[Reviews - 218]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 1973 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
For anyone interested in following this story, and another new one, *grin*, PLUS having access to other great authors, come join us at http://z6.invisionfree.com/Two_Fool_Things/index.php?act=idx

For the time being, it is closed to new registers, so if you want to join, then email me or vampgirly through this site. Thanks!!!
Chapter Thirteen



Buffy hadn’t been too keen on visiting LA right away. In fact, over the next few days she wasn’t keen on much that involved leaving the house or changing out of her pajamas. Spike felt bad. He was the one that had insisted she face her demons, that she slow down, that she think about what she was doing and now she was doing that with a slightly depressive air around her.



When he wanted to go for a walk, she said she was too tired and instead curled up with a book that was on her “list” and read. At night, she’d help him make dinner and then curl up with him on the couch for some late night TV and rest her head on his shoulder, her arm wrapped around his middle.



He had never felt so good knowing that for the first time in their life together, Buffy Summers was finally leaning on him for something, was looking to him of all people for strength. She’d always been the one to say that the “only person you can rely on is yourself. You have to find what you need within yourself; another cannot give what you lack to you.”



Whatever strength had left her, Buffy was finding it within him and it felt so good. She needed him, and being needed was a thrilling feeling, if not a little daunting. He didn’t want to lead her wrong, didn’t want to let her down.



“How are you doing?” he asked her one night after watching a cheesy chick flick that she’d insisted on watching with him. The only light on in the room was flashing of the TV and Buffy had pulled up an afghan to cover them as they watched TV.



She sighed, “Oh, I’m all right.”



“Are you lying?”



“Not really. I’m just really…tired. I’m tired. The euphoria of leaving has left and now I’m just worried.”



“About?”



“What I’ll do now.”



“You always land on your feet, Buffy. Now is no exception to that.”



She looked up at him. “I do? I always land on my feet?”



He nodded, looking at her solemnly. “For as long as I’ve known you. When you got a B, you made it an A, when you were told ‘no’, you found a way to make it a ‘yes’. When you got your heart broke, you always found someone to ease your pain. You’ve always trooped on Buffy.”



“I don’t feel very much like a trooper right now,” she said, wrinkling her nose.



He reared back a bit. “Are you kidding? Is this the same girl that got her hair cut, went rock climbing, got a tattoo, got pissed, and wanted to go skydiving? How do you do all that and not feel like a trooper?”



She shrugged. “I’m having a pity party, what can I say?”



“Well, you’re allowed to have it for the rest of this night, but that’s it.”



“That so?”



“Yes,” he told her firmly. “We figure it out tomorrow, what you’re gonna do.”



“Spike…”


“Yeah?”



“Only I can figure that out. You can’t figure that out for me.”



“I can help, no?”



“Maybe. But that’s something I have to figure out for myself. I can conceivably afford to take some time off and not have to worry. Especially after I sell that damn house. There is no way I won’t make a huge chunk of change of that puppy and not have some left over when I buy my old one.”



“Then why don’t we start there? With the selling of the house.”



“That entails having to go to LA.”



“You have to do it eventually, Buffy. Best to put it all behind you and get it over with than have in looming ahead of you.”



“You’ve always been so wise, Spike,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend? You’d make a great boyfriend.” If Spike could have seen her face, he would have seen the incredible blush that crept to her cheeks and then proceeded to color her whole face.



“Never found a girl worth my while I guess,” he murmured.



“You always did have bad taste.”



“Not always.”



“Oh? Who?” and she sat up, looking at him curiously.



He shook his head, “Forget it.”



“Spike--”



“Just forget it, Buffy.”



“Not Dru, right, please tell me it’s not Dru.”



He chuckled, “No way in hell.”



“Then who?”



“Buffy! I said to let it go.”



His exasperation and adamancy on the topic stunned her. And intrigued her more. Who in the world was he talking about and why was he unwilling to dish? That was not like him. He had always told her everything! It wasn’t fair that he was all with the secrecy. That wouldn’t do. She had to at least know who she was up against so she could scratch the bitch’s eyes out.



********



The next morning was apparently the day Buffy wanted to go to L.A. Spike figured it out when she marched in his room at nine in the morning and nudged him awake, softly calling his name. Not fully awake, he thought perhaps it was a dream, or fingers crossed, a reality: Buffy was in his room after having shared a raucous night in his bed. But when he opened his eyes and found her fully dressed and frowning at him, he supposed not. In his fantasies, she was there curled around him and he would wake her with slow kisses and caresses. She was certainly not dressed, and she was certainly not frowning at him.



