[Reviews - 104]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2843 times

- Text Size +




Chapter 12: ‘Cell Phones; The Devil’s Play Toys!’


Buffy woke up Wednesday morning with the hangover from hell! After she had ‘left’ William at the door of The Bronze last night, she caught up with Willow and Tara and went on to drink herself stupid. Tara had to drive Buffy home in her Camaro, while Willow followed in her Explorer. When they had made sure that their buddy, Buffy, was safe and secure at home, in her bed, they left and went to their new home, Tara’s apartment.

When she actually was able to open her eyes (which, by the way, felt like sand paper rubbing together), Buffy lay in her lonely bed for a moment or two. It was then that she remembered the matchbook and William’s cell phone number, glaring like a red stop sign written all over it.

She bolted from her bed, ignoring the urge to throw up from her pounding headache, and sifted through the dirty clothes slated for the cleaners. There it was. The innocent little matchbook with William’s number on it, just accusing her and laughing at her.

Buffy ran into the living room, threw the matchbook with the evidence on it into the fireplace and lit a fire quickly.

“There!” she thought victoriously, her arms crossed in front of her chest; a smug smile on her face, “now I ‘can’t’ call him!”

Maggie and Jenny weren’t due back to the house until Friday afternoon as Buffy, again, gave them an extended day off. Angel wouldn’t be back until Saturday night and Buffy had decided, since her ardor for William ‘seemed’ to have cooled overnight, that she’d meet up with Xander someplace.

Make it up to him for lying about dinner at her mother-in-law’s the night before.

“Christ!” she hissed, somewhat angry at herself, “if I had of met Xander last night, like I was supposed to in the first place, then……”

But, then what, she thought? She wouldn’t have ‘seen’ Will, wouldn’t have formed an their uneasy truce with him, after all these years?

“Well,” she sighed, “I sure wouldn’t have this damn hangover.”

She chuckled a bit as she turned on the water in her tub and then settled in for a nice warm soak.

“A nice long bubble bath; some really strong, awful black coffee from the Grind. I’ll be as good as new!”

After the hour long bath, Buffy wrapped herself in her cozy robe and flopped back on the bed. She was feeling better, but not completely up to snuff. Her cell phone rang, it was Xander.

“I was just thinking about you,” she giggled, truthfully, “what’s up tonight?”

Xander’s deep voice sounded so pleased and Buffy assured him that she would be ‘available’ to meet him that evening. There was a coffee shop that they would go to, quite a way’s from Sunnydale where no one knew them. It was an innocent place and their trysts always ‘started’ from there. Of course, they had to be careful about where they actually went for ‘dessert,’ but oddly enough, Xander proved to be surprisingly creative in that department.

At 7:00 PM that evening, Buffy hopped into her Camaro and headed out for the coffee shop to meet Xander. About halfway there, her cell phone rang.

“Oh,” she thought, kind of relieved, “maybe Xander can’t make it after all?”

She felt guilty for thinking that way, but she really didn’t want to go for some reason, tonight. Her hangover was gone, at least the alcohol induced one was, but William was still on her mind. She knew he would be furious that she didn’t call him.

After pulling over onto the highway shoulder, Buffy answered the ringing phone.

“Yes?” she said bright, fully expecting Xander or even Angel’s voice to answer.

“You didn’t call me, luv,” came William’s calm voice; calm but deadly, thought Buffy.

“What?” she gasped, shocked to hear ‘that’ voice on her cell phone. “How did you…where did you get this number?”

She knew she sounded surprised; she hoped she sounded appropriately pissed!

“I’ve got my ways, Princess,” William answered evenly, “but don’t change the bloody subject. Why, didn’t you call me?”

Buffy desperately ran over a thousand excuses in her head (why? She didn’t really know), and fell on the only plausible one. “I ‘lost’ the matchbook,” she almost sighed with relief, believing this little white lie would fly with Will.

Spike had to laugh at this one. “You’ve never lied too well, luv,” he chuckled, sarcastically, “don’t try to pull it off now!”

Silence at her end of the phone; gave him time to get angry at her again and he repeated the question, “why didn’t you call me?”

