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Chapter 19: ‘Pre-date Jitters’


Buffy woke up alone on Tuesday morning and frantically searched the room for Angel. He wasn’t there, but she heard the tell tale signs of the shower in the master bathroom. She sighed in relief that her husband hadn’t left for work yet, or maybe it was relief that he wasn’t still in bed with her? Even she wasn’t sure anymore.

By the time he was out of the shower, Buffy had risen and pulled on her favorite satin robe. Angel entered their bedroom half naked and whistling a jaunty tune. After he gave her a rather rakish grin, he pawed through his side of the walk in closet for an appropriate Tuesday ‘office’ suit.

“Did Jenny pick up the cleaning, Buff?” he asked, not bothering to look at her.

“Yeah,” she responded, absently, remembering the good old days when at least ‘she, Buffy’ got to do such simple things as picking up dry cleaning, attempting cooking, making love with her husband.

“I’ll be home early tonight, babe,” Angel informed her, “let’s go to dinner at Nino’s, I’m in the mood for Italian.”

Buffy nodded silently and slipped into the bathroom to draw a tub. When she lay down in the tepid water, she realized that Angel and her hadn’t shared a tub soak or a shower in well, forever. William and her had just showered together a few days ago. It struck Buffy that the shower that Will and her shared was more erotic then almost anything she and Angel had done, sexually, in ages.

Angel was gone to work by the time Buffy went downstairs, so she ate her toast and drank her coffee alone out on the veranda. Her mind was a swirling hub of visions and thoughts.

Buffy was filled with images of William and the things ‘they’ did together. The way Will looked at her, ‘took’ her (and of course, the way she let him take her), the way he sang that damn song to her, with her half asleep in his arms. The way he looked at her with those lazer blue eyes. Angel’s large brown eyes had ‘shut down’ years ago. They had become secretive and no longer mirrored his inner feelings or thoughts, at least not to her.

Will’s eyes were ice blue, clear and open in his feelings. The problem was, Buffy just never read those honest blue eyes before, not until now; when it was too late.

On an impulse, Buffy picked up her cordless phone and called Angel at work. She was almost ‘surprised’ when he actually took her call.

“Angel?” she mumbled. “Hi, honey,” he answered, warmly, “what’s up?”

Buffy took a deep breath and stumbled on, “I’d like to meet you for lunch, today. Can we?” Her heart seemed to thump up in Buffy’s throat, why she wasn’t sure. A part of her was afraid her own husband would say ‘no’ but the other braver part pushed forward. For some reason, Buffy just needed to be at Angel’s office today for lunch. Whatever the reason, Buffy was sure she needed to meet him there and just go somewhere together. Silly as it seemed, Buffy had a weird feeling that fate was pushing her to that damn office this very afternoon.

“Sure,” Angel answered simply, almost happily, “I’d like that Buff!” Something in Angel’s voice sounded ‘false’ but she shook it off and confirmed the time she’d be there.

Buffy pulled into the parking lot of her husband’s office building. She hadn’t been there since she ran into William the last time when he cornered her in the elevator. With a sigh of resignation, Buffy secured her ‘Baby’ the Camaro she loved so much, and punched the up botton of the parking structure elevator.

“I ‘can’ make this work,” she reassured herself. “I can get Angel back again, totally and we’ll be happy again.”

An alter ego Buffy voice, in the back of her mind, taunted her, “yeah, sure. You’ll do fine. Just cow tow to Angel, the Travers and give up yourself, Buffy. It’s in the bag! Sacrifice everything that was ‘Buffy Summers’ and all will be well!”

The annoying ‘voice’ kept it up: “don’t even think about catching Angel with Cordelia again, ain’t gonna’ happen, remember? She’s marrying Riley soon. It’ll be fine. Hey, even if he finds another snuggle bunny, you’ll deal, right? Hell, look at your life, your things, your possessions! You have it all girl, who cares if your husband is a cheating, lying, self absorbed son-of-a-bitch!”

