That was how Xander found her when he walked into his bedroom. The sight froze him in his tracks. Buffy was lying on his bed, strategically surrounded by comfortable pillows, in just a glossy black raincoat made of the finest silk.
“Alone at last,” Buffy said, her voice low and sultry, her eyes hooded and dark.
Xander feasted his eyes. Her golden hair was shiny and bouncy and styled perfectly. Not a strand out of place. Her face had been expertly made-up, drawing attention to her flawless cheeks, cute as a button nose and her glossy pink lips.
“Buffy,” Xander exhaled. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Oh I'll give you a lot more than that,” she promised, amusement dancing behind her green eyes at the look on his face. As if all his prayers had been answered.
Buffy raised up her right leg, rubbing it against her left calf to draw Xander's attention to her long smooth legs. They were glistening golden with oil and sweat and seemed to last forever. Xander noted the six-inch pumps at the end of her feet. They screamed 'fuck me' but don't you dare take these off.
Xander licked his lips as his erection swelled to full mast in record time. But even now, Xander couldn't turn off the calculating part of him. Buffy was a beautiful woman, but she had spent a hell of a lot of money to look this damn good. This was about more than just sex. This was something else entirely. But Xander didn't really care at that moment. Buffy had come to his bed of her own free will and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the sack. And judging by the hungry look on her face, Buffy wanted it bad. Needed it.
Correction Xander crowed. Wants me. Needs me. Only me.
And as much as Xander had thought about this moment, he knew it would be even better if he took his time to savour it.
“How did you get in here?” Xander said, conversationally, taking off his jacket and hanging it over a nearby chair.
“Come on,” Buffy pouted. “It's a party. Aren't you going to unwrap your present?”
That wasn't the reception she'd been expecting. She thought he'd trip all over himself as he tried to undress in record time and get into bed.
Buffy decided to turn the heat up, biting her lip and striking a come hither pose. She smoothened down the raincoat, letting the material bunch up tightly over her chest so Xander could see her nipples strain against the fabric.
“Tell me how,” Xander said, deliberately, undoing his tie, never taking his eyes off her nipples.
Buffy sighed.
“I slipped your doorman a thousand dollar note,” Buffy said impatiently. “You should fire him.”
“I'm giving him a raise,” Xander said, beginning to undo his sleeves.
Buffy couldn't help but give a tiny smile and Xander saw the facade fall for just a moment. The next moment it was back and Buffy was playing the part of the temptress.
“So what changed?” Xander asked, taking two steps forward until he was right by the bedside. Buffy sat up, beginning to undo the buttons on the front of his shirt.
“I heard you were in town,” Buffy said, as he wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her close. “And I guess I was surprised how glad I was.”
“Uh-huh” Xander said, sounding unconvinced. But at this moment, he was enjoying the feel of her body against his a little too much to ponder on that thought.
“It's funny,” Buffy said. Xander was close enough to see her beautiful green eyes cloud over for a moment. She bent her head, teasing his lips with hers, then pulling back slightly. “How you see someone.....but not really see them, you know?”
Xander saw something flicker in her eyes. Pain. Hurt. But then it was gone and her eyes were pools of darkness again.
“Yeah,” Xander said. “It's funny. And it's just getting funnier....”
“Shhhh,” Buffy said, pressing a finger to her lips.
“I guess I got tired of lying to myself,” Buffy said, undoing a shirt button. Then another. “About how much I want you.”
“I want you Xander,” she said again, her finger still on his lips. “And I know you want me.”
Buffy dropped her finger down to his chin as her mouth began moving towards his, forming her lips into a tantalizing 'O.' She ghosted his lips with hers. Xander began leaning in, but found himself suddenly pushed away.
Playfully this time. Buffy laughed, taking the sting out of her actions.
“Lose the shirt,” she ordered. Xander obeyed, slipping it off his shoulders in a deliberate motion to draw her attention to his muscular chest. Buffy reached out to touch him, then ran her hand across his chiselled upper body.
“Not bad,” she said dismissively, although she couldn't hide the spark of interest in her eyes. Nor the slightest tremble of inflection in
her tone.
“Your turn,” Xander said, grinning.
