MAKE HER OWN WAY
Chapter 16: ‘The Only Time He Feels Complete’
When Buffy and Spike reached their apartment, it was nearly midnight. Spike wasted no time in calling his parents in England to tell them the good news while Buffy opted to wait until a decent hour in the PDT morning to call hers. “My mum wants to talk to you, Princess,” he grinned handing her the cordless phone. He left Buffy to talk with his mother, going out on the balcony to smoke a cigarette, ‘wonder why Mum acted so surprised by our news,’ he mused, taking a deep drag of his smoke. ‘She knows I’ve been after Buffy to marry me for years, why would she seem so odd about it.’
His mother had reacted rather strangely to his happy news, just the opposite of his father who had immediately asked, hopefully, if Buffy was pregnant. Of course dear old Dad was a bit dissapointed when Spike had said no, that was to be expected. However, just the fact that Buffy finally had come to her senses and accepted his son’s ring, made the old man dileriously happy. “Funny,” Spike whispered out to the black night, “Mum didn’t seem as pleased about it; I wonder why. She’s as crazy about Buffy as Dad is.”
Buffy joined him on the balcony, handing him the phone, “your Dad wants to talk to you,” she mumbled and quickly went back inside. “Yeah, Dad,” he asked, stubbing out the cigarette. “William,” his father began, his best stern lecturing voice on, “you make sure you do right by Buffy, treat her like a Queen that she is. The best of everything for the wedding and be absolutely sure that it’s ‘her way’ on everything. Don’t butt in, don’t give your opinion on anything; her way completely. Now that you’ve got what you wanted, your ring on her finger, don’t muck this up, boy. But most of all, treat her well, make her happy and for God’s sake, get her pregnant as soon as possible.” Spike laughed loudly, “okay Dad, I get it. Buffy’s gets it her way, all the way. And believe me Dad, I’ll do my best about the grandkids.”
Rupert Giles seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he finally spoke up, “that other ‘thing’ William,” he said lowering his voice, “regarding Travers, Inc. and all? There’s some information I want you to check out, then we’ll discuss what we’re going to do in a couple of days. But, for right now, go celebrate with my future daughter-in-law.”
She sat at her little vanity table, her perfectly little round rump situtated on the perfectly little round velvet pillow. Buffy had found this little vanity and matching chair at a Cost Plus in LA, it’s cherry wood frame had caught her eye. When she’d had the set delivered to the apartment, she had immediately repainted it white, decorating it with pink cherry blossom appliques herself. Will had thought it silly at the time, he wondered why she just didn’t buy the damn thing exactly as she wanted it. ‘He just doesn’t get it,’ she thought sadly, ‘I wanted to make it perfect myself.’
Brushing out her long golden hair with the silver brush he’d bought her, Buffy thought about the little charade in the restaurant and how she should have handled it differently. The problem was, Will had given her no other option, no out really. With Xander and Cordy standing there, watching them and two tables full of viewers, gawking at them like some patrons at a dinner theatre, what was she to have done? Even though he’d been a complete ass earlier, she loved him and didn’t want to humilate him in front of everyone.
“Hello, baby,” Will walked up behind her and wrapped his arms about her as she smiled at him in the mirror. “Tired?” he murmered, taking the brush from her and begin to stroke it through her hair. Buffy nodded, but relished the feel of the Will’s hands and the brush as he stroked down again and again. “Mmmmm,” she purred, leaning her head back against his stomach, making it virtually impossible for him to continue the sensuous strokes. He set the brush down on the vanity table and began to run his fingers over her left cheek, down to her neck. “What say we get in bed and really celebrate?” he whispered silkily into her ear. “Mmmhmmm,” she agreed as she stood up to snuggle deep into his arms, “I did promise some kind of celebration, didn’t I?” she giggled softly. “That you did, luv,” he purred as he pulled her to the bed, loosening her kimono robe tie from around her waist.
“Buffy, Buffy God I love you,” he was close to cumming as he thrust into her again, kissing her lucious lips greedily. Spike had been purposely tender with her this time, trying to make up for the fucked up way he’d behaved earlier when they’d argued about her leaving. He pulled her legs up around his waist and concentrated on trying not to cum yet, she hadn’t and he wanted her to so badly. “Cum for me, Baby,” he pleaded hoarsely, “I know you want to, please cum for me, now.” Whether it was his pleas or just Buffy letting go completely, she chose that moment to orgasm, gasping his name out softly in his ear. That did it, he came right after her, crying out ‘Buffy’ as he did then collapsing onto her little hot body that was slicked with both their sweat.
