“We have to attend a dinner,” Spike said, breaking Buffy out of her
reviere. They were sitting on opposite ends of the couch .“On Saturday.”
“Oh….” Buffy said, “Okay.”
The last month had been the worst of their marriage. There had
developed a wall between them, an invisible boundary that both of them
could sense. Spike had made some attempts to engage Buffy, but when he
was rebuffed, he had backed off and given her space.
“Where?” Buffy asked idly.
“At the Hart estate,” Spike said, looking at his phone. “Huh.”
Buffy almost blanched, glad that her husband wasn’t looking at her.
The Hart estate was owned by Hiram Hart, he of the Wolfram and Hart.
Father of Anya Jenkins-Hart. Which meant….
“What?” Buffy said, a pit growing in her stomach.
“Just got a message from Anya. Apparently Hiram Hart’s looking to get
into the art biz.”
“Oh,” Buffy said. Spike was looking at her quizzically, and she forced
herself to smile. A millionaire expressing interest in acquiring paintings was supposed to be a good thing. But she couldn’t ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want to see him again. Buffy
knew she had to play this carefully. As far as Spike knew, she was angry and sad at his behavior. And nothing else. In the past she’d always lectured him about how much she loved attending these balls and
how the chance to spread the word about her new artists always brought in revenue. So now she couldn’t just turn on a dime. Even if she wanted to.
“This is good right?” Spike asked, giving her an encouraging smile. He reached forward, trying to take her hands in his. And Buffy decided let him have his crumb. “Good,” Buffy said, letting Spike bring her hands to his lips and kissing them softly. “Really good.”
I’ll handle it, she resolved.
“Where’s my phone?” Anya whined, “I’m running late for the show.”
“Try the hall,” Xander said, running his thumb across the touchscreen of his wife’s phone he had hidden under the covers, deleting the last few messages he had sent.
“Saturday,” Xander whispered, slipping the phone smoothly under a pillow.
Saturday….
Buffy and Spike walked into the ballroom arm in arm. Her eyes widened as she took in the sculpted marble statues, the expressionist paintings and the boutique décor. Hiram Hart was clearly a man of
expensive tastes. Or at least his decorator was. “Ka-ching,” Spike whispered in her ear, giving her a sly smile, that she returned momentarily, but then faltered.
“What is it love?” Spike asked gently frowning.
“Hey guys,” a cheerful voice interrupted, saving Buffy from having to
answer. She looked over to see Anya giving her the fakest smile she’d
ever seen.
“I’m so glad you made it,” she intoned, looking directly at Spike, her
voice slightly shrill. “Both of you,” she added a moment later, giving
Spike a wink and a nudge and adding a high pitched laugh.
Bitch, Buffy thought.
“Just happy to be here luv,” Spike said, putting his arm around Buffy
and squeezing gently thrice. Buffy recognized the old code that she
and Spike had come up with.
Let’s get away from this crazy bint.
“Cya around,” Buffy pursed her lips, then led her husband away,
leaving Anya looking after Spike wistfully .
“Whew,” Spike said, putting his mouth to her ear. “That was close.”
Can I have you? she heard, jerking her head around, making Spike startle.
“Right,” Buffy said, letting out a little chuckle. “That was close. Yeah.”
I need to talk to someone, she realized. She’d spent the entire month
in denial, trying to put it out of her mind. Nothing happened had been
her mantra. But it had. It kept coming back to her, at the oddest of
times.
I need to get past this. Otherwise I’ll go crazy. He forced me into
pretending otherwise, she thought bitterly once again. He forced me
into pretending. But we both know what it was. It was rape. I couldn’t
say no. Those words were on a loop in her brain, like a damn record
that was stuck. I couldn’t say no. But I couldn’t not say no.
“Do you mind if I cut in?” Buffy heard him say. Her heart stopped, she
was sure. She steeled herself. She had prepared for this. She thought.
Act normal. And then she looked at him.
“Hey,” she said. But her eyes remained
cold. Bastard, she thought as anger flooded her as he stood there,
smiling at her husband, then at her. She could make out the hint of
smugness in his smile, the knowing look in his eye. Suddenly she was
gripped by the fear that Spike would read it in his eyes.
“Sure thing Harris,” Spike said, giving his own hand to Xander in an
imitation of a Victorian gentleman. Buffy was glad to read the
irritation beneath his playful banter. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Not you bleachboy,” Xander said bristling.
Buffy looked at her husband, torn between wanting to have him save her
from this uncomfortable situation and not asking any questions about
why she was feeling uncomfortable about dancing with Xander.
