So, for you, here’s a brand spankin’ new chapter…Enjoy
Cordelia tapped her long, manicured nails on the desktop. “I’m still waiting…”
It had been a long time since Spike had been in the hot seat. He had forgotten how nerve-racking it could be.
“What do you wanna know?”
Rolling her eyes, she replied, “Quit it with the bad boy attitude. You know what I want to know. Who was that little blond thing and why were you in such a rush to get out of here the other night?”
Spike ran a hand through his carefully slicked-back hair turning it into wild curls. “She’s…”
“Barely legal?”
“What?” Spike asked, his eyes wide with shock.
“Come on, Spike. That girl didn’t look a day over eighteen. In fact, if I didn’t know you so well I would think she was much younger,” Cordelia replied, her tanned arms folding over her ample bosom.
To tell or not to tell. That is the question, mate, he thought.
With Anya and Xander, it had been relatively easy to subtly push over the idea that he and Buffy were more than just roommates. He knew they would be pretty cool with it so he didn’t bother trying to hide it much. But Cordelia was another story.
Cordelia Chase was a ‘my way or the highway’ type of person and normally when someone’s opinion didn’t mesh with her own, she either fired them or tried to convert them to her way of thinking depending on how much potential she thought the person had.
He didn’t know how she would feel about him being involved with Buffy. The thought to lie and say she was just his cousin who needed a place to stay crossed his mind, but the chances that Cordelia would buy it were slim. Number one, he was a rotten liar and number two, she had a way of sniffing out dishonesty.
“She’s not eighteen. She’s sixteen,” he finally said, squinting up at her in anticipation of her outrage.
“I guess I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did, William.”
Aw, shit! Now she was disappointed in him. That was worse than anger.
“Would you rather I have lied?”
“No. But Spike…Jesus! Sixteen? What the hell are you thinking?” She propped an elbow up on her desk and rested her head on her hand.
Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. “It’s absolutely crazy, I know.”
“How did you even meet her?”
“At my uncle’s funeral.”
Cordelia blinked. “You picked up a sixteen year old girl at your- Wait a minute. Your uncle’s funeral was three years ago. That would make her only-”
“Stop! No, it wasn’t like that,” Spike protested.
“Well, then by all means, explain. Because I’m not sure I can even be in the same room with you if you picked up a thirteen year old girl.”
“I didn’t pick her up, Cordelia! She was my uncle’s stepdaughter and she was there at the funeral…” He went on to tell her about the promise he had made to both his uncle and Buffy, then about Buffy being sent to live with her father and the abuse she suffered. “…And that’s when she hopped on a bus and came lookin’ for me.”
“Oh, geez, that’s horrible.” Cordelia shook her head in disbelief.
“Yeah, I know.” He leaned back a little in his chair and let his legs open wide. “She came here that night and that idiot Luke made her sit outside for hours. Who, by the way, we need t’ have a little conversation about.”
“What’s to talk about? I fired him on Tuesday.”
His eyebrows went up. “Really? Why?”
“Besides him pissing off all of my staff and me? He made a lewd comment to Pamela Richards, you know, the senator’s daughter and I got a very angry phone call from the guy.”
Well, damn it if that buggerin’ bastard didn’t dig himself into a hole deeper that Spike could have dug. Senator Kane Richards was a very powerful man not only in his home state of Nevada, but also throughout the whole country and then some. It was rumored that the good Senator had ties to the mob, although, nobody had yet proved it.
If Luke had pissed Richards off, there was a good chance he’d never work in this town again.
“Good, ‘cause I was gonna try and convince you t’ boot the bastard,” Spike said with a grin.
“You wouldn’t have had to try hard. Even without the Senator’s phone call, I was half way to sending that guy packing anyway,” she replied.
It was pretty common for him and Cordelia to be on the same wavelength in regards to what they considered a good employee. There hadn’t been a single person fired yet that Spike thought didn’t deserve what they had coming. She had even sought out his advice regarding the more gray line cases, people who she wasn’t sure about yet.
“So back to Buffy. When did you start sleeping with her?”
“What?”