This alter ego ‘voice’ was getting on Buffy’s nerves, definitely. “I haven’t exactly been an ‘angel’ myself,” she retorted defensively to the talky, invisible voice. ‘Talky’ didn’t have a comeback for that one.

Buffy sashayed into the outer waiting room of her husband’s office. If she was looking for a confrontation, like the last time, with Anya, she was sadly dissapointed. That new law clerk, Andrew, the one Buffy had pointed Anya to was on hand. He leaned over Angel’s receptionist’s desk, raptly listening to something Anya was telling him.

“And,” Anya was mumbling something softly, “I don’t care what they said about you in College, Drew (Drew?!), you’re not effeminent, okay? Honey, believe me!”

Anya finished with a wink. Buffy cleared her throat to announce her presence.

“Oh,” Anya, muttered, “Oh!” she cried out loud, pushing poor Andrew, albeit gently, from her desk. “Sorry Buffy,” the girl stammered, “I’ll ring you in.”

A warm, happy feeling bubbled up in Buffy. If Andrew and Anya had come to an understanding, so be it. She was happy for the both of them.

“That’s okay, Anya,” Buffy said magnanimously, “I’ll just go in myself.” With a smile to the couple, she showed herself into her husband’s office. Angel was busy scribbling something on a pad of paper before him and he barely acknowledged her.

“Uhm, Angel?” she started tentively. “Buffy!” he cried with true joy, “you’re early!” But he seemed pleased anyway.

“Where we going for lunch, Angel?” she asked as he slapped the pad of paper closed, shut his desk and locked it then stood to escort his wife out of the office.

“I thought we’d go to ‘Chani’s’” he answered. “We’ll have that great salad you love, french bread and a bottle of wine! What do you say, Buff?”

Buffy felt that pang of sadness and remorse shoot through her, he was trying, he really was. “That’s great,” she responded with mustered enthusiasm. “Can’t wait. It reminds me of the old days, in college.”

However, they ate their meal mostly in silence. When the tab came, Angel grabbed it, almost relieved to be through with the whole ordeal of lunch with his wife, so Buffy decided to broach the subject that had been on her mind since last night.

“Angel, honey,” she began quietly, “I was thinking.”

If her husband was wary, he hid it and just looked at her intently.

“I was thinking,” she forged on, “maybe we should consider a baby?”

Angel did not look happy. Nor did he look sad or even angry. Angel looked floored!

“Where in the hell did that come from?” he gasped, checking around to make sure no other restaurant patrons heard them.

“I don’t know,” she replied quickly, “just off the top of my head, I think.”

He gave her a patent Angel look; the one that said ‘I’m dealing with a mentally challenged five-year-old’, the one she hated with a passion.

“You know how dangerous you are when you ‘think’ babe,” he laughed, half-jokingly.

“I’m serious,” Buffy retorted stubbornly her chin jutted out in defiance.

“Buffy,” Angel began, his patient tone infuriating her, “you know that we’ve talked about this. No babies until ‘we are’ ready, both of us.”

Buffy shot him a pout, “I am ready,” she assured him, “and ‘I’ don’t recall really being a part of the discussion,” she finished.

“Well, I’m not ready,” he responded evenly, “not until I’ve been a full partner at the firm for at least a couple more years.”

‘Yada, yada, yada,’ Buffy echoed silently, bitterly. When Buffy tried to comeback with a good debate, Angel shut her down abruptly.

He waved his huge right hand at her and stated firmly, “end of discussion, Buff.” Buffy recognized a conversation dismissal when she saw one and promptly dropped the baby subject.

They rode back to his office, in his Mercedes, in silence.

Finally, “what time will you be home tonight?” she asked, almost indifferently.

“Around 5:00, I guess,” he answered with about as much enthusiasm.

“I’ll make reservations at Ninos,” she offered, too politely.

“Good,” he quipped. And that was the sum of their conversation.

Buffy couldn’t get out of his office fast enough. She flew past Anya (Andrew was still hanging about her desk) and exited the lobby into the hallway. Imagine her shock when she was grabbed by the arm (as gently as possible) and pulled into the nearest janitor’s closet.