“Oh, Will,” she moaned, “that was so wonderful.” He smiled happily, his lips skimmed her cheek and lips, “yeah, you were,” he whispered. While Buffy went to ‘wash up’ as she called it, he pulled on his boxers and went out to have a smoke on the balcony. Spike was content in the knowledge that Buffy would be back in their bed, waiting for him to rejoin her as soon as he took a couple of drags on his smoke. ‘Christ,’ he thought with a shiver muttering to himself, ‘you almost bloody lost her, you fucking prick. That can ‘never’ happen again.’
Flashback Spike’s POV
Spike had finally convinced Buffy, well okay it took about two months, tops, after their first love making session, to move in with him. Okay, that wasn’t exactly right, he leased the apartment that had the great ocean view; they lived there together most of the week. The other couple of days during the week, Spike would work at home in his God awful bachelor apartment, while Buffy would stay at their place alone. Of course, he hated their time apart, absolutely, but it had been Buffy’s idea to have him stay those nights alone in his own place and her at theirs; gave her a sense of independence, he guessed. It made no sense to Spike, he wanted to be with her 24/7, but he bowed to her wishes and went with the flow, for now anyway.
He loved the way Buffy looked when he drove her over to their new apartment for the first time. All excited, just like a kid in a candy store. There was no furniture and the walls would have to be painted to ‘Buffy’s’ standards, decorated to ‘her’ taste, furnished with ‘her’ ideal couches, bed, end tables, everything.
Buffy had literally skipped through the apartment, checking every nook and cranny, every room, wall, corner and ceiling of each room. “We’ll do an oriental motiff,” she cried eagerly, “white walls, red/pink and black trim, silk screens and cherry blossoms everywhere, the whole enchilada!” Spike was so overjoyed to see Buffy so happy that he didn’t even fully digest what she was plotting with the interior decorating. “Do it anyway you like, Princess,” he laughed, wrapping his arms about her, pulling her to him lovingly. “Money’s no object, get crazy if you want,” he nuzzled her neck, discreetly unzipping her dress, “but before you turn this place into a Japanese Tea House? Let’s ‘christen’ the place in the Universal way, huh?”
He gently removed the little sundress from her body and kneeled on the plush carpet, drawing Buffy down with him, “I love you Buffy,” he murmered, pulling his shirt off and undoing his pants. “I love you too,” she whispered back shyly.
Present Day
Buffy found it really odd, but by Tuesday, she realized that Will was easing up on her, at least somewhat. Since Saturday night, when she’d allowed him to slip the two caret diamond on her ring finger, he had been less obsessive then he’d ever been before. Oh, he still smothered her with the Gile’s loving, his adoration and attention, who wouldn’t like that, but the insecure obsessive smothering that he’d been demonstrating for months? That seemed to have faded in less then seventy-two hours and Buffy wondered if she’d been wrong all along. ‘Maybe if I’d just slapped the ring on sooner, given him some sense of security, all this other crap would never have happened?’ This line of thinking comforted her in one minute, but freaked her out in the other. ‘Why in the hell should I have to give him a sense of security by accepting this gold and diamond ring?’ she wondered. ‘Couldn’t Will see, after three years that I love him, just him for the good man that he is, or can be, although sometimes he chooses to hide that?’
She was preparing for a bath, that Tuesday afternoon. Will was supposed to be home soon and Buffy was going to fix something simple for supper, maybe a quick quiche or some pasta. Leaving the bath water to run, slowly, she hurried into the bedroom to search for her special bath salts she’d bought but left in the dresser. That’s when she heard the phone ring on the end table, echoing the one in the front room. Without hesitation, she picked up the receiver, surprised to hear Will’s voice on the phone in the living room, ‘he must have just walked in,’ she surmised. Rupert Giles’ baritone voice boomed out from the other end, sounding way closer then England.
Now, usually, Buffy would never have even thought of doing what she did in the next minute or so. Normally, she would have hung up the phone and gone about her business, leaving Will and his father to discusss whatever by themselves. But lately, well, since she’d found out about the stupid birth control pill thing, Buffy was beginning to become curious about just exactly what Will and Rupert discussed, no matter what the topic. So, when she realized that neither Will nor his father had discovered that she was on the bedroom phone, she couldn’t help herself, she listened in, covering her mouthpiece with her hand.