“What’s up kitten?” he asked, yawning and stretching his arms over his head.



Frowning even deeper, she pulled up the covers that had drifted down his waist, covering him. “I’m ready to go to L.A.”



He woke up right quick after that. “Today?”



She nodded solemnly. “You still want to be my Van Helsing?”



He sat up. “Of course I do.”



“Good, cause I’m gonna need you, Spike.”



She wasn’t kidding. Angel was there when they pulled up and Buffy immediately went into a rage. “What could he possibly be still doing here? He was supposed to be moving in with that hussy!” She jumped out of the car and made a dash for the house before he’d even cut the engine.



Quickly, Spike followed after her, running into the house and finding a seriously enraged Buffy hurling obscenities at not only Angel but at Cordelia Chase. Spike recognized her from magazines and previews of her movies he’d seen on TV. She was pretty, he decided, but she was no Buffy. And from the sour face she was sporting, she couldn’t hold a candle to his girl.



“Get the hell out of my goddamn house you stupid oaf! And what is she doing here? I thought for sure she wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere that had to do with me.”



“Angel was just picking up a few things,” Cordelia told her snottily. “We’ll be clearing out soon.”



“What did you do to your hair?” Angel asked, pointing at her.



“That’s right Angel, you just concentrate on one thing at a time,” Buffy snapped. Marching up to him, she snapped her fingers in his face. “Hello McFly, get the fuck out of my house!”



“Looks as though you’ve moved on already,” Cordelia said, pointing to Spike. “Where ever did you find him?”



That was Spike’s cue. Here he was going to play the part of the devoted boyfriend – even if the part of ‘boyfriend’ was false, devoted was not far off.



Coming up next to Buffy, he wrapped an arm about her shoulder possessively. “I’m Spike, and yes, you’re right, she has moved on. Isn’t that right cupcake?”



Buffy halted her tirade and turned to look at him, confused. He sure hoped she could read his eyes because at that moment he was desperately trying to send the message to her to play along. It must have worked because in the next instant she smiled brilliantly and leaned into him.



“That’s right,” she purred.



Leaning in, Spike pecked her cute little nose and turned to Angel, grinning like a madman. He’d wanted to do this for so long and even if it was fake, he sure as hell was going to milk it for all it was worth.



Take that you bastard, he thought as he grinned at Angel.



Angel scowled at him. “I’ve heard of you.”



“Have you now?”



“You were her friend there, from Sunnydale.”



“That’s right, he was,” Buffy piped up. “I should probably thank you for bringing us together, Angel. If you hadn’t dumped me, I never would have went back to Spike and I never would have realized how much he truly meant to me.”



Spike beamed and drew her closer. When she looked up at him adoringly, he leaned in and kissed her softly. She started at the contact at first, but then relaxed and kissed him back.



“Excuse me!” Angel barked. “Do you mind?”



Spike turned a glare on him and Buffy looked up at him, dazed. Whaddya know? he thought happily.



“I think you heard the lady, you pillock. Clear out.”



Angel looked at Buffy. “I just came by to see if you had come back. No one knew where you were, Buffy.”



“Is that why it looks as if half my house is missing? You were raiding it while I was gone.” She held out her hand. “Give me the keys.”



Grumbling, Angel handed them over. “What are you going to do? Shack up here with…with what’s his face?”



“I’m selling this place and moving back to Sunnydale.”



Angel’s eyes widened.



“An-gel,” Cordelia sing-songed. “I’m bo-ored. Can we go now? I’m tired of these civilians.”



Spike glared at her. “Shut your trap, you two bit whore.”



Cordelia’s face turned to one of abject shock.



Growling, Angel grabbed Cordelia’s hand. “This conversation isn’t over yet, Buffy. When you can talk to me like an adult, give me a call.”



As he strode out the door, Buffy shouted after him. “I don’t have anything to say to you! You left me remember, jackass? Get out and don’t ever come back!”



The door slamming was his only response.



Shaking out the tension, Buffy turned to Spike and threw her arms around him. “Thank you so much. That was brilliant!”



Oh, kitten. If you only knew. I should be thanking you!





You must login (register) to review.