Two weeks later Buffy was carrying groceries up the stairs to her apartment. She hadn’t heard from Spike in about a week. He showed up at her mom’s shop last weekend looking for her, but she was out on an errand with a local artist. He left another red rose with Dawn. Buffy shook her head, she shouldn’t be missing him; he was just like her philandering father. Climbing up the last set of stairs, Buffy headed towards her door and a flurry of color stopped her dead in her tracks. Looking in front of her door was a huge bouquet, more like an arrangement, of flowers. Red, orange, yellow, and purples dominated the buds offset by flowing greens of the foliage. Stricken, she moved towards the door before she dropped her bags and opened it. She put her groceries down and went back to retrieve the flowers. A card peaked out from under a purple rose and she snatched it up.
Buffy-
Thinking of you
-William
No other explanation to the delivery as given. Smiling like a schoolgirl she took the flowers over to her sink and filled up the reservoir. She took time to smell each perfect bud and fingered some of the petals. Why was she feeling this way? This was wrong! He was supposed to be rude and crude instead of sweet and sentimental.
She stalked over to her grocery bags and started to put away her findings. This would not do, all she has to do is call him and tell him she didn’t want to see him again. He would give up, wouldn’t he? Without time to change her mind, Buffy called Willow at work. “Hello, Willow Rosenberg-Osborne. May I help you?”
“Wills?”
“Hey Buffy, what’s up?”
“I need to talk to Mr. Winthrop. Do you have his number?” Buffy twirled a piece of hair around her fingers.
“Sure… hold on… OH… You have to go through Harmony, his secretary.”
“Harmony? They let that ditz be a secretary?” Buffy shook her head, what kind of moron runs that company… Hank.
“Yeah, she’s actually pretty good. Hold on and let me transfer you.”
Several clicks later she was connected with William’s office. “Hello, Mr. Winthrop’s office, this is Harmony, may I help you.”
Trying to disguise her voice, Buffy said, “Yes I would like to speak to Mr. Winthrop.”
“May I ask who is calling?” Damn, Buffy should have known she wouldn’t get past Harmony.
“Buffy Summers.” She could hear the gears in Harmony’s brain working hard.
“Oh my god, Buffy? How long has it been?”
Biting the inside of her mouth, Buffy was about to tell her just to transfer her when she heard his voice. Low murmurs of protest on Harmony’s part and then the next moment Buffy heard several clicks and the phone ringing again. “Hello, pet.” His deep timber excited her blood stream.
“William, I need to talk to you.”
“I was hoping you would call.”
“William, please… let me speak.” She paused and he stayed silent, continuing, “The flowers are lovely, thank you. But… I don’t think we should see each other again.” She knew she caught his attention when she heard him quickly inhale.
“Why is that, pet?”
“I’m really busy and my schedule is packed…”
“That’s bollocks, love, and you know it.”
“Our schedules don’t mesh, William. I’m sorry.” She hung up before he got a chance to say anything. Within two minutes, her phone was ringing. How did he get her number, it was unlisted: Willow or Xander? It was the only explanation. He knew she was friends with both and probably threatened life and limb to pry it out of either one of them. When the phone stopped ringing, she set it off the hook. He would know she was home, but not wanting to talk to him. Maybe he would get the clue.
The rest of the day went fine for Buffy. She finished painting a canvas at home and took it when she went to visit her mother. Grateful that she had a new painting to look at, Joyce was in high spirits. Buffy took the painting that she finished two weeks ago back to her apartment to contact the buyer that it was ready. Three hours of practice on the ice, proved beneficial when she met with a local competition coordinator, learning of a statewide convention in less than a year. She set the painting on her mantle and made dinner for herself. She put the phone back on its cradle and continued her preparations. She pricked the potato and put it in the oven. Setting her steak to the side, Buffy started to make her a salad.
Thirty minutes later, someone was knocking on her door. She wiped her hands on a towel and went to answer it. Not to her surprise, it was William. He looked gaunt and tired. His blue eyes no longer twinkled with mischief and the start of dark circles surrounded them. His hair was no longer slicked back, but little tiny white curls formed at the top. “May I come in, pet?” Buffy nodded and stepped to the side. She was so flabbergasted at his appearance, she forgot about her earlier decision about him. William stepped in and handed over a black leather duster and suit jacket. Hi maroon dress shirt was rumbled as were his pants. She hung the coat up and turned back to him. He moved away from her and headed toward her mantel, memorizing the painting she just placed there. His eyes roamed over the seascape. The beach glittered with shells and hidden animals while the angry sea beat down on the beauty. Filled with wonderment, he looked at the tiny girl that created the painting. Smelling the food cooking and eyeing the steak on the counter, he looked hopeful, “It’s been a long day, is there any chance I could get some of that?”
Nodding, she went to clean another potato and stuck it in her microwave. She came back into the living room to find him sprawled out on her big blue overstuffed couch with his shoeless feet up on the maple coffee table and his arm flung over his eyes. “Would you like anything to drink?” She stood to the side of the couch, when he lifted his arm slightly and his lips turned upward.
“Anything would be fine, don’t go to any trouble.”
Buffy went back to her fridge and found a beer Xander left the last time he was over. Grabbing the bottle, she opened it and poured it into a glass. On her trip back, Spike’s arm was removed from his face and he was watching her with half closed eyes. “Tough day?”
“You could say that again.” Buffy sat on the couch, as far away from him as possible when he took a deep drink of the liquid she provided him with. With a grimace he tipped the glass and asked, “Domestic?”
