One, two! One, two! Spike repeated the mantra in his head as both his fists took turns at taking swings at the punching bag. With each punch, it sent a shock up all the way up from his wrist to his shoulder, but Spike just shook it off and kept on going. He needed to get the anger out, needed to calm himself down and think about what he had just done to the woman that he was partly supposed to keep safe.
The evil bastard side tried to butt in and say she rather deserved it but Spike pushed it out of him with great disgust. No woman deserved to be hit. No matter how angry she made him. Never in his life had he laid a hand on a woman like that unless it was involved in the bedroom and she practically begged for it.
For almost three hours, Spike had been standing there, shirtless and getting sweatier by the minute as he had continued to take his disgust for himself out on the bag. Each muscle in his upper body was aching, his feet hard as rock from holding himself up for so long without a break.
There was anger at himself and the remnants of his anger towards Buffy that was still inside of him. That was the part that pushed him to take it out on the punching bag.
He dropped his right arm and gave the punching bag a good right hook causing it to swing back. It was met with a right punch and then another left one. One, two! One, two! You don’t deserve her you bloody bastard. ONE! TWO! He made his last punch a real good one, leaving the bleached blonde to stand there panting and with his right arm hanging at his side with a burning pain.
His head rested against the bag, the material of it making an impression on his forehead. Spike tried to bring down his heavy breathing, calm his heart rate, but every time he closed his eyes, he would see Buffy standing in her room, her arms up shielding herself. His body began to shake from the surprising thought of what could have happened if he didn’t stop himself. What if he had actually hit her?
If any other man had hit her he was most likely to rip him to shreds just enough to allow him to live so he could bury the bastard alive. But now, he really couldn’t rip himself to shreds now, could he?
There was a knock at the door, pulling Spike from his intense thoughts. “Come in.” He barked out, his voice rough from the straining workout he had just put his body through.
The door opened a smidge before Gunn’s head poked through. “Hey boss, you busy?”
Spike just shook his head. He turned around to rest his exhausted body against the bag, facing Gunn while he un-wrapped the punching tape from his stiff hands.
Gunn watched him with a curious stare, observing his boss. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Hank Summers called an hour ago.” Spike groaned at the information Gunn had just given him. Hank Summers being the exact man he had made a promise to never hit Buffy. “He wants to discuss the alliance terms now that we’ve made the trade.”
“Don’t talk about Buffy as if she’s an object!” Spike yelled as he stared down at the ground. It was obvious there was still some unresolved anger inside him. Buffy had tried to beat into his head this past week that she did not want to treated like an object of trade, and now he found it had stuck.
Realizing he had just hit a nerve, Gunn quickly apologized.
“Did you tell him I’d call him back?” Spike asked. He wiped his forehead, gathering sweat on his bare arm.
“Yeah. Speaking of Buffy Summers, I thought you were planning on taking Buffy out tonight seeing as it is her first night staying here.”
Spike wanted to chuckle. God! How bloody wrong that all turned out. Spike wanted to say. Instead he just said, “Our plans changed.” His jaw clenched, remembering all over again why it had. “And, I don’t want to bloody talk about it,” Spike said menacingly, warning Gunn to drop it. Though Gunn and his lack of noticing the obvious sometimes, just kept on going.
“What? Did she say no to you?”
The mafia boss turned to glare at the large black man. “Didn’t I just say I didn’t want to fucking talk about it?” What was it with people looking to test his patience today? Ignoring Gunn completely, Spike stepped over to the chair and picked up his t-shirt, pulling it over his aching muscles.
Suddenly he heard Gunn chuckle. “No let me take another guess. She and you got into another fight again huh?” When Spike didn’t say anything Gunn took that as a yes. “Man, you two argue more in one week than a married couple does in a year. The real sad thing is you’ve only known each other for a week.” He waited for Spike to blow up at him for talking to him that way. Then again, Gunn, Faith, and some of the others were the rare few that Spike allowed to talk to him in such a manner.
“Is there a bleeding point to this little attempt at a heartfelt talk?” Spike asked, growing irritated that he could be read so easily. He was definitely not in any mood to get any teasing on his relationship with Buffy especially if it was about how much they kept arguing.
Gunn simply shrugged his shoulders and threw up his hands. “No...just trying to tell you that the two of you are more stubborn than any bull you try to train to not chase the person wearing red.”
Spike furrowed his brows at Gunn. “Now that is a weird analogy Charles.”
“Fine I’ll make things simpler. Talk to her man. Apologize.”
“Oh! How do you suppose I do that oh wise yoda when the bint probably won’t even talk to me!!!” Spike said, yelling the last part due to his frustration.
“Okay, okay calm down,” Gunn said, giving Spike a weird look. He was beginning to think that Buffy Summers was driving his boss crazy. “All I can say is calling her a bint sure as hell isn’t going to work.” Charles Gunn let out a chuckle but stopped when Spike gave him a very deadly glare. “Sorry,” He said, turning back to serious. “Fine, what happened this time?”
