Monday (5 days to go)
Two days later and Giles, escorted by Andrew and Jonathon his supposed bodyguards, made his way through the hotel lobby and over to the check in desk.
To the left of where the trio had come to a stop, outside the entrance to one of the restaurants, Xander and Faith watched Giles check in.
“Okay, tell me about Angel.” Xander turned to his female companion.
“Man, the guy is a machine. He comes down from his penthouse suite every day at two pm. He talks to the receptionists, finds out if there are any problems or complaints. There’s rarely an incident he doesn't know about or handle personally. Then he heads to his office. He works hard, and then comes back to the floor at seven exactly. He spends a couple of minutes with his casino manager, a guy named Wesley Wyndam-Pryce followed by a little sweet talking the high rollers. He’s out by seven-thirty, when an assistant hands him a black portfolio containing a record of the day's takings and the new security codes. Then he heads straight to the restaurant.”
They watched the entrance as the clock struck half past seven. Sure enough, from around the corner came the man in question, carrying his black portfolio.
“Like I said; a machine.”
“And that portfolio contains the codes to the elevators and the Vault anti-chamber?”
“Two minutes after they've been changed, he's got 'em in hand.” Faith paused. “I’ll tell you man; you guys picked a hell of a target. He is as smart and ruthless as they come.”
Xander smiled. “You scared?”
Faith smiled back. “You suicidal?”
The two stared each other down, neither willing to give in.
“Now what?” The male of pair broke the silence.
Faith grinned wider. “Now comes the girl. If she comes in after he does, that means they've had a tiff.”
“Where’s she come from?”
“The museum upstairs. She’s the curator there. Wait... here she is. This is the best part of my day.”
Xander looked to the direction his fellow brunette was staring. Descending the stairs was a beautiful woman dressed in a simple yet elegant black satin spaghetti strapped dress cut to the knee, with matching high stiletto-heeled sandals. Her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft curls, and she moved as in a world of her own. Several heads turned to look at the vision; the women in envy, the men in lust.
Xander couldn’t believe his eyes; this was the last person he expected to see. Though at the same time, he wasn’t surprised at all.
Faith cut into his thoughts. “I don't know if we can use her yet. I haven't even caught her name. But what I wouldn’t give…”
“She's Buffy.”
“What? Buffy? I like that. That girl's so hot, she's buffy.”
“It's her name, Faith.” Xander looked very certain and very upset. “Her name is Buffy.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back at the warehouse construction was continuing despite the late hour. The duplicate of The Stake vault was beginning to take shape. Most of the team were there getting on with their jobs.
Spike turned as Xander approached him with an extremely pissed expression on his face. “We need to talk. Now.”
The two exited the warehouse.
“What is it?” Spike asked concerned once they were alone outside.
“Tell me this isn't about her. Or I’ll walk off the job right now.”
Spike looked confused.
Xander continued, one hundred percent certain his friend already knew about the latest turn of events. “Tell me this isn't about screwing the guy who's screwing your wife.”
“Ex-wife.” Spike supplied clenching his jaw.
Anya and Dawn came out of the warehouse then, eager to find out what had gotten Xander so distressed.
“What about Buffy?” The younger Summers asked, having only caught Spike’s last comment.
Xander and Spike continued to stare each other down, fire in both their eyes.
Anya touched her husbands arm gently. “Xander? What’s going on?”
“Buffy. She’s with Angel now.”
Both the women looked shocked.
“Angel Benedict is Buffy’s new mystery man?” Dawn asked both astounded and annoyed. She turned to Spike. “And you knew and didn’t tell us?”
“Wow, Buffy’s boinking the wealthiest man in Las Vegas.” Anya said almost in awe. “I wonder if he covers his bed in money, and their naked bodies writhe around amongst hundred dollar bills while -”
“Ahn!” Xander interrupted, keen to cease the disturbing images his wife was creating in all their minds, but also to get back to the point of the confrontation. He turned to the other man in the foursome. “Tell me.”
“It’s not about that…entirely.” Spike sighed. “I know I’m not the best person to pass judgement but Angel Benedict is bad news. And if I can help Buffy realise that while taking him down a peg or two, well then that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Yeah well see, here's the problem; we're stealing two things now, his money and his woman. And if you can't have both, which are you going to choose?”