“I don’t think I stuttered. When. Did. You. Start. Sleeping. With. Buffy?”
“I haven’t slept, well, no. That’s not true. I have slept with her.” He replied, then quickly added, “But not in a sexual way.”
Cordelia shook her head. “Do I look like I was born yesterday? Do I have gullible tattooed on my forehead?”
“No, but you do have that one on your-”
Cordelia’s eyes went wide and she slapped the desk loudly to halt his sentence. “Quit trying to change the subject, Spike. I can tell something happened between you two. You’re acting strange.”
He laughed a little. They had never been involved with each other. Not in a relationship, anyway. A year and a half ago, after Cordelia had been unceremoniously dumped by her fiancé, they’d had a thing. Just one night of wild sex and then it was done. They didn’t speak of it and no one knew about it, but it happened nonetheless.
Which was the reason he knew she had a butterfly tattoo on her left asscheek.
“Spike.”
Sobering at his name, he looked up at her. “Yeah, something happened. And it’s none of your business.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”
“Cordelia, you don’t have an all-access pass t’ my life. What is goin’ on between me and Buffy is just that. Between me an’ her.”
“It’s my business if this get’s out. How is that going to look when people find out I have a pedophile on my payroll?”
“Pedophile?! She’s almost seventeen!”
“Whatever,” she told him as she waved her hands in front of her face. “The point is, she isn’t legal yet and she’s a runaway and I happen to know of Wolfram and Hart. If her father is a partner… You have big problems and I don’t want my good name run through the mud just ‘cause you can’t keep it in your damn pants!”
“What would you like me t’ do, oh Mighty Queen Cordelia? Dump her on the streets? Ignore my feelings for ‘er? That might be easy for an ice-cold bitch like you, but for a normal human being, it’s a bit difficult,” he said through a clenched jaw.
Who the fuck does she think she is?! She had no business telling him what he could and could not do with his life and the people in it. She was his employer, nothing more.
She was silent for a long time and Spike wondered if she was going to come out guns ablazin’ and give him a good tongue-lashing. But when she finally did speak, he was a little taken aback.
“So, you really care for her then?”
His head tilted and his ice-blue eyes narrowed. “You think I would be riskin’ it all if I didn’t?”
Her lips curved into a sharp smile. “Then you know how dangerous this is, right?”
“Bring it on, baby.”
Their conversation hadn’t lasted much longer and Spike left her office even more sure that he was doing the right thing than he had been when he’d gotten there.
More people had begun to show up, getting the bar and club ready to roll in an hour. On the weekdays The Blue Temple opened at six to cater to those just-out-of-work customers who got their party started early. They didn’t really get jumping until after eight though when all the crazies came out to play.
Going into the back where the beer coolers and bar stock was, he made his way to the door at the end of the room which led to the bar. The late shift barbacks were responsible for getting the bar stocked and ready to go before the next day’s opening, but lately, they had been doing a rotten job.
And today proved no different.
Nothing was put away, bus tubs were lying haphazardly on the floor, and there weren’t enough clean glasses to take care of even half the customers he would get in the first hour.
“Damn it!”
It was going to be a long night.
Damn it had been a long night!
It was only eleven, but it felt like he had been there for days. His normal crowd wasn’t here being replaced by some stupid convention people who didn’t tip worth a damn and didn’t know what they wanted.
Watching a young couple slide their way up to the bar, Spike wanted to puke at their lovey-dovey crap. He was as affectionate as the next guy, but this guy must have been dipped in sugar and rolled in chocolate because he sounded like a fuckin’ girl.
“I love you, cookie,” the guy said lovingly to his girl, who gushed at his words.
“No, I love you.”
“No, I love you. Gosh, I don’t know what I would do without you, Rhonda. You are so important to me. The love of my life.”
Spike rolled his eyes. Grow a pair, you simpering git.
“You wanna order something?” Spike asked, trying to talk over the guy’s wimpy declarations of love.
“Oh, sure,” the guy replied, not looking at him. “She’ll have a Lemon Drop and I’ll have a white wine.”
Spike glanced over at Angel, who was currently turning on the charm with a group of pretty blonds. He grinned at him and made his hand into the shape of a gun before miming a shot in the head and nodding in the direction of Spike’s customers.
