~
Three weeks later, Willow knocked on Buffy's Sunnydale apartment door.
"Buffy? You comin' out?"
From inside the apartment, Buffy finished her last layer of mascara and smiled into the reflection, which soon crumbled.
"Damn." She breathed in and glared at herself in the mirror, "Get it together, Summers. So you didn't get Newsweek on your first shot. I'm sure it's happened before. Now, you need a job, which equals experience." She heard Willow knock more feverishly. "Be right there, Will!" She yelled, grabbing her purse.
~
2 hours and 34 minutes later, Buffy waltzed into a large office building, full of confidence.
Buffy was slightly surprised when she entered the actual offices at the magazine. It had a bright, cheery atmosphere, with lots of open space. She frowned gently. If she hadn't known the magazine, she would have wanted to work there in a heart beat.
"Miss Summers?" A young, blonde woman walked up beside her.
"Yes?" Buffy asked. The woman visibly brightened.
"Oh! Hello! I'm Anya Jenkins; I'll be one of your superiors. If you work here, that is. If not, then I'll just be some lady on the street. Mr. Reynolds will be with you in a moment." That said, Anya briskly stepped into an office. Buffy blinked and shook her head. Anya poked her head out again.
"We're ready for you now, Miss Summers."
Buffy forced a smile and entered the office, which was large yet plain, the only main focal point being a desk with a messy awry of papers, photographs of various model-gorgeous women, and knick-knacks she assumed were just for decoration.
Sitting behind the desk, Buffy noticed, was a strikingly handsome man...pallid skin with sculpted cheekbones that went all the way up to the ceiling, piercing blue eyes hidden underneath black eyebrows, one with a white scar going through it. Contrasting with his eyebrows was slick-backed platinum hair. Normally, Buffy would have thought 'Billy Idol wannabe much?' but the guy pulled it off effortlessly.
It just seemed to work for him.
Currently, the hottie, who Buffy assumed was Mr. Reynolds, was playing with one of the said knick-knacks...four metallic balls that hung from light strings, held on a black stand. The man picked up one of them and swung it towards the others. The fourth ball, the one on the opposite end of the one he had swung, popped out and hit the others, causing the ball he had picked up to swing out again and hit the others. Buffy found herself mesmerized by the constant movement of the balls, until Mr. Reynolds grabbed all four, in order to settle them. He glanced up at Buffy. He rustled through the dross on his desk and pulled out two resumes.
"Now...are you Buffy or Cindy?" He asked. Buffy was taken aback for a moment when she heard the British accent inflect his voice, but mentally shook herself and cleared her throat.
"Uh, Buffy." He nodded and put one of the papers down. He looked up and smiled at Buffy.
"'Ello. Name's William Reynolds, but no one calls me that, cuz let's face it; William is a pounce's name. Everyone 'round these parts call me Spike." Buffy nodded and extended her hand.
"Nice to meet you, er, Spike." He smiled again and took her hand, giving it an extra little squeeze, making the back of Buffy's neck heat up, despite herself.
"Pleasure's all mine." He cooed. Anya just rolled her eyes.
"Could we please just interview her? I have a meeting on multiple orgasms in a few minutes." Seeing Buffy's eyes widen, Spike laughed.
"It's a story-idea meeting, pet." Buffy nodded, but scrunched her eyebrows.
"Let's see...you went to UC Sunnydale, great school from what I've heard, got the highest GPA in your class, brilliant recommendations...can I ask you a question?"
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"
Spike smirked.
"Why are you considering S&M as a career option?" He asked.
"Because I didn't get a Newsweek internship and the other offers I had when I graduated had already replaced me. Why else would I come here?" Buffy blurted out before she could stop herself. She eeped and closed her eyes, covering her mouth with her hand.
"I can't believe I just said that. I am sooo sorry." Spike's smirk just widened.
"'S alright, luv. I like rude women." Anya sent a hard glare his way at that comment. Spike pretended to ignore it.
He stood up and extended his hand towards Buffy.
