17. Waterscapes
Spike gave Buffy a few days to mull over what they had said outside the Bronze. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he called. He had to know whether or not she was still willing to see him. So he tried the one thing he knew that she would have a difficult time resisting. It had taken a little effort to arrange things to his satisfaction, but he was finally ready. Buffy was coming over for a swim and a picnic at his house.
The promised day dawned bright and sunny, and Spike decided that he would drive over and pick her up himself. He had discovered that Buffy seemed to respond to him better when she wasn’t constantly reminded of how wealthy he was. The house itself would probably be off-putting enough. Besides, he really didn’t want her to get into another conversation with his driver; he wanted her all to himself.
Spike was pleased that Buffy seemed to be in a good mood. Things were definitely looking up. Maybe she had a more forgiving nature than he gave her credit for. Or maybe Warren was right and she was just a gold digger; willing to overlook anything until she got her hands on his money.
By mutual assent, neither mentioned the row that they’d had about Anya. As far as Spike was concerned, if it never came up again he’d be happy. He didn’t think he’d be so lucky.
Spike chuckled when they entered through the gates and Buffy said a few complimentary things about the quaint stone house. “That’s the gatehouse, luv. Staff live there. Main house is up ahead a ways.”
“Oh,” she replied. She had never expected his property to be so vast. “By ‘staff’ do you mean Jonathan?”
“Yeah, well, Jonathan, Andrew and Warren. They all live there. That way they’re close enough to do whatever is required, but far enough away so as to be out of my hair.”
“Oh. What do they do?” Buffy was trying to make small talk. It felt a little more awkward now to be spying on him after he had met her friends, even if it had turned into a disaster. “I guess Jonathan is your chauffeur?”
“Personal assistant. Jonathan and Andrew both do whatever is required, though generally that means that Jonathan takes care of me personally, while Andrew takes care of the house.”
“What about Warren?”
“He’s head of technology and security, both for the house and Thorndale Industries. Jonathan and Andrew report to him as well.”
“Makes sense, I guess.”
“It seems to work out well for everyone. Here’s the main house.”
They pulled up in front of an impressive looking Mediterranean style home half covered with ivy, with a broad porch and sweeping archways. It was easily three or four times larger than the ‘gatehouse’ where her three high school classmates lived. Privately Buffy felt that it was far too large a house for one person to live in comfortably. She could see how it could get lonely. Maybe that was why Spike kept his ‘staff’ so nearby.
Instead she said truthfully, “It’s beautiful.”
Buffy seemed entranced by the short tour of his house, and Spike enjoyed showing off. It wasn’t often that he had this opportunity to talk about the things that he had collected over the years. He was pleased but not at all surprised that Buffy seemed genuinely interested in all the items on display. If she asked a lot of questions about where and when he had acquired them, he didn’t notice.
There were only a few tense moments all morning. The first was when he refused to open the locked door that led to his studio. Buffy protested, pleasantly at first, that she had been promised a tour of the whole house. When Spike explained that he never let anyone into his inner-sanctum, she didn’t let it go easily. But when had anything with Buffy been easy?
The second awkward moment came when he showed Buffy his bedroom. It was the only room in the house that she didn’t actually enter. She stood in the doorway and nodded while Spike showed her the a few of his favored pieces of art on display.
Finally, they made their way down to the recreation room. This was the part of the house where Spike spent the majority of his time. It was between the pool and the kitchen, and housed his TV and stereo systems as well as a billiard table and a small office with his computer equipment.
But what Buffy focused on was the one blank space in the entire house, where from the discoloration of the paint, it was obvious that a picture had been recently removed.
“Meant to have something up there by now.” Embarrassed, Spike tried to explain. “But the painting I wanted, well, the owner’s being stubborn. Doesn’t want to sell. I didn’t think it was going to be so difficult to acquire, so I had something else removed to make room for it. Now I'm left with an empty space, where there ought to be a picture hanging. Looks awkward, doesn’t it?”
Spike offered her a drink, and went to fetch them something from the kitchen. When he came back, Buffy was still contemplating the empty space. Spike felt the need to make another comment.
“I guess there’s nothing for it but to offer more money. Owner’ll come ‘round, if enough cash on the table. When I want something, I usually find some way of getting it. I was hoping to have it here to show you, but it’ll have to wait until next time. It’s a work I’ll know you’ll love.”
