Chapter Four
"What'd you say your name was?" Anya asked the blonde as they made their way down the empty hallway.
"Buffy," she answered. The name sounded strange to Elizabeth. It was normal, she guessed. After being called Elizabeth her whole life, Buffy would take some getting used to.
"Right. Anyway, here's your place," Anya told her, opening the door to reveal an average sized apartment. "Living area, kitchen, two bedrooms, one bathroom."
Buffy's eyes widened at the quality of the place. Or rather, lack thereof. It was not what she was used to. The walls were void of the expensive paintings, they were just plain white. Dust covered the floor. The place looked old. Cramped, compared to her old place. My room was bigger than this entire apartment, she thought to herself.
Her shock and distaste must have been written all over her face, because Anya said, "I know it's not your regular Four Seasons Hotel, Buffy. But hey, it's got all the living essentials: running water, electricity, all the works. And it's not as pricey as those other places."
She's right. Maybe it's not what you're used to, but at least you don't have to deal with your parents anymore, a voice inside her whispered. "Yeah. Um. Thanks, Anya."
"No problem. Just gotta go through some rules with you. Hmmm. There's only one. You have to pay the rent on time. Got it?"
Buffy nodded, gripping her purse strap as if it were her life preserver.
Anya smiled. "Good. Anything else you wanna do, go ahead. As long as it doesn't take anything away from my profit. Oh! And if you have sex, make sure you're not too loud. The people around you will complain and then they might want to leave. Which means less money for me." She stopped and pondered what she had said for a moment. "Unless, you know, it's one of those orgasisms. You know where you just can't hold your screams. And he's driving into you like there's no tomorrow and you just want him to go harder so you scream and...do you get what I'm saying?"
I never knew a person was this direct. "Um. Yeah. I'll, uh. Be sure to. Um. Yeah," Buffy stuttered.
Anya nodded. "Good. Rent is due on the fifteenth. Don't forget. If you have any other questions, just ask, I'll be downstairs." With that, she walked off.
With a sigh, Buffy walked into her new place and closed the door behind her. It was around six in the morning, the first rays of dawn were beginning to shine through the windows, giving the apartment some light.
Last night, after her hair had been cut, she went to a different hair place to get her hair dyed. Deciding she needed contacts, she went and got some blue ones. Then she got a new ID. She looked through newspapers to find a place to crash, only to end up here. The paper had said it was cheap. The landlady, Anya told her they had about seven people rooming here, including her. Buffy suspected the reason they didn't get many people was because of the condition this place was in and the fact that the person running it seemed no older than twenty. Frankly, it didn't matter to Buffy how old the landlady was. Anya seemed to know what she was doing, she was direct, and most importantly, she didn't ask questions about who Buffy was.
"I need some furniture," Buffy said to herself.
After changing out of her black attire into some casual shorts and a pale blue tank top, she fixed
up her make-up and her hair. Looking into the mirror for a final inspection, she realized she hardly
recognized herself. That's a good thing, Liz, a voice told her. She automatically wanted to
kick herself when she realized what she said. Not Liz. Not Elizabeth. Buffy. BUFFY. Shaking her
head Buffy, grabbed her purse, locked the door, and left.
A man descended down the stairs two steps at a time. His platinum, almost white, blonde hair clashing with his black clad body. The black shirt he wore was tight enough for you to see his hard worked abs. Black jeans hung on his hips. Striking blue eyes scanned his surroundings, looking for nothing in particular.
"Morning, Demon Girl," Spike greeted, British accent obvious, as he walked up to the front desk.
Anya looked up from her computer and sent a glare Spike's way. "Stop calling me that."
Spike sent her an amused look. "You deserve it after what you did last ye-."
"Is that never talking about it again?" Anya cut him off.
The platinum blonde man laughed. "Anything new?"
"We got a new girl in the building," Anya informed him, going back to her computer to finish checking her stocks.
An eyebrow raised in curiosity. "She worth talking about?"
Still engrossed in her stocks, Anya didn't look at Spike. "She's interesting. I guess."
"Care to elaborate, pet?"
Anya shrugged. "She's very conservative."
"Conservative?"
"She wore all black. I swear, I think she had on about four layers of clothing. Doesn't talk much either."
"Oh," Spike said, a bit disappointed. They needed some excitement around here.
"She left about four hours ago. Didn't say where, though," Anya continued.
"The chit knows her way around already?"
"This is Sunnydale, Spike. There's not much to find."
Spike opened his mouth say something, but the sound of the door opening stopped him. Both he and Anya looked toward the door, only to find that a petite blonde woman with shopping bags had walked in, making her way toward them.
"Hey, Anya. I'm gonna have some people delivering furniture soon, so when they come, could you just send them up to my apartment?" the girl asked politely, not taking off her sunglasses.
While Anya and the girl talked, Spike took the chance to look the girl over. Pretty thing, she was. She wore a pair of short, khaki shorts that showed off her golden skin and shapely legs. A flimsy blue tank top exposed more of her skin to him. Pouty lips. Cute nose. Her chin length hair was a golden blonde color that looked suspiciously bottle bought. Her eyes were covered with the sunglasses, so he couldn't tell what color they were.
He hadn't realized he was staring until the girl asked him, "You okay?"
"Yeah. Sorry. I'm Spike," he told her, extending his hand.
She took it with a smile. "I'm Buffy."
An eyebrow raised at the sound of her name. "Buffy?"
"Yeah. Buffy," she said. "You got a problem with it?"
Spike smirked.
Buffy smirked back at him, making him laugh.
"So what brings you to Sunnydale, pet?"
She shrugged. "Definitely not the excitement."
Author's Note: I know Spike meeting Buffy wasn't the most romantic scene in the world. But I don't believe
in love at first sight. I seriously don't believe that Spike can just look at Buffy and be like, "Oh my God! I'm
in love with her!" and vise versa. Sure, he thinks she's pretty. But I think he has to get to know her a little more
than three seconds to realize that he likes her. Anyway, be sure to review and tell me what you think.