"We'd love to have you aboard, Miss Summers." Buffy pursed her lips.
"That was quick." Buffy replied. Spike sighed.
"Truth is, pet, one of our best writer's just left. We've been in some serious barney since then...she gave the woman's point of view; not the most...politically correct job, granted. But our readers ate it up. Which is why we need a quick replacement. You're smart, a bit rude, can write, and you have a 'lil bit of Cordy's style. Readers would accept you almost instantaneously." Buffy nodded, impressed by Spike's honesty.
"Okay." Buffy said, taking his hand, which was re-extended. Spike's face broke out into a huge grin.
"You'll start next Monday. We'll negotiate your contract then. We'll probably start you out around $60,000...since you're just startin' out. But we'll work that out later." Buffy just nodded again.
"Bye now!" Anya said, waving. Buffy, taking this as her cue to skeedaddle, walked out, after said a few more courteous good-byes and even a mustered out "Thank you."
Anya closed the door after Buffy and then slowly turned around to glare at Spike.
"What are you glarin' at, Anya?"
Anya crossed her arms.
"A guy who could really fuck up his job if he touches that girl." Spike spared her a glance.
"'Scuse me?"
"Oh, don't play dumb."
"Not playin', pet. I'm genuinely dumb."
Anya clucked her tongue against the back of her teeth.
"I saw that look in your eyes. You were planning on giving Buffy a taste of your Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am recipe."
Spike just shrugged, purposefully avoiding her gaze.
"Was not."
"You said she had a touch of Cordy's style. Cordy was half-way in love with you. You had intercourse with Cordy. You left. Then she did, making us look for new writers. Now you're gonna do the same thing to Buffy."
"Just cuz I had sex with Cordelia doesn't mean I'm gonna fuck every girl with a pretty face that comes my way."
Anya raised her eyebrow.
"What about Jenna, Sylvia, Harmony, Tyra, DeAnna, Molly, Cara, Kelly, Sara, Cheryl, Tanya, Lindsey, Alexandra, Courtney..."
"Okay! Okay! I get the bloody point! And I never had sex with Kelly or DeAnna."
Anya just snorted.
~
"Yay! Go Buffy!" Willow exclaimed for the fifth time as she, Oz, and Xander helped her begin to pack her things. The friends had spent Tuesday-Saturday searching for and securing the perfect LA apartment for Buffy. It was now Sunday and Buffy was going to officially move in to her new apartment on Wednesday, meaning they needed to pack like a quartet of maniacs.
"Guys, it's just a job. Nothing to freak out about." Buffy said, wishing that they would stop asking about it. So far, she had easily avoided saying the name of *shudder* HER magazine. But she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep going.
"Buffy, I'm confused about something." Oz said. Buffy thought, "I know you're going to work for a magazine in LA, but I still haven't exactly caught the name of the magazine."
"Um, Sanders and Martisan." She said, biting the bullet, praying to God that they wouldn't figure it out.
"Sanders and Martisan? Never heard of it." Willow said.
"Yeah, well..." Buffy started, when she saw Xander's eyes widen.
"Hold up. Sanders and Martisan...you're not talking about S&M, are you?!" Buffy winced.
"Please don't call it S&M, I'm trying to keep some kind of dignity."
"S&M? Buffy, that's so..." Willow started.
"Below me?" Buffy asked, "I know. But I don't really have much of a choice. I was an idiot about turning down the offers I originally had.
"Well, I'm not sure how much my opinion will count for, but I think it'll be good for you. Sucking up your pride and all that." Oz commented.
"Could I meet the models?" Xander piped up. Buffy laughed aloud and nodded.
"I could arrange something." She stopped herself, "Only in a non-brothel sense." Xander snapped his fingers in mock-disappointment.
"Better luck next time, bro." Oz deadpanned, laying a consoling hand on his friend's shoulder. Buffy laughed again and looked at Willow, who had placed a plastic smile on her face, but her eyes betrayed her.