Buffy wasn’t sure if she bought his explanation; Spike seemed to have a lot of them ready to hand. But the casual mention of ‘next time’ had her thinking. If she came back, maybe she could contrive an opportunity to snoop around on her own, see what she could find out about the missing artwork and the locked room. Had he had a painting removed because he knew that she was coming for a tour today? Was it something he’d gotten illegally? Was it still in the house, perhaps in the mysterious locked room?
In any event, the mini camcorder in her purse had recorded the entire narrated tour. Now it wouldn’t just be her word that there was no contraband here. She would hand over the tape to Giles and let the behind the scenes investigators deal with it. Aside from the locked room and the missing painting, she had seen nothing that would be any cause for suspicion. Spike was obviously just what he appeared to be, an art enthusiast and an avid collector. But he wasn’t a thief. Unless he was damned good at hiding the evidence.
That was something she was going to let Giles worry about. She had finally achieved her objective. She had filmed the entire contents of his house (minus one painting and the locked room) and she wasn’t going to let it bother her anymore. There was absolutely no evidence that a continuing investigation of Spike would ever reveal any wrongdoing.
Buffy was going to make sure that Giles was going to stick to his word and drop the whole thing. And after that she was going to forget the entire unpleasant assignment and never agree to do another. She would pretend that she had never had any ulterior motive for seeking Spike’s company, and just be glad that they had finally found one another. And look forward to the promised ‘next time.’
Buffy hadn’t seen the outside of his house yet, but judging from the front lawn and the interior, she thought she was ready for anything. She was sorely mistaken. The back of the house was completely private – there were no other houses in view at all. Buffy couldn’t begin to imagine what this estate would be worth on the open market. It was like something you would expect a movie star to live in.
The yard was massive and beautifully landscaped. There were areas of shade, and areas of sun. Large expanses of yard surrounded by flowers of every description. And in the middle, as promised, a large natural looking pool, complete with its own waterfall and a charming pool house.
“Care to go for a swim, pet?” Spike had seen her eyes light up when she saw the pool. He couldn’t blame her; it was one of his favorite spots too. “Why don’t you go back inside and put on your suit and we can enjoy the sun before lunch? Sound good to you?”
When Buffy stepped out of the house dressed in her suit it was his turn for his eyes to light up. Spike had quickly changed into navy blue trunks, and had been giving Jonathan last minute instructions about lunch when she appeared in the doorway.
He had to admit, he had been looking forward to seeing her clad only in swimsuit. He had imagined some barely there bikini which left little to the imagination, but what he saw was so much better. So much more Buffy.
She had chosen to wear a one-piece suit with a high neckline, denying him the glimpse of flesh and cleavage he had been so looking forward to. But as if to make up for it, the suit was in a natural tone that almost exactly matched the color of her skin. Swirls of white were strategically placed to cover certain areas; if it weren’t for that, she would almost have looked nude.
As it was, she reminded him strongly of Botticelli’s masterwork, The Birth of Venus, which depicted the goddess rising from the sea. He felt a desire he hadn’t felt in a long time. If he could get her to agree to it, he wanted to paint her. Here, this afternoon, in his own backyard. He wanted to paint her so that he could keep her forever.
“You look beautiful, pet.” He could barely take his eyes off her. “Do you want to swim before lunch?”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Spike smiled at her kind words. Next to her golden skin he was pale, and he knew he looked half-dead. He had spent more time slathering on lotion than he had planning their lunch, and would have to reapply the sun block in another hour or two or risk a bad sunburn. Idly he wondered whether he could convince Buffy to help him put lotion on his back, and for the first time ever he was grateful for his fair complexion.
Plunging into the pool quickly, the cool water helped Spike to regain his composure. Buffy was a bit more timid about getting wet, until finally he literally had to drag her into the water. After that she seemed to melt towards him a little bit. They swam circles around one another until she finally let him corner her against the edge of the pool and kiss her gently. Then she had splashed him, and the fight was on again.
After Jonathan had served lunch Spike convinced Buffy to let him pose her around the garden and take her picture in various poses. Once he finally decided on the spot he wanted her in, he had Jonathan fetch his canvass and paints from upstairs. He couldn’t remember the last time he had painted anywhere except in his studio, but he couldn’t resist. Buffy inspired him.