“William!” she gasped at the the black clad figure that abducted her into the little room and bolted the door behind them.

“Hi, Princess,” is all he could say as he looked at her hungrily.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with a confused look on her pretty face.

“Checking in with Angel,” he mumbled, somewhat shame faced.

“Checking in?” she hissed, “you mean like, telling him about me? Us?”

Spike shook his head, then changed it to a nod. “I came to tell him that ‘our’ business, ‘Angel’s and mine’ it’s done. At least the business of you.”

He ran his fingers down her cheek, softly, but stopped at her chin when he saw that ‘look’ in her eyes. This was far past the ‘deer in headlights’ look. This Buffy look was one of betrayal, his betrayal, and it tore at his heart like a jagged knife.

“You came here to hurt me?” she whispered sadly, “to throw my stupidness at me, at my husband?”

‘No, never!’ he whispered hoarsely. No; he shook his head, firmly.

Spike had really come to end the business contract he’d set up with Angel about Buffy. He was going to give Angel his last report about Buffy, which would consist of nothing sensational, and end their little business dealings about her. Even more so, Spike had no intention of accepting the last payment from Angel for spying on his wife. He planned to use the fact that there was no dirt on Buffy Travers as a reason for not taking the final money installments. That should placate the great poof, Angel.

Something in Spike, some nobler instinct from his youth, the upbringing that Anne and Rupert Giles had given him would not allow him to take the balance of the money that Angel had offered him. That and more importantly, Spike’s feelings for Buffy. His very strong feelings for Buffy.

“Enjoy lunch?” he asked sarcastically, against his better judgement.

“Oh yeah,” she quipped back, nastily, “especially when my husband, you know, Angel, my husband, stuck his wet, hot tongue down my throat during dessert!”

Spike felt like pushing the little bitch up against the small room wall, ripping her panties off of her and fucking her into oblivion, but he pushed down his jealous impulse. He did however, push her up against the wall, not too hard though.

“You want me to go tell Angel about your little boy toys, Buffy?” he rasped as he held her up against the wall. “Want me to show him pictures, play tapes of your orgasms, however faked, with Xander Harris in his hot little car?”

He could feel his own jealous rage just radiate off of him as he stared into her gorgeous wide eyed green eyes.



William’s sneer made him look like a twisted, fallen angel and Buffy found herself shivering from fear. Or at least she wanted it to be fear. Sometimes, she wondered if she wasn’t as twisted and fallen as this platinum haired, blue eyed demon that she’d made a hellish pact with. Her thong suddenly felt tight and wet, but certainly not from fear.

“No,” she whispered, “please don’t tell Angel about any of it, Will, please.” She was ashamed of her frightened, weak, girlish voice, but she couldn’t help it, not right now anyway.

“I won’t, Buffy,” he whispered softly, stroking a long strand of hair from her face, “I’d lose you for sure then. I’m a romantic fool, not a complete imbecile.”

Buffy was at a loss as to just what William was trying to say to her. Sometimes she confused herself more then anyone else possibly could and it frustrated her to no end.

When Buffy dared another look at William, she was surprised to see a confused expression on his face. He visibly shook off the puzzlement and pinned her even tighter against the wall, “see me Thursday.”

Buffy knew an order when she heard one, but her difiant nature bucked the command and she shook her head in a definite no. “Can’t,” she said firmly, “Angel would get suspicious.”

William first looked hurt, then angry and through clenched teeth he said, “you sure as hell could meet Harris on some of those ‘golf’ Thursdays, couldn’t you?”

Buffy cursed Angel silently, “oh great,” she thought, “you give William Giles all the info he needs to spy on me and now he’s turning it against us both.”

Spike was more then pissed. Oh sure, Buffy could find time to fuck around with Xander Harris on Thursdays, when she was fucking him anyway, but she couldn’t make time for Spike?