Spike didn’t hesitate. “You know there’s no contest.”
“Well we better hope things go to plan then, otherwise you’re going to have to deal with some extremely pissed crew members wanting to know where their cash is.”
The two men stood quietly for a moment.
Spike couldn’t help himself. “How’d she look…?
“She looked fantastic.”
Spike sighed and walked back into the warehouse, Dawn trotting close behind. Anya grabbed Xander’s hand, holding him back.
She turned him towards her. “If you ever decide to go, I want a warning. You know, big flashing red lights, and one of those clocks that counts down like a bomb in a movie? And there's a whole bunch of coloured wires, and I'm not sure which is the right one to cut, but I guess the green one, and then at the last second ‘No! The red one!’ and then click, it stops with three-tenths of a second left, but then you don't leave.” She paused. ”Like that, okay?”
Xander smiled and nodded. “Check. Big bomb clock. Come here.” He pulled her into his arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tuesday (4 days to go)
Buffy Summers, manager of the museum within The Stake hotel and casino, stood with wide green eyes transfixed on its latest addition: an ancient tribal mask once thought to hold the power of a Nigerian god called Ovu Mobani.
Though you wouldn’t know it to look at her now, her first passion was actually gymnastics. But she took an interest in artefacts after her mother died. Joyce Summers had been a curator at a museum over in LA and Buffy felt that by following suit, it was a way to keep her moms memory alive. She had actually taken over her mother’s position in the same LA museum, but had to leave after an incident involving Ancient Chumash Artefacts and a particular bleach blond.
She’d been amazed to get another job in the industry after what happened, let alone at one of Las Vegas’s most renowned attractions. When she’d seen the job at The Stake advertised she’d thought what the hell and applied, never in a million years thinking she’d even get an interview. But she had and Angel had been instantly captivated by her as a person. He hadn’t even checked her background. She’d told him, of course, but leant on the side of her involvement being a misunderstanding.
Buffy was interrupted from her thoughts by the double doors to the gallery swinging open. Angel strolled in, exactly on time, as if he owned the place, which of cause he did. Wearing an expensive looking designer suit, his first move was to greet the seller, shaking his hand and smiling as a photographer took a few shots. After a brief chat, the seller and photographer departed, leaving Angel with Buffy and the new piece.
“You like it?” She asked, eyes never leaving the mask.
“I like that you like it.” He replied.
She looked up at him then. “That’s not an answer.” But she knew it was the best she was going to get.
Angel smiled. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She nodded and instinctively she leaned up to kiss him. He backed away slightly, his eyes shifting up to the ceiling, or more specifically the camera embedded in it. Buffy followed his look.
“In my hotels, there's always someone watching.”
Buffy pouted playfully, but Angel didn’t retaliate.
“Love is brains Buffy. You know how many enemies I have. I don’t want you to be something anyone can use against me. I’ll see you tonight.”
He glanced once more to the mask, offered her a small smile, then turned and exited the gallery.
Buffy was left alone with her thoughts. ‘He’s rich, he's handsome and he’s charming, but am I really happy?’ She just felt like there was something missing.
‘He's not making you miserable?’ A little voice at the back of her mind taunted. She shut it out but knew it was right; she couldn't help thinking ‘isn't that where the fire comes from? Can a nice, safe relationship be that intense?’ She was sure if anyone was to read her mind they would think she was nuts, but part of her believed that real love and passion had to go hand in hand with pain and fighting.
Sure she really liked Angel, but, if she was honest with herself, there was no spark, no fire. The truth was she believed you only really got that with one person; the person you were meant to be with; your soul mate. Her traitorous mind automatically conjured an image of a bleached blonde black clad figure, and her eyes fell to her bare left hand. ‘Bad Buffy’. She scolded herself, quelling that train of thought before it went somewhere she so didn’t want to go.
She heaved a heavy sigh and headed back to her office.
[Reviews - 24]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 1696 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
There’s a pretty big chunk of dialogue said by Anya taken straight from the show. Though it’s a little cheesy I’ve always liked it as I think it shows her hidden vulnerability.