“William,” Rupert’s stern tone made Buffy slightly flinch, “we need to discuss this Quentin Travers ordeal. But first, have you and dear Buffy set a date yet?” She heard Will hem and haw a bit then, “well, I’m letting her call all the shots on this one Dad, just like you suggested, but I’m hoping to convince her to fly off to Vegas for a quickie wedding, soon as possible. We could always do a family celebration later.” Buffy closed her eyes, trying to relieve the automatic sharp pain that shot through her forehead. “Whatever you two children decide, son. Just make sure Buffy gets what ‘she’ wants on this, nothing else matters that way.” William didn’t answer and Buffy imagined that he probably just nodded his head in compliance with what Rupert had said.
“On to more practical business, son,” Rupert clipped, “did you get that information on the Quentin Travers family that I asked about?” Will seemed to hesitate for a moment, perhaps concerned with what he was about to reveal to his father. “Yeah, Dad, I did and it’s just like you thought. Quentin Travers is playing hardball with us, not going to just hand us his company’s voting majority on a silver platter. In fact, he’s going to try and convince his company’s board of CEO’s to decline our offer. At least, he was that is.” Buffy cringed when she heard Rupert Giles chuckle, a mirror of his son’s laugh; or was it Will’s mirror of his Dad’s laugh? “It’s true then?” Rupert asked, gleefully. “Yup,” Will responed, “young Quinn Travers, Quentin’s grandson and fair-haired sole heir to the family fortune just graduated from snortin’ coke to shooting smack.”
“This could work for us, son,” Rupert crowed happily, “I’m thinking that if you or someone representing us went to old man Travers and mentioned his darling grandson’s penanch for heroin? That and informing the old bastard that we aren’t above notifying the Travers CEO’s that the heir to ‘their’ interests is a junkie? Well, we’d have the old boy by the balls in no time!” Buffy gasped audibly, a sickening feeling beginning her tummy and working it’s way up to her chest. ‘Don’t agree, Will,’ she prayed silently, ‘tell your Dad to piss off and make me proud baby.’ She was thankful that her hand was over her receiver and no one could hear her gasps of horror. “I’ll figure out something, Dad,” Will responded quietly, “I’d like to skip the Travers’ family drama, but if that bloody moron Quentin doesn’t wake up and give in, then we have no choice, do we?”
Buffy replaced her end of the cordless phone, careful not to make any sound to alert the two Gile’s men that anyone had heard their conversation. With a heavy heart, she made her way into the bathroom, happy that she’d turned the bath faucet down to a trickle earlier so that the tub was a little past half full. Stripping off her robe, she crawled into the tub, ignoring the fact that the water was a bit too hot and submerged her body up to her neck into the steamy suds.
“Buffy!” came Will’s loving voice through the door. “I’m in here, baby,” she called out, covering the sad pain in her tone with what she hoped sounded like a chipper Buffy tone. He sauntered through the door, his stance reminded her of Napoleon at Waterloo, at least the passages she’d read about him. “Hi,” she whispered with a half smile. Without a by-your-leave, Will had his clothes off in a second and climbed into the bath with her, “missed you,” he murmered, running his hands down over her breasts.
Wednesday came and went, Thursday did the same. Buffy wondered around the apartment, both days alone while Will went to work and came home around 5:00 PM. It was the same each day, they’d kiss goodbye in the morning, she’d paint in her little studio and try not to think about what Will was up to business wise and then, she’d go to her classes. When she got home, Will would greet her with a glass of wine, a kiss…himself. All in all, it was the same routine, except for the two hours each day that Buffy spent on her cell phone, talking to Tara McClay and Willow Rosenberg, her beloved friends. Then she’d spend the next hour or so on the phone with her Mother in LA, and her Dad.
On Friday morning, Buffy woke up around 7:00 AM to find Will lying, propped up on his left elbow, staring down at her. This was odd, mainly for the fact that her Will usually was up and about, on weekdays, by before 6:00 AM, but here he was, watching her. “Morning baby,” he smiled at her lovingly. “Good morning Will,” she sighed, stretching like a cat, which reminded her, Mr. Gordo needed a checkup at the vet. “Buffy?” Will stammered, running his long fingers down her cheek, “I was thinking, why don’t we fly to Las Vegas this weekend, get married and make it all legal, nice and tidy. When we get home, we can plan a reception or something. Our families could get together, meet finally, you know the whole traditional thing. What do you say, Princess?”
