Chapter 21
“Just how long does it usually take to have a confab with the Powers that Be?”
Over an hour had crawled by since she’d ended the telephone call to Angel, and Buffy was still behind Giles’ desk. Her fist propped up her heavy chin in a classic ‘thinking pose’ as she drew lazy circles on Spike’s knee. He was merely an inch away, sitting on the top of the desk with his back to the window that looked out into the main room of the Magic Box.
“You know, pet, I’m finding this set-up fairly bizarre.”
“What do you mean? Why do you say that?”
“You’re all supposed to be working together, am I right? You reached an agreement with Travers. You laid out rules. You brilliantly put the old geezer in his place. You proved your worth without having to submit to his tests and bloody evaluation. But now we’re holed up in Rupert’s cluttered, musty-smelling office while they’re hovering about in the big room with its proper air circulation and decent furniture? Why does this not add up?”
“Well, we aren’t buddies with the Council; we’re business partners,” Buffy explained. “There’s nothing wrong with some avoiding and some us-verses-them seating arrangements in business. Right, Giles?”
“Ah, yes, it’s perfectly…normal,” Giles answered from the corner of the room. He was sitting on a caved in moving box. Whenever he moved too freely, his elbow bumped into the metal filing cabinet that was also in the tight space. “I imagine it’s more of a standard practice than one pretending a box can double for a sodding La-Z-Boy,” he finished, mumbling under his breath.
“Even if Mr. Travers is paying us, that doesn’t mean we have to hang with the guy and his cronies,” Buffy added.
At the word ‘cronies,’ Buffy looked through the window at the two Council members who had joined Quentin. Buffy liked to think she’d been glaring at the man and woman equally, but her eyes kept drifting back to Lydia, the pretty female Watcher who had proudly informed them that William the Bloody had been the topic of her entrance thesis into the Council of Watchers. She’d studied Spike for years, she had boasted. Lydia even felt as if she knew Spike personally through ‘extensively researching his fascinating transformation from a lonely poet into a vicious vampire consumed by the pure joy of wreaking havoc.’
Lydia’s so-called scholarly interest in Spike turned Buffy’s stomach.
And before Lydia had a chance to fully drool that ‘interest’ all over Spike, Buffy had him snatched back into Giles’ office where she’d been watching over him ever since.
And from the grin plastered on Spike’s face, Buffy knew her protective behavior hadn’t gone overlooked and that it pleased him immensely.
“Anyway, Giles’ office is…nice,” she continued, tearing her eyes from the window. “It’s a definite step up from his office in the high school’s library. This is bigger and cozy and—well, he hasn’t been here too long. He isn’t done unpacking his things so you can’t blame Giles for the smell.”
As she spoke, she knocked Spike’s feet off the furniture. She pressed her chest against his legs and lifted up her arms, folding them over his knees, pillowing her head on her forearms.
“Slayer, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Multi-tasking. I’m getting comfy while I stop you from scuffing up Giles’ stuff.”
“I see,” he replied, running his thumb and forefinger along one of her braids. “So this sudden need to hang on me has nothing to do with Lydia, my number one fan?”
“That woman is a groupie and a stalker,” Buffy grumbled. “We should get a restraining order against her. I want at least thirty feet between her and you at all times. She gives me major wigs.”
“Babe, let’s swap seats,” Spike suggested with a smirk. “You can settle into my lap. We can shoot her dirty looks in unison.”
“That does sound like a better way to pass the time…” She smiled up at Spike until Giles cleared his throat. “But apparently Mr. Subtlety over there doesn’t approve of us canoodling in his chair.”
“Remember the time we spent snogging each other’s brains out in his recliner during our fluke engagement?”
Buffy reluctantly bobbed her head as Spike tickled her earlobe with a gentle touch from his pointer finger.
“But it wasn’t just a fluke, was it, love?”
“Well, my Spike-awareness was kicked into overdrive after that. I thought I was a pro at ignoring it, and you, until, oh…circa fours days ago.”
“And here you told everyone you couldn’t recall a lick of what happened during Willow’s spell gone wrong. You lied.”