He knew his tone was betraying his rage, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in check.

“Bloody bitch,” he thought angrily, “still too good to even call me!”

Buffy’s short, desperate little breaths were almost funny to him, but he maintained his serious tone and again asked the question.

“I don’t know,” came her quiet reply.

Buffy was frantic by this time, although she tried to maintain an even voice. William had ‘her’ cell phone number? He had virtually tracked her down and confronted her, via air waves, about her not calling him? “Oh, bad Buffy,” she thought, “bad, very bad Buffy! You know you led him on!”

William was quiet, for once, now and finally she broke their silence.

“Will,” she began softly, “I’m going to be totally honest with you. Totally honest,” and she meant it. “I’m afraid of you. Afraid of who you are, though I’ve never been really sure of just ‘who’ you really are. Please just hear me out,” she continued before he could reply.

“I’m a married woman, Will,” she reminded him, gently, “I can’t just drop everything at home and ‘call’ men on their cell phones at any time.”

Guilt shot through her, that’s exactly what she’d been doing all along with ‘the other men’ and to not call William made ‘those relationships’ even more sordid.

‘Damn,’ she hated cell phones; they had to be Satan’s play toys!

“I want to meet with you,” he finally replied. “Tonight; right now, actually.”

Buffy began to shake; her hands were gripped so tight on the steering wheel, that they beginning to hurt.

“I, I can’t,” she stammerred, “not tonight, not ever.”

More silence then, “we can meet and just talk if you want, Buffy. William’s voice was so soft and quiet, almost tender; Buffy was stunned again by this different side of him, but she couldn’t answer, right away; her own mind at war with itself.

Bad, crazy ‘consequences be damned’ Buffy was laughing at her. Telling her to meet and just talk with Will. Good, sane ‘the lady Joyce Summers raised’ kept tsking at her; telling her that William was, is and would always be ‘trouble!’ “Off limits,” good Buffy said; “at the very least, a good confidant,” bad Buffy giggled in her ear.

Bad, crazy Buffy won out in the end.

“Kay, Will,” she replied softly, “I’ll meet you. But I can’t tonight, I have other plans. Tomorrow, I can meet you tomorrow.”

William answered quickly; he sounded pleased, but then he said, “what plans? Angel’s out of town, right?”

Buffy swallowed hard and collected her thoughts before she answered, “I have to meet a business associate of Angel’s tonight, in fact, I’m late now.”

It was the truth, kind of, she reasoned and apparently William accepted it.

“There’s this Inn,” he finally said, “It’s way outta town, you know it, I’m sure. The Victoria Cottage, something or other. I’ve been by it, never at, but it looks like your kind of place, rather posh, you know?”

She ‘did’ know the place, although she and Angel had only been once, years before, before they had even married.

“Gee, William,” she hesitated, “I’m not so sure. A motel?”

He quickly reassured her that they would only ‘talk’ if that’s what she really wanted. “Have a drink, talk, catch up, if you want. I promise Buffy,” he finished, sincerely.

She thought for a moment, okay, 6:00 PM, tomorrow. But, what room?”

William told her to go to the Inn, find his motorcycle in the parking lot and look under the seat; he’d have the room number written down on a piece of paper, there.

“Goodnight, Princess,” he said, his reluctance to hang up, evident.

“Night, Will,” she whispered. As she started her car up and pulled out on the highway to meet Xander, she realized something. She could no more sleep with Xander tonight, then she could ‘just talk’ with William tomorrow.

Later, at the coffee shop with Xander, all Buffy could think about was William and that mysterious room at the Victoria Inn. Whatever Xander was rambling on about was lost on her as she toyed with a cup of the worst tasting coffee in God’s creation.

Xander ate some kind of pie, ala mode of all things and gulped his coffee down before it had time to cool off.

“Where the hell does he put it?” she wondered as she watched him gobble up the last bite of pie and finished off his third cup of coffee.

“Well,” he sighed, full and content after he wiped his mouth with the napkin, “where to, Buff?”

