Title: Blue Eyed Devil
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Feedback: Love some, thanks!
Rating: Up to NC-17
Summary: AU. Spike Devlin is the
lead singer for the band 'Blue Eyed
Devil'. Buffy Summers is the local
preschool teacher he falls in love with
shortly before leaving for a nationwide
tour.
Part thirty-five...
Although she'd reached the age of twenty-five without ever
setting foot on an aircraft of any kind, Buffy was bound
and determined not to let her fear stop her from boarding
the one that would take her to San Francisco, and to Spike.
Even so, on Friday, she spent half the day worrying about
it and the other half giving herself silent, inspirational pep
talks about how silly she was being.
Sensible, practical Miss Buffy knew that the odds of her
plane going down were a million to one. But the other part of
her...the chicken-hearted part...knew that once was all it
took. Airplane crashes rarely gave you a second chance.
However, being with Spike was worth the risk.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After returning all of her students into their parent's care
for the weekend, she brought her suitcase in from the trunk
of her car, then went looking for Willow.
She found her in the main office, going through a stack of
resumes in a search for a new teacher to replace one who
was leaving at the end of the month.
"You all set to go?" Willow, who had learned about Buffy's
flying phobia after an unsuccessful attempt to talk her into
a trip to Acapulco three years earlier, wore an expression
halfway between ' I know how scared you must be' and
'let's have no more of THIS nonsense, shall we'?
Buffy set down her suitcase and dropped into the leather
armchair. "More or less," she replied, smiling ruefully.
"More or less?"
"Well...technically I'm packed and ready to go," Buffy ex-
plained. "Psychologically, it's a whole other story."
Her friend smiled. "Ever considered seeing a psychiatrist
about that problem? I hear they've made big advances in
the field."
Buffy just shrugged. "I'll think about it."
Willow regarded her for a moment, then leaned over and
unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk to take out her
handbag. "In the meantime," she said, rooting through the
bag, "this might help."
She was holding a small prescription bottle, with some sort
of pills rattling inside it.
"What is it?"
"They're for motion sickness. You know how sometimes I
get carsick? These work great at mellowing you out. Take
one right before you get on the plane."
"Drugs?" At this point, Buffy was willing to agree to just
about anything. "Hand 'em over."
Willow looked past Buffy and out the window. "I think you're
ride is here."
Twisting around in the chair, Buffy's jaw sagged when she
saw a long, black limousine pull into the driveway.
"That's MY ride?" she squeaked, jumping to her feet. "It can't
be!"
"Well, it's not MINE," Willow replied. "I rarely hire limousines
to take me home."
"Yeah, but I always thought airport limousines were those
buses you see on the freeway with ten or twelve people in
them."
Buffy peeked through the blinds, watching the driver climb
out of the limo and head towards her classroom.
Apparently, he WAS looking for her.
"Obviously he wants you to be comfortable," Willow said
briskly. "Now, scat, and I'll see you on Monday, AT which
time I will expect all the yummy details. Hurry up, before
he thinks you're not here and leaves."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The driver not only got Buffy to the airport on time, but
he also escorted her inside to pick up her boarding pass
and check her suitcase, then ushered her to the right
gate.
Supremely grateful for his help, she rummaged around in
her purse for some cash, only to be told that it was already
taken care of. Wishing her a pleasant flight, he disappeared
into the crowd, leaving her to face the next step all by her-
self.
She used the facilities, not wanting her nervousness to have
an adverse affect on her bladder, then shook two of Willow's
pills into her clammy hand and swallowed them, washing
them down with water from the sink.
After patting her face dry on a paper towel, she took a
deep breath and returned to the waiting area. Her heart took
a sudden plunge when she saw that her flight had been
called and was now boarding. People with small children
were instructed to board first, then people with disabilities.
Buffy was pretty sure that being a nervous coward didn't
qualify as a disability that would earn her any special
privileges.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She found her seat easily. There were only about ten
other passengers in the first class section, so she had the
entire row to herself.
The first thing she did before settling into the aisle
seat was to lean over and yank down the window covering,
figuring that if the ground suddenly came rushing up to
meet her, she didn't want to see it coming.
The longer she sat and waited, the more relaxed she
became...which surprised her since she'd figured it would
be the other way round.
Apparently, the little yellow pills were beginning to do
their job.
Gradually, she began to get a handle on her fears,
mentally commending herself for her splendid fortitude,
forgetting that it was drug-induced.
