It'd been four days. To be exact, 96 hours, 30 minutes and 20 seconds since Buffy had left. It'd been a half an hour since Spike last talked to her on the phone, and it had been a short conversation to boot. Too short for his liking, but she had been on her way out the door to greet some clients and close a sale. This was exactly why she had to move out to be with him. When she got busy, she got busy and there was no way they could maintain a healthy, long distance relationship like that.
The thing that got him the most was how incredibly quiet it was without her around. He didn't like it. And, if he was completely honest with himself, it was always the quiet that got him, which was the main reason why he never had very many quiet moments. He always had someone coming in and out, had somewhere to be, places to go and women to see...and do.
He had a little girl to see, and see her he did. And when that was over, he was alone again; missing the hustle and bustle, missing the excitement . . . missing Buffy.
She was busy and the timing seemed to be always off. It was only four days in and he already felt he was a pest. They hadn’t even been able to coordinate phone sex! One of the only perks of being apart from each other, and they couldn’t even get it together for that.
She felt bad, he could tell by her voice, her apologetic voice. And she kept reassuring him that it wouldn’t be long, it was only 10 days more now. Just ten days. Just 240 hours. Most of that was spent sleeping anyway, and then there was the time he spent with Alicia.
Running a hand through his hair and staring out at the L.A. skyline from his balcony with a cigarette hanging out his mouth, he found himself wondering what he did before Buffy. It seemed so long ago.
Oh yes. He’d been a playboy. He’d lived for the night when he could hunt for the woman that would warm his bed for the night, a week, a month.
He’d become something of a homebody since he and Buffy had gotten together, and he’d become even more of one since she’d left to go back home. He felt almost afraid to go out. As if he’d be tempted if he did.
Christ, he was housebroken!
Throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out, he shook his head. He was itching for something. Staying in another night and watching crap TV while missing Buffy held no allure for him. He needed out. Most of all, he needed to know that he could still go out. That he wasn’t housebroken. That he could still paint the town red.
And still be loyal to Buffy of course.
Picking up the phone, he dialed Xander Harris, a co-worker of his and a drinking buddy. He’d go out and have himself some fun. No sense in staying in and wallowing.
“You’re quiet,” Willow observed as she watched her friend pick at her dinner. “How’d that sale go?”
Buffy looked up from her salad. “Oh, it went well. Just got a couple more to go. You’re still helping me pack this weekend right?
“Right. Did you find time to rent a truck?”
Slapping her forehead with the heel of her hand, Buffy exclaimed “Dammit!”
“I’ll take that as a no. Honey, I’ll do it tomorrow okay? You just concentrate on work.”
Buffy looked up at her friend gratefully, “Thank you Wills.”
“No problem. How you holding up, hmmm? You seem out of sorts.”
Buffy sighed heavily. “I am.”
“Missing Spike?”
“Yep, I am. I kept telling myself that it’s only 2 weeks. Only fourteen days. But…it’s a lot harder than I thought. And when I’m in bed alone, thinking of him and wondering what he’s doing….”
“Oh, no.”
“What?”
“Your mind goes to the bad place doesn’t it?”
Buffy nodded sheepishly, “I can’t help it! I wonder if he’s gotten tired of waiting—“
“It’s only been four days!”
“Yeah, but…this is the same man that couldn’t go a night without someone there. He never did alone well.”
“So this is a test for him then,” Willow said resolutely.
“Yeah, and . . . “Buffy trailed off, shaking her head.
“You have no faith that he’ll pass.”
“I know he loves me.”
“He does, Buffy, he really does.”
“I’m just being paranoid. I just have this feeling….”
“Of?”
“You know when you worry about something so much you almost convince yourself the worse is going to happen?”
“Yep, been there, done that.”
“That’s me. I’m so worried he’s going to…”
“Cheat?”
“Yes, that, that I’ve convinced myself it’s going to happen. And this is going to sound sick and twisted, but because I’m so worried and convinced it’s going to happen, I almost want him to just friggen do it and get it over with so that I can deal with it already and be done with it.”
“And by done with it you mean?”
“Done with him.”
“Buffy! That’s awful.”
“I know. This separation gives me time to think, and I think too much.”
“Maybe you should call him when you have those doubts?”
Buffy stared at Willow incredulously, “Are you crazy? I’d be calling constantly and then he’d know something was up and . . . and I don’t want him to know I have these doubts. He gets so upset with him when I do express them.”
“I think this is perfect for you both. It’s a test for you both. How will you handle it?”
“I have ten more days to figure that out.”
Settling back in the highly uncomfortable chair at the table Xander had selected, Spike took in the bar/club. Glittering lights, loud techno music, smoky air, bright colors and slightly inebriated, to completely inebriated people milling about and/or dancing.
He enjoyed this at one point?
Taking a sip of his beer he tried to get into the spirit of things.
“Dude, relax!” Xander hollered over the music at him.
“I am! See me sitting back?” Spike hollered back.
“There’s a girl, 12 o’ clock, that’s looking at you.”
Spike squinted up across the room. Sure enough, some brunette was coquettishly checking him out. Smiling, he saluted her with his beer and turned back to a chuckling Xander.
“Well, at least you’re not scowling anymore,” Xander said.
Spike frowned, “I wasn’t scowling. I just. . . has it always been this loud here?”
“Christ, you’re getting old.”
“Oi! Watch it Harris. I’m not too old to kick your ass.”
Xander just shrugged and grinned. “Hey, here she comes.”
“Fuck me, that wasn’t an invitation,” Spike muttered.
“Maybe not consciously, but subconsciously.”
“What the hell are you on about?”
“I think you want to see if you still got even though you’re tied down now.”
“I’m not ‘tied down’, Harris.”
“Like hell you’re not. You’ve got a ball and chain now. And you know what?”
Spike narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“She’s in a different city. She’s on the other coast. You can do whatever you like, and she never has to know.”
The coquettish brunette was upon him. She was tall, leggy, and beautiful.
I’m fucked, Spike thought just before she introduced herself.