“What makes you think I'm wearing anything under this raincoat?”
Buffy said, pulling her hand back and toying with the hem of her outfit. She parted it slightly. Tantalizingly. Exposing a whole heap of beautiful golden cleavage. And then she snapped it shut, enjoying the tortured look on his face.
“Now the pants,” she said.
“Slowly,” she added, enjoying using the very word he used against her.
Xander undid just his belt buckle. Buffy watched him pull his bell out and drop it to the floor. He undid the button of his fly, then stepped out of his pants.
“Mmmm,” Buffy said appreciatively, her eyes lingering on the bulge in his boxer shorts.
“Say it,” Xander said. “Say the words.”
Buffy struggled with herself for a moment. With the words.
“Come to bed Xander,” Buffy said, scooting up against the
headboard.
“I won't stop this time,” Xander said, planting his knees in the middle of the bed and slowly stalking towards her.
“Is that a promise?” Buffy asked, letting the raincoat slide off her shoulders.
Cut to.......
William paced in his living room, glancing at the clock. It was now 4pm. He had been up all night. Going out of his mind with worry. Calling Buffy's phone. Leaving countless text messages. But there was no sign of her. He'd even tried calling the police, but they told him he needed to wait for 24 hours before he could file a missing person's report. William had left his home in the early hours of the morning, going from bar to bar. Questioning the customers, the staff, random passers-by. He'd been to the bus stop and the train station. Hell, he'd even been to the airport and the mall. Finally he'd come home, hoping that she'd already be there. Smiling at him. With an explanation that made sense of things. But the house was empty. Still. It was driving him crazy. He sat down on the sofa, intending to rest his eyes, just for a moment.
He awoke to the sound of the door opening. He switched on the light by the sofa to see her standing at the foot of the stairs. He wondered if it was really her or if he was still dreaming. She looked so beautiful, it made his heart hurt. And then she looked at him with eyes that were a kaleidoscope of emotions; anger, sadness, hurt. She looked tired. The circles under her eyes that betrayed her lack of sleep.
A million things raced through William's mind but there was only one question on his lips.
“Where were you?” he said, his voice quivering slightly
Buffy exhaled loudly at his words. “Where was I?” she repeated, as if asking herself the question.
“None of your business,” she said dismissively, making to move up the steps. She took one ginger step, then another, moving as if she were in pain. Her answer made William angry, as she knew it would. He took two steps after her, then another two up the stairs.
“I have a right to know Buffy,” William said, grabbing her arm.
“Do you?” Buffy challenged.
“I'm your husband,” William said.
“Yes,” Buffy said, a small bitter smile playing on the edge of her mouth. “You are. And I'm your wife.”
And with that she shook off his hand and took two steps away from him.
“Damnit Buffy,” William said, smashing his fist against their wall.
“Where were you last night?”
Buffy paused. Even though he was looking at the back of her head, William knew things had just gotten worse. Her whole body had tensed up. Like an uncoiled spring. He could practically hear her gritting her teeth. When Buffy looked back down at her husband, her face was a cool impassive mask.
“Are you sure you want to know?” Buffy said. William gave the slightest nod. Buffy took a deep breath.
“I was with Xander,” Buffy said. As if it were that simple. As if that explained everything.
William felt like he had been gut puched. The wind left his lungs entirely.
With Xander? Buffy had been with Xander? Again? A man she hated?
At that moment his brain couldn't even process it.
Buffy saw the confusion on his face. The bewilderment.
“Doing what?” William said. His voice was nearly a whisper. He knew, but he didn't believe. Not yet.
For a moment, he saw pity in her eyes. And then he knew. He could see it now. As clear as day. And on her face. The shame of it. The embarrassment of it. The regret. What she'd done. But he also saw defiance. The 'I dare you to call me on it spirit' that he so loved about her.
“Doing what?” Buffy repeated incredulously. “Doing what?”
She exhaled loudly, closed her eyes and shook her head. When her
eyes opened, they were hard and cruel.
“Use your imagination,” Buffy said coldly. “I know Xander sure as hell did.”
Buffy turned her back on her husband, who was still standing there, shell-shocked.