He looked so hopefull and so much like a young boy, what he must have looked like a hundred times or more before he’d become the man he was today. “Let me think about it, Will, okay?” she offerred mechanically. “Actually, it might be better to wait until next weekend?” she added, hoping to placate him for a while. “Yeah,” he nodded, brushing her hair from her face, “you’re right, next weekend would be better.”
Spike was going to go to the office that Friday morning, he had a lot to take care of, especially regarding the Travers’ situation. Before he showered and took off for work, though, he wanted to make love to his beautiful Princess Buffy. So he did. They made love for an hour, giving and taking to and from each other. ‘I’ll have this and her for the rest of my life,’ he thought, contented and happy like he always was when he was with her. In fact, the only time Spike had ever been at true peace was when he was with Buffy, after love making, eating together, laughing or crying at some old movie together. It occurred to Spike that very morning, just before he left for his office, that the only time in his entire life that he ever felt complete was any time he was doing things with his Buffy.
“Buffy,” he called just before he left through the front door, “I love you. I’ll be home about 6:30 PM or so, sorry it’s later then usual. I want to get some things cleared up at the office, this weekend we can make calls, work out arrangements for Vegas next weekend, kay Princess.” Buffy came out of their bedroom wearing the red kimono he loved her in, her honey colored hair flowing down her back in waves. “I love you Will,” she stated simply, blowing him a kiss, “I’ll always love you.”
Spike muddled through the Travers’ files, trying to find some alternate option, anything but the one his Father had suggested to him. He was a Giles, Spike was, down to the bone, but he did not want to squeeze Quentin Travers into giving Giles, Inc. the controlling votes in his company by basically blackmailing the old guy into it. Especially by not using his poor bloody fucked up Grandson to blackmail him with. But then again, his own Father would demand no less of him and in the end, Rupert Giles was God, at least to Spike he was. Finally, about 7:00 PM that night, Spike realized that he was already thirty minutes past the promised time to Buffy that he’d be home. Clicking off his computer, he locked his desk, then his office door and flipped off lights in the building as he went.
He pulled into the apartment parking complex, spotting his Buffy’s red corvette parked in the usual spot. ‘I’ll have to get her a new sports car this year,’ he made a mental note, ‘maybe a wedding present!’ he thought happily. Spike leaned against the elevator wall, tired from the mental battle he’d waged with himself all day regarding the Travers family. One part of him wanted to please his Dad, the other wanted to please Buffy by doing the right thing, the compassionate thing, even if ‘she’ didn’t know he was fighting himself on this. Opening the apartment door, Spike first noticed that the whole front room was dark, no lights shone there to welcome him home. Glancing quickly around, he saw that no lights came from any of the other rooms. At first, he assumed that maybe Buffy was resting in their bedroom, but he caught sight of Mr. Gordo, sitting by the closed balcony glass door; looking rather forlorned, staring out at the empty deck.
“What’s a matter old boy?” he asked the tabby, who turned to look at Spike with what looked like a sad expression on his whiskered face. Mr. Gordo scurried over to Spike, jumping up into his arms and started to meow, a horrific sound, Spike thought. A harsh, sick feeling began to build up in Spike; he felt it crawl like a spider, up from his gut, into his chest, then up into his throat. It made it hard to breathe for Spike; this ‘harsh feeling’ made it hard to think for him. “Something’s very wrong here,” he said out loud, the panic began to creep up on him.
That’s when he noticed something about the little cherry wood coffee table that Buffy had picked out three years before. It was still there of course, but something was missing off of it; Buffy’s beloved art book, it was gone from it’s usual position on the table. In it’s place, Spike saw a large white envelope and he walked slowly over to it. Dropping to his knees, Spike placed his hand on the envelope, the one that had a simple word written on it ‘Will.’ But it wasn’t the envelope that made the traitorous tears begin to spill from his eyes, it was the two caret diamond ring he’d placed on his beloved Buffy’s finger just a few days before that lay on top of the white paper.
A/N: Well, looks like she did it. Left Spike…sigh. Hard chapter to write, really. Please read and review. Thanks to all, Luv, Spuf
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