“I wanna dance too,” a chirpy voice said, as Buffy was about to
answer. Anya suddenly appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Spike’s arms.
Spike gave Anya a forced smile then glanced at Buffy as she literally
dragged him onto the dance floor, throwing a look back at Buffy that
said ‘God Help Me.’
“They look good together,” Xander said softly, but Buffy could see the
jaw tighten, “but not as good as……..”
“Go away,” she said, raising the glass to her lips so that Spike
couldn’t see what she was saying.
“Meet me upstairs,” Xander said, out of the corner of his mouth. “We
need to…………talk.”
Buffy’s heart began to pound. Her head spun.
“No,” she said, as firmly as she could manage.
“Upstairs. Second room from the left,” he muttered, walking away
before Buffy had a chance to respond. She kept her eyes on her
husband, gritting her teeth when she saw Anya pawing at him. And then
she saw Spike’s shoulders tense. She followed his gaze until she saw
Xander having an animated discussion with Hiram Hart, the silver
haired attorney famous for his cowboy hats. She looked back to see
Spike give Anya a tight smile as she continued to blather on about
something. And when Xander’s eyes flickered towards her she understood
the very real threat that he posed.
Xander glanced at his phone when he heard a tiny ping. Upstairs, the
message said. He grinned with satisfaction, excused himself from the
appallingly dull conversation over mergers and stock acquisitions with
Hiram. He glanced at Spike and Anya. His wife was literally fawning
over Spike. And the prick looked like he was enjoying the attention.
Enjoy dancing with my wife Spikey, Xander thought, I’m going to go
dance with yours.
Upstairs, Buffy waited.
I can’t let it happen again, she decided. I can’t. I won’t. I’ll find
a way. And yet it rang hollow to her ears. Coming here was a mistake.
She heard the door creak open and there he was. Looking at her.
“You look beautiful,” Xander grinned.
“What do you want?” she said, trying not to cringe. She knew what he wanted.
“To dance,” Xander said, gently locking the door behind him.
“No,” Buffy said, flinching at the sound.
“Just one dance,” Xander said, giving her a sly smile. “Please.”
“Fuck you,” Buffy hissed.
Xander grinned, “I was hoping for some foreplay first.”
Buffy quickly snatched up the pen knife that was on the table behind
her and brandished it at him.
“Stay away from me,” she said, “or so help me god….”
“You’re right,” Xander said, taking a step back. “I should go. To
Hiram. To the auditors. To the cops.”
“Shouldn’t I?” Xander asked, seeing the knife waver in her hand.
“No,” Buffy said, shutting her eyes.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.
No. No. No.
“We had a deal,” she whispered helplessly, shutting her eyes.
“We still do,” he said gently, coming closer. He took the knife from
her hand and tossed it onto the sofa, then touched her face gently.
“As long as I get what I want.”
Buffy looked at him. She saw obsession in his eyes. It frightened her.
How could she have missed this? Had it always been there?
“Have you slept with him?” Xander asked sinisterly, his hand tightening on her
waist so much Buffy was afraid he’d leave a bruise. The gall of the
question so took her aback that it was all she could do to instinctively shake her head and blurt out a response.
“N..n…no….”
He let out a sigh he had been holding then backed her up, trapping her
against the desk.
“Good,” he said chuckling, gripping the solid oaken fixture, “because
you……..are…….mine.”
He bent down to seek her mouth out for a kiss, but she turned her
face. He frowned, trying again, but she denied him once more.
Bitch, he thought, snarling. An idea suddenly struck him and he almost
laughed with twisted pleasure. He grasped her hips and turned her
around. Buffy realized what he had in mind a moment too late. She
tried to struggle against him, but he had her hands and body pinned
down.
“Stop,” she said harshly, still struggling.
“You’ll love it,” he soothed, “just like you did that night.”
“No,” she hissed, looking back at him, suddenly finding her anger.
“We both know what that was.”
Her words caused his eyes to flicker with rage.
“This is going to happen Buffy,” Xander said, almost matter of factly.
“Let’s make it nice and slow,” he whispered softly, making her shut
her eyes and struggle.
“Trust me,” he hissed, his voice suddenly a hot white fury that made
her fear for her life.
Buffy forced herself to swallow the panic in her throat. And to stall
for time. She took a deep breath.
“You’re right,” Buffy said. “You’re right,” she repeated louder, “I
did………love it. I……I was just…..afraid of admitting it.”
