“I think I could get used to this,” Buffy said, examining the beautiful paintings and the exquisite furnishings of the room.
“Damn straight,” William said letting out a whistle as he tipped the porter who bowed obsequiously and left.
“I’m afraid to touch anything,” Buffy confided as she sat down on the sprawling white sofa.
“Anything?” William said, his tone leaving no doubt as to what he was thinking.
“Well,” Buffy said, patting the sofa. “Maybe not just anything.”
“Come here then,” Wiliam said quickly stripping off his shirt.
“Babe I’m dirty,” Buffy said, faux-whining.
“Right,” William said as he quickly stripped her down to her
bra and panties. “Shower then. Good idea.”
And with that he slung her over his shoulder. Buffy pretended to carry on her protest for just a little while longer, slapping William’s back with her hands and calling him a pig. They made love in the spacious shower twice. Once quickly, and once slow. Finally, they stumbled into the bedroom, where they slept and made love intermittently throughout the day.
“Babe,” William heard his wife shriek, many hours later. “Oh my god. Look at this.”
He raised his head. Buffy was standing in front of an open closet, filled with a variety of outfits of all shapes and sizes. She looked like she’d died and gone to heaven. She held up an elegant red dress against her, then a tiny silver one.
“Do hotels just give out clothes with their suites?” Buffy asked, biting her lip.
“No idea,” William said. “Not exactly richie rich here.”
“Couldn’t help but notice,” Buffy snorted.
“Ouch,” William said, and Buffy gave him a winning smile to soften the quip.
“Why did I marry you anyway?” Buffy said. “Remind me.”
“Because I’m sexy and great in bed,” William smirked. “That and I have a huge….”
“Is that what I told you?” Buffy teased. “Must have slipped my mind.”
Buffy chuckled as her husband muttered something under his breath about ‘women and source of all evil.’
“What are you doing?” William asked, when she picked up the phone.
“Dialling reception. There has to be some mistake.”
“Gifts and horses,” William muttered. “Isn’t that how it goes?”
Buffy shushed him and began talking to the receptionist.
“Huh,” she said, hanging up the phone. “They said it was complementary. To make up for their mistake. Oh and we have the room for the entire trip here. And a thousand dollars credit in the casino.”
“Quite the little scam we have going here,” William chuckled. “We should show up at hotels more often and pretend to have reservations.”
“Shyeah,” Buffy chuckled. “Or someone up there really likes me.”
“Oh and it’s all about you is it?” William retorted raising his eyebrow. “It couldn’t possibly be me Irish good luck?”
“First of all you’re british,” Buffy said. “Ireland is like different. Kinda.”
“So you’re not really a blonde are you,” William sighed.
“And second,” Buffy continued, as if she hadn’t heard him.
“It’s always about me.”
“I’ll try and remember that pet,” William said dryly.
“See that you do,” Buffy warned, then perked up. “So you up for some gambling?”
“Only with my dignity luv,” William said, turning away. “I think I’ll sleep it off.”
“I wanna gamble,” Buffy said outraged, tugging at his shoulder whining just a little. “Spike. Come on.”
“Sleepy,” William said, putting on a show of snoring, ignoring the fact that she called him Spike. She only ever
did that when he pissed her off. “So….sleepy.”
“Fine,” Buffy said, pouting. Then an idea struck her.
“How about one for the road,” Buffy said, lowering her voice until it was low and intimate. “For luck.”
In a flash William had spun around and taken her into his arms.
“For the record,” he said, “I’m only doing this for you.”
“Such a humanitarian,” Buffy said.
“I give,” William said. “I’m a giver. It’s my curse.”
Suddenly Buffy pushed him away, in a not so delicate manner.
“Hey!” William protested. “You get that fantastic arse right back here Summers or so help me god….”
“In your dreams,” Buffy said. “I’m off to play the ponies.”
“You just gonna leave me like this?” William asked, pointing down.