“I did,” Buffy answered with a quiet laugh. “I tried to forget, I wanted to…”
“Yet you found me unforgettable.”
“Do you have to rub it in?” Lifting her chin, she met Spike halfway for a string of shallow, passionate kisses. In no time, one of his hands was caressing her through her tank top, and she was moving to him, offering him a clear path to the fullest part of her breasts. Once he gave her tender squeeze, Buffy let out a moan, and simultaneously Giles’ elbow collided with the metal filing cabinet.
“Sorry, Giles. I’m sorry. Sometimes… Lately I’ve been getting carried away.” Forcing a laugh, she squeezed Spike’s hand before pushing it aside.
“Perhaps it isn’t just Lydia who’s in need of a restraining order,” Giles remarked from his corner. “Spike, congratulations, you’ve become quite the ladies’ man.”
“It isn’t a condition that’s developed overnight, mate.”
“Is that right? I wonder if there’s a chapter dedicated to your womanizing in Lydia’s thesis.”
“Hang on, how’d we get from ladies’ man to womanizer?” Buffy spoke up. “He’s a flirt. He can be annoyingly charming when he wants to be, but that doesn’t mean he--.”
“I don’t poke my head up every skirt I see.”
“And he could try, but then I’d kill him,” Buffy declared dryly. “Spike isn’t your typical vampire, and you know that. He isn’t even a typical guy. He’s been around for a very very long time and for the majority of his life, the only skirt he’s chased has belonged to crazy Drusilla. He loved and took care of that loony for, like, over a century. And, did I mention she was insane?”
“She was bat-shit mad most days,” Spike agreed. “Entire decades were worse than others.”
“But he stayed, loyal and dedicated until she ran off with a disgusting snot demon.”
“It was a fungus demon, then a chaos demon, actually.”
“Well, that doesn’t make them—or her—any less nasty,” Buffy insisted. “And for her to leave you for anything fungus related? God, Dru’s a freaking psycho!”
“Sweet, I think you’re getting yourself a bit sidetracked.” Spike sang the words quietly, giving her hair an affectionate tug.
“I was just going to tell Giles that he shouldn’t be straining for a logical reason or even a logical excuse for why we’re together. Instead, he should be learning how to deal. I’m not under a spell, I haven’t been brainwashed, and I’m not a victim of your irresistible womanizing--.”
“You sure about that last part, baby?”
“Hush. You’re not helping,” Buffy said, giving Spike’s leg a swat. “I wanted to say this stuff before, but Travers interrupted me. I probably wouldn’t have been that tough on him, but he embarrassed me and ticked me off, and then when he didn’t actually know anything? He’s lucky he’s old or I would’ve hit him.”
“You know, I’ve been listening to every word said out there, and I think you impressed the wrinkly sod.”
“You can’t be serious. Spike, you’re just saying that.”
“He hasn’t said one ugly word about you thus far.”
“Giles, why do you think that is?” Buffy asked. “Why do you think he even agreed to my terms in the first place, without putting up a fight?”
“Because you made him look like a giant idiot-knob,” Spike offered with a chuckle.
“Yes, but besides that…” Giles began, rolling his eyes. “Your handling of the situation was exceptional, Buffy. You acted like an adult, so he treated you like one. Your knowledge and power exceeded his. I actually agree with Spike on this; your self-assertiveness took him by surprise. I’m sure you impressed him. You certainly impressed me.”
“Aww. Giles, thank you,” Buffy said, her voice warm.
“Bet he’s just saying that ‘cause you got him retroactive pay.”
“And you’re still not helping,” she mumbled, giving Spike another light slap. Then her attention went back to Giles. “Do you think it’d be immature of me if I gave Angel another call? Just to check on him? No offense, but I really don’t want to be stuck in here all day waiting for a phone call. It’s Saturday, the weather’s nice, and Spike and I--.”
“You have plans. You’d like to be alone. It may be hard for you to believe this, but spending my Saturday in a sodden box while you slobber and hang on Spike is not--.”