“Xand,” she whispered as she reached over and took his large hand in hers, “I can’t go anywhere else with you tonight. I’m, you know, indisposed.”

Apparently, Buffy ‘lied’ better with some people then with William because although Xander looked terribly dissapointed, he seemed to buy her story and let it go at that.

“It’s okay, Buff,” he smiled, bravely at her, “I just like spending time with you. Talking to you. It’s enough, for now,” he added at the end.

Buffy nodded absently, and stood up to leave, “I need to get home, Xander. Angel is coming back, really early in the morning and I have to get home.”

It was another lie, and she truly detested herself for it. Again, Xander seemed to swallow the story, totally.

Once she got back home, Buffy set her alarm for 7:00 AM and took one of Angel’s sleeping pills. If she didn’t help herself along, she knew she would never sleep that night. All she could think about was meeting William tomorrow evening and ‘talking’ with him.

“Yeah,” she mused, “talking, that’s it. We’ll just talk.”

She had to face facts, right then and there; if she could barely resist William Giles in a filthy alley, how could she resist him in the privacy of a nice motel room?

‘No’ they could make ‘nicey talk’ all they wanted, her and Will, but the truth was, she Buffy Anne Summers was totally fucked.

All day, Thursdy, she walked around in a kind of daze. Her mind hazy and muddled from the upcoming ‘meeting’ with William. She had it all planned out; what she would wear, the clothes, shoes, perfume even. Buffy was pretty sure that the Inn would not be overly crowded; it really wasn’t in season yet.

A large pair of sunglasses, her longish hair up in a bun and a simple sundress would be perfect. No one would notice her, she hoped, anyway. When it was time to leave, she had to take a deep breath and force herself to turn on the car ignition.

All the way out of town, she kept telling herself; “it’s only to talk, it’s only to talk.”

But, as much as she chanted this mantra, she knew that William Giles would never ‘settle’ for just talk from her and she would be helpless to deny him anything more.

Buffy hadn’t been at the Victoria Inn in over seven years, but it hadn’t changed. Only the names on her dance card had. True to his word, Will’s Harley set parked in a space at the room furthest from the manager’s office. It was marked #7, discreet, at least, and fortunately matched the number written on the paper she found under the motorcycle seat.

“You can do this Buffy,” she told herself as she checked her watch and noted that it was already after 6:00; almost 6:30 PM to be exact.

“Oh, great,” she rolled her eyes as she knocked on the #7 door, “William is gonna be pissed, I’m so late!”

Spike heard the knock and immediately ‘calmed’ down from the enraged state he had been in only moments before.

“Fuckin’ little brat!” he had stormed about, cursing.

“If she doesn’t show up, I’ll go find her and everything be damned!”

He had stopped ranting about long enough to kick a the small trash can with his foot.

“Bloody hell!” he roared, remembering that he wore only his black Levi jeans, no shirt, no shoes, “that fucking hurt!”

A growl had emmitted from his throat, “I swear to God, if she stands me up; I’ll tear her bleedin’ little throat out of her and shove it up Angel’s arse!”

All this anger suddenly dissapated when he heard that timid little knock on the door. A wave of relief flooded him, “she’s hear,” he sighed.

Spike threw the door open and pulled Buffy inside.

“You’re late!” he growled, trying to sound angrier then he really was.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she countered with a quick smirk that reminded him of his own.

“Yeah, well,” but he couldn’t finish. He could only look at her, in her little red sundress, her makeup, simple, except for the red lipstick she wore. Her hair was up in a loose, but proper little bun. Spike licked his lips in anticipation; he couldn’t wait to loosen that long blond mane of hers and run his fingers through it.

“You look beautiful, Buffy, luv,” he whispered, catching her eyes with his.

“You look pretty damn good yourself, Will,” she replied with a smile as she ran her eyes over his exposed chest.

In that moment, Spike was aware that for the first time in ten years, he may actually get what he really wanted.



A/N: Bet you thought Buffy wouldn’t really show up, huh? Okay, Buffy’ is a bit ‘clueless’ at times, but she’s not stupid, right?





You must login (register) to review.