Spike looked down at the floor, speechless and filled with too much shame to admit what had been going on between him and Buffy. He desperately wished he could take it back. Sighing, Spike finally spoke, “She slapped me after I called her a stuck up bint and then I almost hit her back.” Gunn stared at him, jaw almost hitting the floor. The man was well aware of Spike’s dislike for a man’s violent tendency towards a woman, which was why he was as shocked as Spike himself was.
“Wow....” Really, Charles Gunn couldn’t find a thing to say. “Well, I guess I was right. Calling her a bint is not a good thing.” Spike just continued to glare at him.
“She’s going to continue thinking all I am is a monster,” Spike mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose trying to push away the oncoming migraine.
Gunn watched his boss, noticing the stress he was having. He really wanted to have Buffy like him, Gunn could tell that much. “Well boss, show her that you can be fluffy.”
Spike’s head shot up and the look Gunn received made him burst out laughing. “What do you mean… fluffy?”
“Just show her that you’re not all just a monster. I’m guessing she needs to see a side of you where you’re not just the top mafia boss in Los Angeles.” The guy leaned in closer, his eyes darting around the room as if to make sure no one could hear him. He absolutely forgot the fact that it was just him and Spike in the room. “You have to show her...the William side of you.” Spike stood up straight, filled with so much horror at the thought of his old personality.
“No! Absolutely not! That poncy side of me died when I took up partnership with my father!” Gunn gave Spike an incredulous look. “Ok fine, it fully died when the Bitch left. But, no way in hell am I reviving even a little piece of William.”
“Funny… I seem to recall that you introduced yourself to Buffy the first time as William Giles though. Hmm...” The man rolled his eyes and turned around, praying to Heaven Spike would find a good way to apologize to Buffy. “Fine then, buy her something fluffy. It always works.” Gunn left the room, closing the door firmly and leaving Spike there to ponder about what Gunn had just said.
“Wake up L.A. this 102.3 The Bone. This is your D.J. Chris Vanders here with your Rocking morning music to get you up, UP, and UP!!! It’s Saturday and five in the A.M. Time for those that work like me to get UP.”
Buffy reached over to the contraption that was currently dishing out the annoying disc jockey. She raised her hand up and slapped the Snooze/off button with the middle of her palm, killing off the sound of Chris Vanders’ voice. She was on the verge of writing 102.3 an angry letter for getting a DJ whose voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to most of the people in LA. Or at least to people who woke up at five in the morning.
Throwing her legs over the bed and reluctantly pulling herself out of the warm confinements of her down comforter, Buffy looked around her room. It was the same as ever, plus a few clothes she had stripped off the night before in order to put on her nightgown. Standing up Buffy rubbed the sleep from her eyes and pulled her hair away from her face. She walked to her bathroom to adjust the water for a nice hot shower.
She hesitated for calling down to the kitchen to inform Tara to bring something up for a small breakfast and that she would need a ride to the theater seeing as her car was still at the Summers mansion. Buffy hesitated on leaving, period. Yes, Spike had granted her to continue dancing but she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to tell anyone before she left. You’re mad at him remember, Summers? He nearly hit you. At that thought, Buffy straightened up, picked up the phone and dialed zero. That settled it. Tara answered, and Buffy informed her of everything. Tara told her the food would be up by the time Buffy got out of the shower.
When Buffy got out, drying her hair she found Tara was right and she had been served a nice meal of two eggs with bacon and a small side of fruit. She dressed quickly in her normal dance apparel, putting her hair up before eating her breakfast. She tried not to think of the bad things that had happened so far at her stay in the Giles Estate. Instead, she focused on the fact that she was going to dance in almost thirty minutes. That cleared up her mood in an instant. Cleaning up as much as she could, she placed the rolling cart out in the hallway just like Tara told her to do. She grabbed her bag of her dance equipment and headed down stairs to meet John the limo driver.
Buffy walked into the theater to find it almost empty minus a few dancers from the chorus and the maintenance crew of the theater. She walked upstairs to the empty practice rooms where she found Lorne warming up at the ‘barre’ in practice room one. She dropped her bag on the chair loudly, grabbing Lorne’s attention. He turned towards her with wide green eyes and produced a great big smile.
“La Petit. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. Even though it’s been only a day.” He walked up to Buffy and gave her a big hug. Buffy giggled and allowed Lorne to spin her around. “Now tell me all about the palace.”
“Well it certainly is big like one that’s for sure,” Buffy said with a big smile trying to not to remember Spike when she talked about the estate.
“What’s wrong?” Lorne asked, looking very closely at Buffy.
“Nothing. Everything is okay.” She cursed and desperately hoped that Lorne wouldn’t be able to see through her fake big smile. With them being dance partners for so long, it allowed one to read the other very well. Lorne looked like he wasn’t buying it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She turned to unzip her bag and pulled out her Pointe shoes. Pulling off her slip-ons she tried not to shake while she slowly put on her ballet shoes. Buffy did not want Lorne to find out what Spike had nearly done. She didn’t know why but she didn’t want anyone to know. Not until she and Spike spoke about what happened. However, right now she wasn’t ready to talk to him. Right now, she was ready to dance.
