Authors note: So sorry for the long wait! We'll try to get the next chapter our much quicker. Please, please, please let us know what you think! It really speeds up the writing process.
Chapter TenIt was getting to a point where breathing was becoming a problem. Falling all over each other and laughing hysterically, they had tumbled into the apartment, narrowly missing the cane as it hit the door. Seeing the lady's little shoes jumping up and down through the crack between the bottom of the door and the carpet just caused Buffy to laugh more, so hard she doubled over and clutched her stomach. Hence the not being able to breathe thing.
"Oh my god," she wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. "Is this a daily occurrence? Cause if it is, you should totally report it to the landlord."
There was some shuffling to her left and suddenly, the room was illuminated.
"No. Usually, I can see her through the peephole, glaring at the door like it's her biggest pain of a challenge yet. And no 's not a habit to come home to threats. Well yes, that is a habit, but there's usually no cane involved. As for complaining to the landlord… Well wouldn't do much good seeing as the hag's apparently his wife's mum. Not that I got the impression they were on the best of terms themselves…"
He scratched the back of his neck wryly, gesturing at the apartment.
"And this is it."
Standing up, Buffy got a good look at 'it'. It was shabby, to put it nicely, and had that uncomfortable feel of a home only just moved into.
"It's…um…" She paused, unable to think of anything positive for the room.
"It's a dump," Spike said shortly, sparing her a grin. "Gotta be thankful for Rupes, 'e lets us stay over most nights."
"Um, yeah. I would definitely exploit family relations to stay at a mansion as opposed to a…" she paused looking at Spike for approval and he just chuckled an unanimously they said; "Dump"
Suddenly at a complete stand still as to why they both were there and topics of conversation, Spike looked around the apartment, looking for clues. Buffy took a seat on the worn couch and started flicking around the various papers lying on the coffee table, searching for something interesting to keep herself occupied. Spike's eyes bulged. Don't go there he thought. The stacks of papers weren't exactly stacks, in order or anything and there was no telling what kind of papers the girl could actually come across. Production related writings that she really wasn't supposed to know about yet. Information about the other contestants, planned excursions meant to be a surprise and some of his little tidbits of writing. His own writing. Spike panicked.
"Can I get you something to drink?" He said prying her attention off of her task. Moving over to his cupboard, trying to locate anything to serve. "How about some coffee?" He waved the freeze-dried, instant Nescafé and Buffy looked up a moment and scrunched her nose before shaking her head.
"It's really late and I can't see how caffeine would be conducive to a relaxed and sleep-wanting Buffy," she elaborated before going back to her nosy-ness. A little bit annoyed, Spike rolled his eyes before going to the fridge to try and find something else. Of course it was as good as empty. They had orange juice. Leftover orange juice that had been in the apartment before they moved into it and the expiration date was worn away. He considered it for barely a moment before coming to his senses and realizing that food poisoning the girl probably wasn't the best of ideas. Or maybe it would be if she kept up putting her nose where it didn't belong. Namely his papers. Desperate for any diversion, he kept searching. A triumphant grin when he remembered the beer Xander had left in grocery bags in his room. He hurried over and retrieved it. Opening the bottle and handing it to her.
While Buffy looked confused at the proffered bottle, Spike took the opportunity to gather up all the papers in one stack and placing it on the opposite side of the coffee table.
"Now, would it be too much trouble not to poke that crooked little nose of yours in business anything but yours for a few minutes?"
Buffy consciously lifted her hand to her nose. Now that was just rude.. and hurtful! Sure her nose wasn't exactly her prettiest feature, but it wasn't that bad. And sniping about in side comment was, well, just rude. However, before she got a chance to retort something about stupid bleached hair, he had already disappeared into his bedroom. She took one moment to wonder about what exactly had caused Spike's mood change from sweet and funny to acid, before she ignored his statement and reached for the now piled paperwork again.