He had positioned her underneath the waterfall. The rock background blended in with her skin tones and the color of the suit so she almost appeared as if she were made of stone herself. But as he painted her, you could see that where the water splashed over her, it brought the flesh to life – as if she were made of stone and only now becoming flesh.
~~**~~
“It’s so romantic,” Andrew offered. “But I can’t help wondering if he’s going to paint her naked.”
“She’s not naked, she’s still wearing the suit, you nit.” Warren was annoyed, as usual. At least there was some action going on at the big house, but it wasn’t at all what he’d hoped for.
“Yes, but when he fills the painting in later, I bet he’ll paint her naked.”
Warren thought about it for a moment. “I’d rather she was naked now.”
As Jonathan walked into the control room neither of the occupants even turned to look at him. It was a losing battle, but he knew he had to say something. “Guys, you shouldn’t be doing this. Spying on your boss is really not cool.”
“Why not?” Warren replied. “It’s not like he doesn’t know the security cameras are there. If he didn’t want us to watch them, he would have said something.”
“Yeah, Jonathan,” Andrew agreed. “Spike expects the grounds to be monitored at all times. It’s like… it’s our job. What if one of them started to drown or something? What if Buffy took out a gun?” Of course Andrew would go along with whatever Warren said.
“That’s not going to happen.” Jonathan moved as if to turn off the video feed, but Warren caught his arm. Still trying to make his point, Jonathan continued, “You two shouldn’t be watching that. It’s private.”
“Well, not yet its not.” Andrew sounded disappointed. “But they’ve kissed a couple times, so we’re hoping if we keep watching we’ll get to see something better.”
“You guys are perverts. Don’t you have anything better to do than sit around fantasizing about someone else’s love life?”
“No.” Andrew answered truthfully. “Do you? Besides, we used to do it all the time when Anyanka was here.”
“The good old days! Wish I could have gotten me a piece of that ass.” Warren whined. “That Anya was hot.”
“Yeah. Right. Like you had that kind of money.” When Andrew wasn’t being overly romantic, he was surprisingly practical. He knew it was more and more unlikely that any one of the three of them would ever wind up with a beautiful girl like Anya or Buffy.
Preferably one like Anya. Buffy was turning out to be a bit of a prude. She hadn’t even worn a two-piece.
“Yeah.” Warren was already off in his own fantasyland. “If I had that kind of money, Anya would have been all over me and dropped Spike like he was diseased. Just like Buffy would.”
“Hey, Buffy is not like that.” Jonathan countered.
“I think she and Spike are in looove. They look so great together.” Andrew obviously saw nothing at all wrong with what they were doing. “Hey, maybe we could make copies of this and sell it on the Internet and get rich that way!”
“Cause they’re not doing anything, Bozo, that’s why.” Warren thought the other two were losers, and he didn’t mind letting them know it. “Besides, I have my own plans that will make me richer than Spike’ll ever be. Once production gets going, the sky’s the limit. Maybe then I’ll hire Anya and Buffy to come and live with me. That’d teach Spike who’s the better man.”
“Warren, you know that Spike’s said no to your idea,” Andrew reminded him. “I don’t think he’s going to change his mind.”
“Yeah, Warren, be realistic, it’s never going to happen. And even if it did, you could never hire Buffy. She’s not a whore – you know that.”
“They’re all whores, Jonathan.” Warren was quite sure in his opinions about women, despite rarely spending time in their company. “Every last one of them wants something. Buffy’s just more expensive than most. She wants to get Spike so besotted that he’s willing to marry her just to get some, and then she’ll turn around and divorce him so fast it will make your head spin.”
“I think you’re wrong, Warren. Theirs is a love that will never die. It’s like destiny or kismet or something. You know, Romeo and Juliet, Guinevere and Lancelot.”
Jonathan looked over at Andrew. Warren was often cynical, and he was used to that. But sometimes Andrew just rubbed him the wrong way. “You do know that neither of those couples lived happily ever after, don’t you?”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I tried to spare you all the gory details/description and get on with the story. If you want to picture Spike's house, think Luthor Mansion, only more Spanish and less Gothic.