Buffy looked back, knowing that she’d say whatever it took to stall
for time. She couldn’t let that happen. Not again. She had to get away.
“Really,” Buffy whispered softly, as she stared at his big brown eyes.
And she knew he wanted to believe her. She just knew. He was
delusional. And she could play that to her advantage. She just needed
to get to her cellphone.
“Xander……..that night……was……….”
Disgusting.
“Amazing,” she finished, hating herself for saying these words.
“I knew it,” Xander said, sighing in relief. “I knew it.”
“Nice and slow?” she asked, looking back at him and giving the perfect
cheerleading facsimile of a smile.
“You be nice,” he grinned maniacally, using one hand to undo his
pants, as the other flipped up her skirt. “And I’ll go slow.”
“Wait,” Buffy said, when she felt him tug at her panties, making him
narrow his eyes. She’d remembered where she’d stashed her purse.
“Let me prove how much I loved it,” she said, licking her lips
provocatively, her hand carefully hooked
into his belt, trying to avoid contact.
“Later,” Xander said, although Buffy could tell he was tempted.
“Who says there’ll be a later?” she said.
“Oh there’ll be a later,” Xander whispered.
“Glad you think so,” she challenged. All the while she silently prayed that
he’d take the bait. When she felt him turn her around she exhaled.
Now comes the hard part, she thought, looking up into his eyes.
“Show me,” Xander ordered, loosening his grip on her.
“Get on the table,” Buffy said. Xander allowed her to turn him around
and push him onto the table, then watched her slowly unbuckle his
pants. Buffy milked it for all it was worth, hoping that someone would
knock at the door or call. Nothing happened.
She knelt in front of him, and her fingers closed on the purse she had
stashed under the table. She managed to open it up, but when her
fingers felt the metallic phone she thought she saw him a flicker of a frown at her absent hand. So she
stood up, pulling out her compact and some lip gloss.
“Wanna freshen up,” she said, popping open the mirror.
She painstakingly reapplied it, taking her time as Xander watched her with an intensity that made her want to scream.
Please somebody. Anybody.
“How do I look?” Buffy asked, gently nudging the phone towards her with her heel.
Don’t stamp on it. Don’t stamp on it.
“Perfect,” Xander whispered, bending his head in to taste her. And
Buffy just stood frozen as his lips came closer and closer, then shut
her eyes and took a breath.
Spike surreptitiously looked around, wondering where Buffy was.
Somehow he had landed up in the midst of Hiram and his cronies, who
were babbling about the latest injustices perpetrated by the activist
courts.
Wankers, he thought, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to smile.
Anya had a firm grip on his arm and was looking on with a proud smile,
as if he was hers to show off. Spike had once been flattered by the
attention, but now he was just put out. Suddenly, he decided, he
needed to get away for a bit.
“Did you see where Buffy went pet?” Spike asked Anya, turning his
head, slightly.
Anya smiled. Just a little closer baby. Oh look at those cheekbones. I
could cut myself on those.
“Daddy I’m going to go show William around,” Anya said loudly,
dragging Spike away before he could protest.
“Whatever you say princess,” Hiram Hart said, trying hard to conceal
his displeasure as his fellow partners chuckled. He was trying to
decide if the boy was worthy of taking a seat at the table. But what
gave him pause was the way his daughter was behaving. She was married
for Christ’s sakes. Hell they both were. Not that he was particularly
fond of her husband, but still. It wouldn’t be good for the company’s
image if these things were found out.
In my day at least we had the good sense to keep these things quiet,
he thought, sipping his whisky.
Buffy placed a finger on Xander’s mouth. “You’ll mess it up,” she
said, thinking quickly. She sank to her knees before he could counter
her, then grasped for the phone.
Her expert fingers quickly typed a message, then realized she needed to have a look. But she couldn’t look away. He was watching her like a hawk.
“Say cheese,” Buffy said, brazenly pointing the phone up at him and
pretending to snap a picture as she quickly scanned the message and
pressed send. With a flick of her finger she switched on the camera
and snapped a few shaky pictures of him.
Delete those later.
Xander plucked the phone from her hands. Buffy waited, her heart
hammering in her chest as he glanced at the screen.
Don’t check the messages. Don’t check….
“Take off your clothes” Xander said, turning the phone back down onto
her, crooking his head to one side, his voice dangerous.
Oh god. Pictures.
Buffy’s fingers shook as she undressed herself slowly, shimmying out
of her dress, making him hiss when he saw her lacy pink underwear.
