Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to nephilim. I don't know if he/she reads this story or not, but if not for them I would have pulled all my stories from ff.net the morning after I received this at best tactless and at worst downright ignorant review.
"Hmmm, I'm quite dissapointed. I was reading this story on spuffyarchives.com, then came here in the hopes that there would be an update closer than TWO FREAKING WEEKS AGO!!!!! So, I have two words for you: Update NOW."
Fan fiction is supposed to be about fun and when I first started writing for ff.net it was. It always has been and is probably always going to be a medium where the majority of readers are silent. The difference is that less than a year ago the majority of people who did review (and there were a lot more of them) were mature fellow writers. With the NC17 ban it seems that the most of those people have abandoned ff.net. Now, apparently the vocal minority are wilfully immature and at best tactless and at worst totally ignorant. The writers don't get paid to put their work out there for people to read. They do it in their "spare" time.
Fortunately, in this case, the two week delay between postings was simply because I have been busy with other projects, so busy that in fact I hadn't and still haven't actually had time to read anything on ff.net. (In fact I've been busy getting my new website off the ground. It's now pretty much up and running at www.he-s-no-angel.net though there are still improvements to be made.)
Had the delay between chapters been due to any more personal reason, I'm sure I would have found the above review more upsetting, as it was it merely served to make me angry. Reading someone's work doesn't give people the right to take the sort of attitude displayed above. Imagine someone who had been recently bereaved being treated to the above harangue. As a reader, however impatient I may be, I always try to bear in mind that the writers have real lives too. I certainly didn't publish this chapter any quicker because of the above, in fact I made sure it would be updated elsewhere first.
Thanks to nephilim's review I was reminded that most of the people reading this won't review one way or the other. That's a position I want you to think about if you are one of these people, because as long as you remain silent you're letting people like the reviewer above represent you.
Like I said at the start, writing and reading ff is meant to be fun. It's not supposed to give you sleepless nights because you're so mad at what some infantile twerp has to say. Unfortunately, I've realised that the sense of community that once made it fun to write for ff.net no longer exists and to paraphrase the film The Crow, when something isn't fun any more, that's the only reason to stop. So, any new stories I start work on won't be published here. I don't want reviews or e-mails about this. If you enjoy my work enough then you'll be able to find all of it at The Crypt or my own site. If not, then enjoy what's left of this and it's been nice "knowing" you.
Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy and all the other members of the Sunnydale crowd belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Fox, and so on, and so on. Grosse Point Blank was written by Tom Jankiewicz, D V deVincentis, S K Boatman & the vastly talented John Cusack. It is of course owned by Hollywood pictures and Caravan Pictures and not me. I'm ripping them both off for no profit whatsoever, other than the happies I may get when and if you lovely people review.
Chapter 8The small figure receded into the distance, leaving Spike alone once more. Once, he would have been quite content in his isolation. Lately it had begun to wear on him. For a few seconds, he contemplated the cell-phone in his pocket before he pulled it free and dialled the once familiar number of the local radio station.
"WFSC. Bringing you all eighties all weekend. How can we help you?"
"Buffy, it's Spike."
"Well, hello."
"Look, pet. Before... Things, well. I kinda had this plan as to how things might go, an' well that wasn't really..."
Buffy gave a ladylike snort, if such a thing was possible. "Really? It was exactly how I planned it."
"Look, luv. D'you think, maybe, we could meet up, talk about things in private rather than with an audience of thousands?"
"I talk all day, Spike."
"Okay, well maybe I could talk and you could listen," Spike suggested. "What about we meet up for a drink? Assuming you're not on the air twenty-four hours a day every day..."
Buffy sighed, unsure if she wanted to re-open this particular door. "I'm off in half an hour. I suppose you still remember your way to the Bronze?"
"Sure. I could meet you at the station? Walk you over there?"
Buffy gave another sigh. "Whatever..."
Suddenly lighter of step, Spike strolled over to his car, which was still parked in the street across from the inferno that had once been a supermarket, untouched by the mayhem mere yards away. A glance in his rear-view mirror confirmed that the station wagon was following on behind.
~+~
Spike's hand itched to grasp hers, the feeling of being alongside her without touching making him feel somehow incomplete.
"So?"
"What?" Spike stumbled caught unawares.
