Parker was absolutely fuming.
His foot throbbed with pain, making it that much more difficult to climb the stairs that lead to the ‘base’. One hand was clenched tightly around his gun. The metal dug into the flesh of his palm, causing slight indents and arousing stares from his minions. The brunette ignored it, thin lips pursing in anger.
He wasn’t sure what irked him more…
Spike standing within perfect range or the fact that Aureli had managed to completely take over his drop off without so much as a hitch. It was a nightmare for morale and weapon control.
I badly needed those guns. Tension had been rising for several months between the gangs, Masters increasingly pitting them against each other. Parker didn’t know what had prompted the old shriveled man to choose a favourite from him or Angel, but something was definitely going to happen. And soon.
The Master had contacted him just a few days before, wanting to make sure that Parker would be attending ‘the family reunion.’ He’d had to force himself not to gag as he answered back, simpering that ‘it would be a pleasure’ instead of the ‘fuck you’ that screamed through his thoughts. The elderly man was aged in his sixties, far too old in Parker’s opinion to be running the west coast and thus in desperate need of retirement. If Parker could gain Angel’s loyalty, or better yet off him and his bleached side kick then he would be able to challenge for control. Parker let a small smile cross his lips. I’d probably win.
The ‘base’ loomed in front of him, a concrete and steel fortress that went up four levels. They needed all the space possible, with some of Adam’s people regularly making the trip to ‘check up on things’. It didn’t irk Parker as much as many suspected but it was a problem now that Riley had fucked up… How was he going to explain the kid winding up in a dumpster to his freak of a brother?
Parker bashed his fist against the steel doors, feeling only slightly better at finally making his way to the entrance. Spike was going to be unable to scream by the time that Parker was finished with him.
But then he’d had the chance tonight and like an idiot not taken the opportunity.
Parker bit back the groan that threatened to escape as blood from the opened gun shot wound pooled in his shoe. He was only slightly better off than his lackey. Lindsay’s knee cap had nearly shattered completely and was confined to the bed until further notice. Parker was thinking that he might have to shoot him if the fool didn’t stop getting injured. Linds isn’t much use now anyway, with only one fucking hand.
The muted glow of the chandelier forced Parker to curse, the Initiative arranged in a semi circle around the heavy doors. The hallway was sparse, metal for everything being the only constant. Parker didn’t see the need for luxury. He was here to be a leader, not the keeper of children. He forced back a wave of disgust as the doors creaked behind him, locking in place.
They had been waiting.
Rolling his eyes, Parker flicked away the wave of dark brown hair which fell across his face. His skin was slightly tanned, green eyes darting over sharp features that to most seemed rather ordinary. He wasn’t ugly but neither was he striking.
That was until people took a closer look.
Parker Abrams, valedictorian of his grade, honored student in LA was also one of the most vicious men to ever come to Sunnydale. His reputation rivaled that of William the Bloody’s.
Spike’s face, cocky and self assured flashed in Parker’s mind. It would be a constant image for the next several nights. I was so close…
The Brit had always been a target for Abrams, some part of him instantly taking a dislike to the foreigner. Spike had the confidence and personality that he lacked, drawing people to him and eventually winning over the large Neanderthal Angel. No one had truly wanted to fuck with the bleached blond, an unconscious attitude exuding his frame.
A benefit definitely not given to Parker.
Abrams had been forced to cut his own way through the ranks, leaving a bloody trail behind him. His particular abilities with women were what had first earned him an appearance with the Master. It was why he had been given the whore houses in Sunnydale in the first place.
Hearing the wet sound of flesh slumping in blood, Parker scanned the faces. Where is she? Faith was his current favourite of the women, having the mental ability to nurse his wound when Drusilla would have simply sang songs over it. The pale brunette had become even madder than before, LSD and the drugs he supplied increasing the deterioration of her mind. Parker would have felt guilty if not for the insidious delight he gained, knowing that Spike would hear of her impending downfall. The bleached blond had loved her, perhaps still did and had kept her from things which Dru was keen to indulge in. Part of the reason she came to Parker was to ‘escape her bad dog and have some real fun.’
Glaring at the stunned expressions of his gang, Parker motioned for Warren. “Where’s Faith” he asked.
The geek stuttered, his smooth explanations failing. He’ll kill me if I don’t tell. “She went for a drive boss.”
Immediately warning bells rang in Parker’s mind. Faith had been told specifically not to leave the premises. He didn’t mention this to Warren, instead waving him away. Dru would have to suffice. “Get her back to the base now.”
He ignored Warren’s nod, traveling down the hall. Faith would pay for her absence when she returned home.
***
The house was full of noise, Jacob and the others having driven home during his ‘interrogation’ and alerting everyone to the success of their pickup. Just another excuse to get pissed thought Spike bitterly. Every room on the main floor was flooded with light, music creating a hazy background sound. The pale tones of the walls, garish with the chance to examine them, faded in and out with the shadows of people. Jacob had gotten home a significant time before them.