Come on. Come on. Come on, she prayed, desperately hoping that her
message had been received, read and acted upon.
“Your hair,” Xander growled, trying to position the camera perfectly.
“Put it up.” He couldn’t see her face. He needed to see her face. It
had to be perfect. Just perfect.
Buffy obeyed, albeit as slowly as she could manage without pissing him off.
“How do I look?” Buffy asked, trying not to hyperventilate.
“Almost perfect,” Xander grinned, “Almost.”
And Xander reached down to touch her face gently, then curled around
her hair and pulled her head into his lap.
“Perfect,” he hissed.
“So this is one of my rooms,” Anya said, biting her lip, leaning
against the door, her hand already turning the lock behind her.
“Yeah,” Spike said, looking around and not really looking at the
French bed, the lattice windows and the designer furniture.
“I should probably go look for Bu….”
“How are things with you and Buffy?” Anya asked.
“Fine,” Spike said, taken aback by her directness. He could never get
used to that.
“You can talk to me you know,” Anya said, coming a little closer.
“Thanks,” Spike said, warily.
“You can lean on me Spike” she said, her eyes hopeful and a little
glazed. “In every way.”
And then they heard someone scream.
Xander froze. A single scream became a multitude of screams. All
saying the same thing.
“Fire!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
His eyes widened in horror.
“We have to get out of here,” Xander said frantically, snatching for
his clothes as the screams and the sounds of feet stomping reached a
crescendo.
Buffy reached for her dress, her hands shaking in relief, then quickly slipped into it.
“I’m going out the back,” Xander said, sniffing the air.
“You take the front.”
Buffy didn’t argue. She didn’t care. She just wanted him gone.
Xander looked at her, his eyes clouding over with frustration, and
Buffy could see that he was gritting his teeth, angry at being
thwarted. In his left fist, she saw a flash of something silvery and
shiny, something he idly deposited in his shirt pocket.
Oh no, Buffy thought. The phone. The pictures. Oh god.
“Wait,” Buffy croaked.
The phone, she thought desperately. The goddamn phone.
“What?” he snapped, desperate to make a run for it.
Gotta get the phone.
Without giving herself a chance to think about it she flung herself at him.
“I’m scared,” she whimpered as her hands grasped at the front of his
shirt. “I don’t want to die.”
“Stop it,” Xander snarled, trying to shake her off. “We need to go.”
Buffy knew this wasn’t going to work. He was shaking about too much.
So out of sheer desperation, she kissed him. Xander struggled for a moment, but then his need got the better of him and he gave in.
Riley. Riley. Riley, Buffy thought, her hand inching towards the coat
pocket, keeping her mouth firmly shut, even as his hands and mouth pawed at her. Somehow the image of her college boyfriend kept the bad thoughts at bay. For now.
When she pushed Xander away, he had a self satisfied smirk on his
face. “I knew it,” Xander grinned.
She loves it. The slut.
Buffy had to restrain herself from scratching out his eyes. And
then he turned and disappeared through a wood paneled side door.
Buffy spat. And spat again. She wiped her mouth with the back of her
hand, gathered her purse and ran like hell. She ran down the steps,
through the now empty ballroom and straight into a firefighter who
guided her towards the milling crowd.
“Buffy!!!!!!!!” Spike yelled, from behind her. He was just now exiting
the house, she realized. He had stayed behind to look for her. Her
heart warmed.
“Let’s go home,” she whispered, when he drew her into his arms.
“False alarm everybody!!!!!!!!!!!” yelled a large blonde fireman,
wiping his brow. “Fucking rich people,” he muttered to a brown haired
colleague who just shrugged.
When she reached home, she locked herself in the bathroom and drew out
the phone and wiped her entire gallery of photographs clean. And then
she dialled the number she had texted.
“You allright B?” Faith said breathlessly.
“Yeah,” Buffy said.
I’m not allright. I’m scared out of my mind.
“No sweat. I always wanted to yell fire at a rich person’s place. Too
bad I wasn’t really there. Would have liked to see it ya know. All those wall street scumbags scurrying around.”
“How did you?” asked Buffy.
“I’ve dated a whole lotta firemen,” Faith said, checking her nails.
“Got their numbers on speed dial. Called it in. Everybody in this
crummy town knows the Hart estate.”
“Faith,” Buffy said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Faith replied, her voice hard as nails. “Let’s put the son
of a bitch down.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I know it's been a while....
Chapter End Notes:
Review please. Coming up next, Buffy goes to therapy and Faith plots Xander's downfall....