Letting out a bark of laughter, Spike shook his head and began pouring the ingredients to the lady’s Lemon Drop.
“Hey, buddy!”
Glaring up at the guy, Spike willed himself to keep his cool. “Yes, sir?”
“How much is that going to be?”
Don’t say it, you dumb bastard, he told himself.
“Hello?” The guy tapped on the bar and Spike felt his reserve break.
“Well, if you have t’ ask, mate, then you can’t bloody well afford it.”
Fuck.
The guy’s face turned red and his girl looked shocked. “Excuse me?”
“You ‘eard me.” Well, he was screwed anyway. There was no way he’d be able to talk himself out of this one so why bother pretending?
The guy glared at him. “I don’t think I like your attitude.”
“Get in line.”
“I want to speak to your manager right now!” The guy’s little fists were in tight balls and his red face had now turned an ugly shade of purple.
Just then Angel walked over. “What seems to be the problem here, folks?”
With an eyebrow raised, Spike looked over at him and tried to contain his grin. They had done this before when one of them had gotten into with a customer. The other would come over and pretend to be the manager to keep Cordelia out of the loop. She didn’t take too kindly to bad customer service.
“Your employee was rude to me,” the guy sputtered out.
Angel nodded objectively. “Is this true, Will?”
“Yes,” Spike replied.
“Well, I’m very sorry about that. How about I take care of your drinks free of charge and then I can deal with Mr. Pratt?”
“That would be good.”
Angel took care of the idiot and his girl before sending them off.
“Spike, you’re off your game tonight,” Angel said as he wiped down the bar where he had made the drinks.
“I know, mate. Just got a lot on my mind.”
“Why don’t you take off for the night? I’ll cover you.”
“Thanks. I owe you.”
Angel scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, about that. I was wondering if you’d do the early shift for me on Sunday too.”
“Who is it this time?”
“Darla,” Angel said was a sheepish grin.
“Darla? You’ve been seein’ her a lot these days. I think you might fancy her a bit,” Spike replied.
With a shrug, Angel threw his towel over his shoulder. “She’s okay. Hot in the sack, though. That girl will do anything.“
Spike slapped him in the shoulder before saying goodbye. As much as he enjoyed shooting the shit with Angel, he had better things to do. Like go home to Buffy.
Sneaking out the back, he jumped on his bike and started it up. He slipped his helmet on and tore out of the parking lot.
Thinking of Buffy was partly the reason why he’d been in such a crappy mood. He didn’t like leaving her alone even with Xander and Anya across the hall. If something happened to her, he would never be able to forgive himself.
He turned down his street and zoomed towards his apartment complex. When he had spoken to his landlord, he had been relieved to find out that there would be an available two bedroom apartment in the next building. They would still be close enough to the Harris’s in the event that Buffy needed them and they wouldn’t have far to move all of his stuff.
Parking his bike in the carport, he hopped off and ran up the stairs to his apartment. He opened the door to find the place completely silent.
Guess she’s not as much of a nightowl as she thought, Spike thought with a smile.
Setting his helmet and keys down on the table, he quietly snuck towards the bedroom. He turned the doorknob slowly and creaked the door open only to find the room empty.
“Buffy?” Spike walked into the room, looking around and not finding any sign of her.
His next stop was the bathroom which was also empty. Where was she? He felt himself start to panic when he couldn’t find her in any of the rooms.
Her stuff was still there which meant that she hadn’t run away. But if she hadn’t run, then where the hell was she?
“Buffy!” He spun around the room, trying hard to figure out what was happening. “Buffy! Baby, where are you?”
God, what if her father had found her? The bastard must have taken her and now they were half way back to LA by now.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Spike was going to kill him if he hurt her in any way.
Grabbing his keys and leather jacket hanging on one of the dining room chairs, he made a beeline for the door. Stomping his way across the landing he started pounding furiously on Xander’s door.
“Xander! Open the fuckin’ door! He took her!” Spike yelled, kicking the door in frustration. “God, open the door!”
He couldn’t lose her. Not now.