"So what happened? So where did you go? So why did you leave me like that? So why prom night?" The stream of questions came out more like accusations. "Take your pick... No, don't take your pick. Answer them all. I want to know. I think I have a right to know."
Spike swallowed. "Okay, pet. But what say you, we wait till I at least have some liquor to dull the pain from the broken nose I'll likely end up with?"
Rather than draw attention, Spike paid the cover charge for both of them, even though the small, engraved plaque above the door still proclaimed that his uncle was the establishment's proprietor.
"So what's your poison then, pet?"
"Gin, double, bitter lemon, tall glass, two cubes of ice."
Spike looked over to the bartender to ensure he'd caught the order and added his own, "and a double Jack straight up." Spike threw a few bills on the bar and jerked his head in the direction of a sofa situated in the corner of the room. "We'll be over there when they're ready, and we'll take an order of spicy chicken wings and one of them bloomin' onion thingies if you still do them."
"Sure, sir. I'll have someone bring them right over."
Spike's hand brushed against her elbow as they made their way over to the corner of the room. Even that inadvertent touch sent a pulse of electricity through his whole body, and if he judged correctly, Buffy's shiver showed it wasn't just his body that remembered how things used to be.
Buffy waited till the drinks arrived, using the time to search the face of the man in front of her for traces of the youth she had once known. "So, Spike. What really happened then?"
Spike to a large swig from the glass in front of him wondering how he could ever explain his actions of a decade ago. "I guess I kinda flipped out. Joined the army."
Buffy's eyes became incredibly larger and rounder. "On prom night? You? How on earth did you... Mr Earring And Eyeliner? You joined the army."
"Yeah, well, it sort of seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Yeah, prom night. You pick prom night to enlist. That's... psychotic."
Spike merely shrugged. "What about you? You got married... That... I mean... That's a pretty big deal."
"People do it all the time. In fact I'd say there are more people our age who've been married than not." Buffy tried to curb her irritation at his all too correct assumption, that she'd married someone she'd loved less than him. How long were you supposed to stay alone?
"So, I mean... If it's not too personal a question? What happened?"
Buffy took a long slow sip of her drink as the answer ran through her brain. 'He wasn't you. He just wasn't you.' She shrugged as she replaced the glass on the tabletop. "I wasn't happy with where I was in my life. I guess I thought getting married was part of what was missing, but then it turned out I didn't end up somewhere better, just somewhere different. But let's get back to this army deal... Do you have any idea what you disappearing like that did to me? How long I spent on this masochistic cycle of self-examination wondering what the hell I did to make you just up and disappear like that?"
"Nothin', pet. It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault. It was just... It seemed like something I had to do."
"Now, you tell me. Do you know how much you could have saved me on therapy bills if you'd stuck around long enough to tell me that ten years ago?"
"I know it doesn't make any sense, pet."
"You know I kind of made up all these little scenarios, where maybe you'd been kidnapped, or brainwashed or murdered...at least I hoped that was what had happened." Buffy worked on keeping her voice cool.
Spike smirked. "Sorry to disappoint you, love."
"So, come on just what have you been doing for the last ten years."
Spike shrugged, as if to say there was nothing of note.
"You must have had some sort of worthwhile experience in the last decade."
"Bad experiences."
"Met some people..."
"Bad people," Spike replied. A small smile forced Buffy's lips to curl against her will and was immediately answered by one on Spike's lips.
"You know what you need, Spike. A short, sharp kick to your mental behind."
Spike smiled, and she couldn't help but notice how his eyes positively glowed. "So, well, I was thinkin' what say I pick you up around seven tomorrow night, take you to the reunion."
Buffy, sprayed a mouthful of gin across the table. "You cannot be serious, Mr Blank. You can't seriously be expecting me to go to the reunion with you as my date?"
"I don't see any reason why not?" Spike replied as if it were the most reasonable suggestion in the world.
"Well, I do. Besides I wasn't even going to go. I was just going to make fun of everybody on the radio."
"Really? Well look, say you changed your mind and wanted to go, there's no real reason why we couldn't go together. Come on, pet. Open up, a little forgiveness. Show the world how big a person you can be. I'll even be on time."
Buffy gave him an appraising glance. "Showing up would be a major improvement..." She took another sip of her drink. "I'll think about it."
