
“OK. Fine. I’ll do it.” Buffy grit out painfully through her teeth. Dawn felt glee rise in her stomach. She’ll get to watch her sister play dress up and she successfully helped Spike get what he wanted, which made her feel pretty special to be on the receiving ends of one of the British hottie’s smiles and wink he gave her in return for her aid.
Buffy ignored her sister, who she more than planned to scold later, and turned to Spike, “What do I have to do?” she asked dully, no spark in her green eyes.
“Be like the models. Believe me, it’s not that hard.”
TBC
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