‘Bullshit!’ he screamed to himself. “Meet me,” he ordered again, more firmly then before. He watched his sweet Buffy weigh out the pros and cons and almost sighed audibly when he read the final answer. She ‘would’ meet him. He could see that in her eyes.

“It’s risky,” she mumbled in a low, husky voice, “it’s real risky, William.” As if she had to tell him that?

“It’ll make it all the more exciting, luv,” he assured her with a kiss on her forehead. “Sides,” he continued seriously, “I told you; I’ve got your back, always.”

“Where? What time?” she asked mechanically.

“Remember that biker bar we used to sneak into in High School?” he asked her as he brushed more long strands of hair from her face.

She nodded reluctantly, “yeah, the one way out of town?”

His turn to nod. “Yeah, that one,” he confirmed, “just drive out there, Thursday afternoon. Try to be there by 5:00 PM, Princess. It’ll give us some time, I know Angel goes to golf right around 3:30 Pm or so, then doesn’t come home until after 10:00 PM.”

Buffy had to agree to this, William had done his homework, or maybe Angel had given him his schedule, who knew? “What is this, William?” she asked in disbelief, “a date?”

He chuckled and smirked, “why not a date?” She could only roll her eyes.

“We don’t have to go into the bar,” Spike assured her, “just meet outside and we’ll go somewhere.”

Buffy felt ‘odd’ about the ‘go somewhere’ but decided to keep her mouth shut about it for now, anyway. At this time, William had all of the cards in his hands, she didn’t. Hell, even Angel was dealing a full deck over her, but somewhere, somehow down the line? Buffy would take back control of her life, she just had to figure out how. There was something else, something that Buffy couldn’t quite put her finger on. She ‘thought’ it had something to do with William, but she just couldn’t put a name to it. Not at this time.

“I need to go, William,” she mumbled as she pulled away from him. “I need to go to my car and go home.”

Spike let loose of her, but not before placing a long, hard kiss on her lips. “Thursday,” he reasserted, “at 5:00 PM, no later. Please be there, Buffy,” he added. Then he was gone out of the tiny room. He headed into Angel’s office door, only stopping long enough to wipe Buffy’s lipstick from his mouth.

“I’d love to walk into that prick’s office with Buffy’s mark on me,” he chuckled as he opened the door. “Serves the pompous prick right. He doesn’t deserve her.” Spike had to wonder, briefly, as he strode into his nemesis, Angel’s office, if he himself deserved Buffy Summers.

Buffy kind of wandered through all day Wednesday and most of Thursday. If her husband was suspicious, he showed no signs of it. He played the respectful, loving husband and displayed no ‘problems’ in their marital life. Even the broached baby subject did not come into play in those two days, so on Thursday morning, when Angel toddled off to work, all was well, at least on the surface, at the Travers house.

“See you about 11:00 tonight,” Angel called back to her as he stepped out onto the back porch, “don’t wait up.”

She didn’t respond, just sat staring out the garden window, the one she had chosen. The little but expensive butcher block kitchen table (she’d also chosen) seemed awfully lonely this morning. Then she remembered, Maggie and Jenny had left for the day, wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. She was all alone in the big house.

“Well,” she sighed, “I won’t be alone for long, will I?”

Slowly she rose and went upstairs to take another shower and pick out her clothes for her ‘date’ with William. He’d mentioned something about her needing to wear jeans, God only knew what that meant.

“It’s just pre-date jitters,” she tried to convince herself. “Pre-date jitters! What the hell am I thinking?!”

For a brief moment, Buffy considered having a good stiff drink, even if it was before 10:00 AM. She shrugged off the urge and went ahead into the master bath to start the water. Buffy glanced in the full length mirror of her bed room, “you are truly a fucked up mess,” she told her reflection.


A/N: I shortened this chapter from the original. In the next chapter, Buffy and Spike will go on their ‘date.’ The ‘biker bar’ will appear again down the line, so please, if you read the next chapter, remember this place. Also, I’m going to try to incorporate a Buffy with more backbone in the next couple of chapters; at least where Angel is concerned.
Thanks, for reading, luv, Spuf





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