“I thought you were sleepy,” Buffy said, putting her hands on her hips.
“Sleep-ish,” William said. “You misheard.”
“Obviously,” Buffy said disbelievingly. “Are you coming or what?”
“Depends,” William smirked.
“On?” Buffy said.
“On that very talented mouth of yours,” William said. “Or in. Whichever you prefer. I’m a gentleman.”
“Are you coming gambling?” Buffy specified, rolling her eyes. “Perv,” she mumbled.
“Oh,” William said, considering it. “Nah. Night Summers.”
“Argh,” Buffy said. “Men.”
She grabbing the elegant black dress that she had laid out in a huff and stomped away into the bathroom.
“I’m going gambling.” She yelled. “Don’t wait up.”
Under the covers William smirked. The game, Mrs Summers-Pratt is on, he thought.
Twenty minutes later, in the hotel penthouse Xander Harris’s phone buzzed. Only one other person in the world had that number. His private assistant Willow.
“Why the hell am I getting an urgent message from hotel security about some bimbo?” he heard a cheesed off voice say.
Xander chuckled. Only one person in the world could talk to him like that. Sometimes he wondered if he was working for her instead. He probably needed her more than she needed him. She was like a sister, friend and mother all rolled up into one.
“I don’t know why,” Xander said. “I was supposed to get the call about some bimbo.”
“I’ll tell you why Xander Lavelle Harris the Fourth,” Willow said. “Because only I have your number. I had to hang up on someone. For some bimbo.”
“Hang up on someone eh?” Xander said. “You sly dog you.”
“Don’t change the subject,” Willow warned. “So what’s the deal?”
“Oh just some girl staying at the hotel,” Xander said off-handedly. “Nothing much. And that bimbo could be the next ex Mrs Summers. Show some respect.”
“Not bloody likely,” Willow said. “She’s married. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
Xander could sense the judgement in her voice.
“I had no idea,” Xander said. “Relax will. Nothing’s going to happen that she doesn’t want to.”
“God,” Willow said. “I hate it when you say that.”
“So what did security say?” Xander asked, trying not to sound too eager.
Willow hesitated. God, she didn’t want to lie to Xander. She was the one person he counted on to be honest with her. Everyone else just wanted a piece of his money.
Willow looked down at the black and white security photo she’d been given by hotel security. She had to admit that the girl was gorgeous. But still. She was married. And she hated to judge a book by its cover, but come on. A girl like that? She was always looking to hit the lotto. The BBD. The bigger, better deal.
“Will,” Xander said. “What did security say?”
Willow said nothing.
“Will?”
Xander heard his friend sigh deeply.
“She’s on the casino floor,” Willow said.
“Is she?” Xander said, carefully weighing Willow’s words.
“Alone? asked carefully.
Willow could just see the cat who got the canary smile on Xander’s face.
“Alone,” Willow confirmed.
“Not for long,” Xander said, jumping out of bed, holding the phone to his ear.
“Xander,” Willow said in warning. “Stay away from her. She’s trouble. I can sense it.”
“Someone needs to be there for her in her time of need,” Xander said, already picking out his suit. “Might as well be me.”
“Wish me luck,” Willow heard him say, before he unceremoniously hung up the phone.
“Good luck,” Willow said, shaking her head. “Ya dumbass.”
For ten minutes, Buffy just walked around, watching all the beautiful people drinking and squandering thousands and thousands of dollars. She held onto her meagre chips so tightly, she could feel the blood draining from her hand.
Two thousand dollars, Buffy thought. If I had any sense I would just cash it and invest it in low-risk government bonds.
Oh god, Buffy winced. I think I just turned into my mother. I need a drink.
She beckoned to one server, who glided down to her and poured her some champagne.
“Thank you,” Buffy said, brandishing a chip
“No charge,” he said, waiving her away.
“Oh,” Buffy said, feeling foolish. “Wow. No wonder Trump can’t keep a casino open. You guys are just giving stuff
away.”