"Wills. I'm just gonna be there for three or four months tops. I just need a job to keep me going. My mom more or less informed me that if I come begging to her for money, especially considering the talent I possess, she'd kick my ass. I'm just doing this to get experience so I can move up on the writing food chain." Willow nodded.
"Promise that you won't stay there for long?" Buffy shook her head incredulously.
"Of course, I promise! Why the hell would I stay there?"
~
"Now this'll be your office" Spike led Buffy to a desk that stood adjacent to Anya's physical office.
"Problem. My office seems to be missing its walls." She said, looking at her new employer. Spike smirked and shook his head.
"None of the writers have an actual office. We think it helps the flow of creativity." Buffy smiled. Spike was tempted to just lean in and nibble on her pouty little bottom lip, but somehow restrained himself, remembering Anya's lecture.
"I figured. I was just teasing. Now, should I get to work on something?"
Spike broke himself out of his reverie and nodded starkly.
"Your first assignment will be on pick-up lines that women hate and love."
"There are pick-up lines women love?" Buffy asked.
"I don't bloody know. You better find *something,* though. Our readers won't accept a Just-Be-Yourself piece of crap."
Buffy took a Post-It note and scribbled down all of Spike's instructions and looked up at him.
"Question. I read some of the old S&Ms this past week and I noticed that Cordelia Chase wrote a column. Am I going to be...?"
"Yeah. You'll also do some independent pieces, but this is for your column. Is that a problem?"
"Uh...no. No. Not at all." Spike gave her a little half-smirk.
"Good. Now, get to work, luv." He gave her a little wink and then retreated to his office, across the room. Buffy sighed and opened up her iBook, when she heard a throat clear behind her. Buffy glanced up and saw Anya standing next to her desk.
"Hi. Can I help you?" Buffy asked. Anya motioned for her to enter her office. Buffy followed.
Once inside, Anya smiled at Buffy and sat her down.
"You're a woman." Anya said. Buffy nodded, her face clearly reading 'Thank you, Captain Obvious.'
"You're a woman," Anya reiterated, "So, I'm sure you like pleasure. Orgasms, I'm talking about." Buffy practically choked on her own saliva.
"What?!"
"Orgasms. You like orgasms. Unless you're a virgin. Are you a virgin?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but no." Buffy replied, the situation seeming all too surreal for her.
"Good. Then you'll understand what I'm talking about. Now, Spike. He could give you many, many orgasms. All in one night."
Buffy widened her eyes.
"But don't let him. Do not have sex with him. He'll just leave you. But not until he makes you fall head over heals in love with him. Then he'll seduce you and the two of you will fornicate. Then he'll leave around 3 a.m. and you'll barely ever get another word out of him ever again."
Buffy sat there shell-shocked, but quickly shook herself out of her stupor.
"So, wait. He's a womanizer?"
"He gives women many, many orgasms and then up and leaves." Buffy bit the inside of her lip.
"Why?" She asked. Anya was taken aback.
"Well, I guess...either he just likes sex a lot or maybe it has something to do with...well, I shouldn't be telling you this, but what the hell...he had this ex-girlfriend, Drusilla."
"Drusilla? Were her parents drunk?"
"Buffy? Were *your* parents drunk?" Anya countered.
"Continue." Buffy said with a flip of her hand.
"Sorry, but I used to be friends with her. Anyway, the man worshipped her. He adored her, called her his 'black princess'. However, he was always consumed by his work, as well. So, Drusilla made him choose between her and the magazine. He told her that he just couldn't give up her livelihood and then she left. He was heartbroken and began to sleep with every girl who came his way, trying to turn himself into the quintessential bachelor. And, hey, it worked!"
"Wow. Poor guy." Buffy said, a pang of pity go through her body, "Not that it excuses his behavior."
"Absolutely not." Anya agreed. Buffy smiled and stood up, ready to leave, but she turned around.
"Why did you warn me?"
"Because he's attracted to you." Anya answered simply. Buffy nodded and then stepped out of the room.