“Actually don't,” Buffy said, turning back to look at him. “I'll tell you exactly what we were doing.”
“Xander and I,” Buffy said, stepping down so that she was within arms reach of William, who took a step back. As if she had struck
him.
“Were up all night. Doing every nasty thing you can think off,” Buffy said.
“Twice,” Buffy said, with an acerbic smile, holding up her fingers in a victory sign. Even as the corner of her mouth trembled and her eyes welled up.
William felt as if he'd been shot. As if he was bleeding from the chest. He sank to the floor of the staircase, tears filling his eyes.
“Oh and today,” Buffy said, her voice cruel. “Today we did things you can't even imagine.”
“Why?” William said hoarsely, unable to look at her. He knew though.
“Faith,” Buffy spat out, like the name was poison. The poison in their marriage.
There was a long pause...
“I can explain that,” he said miserably. “I was....”
“I don't care,” Buffy said. “I don't want to hear anything you have to say. I only came to pick up my things.”
William looked up sharply.
“What?” William said. He hadn't even had a chance to get angry.
This took him entirely off guard.
“We,” Buffy said, her voice breaking for the first time. The implacable mask slipping. “We need to take some time. To think.”
And with that, she marched back up the stairs.
“Do,” William said, pausing to take in a breath that seemed to pierce his rib. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Buffy paused at the top of the stairs. She knew how much it had cost him to say that. To say those words. Her words. Words she'd said to him. A lifetime ago. She almost crumbled. But she was still furious with him. With his betrayal. And she didn't care.
“There's nothing to talk about,” Buffy said, walking into the bedroom
and shutting the door.
William sat on the steps, tears streaming down his face as. Buffy packed her things. Tears streaming down her face as she remembered how she'd betrayed her husband. She waited until she was sure he was gone, then walked out the door, with only a suitcase full of memories. She never looked back at their home.
When William awoke on the couch, he found the house in darkness. Just utter darkness. Just like his soul. He wanted to call out her name but he knew she was gone. She'd left. She'd just left. He could still taste the dry tears that had run down his cheeks.
Buffy, William thought.
Where was she? Where had she gone? She had no living family to speak off, and only a small circle of friends.
Probably ran back to Harris. Fucking whore.
The thought came unbidden. It enraged him. The thought that she could be with him, at this very moment. He stood there, shaking with rage. And the next thing William knew, he was in his car. He marched into the hotel he knew the son of a bitch owned in a fury. His eyes darted everywhere, looking for an elevator. He spotted it in the corner and made his way over, ignoring the frantic calls of 'Sir' and 'Excuse Me' from the front desk.
He practically smashed the button that was labelled 'Penthouse Suite'. A security guard came running up to stop him, but froze when William looked him dead in the eye. That moment was enough for the door to close. William flexed his fingers into a fist.
I'm gonna kill him, he thought. I'm going to bloody kill him
When the elevator reached the suite, William had the presence of mind to press the large red button that said 'Stop', leaving the elevator disabled. It was Spike who stepped off, stalking through the hallway. Silently. He moved from room to room, searching, searching searching. He found Xander in his private office, behind his desk.
Xander's legs were up and he was puffing on a large cigar. He looked the very picture of a man at ease with himself and his place in the universe.
“William,” Xander said, cheerfully. “I've been wondering when you'd show up.”
Spike said nothing. He curled his hand into a fist, staring a hole through the billionaire.
“Cigar?” Xander offered, holding up an expensive case.
Spike took two steps towards Xander, cocking his fist. Xander shook his head, as if he was personally disappointed in him.
“I know you want to hit me,” Xander said, standing up. “But that won't change anything. Other than making you feel better.”
“Wouldn't you rather know where Buffy is?” Xander said as Spike drew his fist back.
Her name broke through the haze of anger. His muscles coiled and flexed.
“Where?” he said, through gritted teeth.
“All in good time,” Xander smiled, moving back to his seat. “But first there's something you need to know.”
“No games Harris,” Spike growled. “Tell me where she is.”
“Nothing happened between Buffy and I that weekend,” Xander said.
He saw the confusion on Spike's face. The bewilderment.