“More?” he offered, flashing a look at the Casino manager, who gave him the slightest nod.
“No,” Buffy said. “I’m good. Thank you.”
Relieved at having taken care of the lady properly, the server scooted away. He really needed this job. And he wasn’t about to half-ass it. Not for a guest of Mr Harris.
“Don’t go too far,” Buffy ribbed good naturedly, pointing to him, then pointed to her eyes, imitating De Niro in ‘Meet the Parents.’
“I sure won’t Ms Summers,” he called after her.
Buffy frowned. Wait, he knew her name? Then she shook away that thought. Of course he knew. She bet he knew the name of every customer in the bar. That’s probably how they got most of their tips. By keeping tabs on the guests.
Buffy walked over to the roulette table, crowded with mostly trophy wives, and fat men in Armanis who were puffing on cigars.
“Finally,” she muttered. “A game I can understand.”
Buffy turned to an elegantly dressed elderly woman by her side.
“I can’t believe some of those other games. I mean, you have to be like rainman or something. But roulette. Any idiot can play this game.”
“I’m playing this game,” the lady said, sniffling.
“Oh…..I didn’t mean,” Buffy trailed off at the haughty, icy look she was receiving.
“And I’m going to shut up now,” Buffy mumbled, turning away.
“Place your bets please,” the croupier said. A flurry of activity took place. Buffy hesitantly placed one chip onto the
table.
“Sorry ma’am,” the croupier said, shaking his head. “This is a five hundred dollar table.”
“I’m sorry?” Buffy said. “A what now?”
“The minimum bet is five hundred dollars little lady,” she heard a fat gentleman with a southern drawl say.
“Oh,” Buffy said, reaching for her little black ten dollar chip. “Sorry….too rich for my blood.”
“Not if you marry right honey,” she heard someone say. The gaggle of plastic looking trophy wives emitted a shrill noise that Buffy could have sworn resembled something like laughter.
“Excuse me,” Buffy said, grasping the little chip. Suddenly a hand was on hers.
“Leave it,” she heard him say. “Please.”
Buffy turned to look at him. He was very well dressed. Smiling too. Not too bad on the eyes either. Buffy looked down at the table. His hand was still on hers.
“Sorry,” Xander said, withdrawing his hand, giving he a polite smile. “Leave it. Please.”
“Harold,” he instructed the croupier. “You should know better than to be rude to a lady. That’s not the type of
establishment we are.”
“Yes Mr Harris,” the chastened man said. “I do beg your apology madam.”
“Oh don’t worry about it,” Buffy told the croupier. “Really.”
She missed the angry look Xander shot the casino manager who covered his face with his hands.
“Are we going to place some bets or not?” someone in the crowd said and a chorus of hoots and hollers followed.
“Place your bets folks,” the croupier repeated.
“Please,” Xander told Buffy, “place your bet.”
“Okay,” Buffy said. She ran her chip over the numbers, then stopped at Red 17.”
“Why red?” Xander asked.
“I like red,” Buffy said, watching the wheel spin.
“Black 23,” the croupier announced, amidst a few groans and one yippee.
“And 17?” Xander enquired.
“I’m sorry,” Buffy said. “Are you the manager or something?”
Buffy saw his face tighten just a little, and then he was looking embarrassed.
“Actually….” Xander said, trying not to sound like a braggart. “I kinda…..own this hotel.”
“Oh,” Buffy said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Oh no,” Xander said. “I love to just come here and mingle.
Nothing like a good crowd.”
“A real man of the people huh?” Buffy teased.
“Only here actually,” Xander said. “This was my first hotel.”
“You never forget your first do you?” Buffy said, with a small smile.
“So why 17?” Xander asked.
“It’s kinda personal,” Buffy said delicately. God, she must
sound like a bitch.
Xander threw up his hands, as if to show he was backing off the subject.
“I’ve noticed that,” Xander said, distantly.