A paper or something interesting to read while she waited would be good. She saw what looked like it could be a newspaper a bit down in the stack and removed the papers on top. Just as she was reaching out for the paper, her eye caught the sheet of handwritten paper lying on top.
It's poetry, her mind registered as her eyes traveled down the three verses.
[insert two first lines of pretty here]
She read on and was completely swallowed up by it when Spike re-entered the living room.
"What, somethin' wrong with your ears, Summers? Or do you just have a knack for doing the exact opposite as you're told." Spike looked like he was at the end of his line, his bright blue eyes on fire with anger when he snatched the paper away from her.
"Nothing wrong with my ears. Or nose. I happen to be very content with my nose and ears thank you very much." This earned a truly confused look from Spike who was now clueless as to when her nose had become an issue.
"What? All I want is to keep out of my soddin' business" Suddenly a notion struck Buffy and her scowl turned into a bright and knowing smile.
"You wrote that poem didn't you?" for emphasis she tried to grab the sheet of paper again.
"What?! No!!" Spike huffed defensively and brought the poem to his chest to keep it from her prying hands.
Amused, a part of Buffy wanted to push even further. Realizing that would probably get her nowhere she opted for another approach instead. " I thought it was beautiful"
Spike had turned away and stood feet shuffling and looking around for desperate clues as to what he could say to get out of the situation when her soft compliment, reached him. "You did?" he asked and wanted to give himself a good slap in the head for sounding like a complete poof. He looked right and did the only thing he could to come out with his masculinity intact. "Well, it's not mine," he lied. When Buffy just gave her the 'suure' smile he lied some more. "It's Angel's. To use later in the competition to swoon one of you girls," he said that with just the perfect amount of exasperation. Feeling very satisfied off of Buffy's frown, he turned and indulged in a smug smile.
"Can't wait to meet Angel then," Buffy commented from behind him. "If he can write this good, I mean. Wonder why he isn't published."
Startled, Spike turned to face her.
"Y-you don't think – I mean, you think someone would publish that?"
Buffy studied her fingernails for a moment before meeting his eyes.
"I think that anyone with half a brain would jump at the chance," she told him, and abruptly turned to face the wall. "We should be heading back, anyway. You've got your cigarettes, and we both need some sleep before tomorrow."
***
As Jake stirred the chocolate on the stove, Tara sat, legs tucked up underneath her in what looked like a very uncomfortable position in one of the wicker chairs. Every once in a while pairs of pale blue eyes would meet, Jake would offer her a gentle smile, Tara would return it before shifting uncomfortably on her perch. The last 15 minutes had been a repeat performance of just that sequence. Coming to the conclusion that the chocolate was thoroughly heated, Jake grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and filled them almost to the rim with brown and hot liquid. Careful not to spill any, he cautiously balanced the cups over to the table where Tara sat.
"Here you go," he said, placing one of the mugs in front of her before taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. After a few sips and some more shifting from Tara, Jake stood up and held out his hand in offering. Tara watched with an almost startled look, from his hand, to his eyes and back again. Hesitantly she took it and Jake silently led her out of the kitchen and down one of the hallways into the wing where Giles lived. The wing that was off limits.
"Wait, Jake. We can't go there. Mr. Wy-Wyndam-Price said Mr. Giles' quarters were-" Jake turned and put a finger to his lips gesturing for her to be quiet and she immediately abided. Tara's cheeks colored a nice shade of pink and she lowered her head, staring at her own laces.
With a finger under her chin, Jake encouraged her to look up to his face again. He looked back and forth from her two blue-gray eyes. "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours" He stepped back a couple of feet and Tara's eyes instinctually fluttered from the lack of contact. "Look at me," he said, opening his arms for an inspection and with a little gesture? Twitch? of his arms. "I'm the janitor, I have all access, so if you're with me you have nothing to worry about. Besides, I just wanna show you a safe place, a place I can promise you none of the creepy crawlers can get to you"
Jake turned and Tara followed. They entered what looked like a miniature library. Bookshelves, a few recliners a coffee table and a fireplace. A kind of big and a little out of place fireplace. It had two ornate miniature gargoyles fixed on the mantle, which combined with the black iron of it made it look sort of creepy. Jake walked over to the left of the gargoyles and turned it ninety degrees so it was facing the other gargoyle. The sound emanating from the fireplace was like two heavy stones were being ground together.