She would be just fine now. A model of calm and a picture
of serenity who was forcing herself not to look around for the
emergency exits, or to check the overhead compartment for
parachutes.
By the time the plane taxied down the runway for take-
off, she was almost in a stupor.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Miss? We've landed, Miss. Excuse me?"
Buffy pried her eyelids open. Was someone speaking to
her? "Hmm?"
"We've landed. You can get off the plane now."
Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, Buffy regarded the
flight attendant, a tall, nice looking blonde with the name
"Tracy" neatly printed on a gold name badge.
"Right," she mumbled, shaking off the excess cobwebs that
were obscuring her thought patterns. Taking a deep breath,
she tried to stand up, then realized that her seat belt was still
holding her in.
She'd never unbuckled it, even after being told she was free
to do so.
It took her three attempts to work the mechanism and
loosen the belt. After fishing her handbag out of the overhead
compartment, she stumbled off down the aisle after the attendant.
"You okay?" the woman asked, a concerned look in her eyes.
"Yeah. I'm...juss fine." Buffy nodded, rubbing her forehead.
"Is there someone here meeting you?"
"Tracy" was persistent.
Was there someone here to meet her? She honestly couldn't
remember what the arrangements had been. Had Spike
mentioned coming himself...or sending someone else...or
was she supposed to take a cab to his hotel...and what was
the name of the hotel again?
This wasn't good. She grabbed Tracy's sleeve and tugged on
it. "How...how many hotels you got here?"
"You mean...here in San Francisco? Too many to count."
"Oh. Okay, thanks." She began to walk off, not paying
attention when Tracy called after her, something about
was she sure she'd be all right....
"Yeah...be fine," she muttered, waving the woman off. "Be
right as the rain...soon as...soon as...whass his name
gets here. Bye."
Wandering through the terminal of San Francisco Inter-
national, she spotted a sign for the ladies room and went in
to splash some cold water on her face. It helped, but only
marginally, and she still felt groggy when she was done.
She was standing beneath a sign, peering owlishly up at it
as she attempted to decipher its code, wondering who the
hell BART was, when she heard her name called.
"Buffy!" Someone spun her roughly around and swept her
into a close embrace. "Sweetheart...why aren't you waiting at
the gate?"
"Oh, hi!" she said, her voice muffled by the familiar warmth
and hard muscle of a man's chest. Finally...something she
recognized!
Pulling back to look at her, Spike frowned slightly. "Honey,
are you okay?"
"Uh-huh."
He still looked doubtful, but at least he pulled her close again.
"I can't believe how much I missed you," he said against the
side of her neck. "You know I'm not going to let you out of
my sight for the whole weekend, don't you?"
That was a plan she could definitely get behind. "Thass
okay with me," she slurred.
Much to her dismay, he moved back and stared down at
her face. "Have you been drinking? Was the flight that
bad for you?"
Buffy yawned. "No drinking. Fight was fline...fine!"
He wasn't buying it. "Then why do you look so out of it?"
After thinking the question over, she remembered. "Pills!"
"Sedatives?"
"Motion sickness."
"You get motion sickness?"
"Ummm...no. Willow does."
"And she gave you some pills?"
"Yup. Just so I could stay calm."
Cupping her face in his hands, he nailed her gaze with his
own. "How many did you take? I don't think your eyes are
focusing."
"Just two," she informed him, striving to speak clearly. She
fished the bottle out of her purse and he took it to study
the label.
"You're only supposed to take one," he said, shoving the
bottle into the front pocket of his jeans. "No wonder you
sound like you've been on a three day drunk."
Although she protested strongly to that comment, she
followed after him when he took her by the hand and headed
for the circular conveyor belt to pick up her suitcase.
When he noticed that watching the luggage revolve in an
endless circle was making her dizzy, he forced her to sit
on a bench and wait for him to retrieve her bag.
She was opening her mouth to tell him about a newspaper
article she'd read, courtesy of her 'constantly on the lookout
for potential disasters' mother, about thieves who hung around
baggage carousels in order to steal suitcases filled with
camera equipment and other expensive travel paraphernalia,
when the thought simply disappeared from her brain without
a trace.
Clinging to his hand once again as she trailed behind
him through the terminal, she could only hope it wasn't
an indication as to how the remainder of the weekend
was going to go.
TBC.....
(Don't worry. Once they get to the hotel, things will
definitely be looking up for Buffy and Spike!)
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