“Hmmmmm?” Buffy said, after placing another bet on red 17. “What?”
“People often play the numbers that are very special to them,” Xander said. “Win or lose. They just love the number.”
“Third time’s the charm,” Buffy said. “Red 17. Hundred bucks.”
“Me too,” Xander said. “Red 17.”
“And how much for you Mr Harris?” the croupier asked.
“I don’t know,” Xander shrugged. “Five grand.”
Buffy blinked. Did he just bet Five grand? On her lucky number? A small alarm bell began ringing in her head, even as a voice told her he was just being friendly. Or he was just plain hitting on her. Buffy was flattered, but wary. Better not lead him on or anything, she resolved. Be firm, but polite. God, I wish Will were here, Buffy thought.
“Red 17,” the croupier announced, to a few howls of protest and derision.
“Oh my god,” Buffy said, looking wide eyed, then laughing. “I won. I won. I won!”
“Seventeen hundred dollars madam for you madam,” the croupier said. “Congratulations.”
“I’ve never won anything before,” Buffy said in awe.
“Me neither,” Xander said before receiving a disbelieving look from Buffy. “Okay fine. I win all the time. Are you happy?”
Buffy laughed as the croupier shot Xander a pleading, apologetic look that he only half-acknowledged.
“Wait just a cotton picking minute,” the Texan said. “Do you mean to tell me that the owner of this god dang hotel just so happened to place his bet on Red 17? What type of scam are you people running?”
“Are you calling me a hustler?” Xander said, shooting the Texan a menacing look. Buffy could feel the air change. A tension that wasn’t there before suddenly permated the air. She needed to think quickly.
“Hey!” Buffy said, shoving over to get in the Texan’s face. “It was my number! Are you calling me a liar buddy?”
“No Ma’am,” the Texan said, doffing his hat. “I’d never impugne the reputation of a lady. Her virtue on the other
hand…”
Buffy scoffed as everyone devolved into laughter, then made her way back.
“Oh honey,” the rich Texan said, wiping his eyes. “The pair of balls on you. If I was twenty years younger…”
“You’d be a hundred,” Buffy mumbled, and Xander let out a snort.
“Place your bets,” the croupier said.
“We should stop,” Buffy said, biting her lip.
“Why?” Xander said. “You never stop when you’re on a hot streak.”
“Said the owner of the hotel,” Buffy said distrustfully. “How do I know you’re not just trying to get your money back?”
“Maybe I am,” Xander said, the slightest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
She has no idea who I am.
Buffy heard muffled laughter from the gaggle of second and third wives huddled together.
“Excuse me?” she said. “Is there a problem?”
“You’re talking to one of the richest men in the country,” the leader of the plastic barbies said caustically. “He probably wipes his…..”
“Ladies,” Xander said, going over and interrupting them. “To the bar! For the next ten minutes drinks are on me.”
The herd sped off at a speed which Buffy couldn’t have believed.
“Good riddance,” the Texan drawled. “Wives and guns. Two things a man should never bring into a Casina.”
“Didn’t I see you on the Simpsons?” Buffy said, pointing her hands into the air and mock firing them as guns. “Do me a favour. Say Yee-Haw.”
“I like you little lady,” the Texan said, with a grin. “You remind me of my first three wives. The nose of the first. The butt of the first. And the third…”
“I think that’s quite enough,” Xander said.
“Sorry pardner,” the Texan said, hooking his thumb into his belt. “Just being friendly. Didn’t mean to upset your woman.”
“I am not his woman,” Buffy seethed.
Xander turned to look at her. “How is that an insult?”
“I mean I’m not anyone’s woman,” Buffy said. “I’m a person.”
“Feminazi,” the Texan said, throwing up his hands. “I’m done here. You’re welcome to her buddy.”
“What a shame,” he said, shaking his head. “We could have had something you and me. Something special.”
“I’ll live,” Buffy said dryly.