“Giles! I’m not—I’m not slobbering and I’m not hanging,’” she insisted, ignoring the blush that was floating up to the surface of her cheeks. “I’m…Spike, help me out here. You’re better with words than me. I’m just sitting here, talking and um, sitting…”
“Buffy, will you please hear me out?” Giles continued, slightly raising his voice. “Who or what Spike is doesn’t matter. Yes, he’s a villain with a device that stops him from hurting humans. Yes, I’m truly glad he’s willing to work with us instead of against us. However, my biggest worry as of right now is how lost you are to him. I’d be equally concerned if he weren’t a vampire. You’re going through a lot of stress: there’s Glory, your mother’s illness, and your schooling. You shouldn’t rush into a relationship when you’re so vulnerable. You need someone to lean on, but I just don’t believe Spike’s the best person for you to turn to--.”
“Pet, you shouldn’t have to listen to this drivel.”
“It’s okay,” she answered. “There’s no harm in listening. I told him already he couldn’t change my mind. But he has a point. We have been moving fast.”
“Too fast?” Spike asked, raising a brow.
“You’re impatient. I’ve been impatient. It only makes sense that we aren’t moseying along, but I think we’re moving at a pace that works for us,” Buffy shrugged. “And as for me leaning on you…”
“You haven’t. Not nearly as much as you should. My girl’s got control issues. She needs to let go. She needs to share her burdens.”
“She’s working on it,” she replied with a shy, closed-lipped smile.
“Buffy,” Giles sighed. “I said this before; I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Is that right?” Spike replied with a snort. “Is that why you had her crying her eyes out yesterday?”
“Okay. Hold on, we don’t have to bring that up.” She looked down, running a finger over where Spike’s blood had healed the cut on her hand. “So I got a little weepy. It was my fault. My feelings were sticking out. I was feeling guilty and I…I might’ve been a teensy bit hung-over… But, at least you two can agree on one thing. You both care about me. You both want to see me happy. Well, just so you know, you two accepting each other would make me ecstatic. I hate having to defend my feelings. I hate it so much, and I know this is only the beginning. Once the gang finds out, and if we do go to LA… If I had one less person to convince that I’m not naïve or stupid or just plain crazy for being with Spike, I’d be grateful.”
“I already gave her my word. The ball’s in your court, Rupes. You think we can stop the pissing match and get along for her sake?”
“I’m not above making an effort--.”
“Great. Glad to hear it. Now, if you’ll kindly put a lid on the accusations and suspicion you’ve been tossing my way, we can get on with life. Buffy, I believe you were about to ring Angel again?”
“Yeah, I was.” Reaching for the phone, she looked at Giles briefly and received a short nod of approval. “I’ll try the hotel. Angel never has a phone on him. He and technology aren’t mixy things. But Cordelia or Wesley should be around.”
After dialing, she drummed her fingers on Spike’s knee.
As if I’m slobbering and hanging on Spike… Please, she thought with an eye roll as the phone rang. What’s so wrong with wanting to be around your boyfriend?
I’m probably just feeling a tad cavewomanly because of Lydia the Creep.
Besides, what’s really so wrong with touching my new guy every chance I get? Hoping that he’ll kiss me every time I turn around…?
“Has someone picked up? Love, why are you making that face?”
“What face? I’m making a face? I’m not. I’m just—hey! Cordelia, hey! Have you heard from Angel yet?”
Turning from Spike, she held the back of her hand to her forehead and then to the warm sides of her face. “It’s been awhile since we heard from him. We hoped he was alright and that he hadn’t—oh. Oh, you’re kidding. How long ago did he leave? Okay. I just don’t understand why he’d do that, but okay. Okay. I don’t know yet. I’ll get back to you. Yeah, thanks. Bye.”
“What has Peaches done now? Something heroic, I wager.” The tone of Spike’s voice seemed disinterested, but Buffy knew he felt differently from the resentment in his eyes.
“Angel learned of the location of a God-weapon and took off after it. He’ll bring it to us.”
“Look at that, he’s just as convenient as the bloody pizza delivery boy.”