Standing up, Buffy shook both her legs to loosen them as she walked over to the ‘barre’ and joined Lorne for a nice warm-up. Soft music played in the background allowing Buffy to relax and her body to calm. She bent forward at the hips and touched her toes, feeling her muscles awaken from her stretch.
“Ready little ballet princess?” Buffy’s partner asked as he stepped over to the stereo.
“Yes sir!” Buffy said, jumping up straight and striking a comical military pose. She faked a salute before going into an extravagant curtsy.
“Let’s begin then.” He clapped his hands and met Buffy in the middle of the floor. He winked at her as he moved to stand behind, took an arm around her waist and held her hand with his other one. Buffy giggled but became quiet when the music began. At a large forte he lifted her up in the air and the dance began.
God you bloody idiot, just gather your stones and get the hell in there! Spike thought to himself trying to force his feet to move. But they seemed to be rooted to the ground. He had been standing there for almost ten minutes. Occasionally he’d turn back to his door before yelling at himself to stop being a ninny.
There it was, Buffy’s bedroom door. It was like the doorway of judgment. It was only way to find out if Buffy was angry with him or not. Why wouldn’t she be?
At his side his arm held the gift that he had bought for her in order to persuade her easily for forgiveness. She can’t be bought.
He clenched his jaw, trying to get himself to lift up his free arm and open the sodding door. Finally, Spike did and quickly turned the doorknob. Pushing the door open he stepped in slowly, walking into the room until he could see it completely.
Spike stood there silently, observing the room and feeling his fist clench. His jaw tightened even more. She was nowhere in sight. Her bed was neatly made and it almost looked like she hadn’t slept in it. He put her gift on her bed and hurriedly checked her bathroom in closet.
“Buffy?” No answer. Where the hell was she? Spike kept asking himself. It was 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday; he’d half expected her to still be in bed.
Standing in the middle of the room, he tried to reign in his frustration. Maybe his parents were right...he was rather impatient. Ever since he was little in England, his mother would always scold him for being impatient and getting pouty whenever things weren’t done quick enough. It was even worse on Christmas morning when he had to wait for his little sister to open her gifts before he could open his and she would take forever to open them.
Her stuff was still in her closet and things were on the counter of her bathroom, which told Spike that she hadn’t left completely. Unless she planned on leaving and then have someone come by for her things, saying screw the alliance between Spike and her father.
No, she wouldn’t do that. Spike knew that Buffy saw this alliance as an important thing, whether she was in the middle of it or not. It was after all a good way to have her mother and sister stay safe.
Stomping over to the nightstand Spike picked up the receiver of the telephone and dialed down to the kitchen. Tara answered with a soft hello.
“Tara, where is Ms. Summers?” Spike asked putting his free hand into his suit pants pocket.
“She left early this morning, sir.”
“Where did she go?”
“Ms. Summers informed me that she had a rehearsal at the theater.”
Spike groaned, feeling the need to bang his head against the wall. She had said that her rehearsals were everyday from six in the morning to eight. Spike was obviously too idiotic to put two and two together.
Sighing he finally said, “Tara, have John bring around the limo. NOW!” He didn’t wait for a reply, instead he just hung up the receiver and quickly left Buffy’s bedroom leaving her gift to rest nicely on her bed.
Buffy spun on her toes, forming a big circle around Lorne, the music climbing up to its climatic finish. Sweat poured down her head but she gently shook it from her eyes trying to focus on her watching point. Her body ached and her toes were numb but she didn’t stop. She kept on pushing herself just as she was trained to do. Never let the audience see that you’re tired and you must never stop! The words of one of her instructors repeated in her head. He had yelled on the first day of their training at the A.B.D.C. scaring the whole class half to death.
She stooped suddenly, posing up on Pointe and pulling her body to an Arabesque with her left leg and arm extended behind her and right arm reaching out in front. Lorne grasped her, hooking one arm under her left leg and another under her stomach lifting her into the air. As he twirled her, she saw the door open out of the corner of her eye.
Spike walked through the black door that had a number one painted on it. It was where he was told to go by one of the dancers he had seen on the main stage of the theater. Fast-paced classical music could be heard from down the hall after Spike had walked up the stairs. Walking through, he closed the door gently and stood there instantly mesmerized. A man held Buffy In the air with little effort, twirling her in a circle before bringing her down to stand in front of the man facing the mirrored wall, her feet facing apart. Spike watched as she bent low at the knees keeping her upper form the same.
Spike watched on, as she twirled away from the man and they went into a series of dance moves that Buffy pulled off with grace. Not a hair was out of place, her skin shiny from perspiring and all Spike wanted to do was take her into his arms.
She was sensational. Spike had only attended one show of Ballet in his life in Paris but Buffy was far better than the leading lady in the Paris show. The music stopped with Buffy wrapped in the man’s arms in a passionate embrace. If Spike didn’t know any better, he would guess that Buffy and this man she was so wrapped up in were truly filled with passion for each other.
Spike clapped loudly, causing Buffy and her partner to break away from each other. Buffy looked at him with such shock, her cheeks turned a nice tinge of pink. Is she embarrassed?
“Spike?!?” Her voice came out harshly. She cleared it before speaking again. “What are you doing here?”