“Only thing I had, sorry.” She tucked her feet underneath her, waiting for him to start talking, but he never did. Instead she watched his eyes filter back to her painting. Interested in what he thought about her work, she watched him trace the crests and troughs of each wave as it broke on shore. The microwave finished and she got up to take it out and put it in the oven with her potato. With twenty minutes left on the potato, she went out to her patio and started up her gas grill. Coming back in, she noticed he took off his tie and unbuttoned some of his buttons on his shirt. She went back into the kitchen and fixed William a salad. Eventually he came into the kitchen, watching her prepare the dinner. Silently, she moved around getting sour cream and butter from the fridge and putting them on the table. He helped setting the table with silverware and napkins as she put the steak on the grill.
Dinner was eaten in quiet. Buffy didn’t know what to say to her intruder. He looked so beaten and tired. Tempted to ask what was wrong, Buffy decided that if he wanted to tell her, he would have. She also concluded that her phone call wasn’t the worse thing that happened to him, if it had, he most certainly wouldn’t be on her doorstep like a little orphaned child. Clicks of silverware on her dishes and low chewing were the only sounds heard in her dinning room.
Spike sat in Buffy’s dining room eating quietly. Luckily, she grilled the steak rare, just like he liked it. The potato was done to perfection, soft on the inside and a bit of crunch on the outside. Savoring the food and company, Spike ate quietly, knowing what he was about to do would totally change their lives. Either she would call his bluff and he would be totally shut out of her life or she would go along with it and they would be bound together forever. Praying that it would be the latter, Spike began to formulate a plan.
After dinner, Buffy cleared the dishes and began to clean up the kitchen. Standing side by side, Spike helped her by drying the dishes. If a stranger would look in on them, it would look so absolutely domestic and natural. Leaning on the counter Spike waited for Buffy to finish wiping the counters down. She was such a beautiful creature, how could he think about crushing her like he was? Working up his nerve, Spike took her hand and led her back to the couch. He let her sit down and he sat on the opposite end, knowing being within arms reach could have detrimental consequences. She looked expectantly towards him and he looked at the painting. “Your work is very good, you know?” She nodded her head, not knowing where he was going with it. “I would like to buy that painting.” He pointed at the seascape.
“I’m sorry you can’t.” He looked over at her with his eyebrow raised. “It’s already spoken for.”
“Really? How much are you selling it for?” Spike leaned his arms on his knees. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “I’m sure it isn’t enough.” Silence fell again and she started to fidget. What did he want?
“William?”
“Yeah, love?”
She grimaced at the term and he shrugged his shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why are you here?” She motioned at her apartment. “I know I didn’t let you talk on the phone, but… I meant what I said and it would be a waste of breath for you to try to convince otherwise.” A his lips twisted in a rueful smirk. Such innocence… how does she not see it?
“Pet, I… see… oh bugger!” Spike slid down the couch and sat next to her. “Now, here me out… this… isn’t easy… but it’s the only conclusion I can come up with.” Her green eyes sparkled bright with partial morbid curiosity and fear. Sighing heavily, Spike’s eyes became unfocused as he looked at the painting. “Over the past month I’ve been looking through the books of Mercenary. That’s what I was doing today.” She nodded, not sure where this was leading. What did she care of the books at the company her father used to own. A budding of realization started to bloom inside her head. “Moneys been missing, you see. Lots of it. I’ve been tracking it down.” Spike ran his fingers through his hair, messing the curls even more. “That’s what I was doing today when you called.” He looked over at her and smiled a little, “Heard Harmony say your name and I knew I had to talk to you. She didn’t want to transfer you in.” His eyes went back to the painting, staring a something in the horizon. After a minute of silence he continued, “I finally got hard proof today. Bloody thief wasn’t very cleaver about it.”
“Hank?” Her suspicions were confirmed when Spike whipped his head around and looked at her. His blue eyes were wide and his lips slightly parted as he nodded. “Thought so. Hank never was known to be smart about anything.” Buffy pouted, thinking of his infidelity and years of harsh treatment of her mother.
“Yeah, not smart. I don’t know what to do.” Spike clasped his hands together. “See, if… Hank was arrested it would be bad for the company. Stock prices plummet and… workers,” Spike spared a glance her way, “would get laid off.” The induendo was not lost to Buffy as she gasped. “But, see… I just… he’s stolen something from me… from all the workers… and I can’t just let him get away with that.”
“Oh god!” Buffy gasped and her eyes welled up with tears. Spike looked over at her, wondering what she was thinking. “My MOTHER!” Spike’s eyes widen when he realized she fell in a deeper trap than the one her set. Her mother was the perfect reason to get her to marry him. To save her mother from more pain, Buffy would do anything.
“Oh, pet. I never thought of her. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do. Dragging him through the courts isn’t going to be good.”
“Can… if… if he gave the money back… would you just let him go?” Buffy’s eyes sparkled with tears and he wished he could make them go away.
“Pet… it’s just… it’s so much money… over a long period of time. I talked to him this afternoon… he claims he didn’t do it.”
“Maybe… maybe if I talk to him…” Buffy’s brain was whirling around with possibilities. This would just squash her mother’s health.
“Even if you did, sending him to jail would be bad all around. And if I don’t persue it, what does that make me look like?”
“Oh god Spike… this will crush my mother. After all these years and all the women, it would certainly crush her!”
“Shh, pet. We’ll figure out something.” Spike put his arm around the now crying Buffy. Her sobs moved him to the core as he tried to comfort her.
“We have to think of something, Spike!” Buffy pulled away and looked at him.
“Well, there is one idea I have… it’s… not very good, but it might solve all our problems.” Spike looked deep in her eyes, trying to gauge what she would say. “If… if we would get married… I couldn’t very well turn in my father-in-law… now could I? We would be family. If
he gave the money back… and if the investors ever found out… I could point to the returned money and that he’s your father… I think that would work.” Spike sat back and watched the emotions run through her eyes.
“You want us to get married? I can’t!”