“Place your bets,” the croupier said.
“I’m out,” Buffy said.
“Are you sure?” Xander said. “You can play anything. I’m sorry if he was rude to you.”
“No really,” Buffy said. “I should be getting back to…..”
“Me,” she heard her husband say, then felt his lips on the back of her neck and his arm around her waist.
“Hey baby,” Spike said, his voice deeper than usual. “Miss me?”
Buffy glanced at him. Oh my god. She couldn’t believe it. He looked exactly like the day they’d first met. His brown curly hair was gone, and in it’s place the straight bleached blonde. His usual soft smile was curled up into a sneer that made her pussy tingle. She loved seeing this side of him outside the bedroom.
“Mmmm,” Buffy said, as he kissed her neck. “I thought you were sleepy.”
“Wide-awake,” Spike said, his hand moving down to cup her ass. Buffy turned her face to his and Spike swallowed her mouth in a passionate kiss. Xander politely turned his face away, but inside he was seething with jealousy. He knew he shouldn’t be of course. She belonged to another. But still. To him? This guy? And the way she was making out with him in public. They were kissing each other like they were drowning and needed air.
After a moment, Buffy turned her face away, then rested it on his shoulder.
“Xander,” Buffy said. “This is my husband Will.”
Xander gave the couple a tight smile and extended his hand. “My best friend is called Will.”
“William,” Spike clarified, shaking his head slowly. “Friend call me Spike though.”
“I see,” Xander said, thumping the roulette table gently.
“Well...William, would you like to have a go?”
“Would you?” Spike asked, meeting Xander’s eyes, tightening his grip on Xander’s hand.
As the men met each other’s eyes, and squeezed each other’s hand harder and harder it was clear as day to both of them what the other was thinking.
You little shit, Spike thought. You want to fuck my wife. I see it in your eyes motherfucker.
That’s right, Xander thought. I do. I want to fuck that gorgeous wife of yours. Make her scream my name until she loses her mind and forgets you even exist.
Xander already regretted that he hadn’t thought of arranging for ‘Spike’ to be delayed somehow. A girl bumping into him at the elevator and propositioning him back to her room maybe. Or an an unfortunate ‘accident’ on the way. Nothing serious, just enough to keep him sedated and out of the way for a few hours. Nothing he hadn’t pulled before, a million times.
A million, Xander thought, his smile spreading wide. Now that gives me an idea.
Xander knew Buffy wasn’t going to be in his bed. Not tonight anyway. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun. Give give her something to remember him by. And piss off her smug, son of a bitch husband in the process too. Who knows what the possibilities were.
Win, win Xander thought. I always fucking win.
“Uh guys,” Buffy said. “Could you stop shaking hands now? It’s getting kinda gay.”
The men let go of each others hand, frozen smiles still in place.
“Please,” Xander said. “You’re my guests. Let me entertain you tonight.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Buffy said.
Spike was disinclined to let this snake anywhere near Buffy, but the happy look on her face gave him pause.
Fuck it, Spike thought. He doesn’t have the balls to try anything. Not with me around anyhow.
“You’re on Harris,” Spike said. “Lead the way.”
A couple of hours later, the three of them arrived back at the hotel, slightly tipsy and quite exhausted. Despite Spike’s reservations the entire evening had turned out to be quite a blast. They’d visited all the hottest clubs, hobnobbed with celebrities and feasted on sumptuous food. When Xander suggested coming up to his suite for one last drink, Spike’s inhibitions had been lowered enough by the booze that he hadn’t refused when Buffy had insisted she needed one more drink.
“I could so get used to this,” Buffy said, collapsing on the couch.
“Me too,” Spike sighed, stretching out.
“Used to what?” Xander said innocuously. Xander felt his body tingle. He had really turned on the charm all evening, gotten them good and lubricated. He was almost ready to move in for the kill. Just the possibility that it could happen, crazy as it was, was giving him a raging hard-on. Xander felt his mouth go dry. His wicked mind had all evening to formulate the plan. It was go time.