Spike's smile barely made his mouth turn up at the corners, but it brought a warm glow to his eyes.
"Oh. My. God. It's Pike and Buffy." The slightly nasal voice carried across the room. "It's me Harmony. Are you guys still together? You know you guys were such a cute couple back in high school. Are you back for the reunion? Where have you been the last ten years?"
Buffy smirked. "Yeah, Pike. Where have you been?"
Spike quickly fell into a facetious routine. "Me. I work for Double Meat Palace. I sell Double Meat Medleys all over the deep south."
"You do not," replied the apparently inebriated blonde.
"Would I lie to you?" Spike asked. "Look why don't I leave you two girls to catch up while I go get us all another round of drinks? What d'you fancy?"
Harmony looked Spike up and down as if she found the idea he might be on the menu appealing. "I'll have a bloody Mary, heavy on the Worcester sauce."
Buffy held up her glass. "Same again minus the gin." When he raised his eyebrow, she added, "Still got to drive home."
The two agents busied themselves at the sink when Spike walked into the mens' room. Spike walked over to the mirror checking his hair before he washed his hands. "So, hi guys. The girl down there, she doesn't trust me any more, so basically I'm doing what I can to try to regain her trust." He moved over to the roller towel drying his hands as he continued. "I'm going back downstairs. Going to have one more drink, walk her back to her car. Probably be back at my hotel in about an hour or so. See you there?" Spike casually walked out of the restroom, leaving the two government men non-plussed.
A third man strode briskly from one of the cubicles. "That was him. That was Blank."
Immediately Forrest responded with some attitude of his own. "You think we don't know that. We are well aware of who he is. We been followin' him around for two days now."
Angelus ducked slightly to view his hairstyle in the mirror as he spoke, absently fingering the front strands into a more erect position. "You're following him. Are you gettin' paid by the hour?"
Graham intervened as the voice of reason between the pair. "If we observe the subject in the process of committing an illegal act, only then are we permitted to intervene and terminate him."
"Really?" asked Angelus sarcastically with just the tiniest hint of his old Brogue sneaking into his voice. "Why don't you just kill the little tosser?"
"Because," Graham responded from where he lounged against the wall by the door out, "we are not assassins. We are government operatives." His gaze flicked to the side. "He's coming back." Angelus ducked back into the nearest stall and Graham signalled to Forrest the pair leaving silently as soon as Angelus was out of sight.
A few silent seconds later, Angelus stalked back out of the stall, muttering under his breath. "Smartass bloody wankers."
Spike held the door open for Buffy as they left. "You know, you seem exactly the same." Buffy remarked, crossing her arms across her body in a conscious effort not to take his hand.
"You too, pet."
"How d'you mean? Screwed up?"
"Everybody's screwed up, love. It's just a matter of extent. I got some problems, don't you?"
"Sure," Buffy admitted.
"What do you do about it?"
Buffy shrugged. "I've been to the nutritionist, the herbalist, psychiatrist. You name it. It ends in ist. I've been there."
"Really?" Spike raised an eyebrow. "Any of them work?"
"Can't say yet... But a girl's gotta try."
"Well, say, how about you tell me all your problems," suggested Spike as Buffy came to a stop and turned to lean against her car. "I'll tell you all mine." He moved to close the gap between them to bare inches. "...and maybe we can solve them all ...tonight." Buffy's heart beat ten to the dozen as she shied away from him.
"No..."
Spike straightened up, allowing her to do likewise and still maintain some distance between them. His eyebrow quirked upwards and his head tilted to one side slightly, eliciting memories that pulled at her heartstrings. "No?"
"No," she responded, her voice firmer than her resolve. "Not yet. You've still got a long way to go to rebuild that bridge."
"Well, look, thanks for meeting up and not humiliating me all over again."
"So," asked Buffy, knowing the question gave away too much but unable to help herself just the same. "Is there a Mrs Lucan?"
"Nope. Just me and my cat."
"I always thought you were more of a dog person."
"Yeah, I kinda figured when I stop travelling around so much, I'll get one of them, too. Make it a matching set."
Buffy gave him another curious glance. "Are you happy?"
"Kind of," Spike hedged before looking her up his gaze caught and held hers. "At least, I think I could be happy..." Mentally, he added, 'With you. I could be happy with you.