~
Three weeks later, Willow knocked on Buffy's Sunnydale apartment door.
"Buffy? You comin' out?"
From inside the apartment, Buffy finished her last layer of mascara and smiled into the reflection, which soon crumbled.
"Damn." She breathed in and glared at herself in the mirror, "Get it together, Summers. So you didn't get Newsweek on your first shot. I'm sure it's happened before. Now, you need a job, which equals experience." She heard Willow knock more feverishly. "Be right there, Will!" She yelled, grabbing her purse.
~
2 hours and 34 minutes later, Buffy waltzed into a large office building, full of confidence.
Buffy was slightly surprised when she entered the actual offices at the magazine. It had a bright, cheery atmosphere, with lots of open space. She frowned gently. If she hadn't known the magazine, she would have wanted to work there in a heart beat.
"Miss Summers?" A young, blonde woman walked up beside her.
"Yes?" Buffy asked. The woman visibly brightened.
"Oh! Hello! I'm Anya Jenkins; I'll be one of your superiors. If you work here, that is. If not, then I'll just be some lady on the street. Mr. Reynolds will be with you in a moment." That said, Anya briskly stepped into an office. Buffy blinked and shook her head. Anya poked her head out again.
"We're ready for you now, Miss Summers."
Buffy forced a smile and entered the office, which was large yet plain, the only main focal point being a desk with a messy awry of papers, photographs of various model-gorgeous women, and knick-knacks she assumed were just for decoration.
Sitting behind the desk, Buffy noticed, was a strikingly handsome man...pallid skin with sculpted cheekbones that went all the way up to the ceiling, piercing blue eyes hidden underneath black eyebrows, one with a white scar going through it. Contrasting with his eyebrows was slick-backed platinum hair. Normally, Buffy would have thought 'Billy Idol wannabe much?' but the guy pulled it off effortlessly.
It just seemed to work for him.
Currently, the hottie, who Buffy assumed was Mr. Reynolds, was playing with one of the said knick-knacks...four metallic balls that hung from light strings, held on a black stand. The man picked up one of them and swung it towards the others. The fourth ball, the one on the opposite end of the one he had swung, popped out and hit the others, causing the ball he had picked up to swing out again and hit the others. Buffy found herself mesmerized by the constant movement of the balls, until Mr. Reynolds grabbed all four, in order to settle them. He glanced up at Buffy. He rustled through the dross on his desk and pulled out two resumes.
"Now...are you Buffy or Cindy?" He asked. Buffy was taken aback for a moment when she heard the British accent inflect his voice, but mentally shook herself and cleared her throat.
"Uh, Buffy." He nodded and put one of the papers down. He looked up and smiled at Buffy.
"'Ello. Name's William Reynolds, but no one calls me that, cuz let's face it; William is a pounce's name. Everyone 'round these parts call me Spike." Buffy nodded and extended her hand.
"Nice to meet you, er, Spike." He smiled again and took her hand, giving it an extra little squeeze, making the back of Buffy's neck heat up, despite herself.
"Pleasure's all mine." He cooed. Anya just rolled her eyes.
"Could we please just interview her? I have a meeting on multiple orgasms in a few minutes." Seeing Buffy's eyes widen, Spike laughed.
"It's a story-idea meeting, pet." Buffy nodded, but scrunched her eyebrows.
"Let's see...you went to UC Sunnydale, great school from what I've heard, got the highest GPA in your class, brilliant recommendations...can I ask you a question?"
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"
Spike smirked.
"Why are you considering S&M as a career option?" He asked.
"Because I didn't get a Newsweek internship and the other offers I had when I graduated had already replaced me. Why else would I come here?" Buffy blurted out before she could stop herself. She eeped and closed her eyes, covering her mouth with her hand.
"I can't believe I just said that. I am sooo sorry." Spike's smirk just widened.
"'S alright, luv. I like rude women." Anya sent a hard glare his way at that comment. Spike pretended to ignore it.
He stood up and extended his hand towards Buffy.