“This,” Spike said, slurring his words slightly. “The good life.”
“Anyone can,” Xander said. “It’s just a matter of doing what’s necessary.”
“What’s necessary?” Buffy asked.
“Doing what’s necessary,” Xander elaborated. “To get ahead. To come out on top. Law of the jungle.”
Spike snorted.
“So where do you see yourself in ten years Spike?” Xander asked.
“Wouldn’t mind being a billionaire like yourself,” Spike chuckled.
“I hear that,” Buffy laughed.
“I mean,” Xander said. “Beyond money.”
“What would satisfy you completely? Let you sleep well at night?”
“You’re saying you’re not satisfied?” Spike said incredulously.
“Who is?” Xander said.
“I am,” Buff said, raising her hand. “Hello. Third wheel here.”
“She mean it?” Xander asked Spike.
“God I hope so,” Spike said.
“I’m right here,” Buffy said. “Am I invisi-girl or something?”
“Well you’re a lucky man William,” Xander said, emphasizing the name slightly. Buzzed as Spike was, the use of his name William raised his hackles slightly.
“I have money, security, businesses…but you have something that I just don’t have,” Xander said, gesturing to Buffy.
Spike’s mouth tightened as he read the meaning in Xander’s eyes.
Don’t have yet, they seemed to say. But I will. That’s a promise.
“I guess there’s limits to what money can buy,” Buffy said, shaking her head, still oblivious to the subtext.
“Not many,” Xander said, casually.
“Some things aren’t for sale,” Spike said.
Like my wife motherfucker, Spike thought. You can’t have her. Ever.
“Such as?” Xander asked.
“People,” Buffy said. “You can’t buy people.”
“That’s naïve Buffy,” Xander chuckled. “I’m a businessman. I buy people everyday.”
“In business maybe,” Buffy said. “But not when there’s real emotions involved.”
“You’re saying you can’t buy love?” Xander said. “That’s a bit of a cliché. Look at all those rich men and their hot young wives.”
“It’s absolutely true,” Spike said, backing up his wife.
“Is it?” Xander asked Spike, then turned to Buffy.
“What do you think Buffy? Really?”
For the first time, Buffy felt a twinge of unease.
“I agree with my husband,” Buffy said, making a point of pronouncing the final word.
A moment of silence held sway.
“I’d like to test that theory,” Xander said. God, he was so horny. His entire body felt like it was on fire.
“What does that mean?” Spike asked, his voice hinting at the slightest hint of threat.
“Suppose,” Xander said. “And I’m only being hypothetical here.”
Buffy looked from Spike to Xander, a knot forming in her stomach. “Suppose I give you both a million dollars,” Xander said, looking straight at Spike.
“For what?” Buffy said, her voice barely a whisper. Oh god. She had a bad feeling about this. A bad, bad feeling.
Xander turned to look at Buffy, giving her his gentlest smile. Buffy knew what he was going to say before he said it. She just knew it. Still, that he could say the words shocked her.
“For one night with you,” Xander said. “A million dollars.”
Oh my god, Buffy thought. The look he was giving her. Like he wanted to take her. Right here, right now. In front of her husband. Buffy was appalled. The silence went on and on and on. Until it didn’t.
“I’d assume you were kidding,” Spike said, his fist tightening by his side, the grin on his face frozen. “Naturally.”
“Of course I am,” Xander said, sitting back, and chuckling. “I’m only kidding. I’m a kidder.”
But that somehow only increased the tension in the air.
“But let’s pretend I’m not,” Xander said, his voice serious once again. “What would you say William? Would you give me your wife tonight for a million dollars?”
“He’d tell you to go to hell,” Buffy said, finding her voice at last. Now that the shock had worn off, Buffy felt nothing but outrage. Oh god. How could he even suggest such a thing? What type of woman did he think she was?