“Did he tell anyone where he was headed?” Giles asked.
“He gave Cordy some vague cryptic information,” Buffy answered. “He’s somewhere in the state. In the desert.”
“So, do you think the Powers that Be gave our golden boy a magic umbrella to keep him protected from the sun? Last I knew, all vampires, even ones as courageous as Angel, can’t stand in a Californian desert without becoming more than just a little crispy around the edges.”
“I don’t know,” Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know what we should do either. We can’t go gallivanting in the desert when we don’t know where to go or what to look for, but then I’m not liking the idea of just waiting around while Angel does my job either.”
“There are other ways of contacting him, ways that don’t involve cellular phones,” Giles began. “Perhaps Willow and Tara could conjure up a sort of tracking device or an alternate way to communicate with him. But of course, with the Powers that Be involved, I wouldn’t be surprised if he can’t be reached even with the aid of witchcraft. He could be anywhere, on any plane--.”
“I say we wait it out while he plays Rambo. He’s just bringing you a weapon, Slayer. I doubt he’ll bring Glory’s head to you on a silver platter.”
“Could you imagine if he did? God, I’d still chew him out. At times, he can be so…”
“Controlling? Arrogant? Not a team player?”
“Down, boy,” Buffy said, fighting back a smile as she patted Spike’s thigh. “There are a lot of reasons why Angel and I don’t help each other too often, but it’s mostly a territorial thing. I protect my town; he protects his. I guess you could call it a friendly rivalry, but I’ll remind you it is heavy on the friendly, Spike.”
“He went rogue. He should’ve called.”
“That’s true and I’ll tell him that when I see him.”
“Or will it be once you find him? We just spoke about you letting go, pet. Sure, he’s a jerk for running off, but why should you chase after him? He’s a big boy. You did ask for his help--.”
“I didn’t ask for him to be a hero. Not when this is my mission.”
“Yeah, but shouldn’t you have seen it coming? Isn’t he your go-to knight in shining…fucking hair gel?”
Locking eyes with Spike, Buffy licked her lips. “You’re really going to bring up Angel’s gel when you slather gunk in your hair every morning?”
“Don’t go after him,” Spike spoke quietly. “I won’t be able to go with you.”
“It’s not like I need a chaperone,” Buffy teased, matching the tone of his voice.
“Stay. Please.”
Spike’s plea and steely gaze made her heart speed up. “You really think that’s the best idea?”
“He can take care of himself.”
“But, Spike….”
“If no one’s heard from him by nightfall, we’ll go out there. I swear it. We’ll search high and low for the miserable sod.”
“Giles?”
He jumped a little, startled by Buffy saying his name. Once again, he bumped against the metal cabinet. “Oh. I thought you’d forgotten I was here. What can I do for you? Would you like my opinion on something?”
“I want Willow and Tara on stand-by. If we haven’t heard from Angel by tonight, we’re going after him. Until then, Spike and I are taking off.”
“What about the Council?”
“They’ll wait just like the rest of us.” Standing, Buffy tugged on her tank top. “My phone is fully charged. The ring is set to blare. If you need me, call. Angel and his people have my number. If he calls me, you’ll be the first to know about it. Now, if you don’t mind…” Her fingers circled around Spike’s wrist. He was on his feet in an instant. “We’re going to sneak out the back way.”
“Actually, eh, I do mind--.” Giles began.
“Just tell them everything I told you. And we’ll just go down your conveniently located rear staircase and leave through the basement with its handy entrance to Sunnydale’s underground tunnel system.”
“Buffy--.”
“Thanks so much for handling Quentin and the Watcherettes for us. I owe you a million. And thank you for the donuts. And for being somewhat understanding. Our talk was…nice and productive. You agreeing to cooperate with Spike…it really means a lot.”
“You’re welcome. Please remember, Buffy, I only have your best interest in mind.”
“I know, and hopefully we’ll agree on what my best interests are at some point,” she responded, hooking her arm around Spike’s. “We’ll see you soon.”
“Right,” her Watcher mumbled, left to struggle out of the moving box on his own.
***
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