Tara let out a yelp that Jake didn't seem to hear. He crouched a little bit to fit into the fireplace's opening and reached his hand out for Tara to hold onto again. Tara on the other hand stood still, a little bit baffled. She couldn't push off the feeling that she had suddenly arrived in a movie, or some big mystery book. Who on earth really had secret passages? Rupert Giles apparently.
"Come on, nothing in here's gonna hurt you. Nothing to worry about. Unless you're in a really bad way claustrophobic too, but even then it's gonna be alright in just a few, you'll see," Jake tried to convince her.
Tara only shook her head and took his hand, closed her eyes and let Jake guide her. She heard a little rustling and then the same grinding sound as the wall slipped back in place behind her.
"You can open your eyes now. Not gonna see much 'till I manage to light up the place though" Tara heard Jake's soothing voice from a couple of feet away. She heard a match light and a second after Jake could bee seen shadowing the first of the big wax candles that were surrounding the room. One by one he lighted them all until the room was illuminated with a soft light. There were no windows, but it was large enough to put any claustrophobia to ease.
Unlike the rest of the house the room wasn't decorated in a very strict and clean way. Feminine would maybe be an exaggeration, but the room had throw pillows and what looked like a functioning fireplace. It looked sort of like a romantic getaway.
"This was decorated by Jenny, the mistress of the house before she passed away," Jake answered Tara's unspoken question. He sat down and leaned back against one of the cushions "See, this rooms sealed off, only connected to the library outside and a passage way through there" he pointed to what looked like a crack in the wall. "You're perfectly safe here. If you're ever worried you come hide away here. Giles has never come in here after Jenny died. It can be your safe place," he finished gently. Tara offered him a bright smile in gratitude and sat down.
Jake seemed amerced in his hot chocolate, and Tara took the opportunity to observe him as they both sat quietly on the cushions. He had a kind of long face, but in a nice way, not in a stretched out noodle kind of way. His head was covered with messy dirty blond hair, and one strand near his ear stubbornly stuck up. As he watched, he absentmindedly smoothed in back and sighed as it bounced out of place again.
He saw her looking at him and gave her a quick smile, and Tara shyly looked away, but not before getting a good glimpse of his light brown eyes. She usually thought blue was the prettiest color, especially the bright blue some lucky people got, but on Jake…brown looked pretty darn good.
"We should be heading back," he spoke up softly, causing Tara's eyes to dart back to him. "But now you'll know where this place is, in case you need to get away."
Tara followed him out the secret passageway, and he led the way to her corridor. When they reached her door, he gave her a last smile and wave, and turned to go.
"Hey Jake?" she called softly. "Thanks."
Laughing, he winked at her.
"Was my pleasure."
Tara watched him walk down the hallway until he turned, smiling to herself. When she lost sight of his back, she shook her head, and opened the door, only to narrowly avoid smashing into Buffy.
"Shit!" Buffy squealed, grabbing hold of the door to keep herself from falling.
Giggling, Tara helped her up, and they righted themselves.
"I was just going to find you," Buffy said, frowning. "I got back, and no one was here."
"Oh! I was…well, after the snake, when Spike went off after you – did he find you, by the way?"
"Uh…yeah. Made me go with him to find some cigarettes too, that's why I'm so late."
Frowning, Tara checked her watch.
"If you just got back, you've been gone a long time…"
Buffy yawned, suddenly very interested in her bed coverings.
"It's really late," she said, yawning again. "And we've got to be up way too early tomorrow."
"Right," Tara agreed, tactfully stopping the conversation. "Night Buffy, I'll see you in the morning."
***