"We'd love to have you aboard, Miss Summers." Buffy pursed her lips.
"That was quick." Buffy replied. Spike sighed.
"Truth is, pet, one of our best writer's just left. We've been in some serious barney since then...she gave the woman's point of view; not the most...politically correct job, granted. But our readers ate it up. Which is why we need a quick replacement. You're smart, a bit rude, can write, and you have a 'lil bit of Cordy's style. Readers would accept you almost instantaneously." Buffy nodded, impressed by Spike's honesty.
"Okay." Buffy said, taking his hand, which was re-extended. Spike's face broke out into a huge grin.
"You'll start next Monday. We'll negotiate your contract then. We'll probably start you out around $60,000...since you're just startin' out. But we'll work that out later." Buffy just nodded again.
"Bye now!" Anya said, waving. Buffy, taking this as her cue to skeedaddle, walked out, after said a few more courteous good-byes and even a mustered out "Thank you."
Anya closed the door after Buffy and then slowly turned around to glare at Spike.
"What are you glarin' at, Anya?"
Anya crossed her arms.
"A guy who could really fuck up his job if he touches that girl." Spike spared her a glance.
"'Scuse me?"
"Oh, don't play dumb."
"Not playin', pet. I'm genuinely dumb."
Anya clucked her tongue against the back of her teeth.
"I saw that look in your eyes. You were planning on giving Buffy a taste of your Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am recipe."
Spike just shrugged, purposefully avoiding her gaze.
"Was not."
"You said she had a touch of Cordy's style. Cordy was half-way in love with you. You had intercourse with Cordy. You left. Then she did, making us look for new writers. Now you're gonna do the same thing to Buffy."
"Just cuz I had sex with Cordelia doesn't mean I'm gonna fuck every girl with a pretty face that comes my way."
Anya raised her eyebrow.
"What about Jenna, Sylvia, Harmony, Tyra, DeAnna, Molly, Cara, Kelly, Sara, Cheryl, Tanya, Lindsey, Alexandra, Courtney..."
"Okay! Okay! I get the bloody point! And I never had sex with Kelly or DeAnna."
Anya just snorted.
~
"Yay! Go Buffy!" Willow exclaimed for the fifth time as she, Oz, and Xander helped her begin to pack her things. The friends had spent Tuesday-Saturday searching for and securing the perfect LA apartment for Buffy. It was now Sunday and Buffy was going to officially move in to her new apartment on Wednesday, meaning they needed to pack like a quartet of maniacs.
"Guys, it's just a job. Nothing to freak out about." Buffy said, wishing that they would stop asking about it. So far, she had easily avoided saying the name of *shudder* HER magazine. But she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep going.
"Buffy, I'm confused about something." Oz said. Buffy thought, "I know you're going to work for a magazine in LA, but I still haven't exactly caught the name of the magazine."
"Um, Sanders and Martisan." She said, biting the bullet, praying to God that they wouldn't figure it out.
"Sanders and Martisan? Never heard of it." Willow said.
"Yeah, well..." Buffy started, when she saw Xander's eyes widen.
"Hold up. Sanders and Martisan...you're not talking about S&M, are you?!" Buffy winced.
"Please don't call it S&M, I'm trying to keep some kind of dignity."
"S&M? Buffy, that's so..." Willow started.
"Below me?" Buffy asked, "I know. But I don't really have much of a choice. I was an idiot about turning down the offers I originally had.
"Well, I'm not sure how much my opinion will count for, but I think it'll be good for you. Sucking up your pride and all that." Oz commented.
"Could I meet the models?" Xander piped up. Buffy laughed aloud and nodded.
"I could arrange something." She stopped herself, "Only in a non-brothel sense." Xander snapped his fingers in mock-disappointment.
"Better luck next time, bro." Oz deadpanned, laying a consoling hand on his friend's shoulder. Buffy laughed again and looked at Willow, who had placed a plastic smile on her face, but her eyes betrayed her.