Spike slung the duster onto his shoulder, determined to go up the stairs and see Buffy. He had scanned the throng for her, finding no hint of long blond hair in the mix of what was mainly a black clothed gang. He couldn’t help part of him shake in rage at Angel’s words in the car. The pathetic sod thought that he would become weak? William the Bloody become a bleeding nancy boy? Spike snorted at the thought, shoving an inebriated member out of his path. The poofter didn’t know who he was dealing with if he thought that the Big Bad would loose his touch over a woman.
Spike ignored the small William part of him that suggested that it was inevitable. Ignoring things sometimes was better that admitting he could be a sappy git.
He moved to the staircase, stepping up as quick as possible to reach Buffy. He had hated to leave the petite blond after his first real time with her, sober and able to memorise every effulgent detail. Let’s hope she’s not right pissed with me. The Brit jumped up two steps, nearly falling backwards when a firm grip pulled on the back of his shirt.
“SPIKE!”
The bleached blond turned, raising an enquiring eyebrow at a very drunk Faith. The brunette had merely a cloth wrapped around her chest, beer stains on the front causing Spike to grimace. The girl had obviously been involved in the piss up. Every part of her clothing was tight and clutched at her frame but the effect was spoiled by her obvious intent. Spike looked her up and down, noting the way her hand had moved to clutch the front of his shirt. She’s either here for me or the wanker… He shook the thought away a moment later. Faith may want him but she would never be so bleeding blatant about it. At least not where other eyes and ears could comment… Spike was precautious after the Captain’s deception. Only people he could mouth off to were the poof and Buffy. Which reminded him, he needed to see his girl. Spike pried loose her fingers, mumbling that he would talk to her later and moved back up the stairs.
Again hands numb from vodka grasped at him, this time latching onto his pants. Bleeding hell. Spike whirled, catching Faith in his arms as she fell weakly into his arms. His azure eyes flashed with rage, not catching the glint of blond from the corner of the second floor.
***
Buffy watched as Spike held the voluptuous brunette in his arms, feeling her heart tear into pieces. She had heard the commotion from downstairs and just turned the corner, intent on looking for Spike… only to see him like this.
I guess she wasn’t lying.
The way Spike held her suggested more than a casual relationship, Buffy’s unknowing eyes not recognising Spike’s hesitation. The Brit stood with his back turned mainly towards her, the gleam of peroxide hair the main colour which stood out. Buffy was surprised that Faith had managed to keep the cloth over her breasts. Must have had practice.
She brushed the long hair out of her eyes, knowing that she needed to witness such a sight. This was just another wake up call that she’d futilely tried to ignore. A part of her had hoped that Spike would have at least told her about his past affairs, yet they had barely talked before everything progressed to such a stage. And you haven’t been forthcoming either thought Buffy, groaning at the thought of telling him anything about her previous life. It was hard enough exposing Joyce’s downfall and the petite blond knew that Parker would only use it against her. She didn’t completely trust Spike enough to give him even worse ammunition.
Somehow she could see that decision coming back to royally bite her on the ass.
Loose gold strands once again fell into her line of sight, Buffy sighing and allowing the heavy curtains of blond locks to hide her pain. She would have to go downstairs eventually, whether she liked it or not. It simply wasn’t possible to hide from Spike or anyone in this place forever. A shudder ripped through her as Faith trailed her hands down Spike’s sides. The woman was obviously smashed, eyes red from the huge amount of alcohol she had consumed. The petite blond felt only a small sense of comfort when Spike removed Faith’s hands, wrapping around her waist instead. He called something intelligible to another gang member, letting Faith be cradled into the black man’s arms.
Buffy took a deep breath, moving out into view of the ground floor. The desire to see Spike completely overcame her need for dignity, the small woman gathering her courage. The worst that could happen was that he kicked her out, kissing Faith and slamming the door in her face. Buffy rolled her eyes at the thought. Perfect way to make yourself even more nervous Summers. You don’t need anyone else to ruin your mood. You do an excellent job yourself. She glanced at Spike, feeling a thrill shoot up the back of her spine as his gaze locked on her face. I can’t help loving him when he looks at me like that.
Spike’s eyes burned into hers as he continued climbing up the stairs. They were filled with a desperate need, pulling Buffy towards him as he reached the top.
Both blonds thoughts, mimicked the other: finally.
Spike’s arms immediately engulfed her, strong muscular arms cradling Buffy close to his chest. He smelled of sweat and cigarettes, a purely masculine scent underlying it. Buffy rubbed her face into the black shirt. She loved it.
She smiled up at him, leaning her cheek against him as she listened to the soft breaths of the bleached blond. He had gone with Angel and others to pickup one of Parker’s packages, and truth be told, Buffy had been worried. His grip tightened, causing Buffy to snuggle further into his embrace. Faith couldn’t possibly be telling the truth could she?
Spike’s lips moving across her forehead as he told her how much he had missed her dispelled Buffy’s fears for the moment. They lingered at the back of her mind, shouting to be heard before being deafened by lips of Spike. From that point onwards, she was lost, caught in Spike’s embrace.
She would live in her fantasy whilst she could.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
to those who reviewed thankyou very very much. The spuffy relationship is my main focus however sometimes issues with other characters may come into play. I will write longer chapters from now on to try and reflect desires. Please tell me if there is anything you would prefer or would like to change about my writing style.