“What?” he whispered. He didn't understand. Nothing happened that weekend? So why didn't Buffy just tell him that? Why did she keep letting him go out of his mind? Nothing made sense any more.
“She just couldn't do it,” Xander said, examining the cigar, then sighing. “Do you know how disappointed I was? The months I'd spent. Every little detail. And do you know what got in the way?”
Spike didn't respond. He couldn't respond.
“Love,” Xander spat out. He shook his head in disbelief. “She said she loved you.”
“But...” Spike began. “The....the money.”
“Aaah yes,” Xander said, smiling now. “The money. I told her she could keep it. All she had to do was not tell you what didn't happen.”
“Why?” Spike said.
“Because I knew it would drive you crazy,” Xander said, smiling at his own genius before closing his eyes and taking a deep drag. “The very thought of it. Your sweet, precious Buffy.”
“With me,” he said, opening his gleaming eyes.
“And I was right,” Xander crowed. “You pushed her away. And right into my bed.”
“You son of a bitch,” Spike swore.
Spike made to advance on Xander, but suddenly found himself unable to move. A large security guard had grabbed his arms and twisted them behind his back. Another was standing by his side, watching him closely. Spike thrashed helplessly, continuing to swear.
“I thought I could buy Buffy with money,” Xander said, shaking his head. “But a woman like that. No. Only one thing could deliver her to me.”
“You William,” Xander said, coming close to Spike, enough so he could see the triumphant look in his eyes. “Thank you. For an extremely.....”
Xander took a moment to search for the correct word. He closed his eyes, as if to rack his brain.
“Unforgettable,” Xander said. “An extremely 'unforgettable' evening.”
Spike roared. His hands were useless, so he reared his head back, then aimed it at the bridge of Xander's nose. He enjoyed the resounding crack of it breaking and the cry of pain that Xander let out as he fell back.
“Ooof,” Spike winced, when the second security guard lay a heavy punch into his stomach. Then another. The second shot took Spike's legs out from under him.
“Stop,” Xander commanded. The large man, looked at Spike apologetically, as if to say, just doing my job man. No hard feelings.
“Get me a handkerchief,” Xander ordered, trying to wipe away the blood and failing. A handkerchief was produced and Xander held it to his nose.
“Now hit him again,” Xander said. The security guard shrugged, then walked over to Spike. With one more apologetic look, he swung his large fist into Spike's stomach, who cried out with pain.
“Stop,” Xander said, after another two punches had been delivered and Spike's legs were limp/
“Put him down,” Xander ordered and Spike crumpled to the floor.
“I wish you had seen her,” Xander said. “How she looked when she
came to my bed. Her face when she was in my arms.”
Spike wanted to speak, but the pain had numbed his tongue. Xander seemed lost in the memory.
“She cried you know,” Xander confided. “After our first time."
Xander shook his head, almost wistfully.
"I'll never forget it. Buffy. Naked. Crying. Trying to find her clothes. Calling me an asshole. A bastard."
Xander sighed. “ She told me she'd betrayed her husband. Her marriage vows. That she wanted to go home.”
Spike tried to speak. His tongue lolled helplessly and he let out a pitiable groan.
“Didn't tell me to stop when I pulled her back into bed though,” Xander said, grinning. “No. She told me she wanted me to make her forget. Just for a little while.”
Xander let out a little chuckle.
“She said,” Xander began, searching his memory for right words.
“No one had ever made her cum like that. Not like that. She begged me to make her cum again. Just once more. And then she'd go."
Xander looked down at Spike, seeing tears running down his face.
“Oh come on Willy,” Xander said. “A woman like that? That needy?
There had to have been other men. Maybe you even knew about them.”
Xander took a moment. “But you know what?” Xander said slowly. “I bet I was her favourite. Because I was her revenge. Every orgasm I gave her paid you back.”
“Take him away,” Xander waved his hand dismissively.
The two heavies picked Spike up like a sack of potatoes, slinging him over their shoulders.
“Don't worry Willie,” Xander called after him. “Buffy will be the best cared for mistress in the world.”
That was the last thing Spike heard. When he awoke, it was dark and he was in an alley behind the hotel. He struggled to his feet, then sought out the closest bar.
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