"Wills. I'm just gonna be there for three or four months tops. I just need a job to keep me going. My mom more or less informed me that if I come begging to her for money, especially considering the talent I possess, she'd kick my ass. I'm just doing this to get experience so I can move up on the writing food chain." Willow nodded.
"Promise that you won't stay there for long?" Buffy shook her head incredulously.
"Of course, I promise! Why the hell would I stay there?"
~
"Now this'll be your office" Spike led Buffy to a desk that stood adjacent to Anya's physical office.
"Problem. My office seems to be missing its walls." She said, looking at her new employer. Spike smirked and shook his head.
"None of the writers have an actual office. We think it helps the flow of creativity." Buffy smiled. Spike was tempted to just lean in and nibble on her pouty little bottom lip, but somehow restrained himself, remembering Anya's lecture.
"I figured. I was just teasing. Now, should I get to work on something?"
Spike broke himself out of his reverie and nodded starkly.
"Your first assignment will be on pick-up lines that women hate and love."
"There are pick-up lines women love?" Buffy asked.
"I don't bloody know. You better find *something,* though. Our readers won't accept a Just-Be-Yourself piece of crap."
Buffy took a Post-It note and scribbled down all of Spike's instructions and looked up at him.
"Question. I read some of the old S&Ms this past week and I noticed that Cordelia Chase wrote a column. Am I going to be...?"
"Yeah. You'll also do some independent pieces, but this is for your column. Is that a problem?"
"Uh...no. No. Not at all." Spike gave her a little half-smirk.
"Good. Now, get to work, luv." He gave her a little wink and then retreated to his office, across the room. Buffy sighed and opened up her iBook, when she heard a throat clear behind her. Buffy glanced up and saw Anya standing next to her desk.
"Hi. Can I help you?" Buffy asked. Anya motioned for her to enter her office. Buffy followed.
Once inside, Anya smiled at Buffy and sat her down.
"You're a woman." Anya said. Buffy nodded, her face clearly reading 'Thank you, Captain Obvious.'
"You're a woman," Anya reiterated, "So, I'm sure you like pleasure. Orgasms, I'm talking about." Buffy practically choked on her own saliva.
"What?!"
"Orgasms. You like orgasms. Unless you're a virgin. Are you a virgin?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but no." Buffy replied, the situation seeming all too surreal for her.
"Good. Then you'll understand what I'm talking about. Now, Spike. He could give you many, many orgasms. All in one night."
Buffy widened her eyes.
"But don't let him. Do not have sex with him. He'll just leave you. But not until he makes you fall head over heals in love with him. Then he'll seduce you and the two of you will fornicate. Then he'll leave around 3 a.m. and you'll barely ever get another word out of him ever again."
Buffy sat there shell-shocked, but quickly shook herself out of her stupor.
"So, wait. He's a womanizer?"
"He gives women many, many orgasms and then up and leaves." Buffy bit the inside of her lip.
"Why?" She asked. Anya was taken aback.
"Well, I guess...either he just likes sex a lot or maybe it has something to do with...well, I shouldn't be telling you this, but what the hell...he had this ex-girlfriend, Drusilla."
"Drusilla? Were her parents drunk?"
"Buffy? Were *your* parents drunk?" Anya countered.
"Continue." Buffy said with a flip of her hand.
"Sorry, but I used to be friends with her. Anyway, the man worshipped her. He adored her, called her his 'black princess'. However, he was always consumed by his work, as well. So, Drusilla made him choose between her and the magazine. He told her that he just couldn't give up her livelihood and then she left. He was heartbroken and began to sleep with every girl who came his way, trying to turn himself into the quintessential bachelor. And, hey, it worked!"
"Wow. Poor guy." Buffy said, a pang of pity go through her body, "Not that it excuses his behavior."
"Absolutely not." Anya agreed. Buffy smiled and stood up, ready to leave, but she turned around.
"Why did you warn me?"
"Because he's attracted to you." Anya answered simply. Buffy nodded and then stepped out of the room.
~