“I’d like to hear him say it,” Xander said, never taking his eyes off Spike.
“I’d tell you to go to hell,” Spike said, through gritted teeth.
“That’s a reflex answer because you view it as a hypothetical,” Xander said, smiling widely.
“Is that right?” Spike challenged.
Go on mate. Show me your cards. I’m calling ya.
“Let’s say there was real money behind it,” Xander said. “Shall we?”
Xander clapped his hands and a man emerged from one of the many rooms in the back. Buffy saw him place two black briefcases on the table. Xander popped each of them open wide and pushed it towards Buffy and Spike.
“A million dollars,” Xander said. “Cash. No questions asked.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Buffy whispered to herself, still in shock. She couldn’t even bring herself to come to terms with it, much less, examine the briefcase. Her head spun. What was going on?
“How about two million?” Xander asked, clapping his hands again.
Another two briefcases were brought and popped open, overflowing with cash. Buffy covered her mouth with her hand. Buffy opened her mouth to scream, but she couldn’t speak. She’d lost her voice. Buffy looked at Spike and saw murder in his eyes.
Keep digging pal, Spike thought. You just keep digging. You have no idea what kind of girl Buffy is. Saves me the trouble of telling her what a no good son of a bitch you are.
“William,” Xander said. “I’m feeling kinda crowded here. Think you could give us some space pal?”
“"Us?” Spike intoned, his voice gruff with anger.
“Xander,” Buffy said, breathlessly, afraid at what her husband would do. “Please.”
“It’s okay Buffy,” Xander said, cutting her off, giving Spike a warm smile. “There’s no need to be afraid.”
Xander looked back at Spike, a sympathetic smile coating his face. The poor shmuck. Xander almost felt sorry for William. It was only a matter of time before he lost her to a better man. It was inevitable. Still, he'd have a few million reasons to help ease the pain.
“I think,” Xander said, choosing his words with care. “Buffy and I are going to have some alone time right now. Get to know each other a little better.”
Time froze. No-one moved. Buffy couldn't breathe. She could see Spike’s jaw twitch.
More than just a little better, Xander thought smirking as he latched the briefcases and pushed them towards Spike.
“What?” Buffy croaked horrified. "Xander what are you saying?"
“It's okay Buffy," Xander said reassuringly. She was shy. That was all. He’d be sure to ease her into it . “We're all grown ups here. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about here. No shame in what happens between consenting adults.”
“Take these downstairs,” Xander said to Spike, tapping the cases. “Don't worry about a thing. Your beautiful wife is in good hands. Nothing will happen that Buffy doesn’t want to. I promise.”
Spike began to rise and Buffy just knew he was going to kill Xander. For real. Straight up murder him. William had left his demons in his teenage years in the past. She wasn’t about to let her husband go to jail. Besides, she wanted to be the one who hit Xander. On the other hand, Xander was already midway to celebrating his victory.
“William you're a lucky....”
Xander didn’t finish his despicable thought. Buffy reared up, slapping him hard enough to draw blood from his lip and knocking him back to the floor.
Probably saved his life, Buffy thought furiously. Bastard.
“I guess you got your answer,” Spike smirked, still wound up tight. Buffy still feared he would rush Xander and beat him to death. “There are limits to what money can buy.”
But Xander only laughed. Uproariously. He wiped the blood from his lips and nose.
“Guys,” he said, still laughing. “I was joking. I told you. I’m a kidder. I kid.”
Buffy and Spike exchanged a look, as if to say ‘Yeah right’
“We should be going,” Spike said, pulling Buffy close, who refused to look at Xander. “It’s late.”
“And I have a meeting in the morning,” Xander said, looking at his watch. “With your permission though? One dance?”
“I think you better got on to that meeting,” Buffy said, giving him a cold look. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on your next million.”
“Goodnight,” Xander said.
“Goodbye,” Buffy said.
Spike said nothing. The couple left the room hand in hand.
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