Chapter 2: Welcome to Sunnydale
Spike dropped his luggage after he took in the whole of Sunnydale airport.
"What the hell is this? A warehouse? Knew I would hate this place." He scowled to
himself and swung around when he felt someone tapped him on the shoulder.
"Mr. William Giles, I presume?" A brunette man in a suit asked him with a
smile.
"Yeah, that's me. Who the hell are you?"
"I'm Lindsey McDonald, Lilah Morgan's friend. I'm sent here to drive you to
your new place and give you a small tour, if you like."
"Oh, alright then. Think the tour can wait though, I just need to go to sleep."
Lindsey chuckled. "I can understand that. The long flight must be wearing you out."
Spike shrugged and together they collected his luggage and walked out of the airport. "So where's the limo?"
"Uhh, if memory serves…Mr. Giles didn't order a limo for you."
Spike rolled his eyes heavenward, clenching
his jaw. "I knew coming to this place was a bad idea," he mumbled. The man next
to him only flashed him a sympathetic smile.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
He dropped his baggage in shock for the second time as soon as he saw his
pad. "What. The. Hell. Is. This?"
Lindsey stepped back slightly. "It's…an
apartment, your apartment. Brand new, actually." He answered thoughtfully.
Spike looked around the space, askance.
There was a bathroom on his right and a staircase that led to the second floor
next to it. He walked into the living room, which was right in the middle. Two
three-seated futons were placed on each side of a coffee table and a TV set on
the corner, near a glass wall that separates the room from the balcony.
Spike looked up to the second landing, examining the exposed railings that
people could jump over instead of descending the staircase - eyeing the open
space with stunned curiosity before it all sunk in. An open bedroom? An
open bedroom?!? People could easily see what he'd be doing in that room just by
simply looking up!
He shot the brunette a deadly glare. "This is brand new, you say? Has the
architect lost his mind? People can see me butt naked in that room!" He pointed
at the open space that was to become his bedroom, separated by a wall
near the staircase with rows of railings painted in black. "And look at this…"
He gestured at the couches. "They're not leather! Where the hell did you get
these?"
If Lindsey didn't know who he was, he'd already made a smart retort at that. "Well, you see, I was given a short notice to find you an apartment and this was the only one available at the moment."
Spike slumped in the couch, holding his head
with his hands, tempted to tear his hair out; instead, he let out a bitter
laugh at the irony of it all. "Oh, this is just bloody great. Really fuckin'
great! Why doesn't he just KILL me?!" He yelled as he looked up to the ceiling.
Lindsey fidgeted on his feet. Lilah had told him that the younger Giles was one
angry man, but she never mentioned that he was insane, too.
"Uh, I think I should leave you now to get some
rest." The brunette said in a gentle voice, afraid to infuriate him further.
Spike just waved his hand signalling him to go. Lindsey immediately scurried
off and closed the door with a soft click.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
"I've told you to stop calling me, Riley. God, you have problem understanding
that sentence, don't you?" Buffy rolled her eyes as she stomped her heels on
the sidewalk, one hand holding her cell phone inches away from her ear,
sickened to hear another barrage of his nauseating pleas. Once he stopped
rambling, she answered him in an irate voice and said, "Goodbye, Riley. And
STOP calling me!" She practically yelled and slammed the phone close with
disgust.
"Oof! I'm sorry." She muttered almost instantly when she bumped on someone.
"Watch where you're goin', you silly bint!" Buffy swung her head at the owner
of the angry voice.
"Well, if you use your eyes properly, maybe you could've avoided my way!" She snapped, enraged.
Spike narrowed his eyes at the young woman. God, he doesn't need this to start his second day here. "Do you even know who I am?" He drawled, then immediately regretted his outburst as he took in her appearance - blonde, stylish clothes, high heels…and brainless. His silent musings were cut off, replaced with wariness when he heard her mocking response.
"As a matter of fact, I do. You're that snotty
chairman of Giles Enterprise who fired my friend with your lame-ass excuse of a
reason!"
"Your friend? You need to be specific 'ere, luv, coz I've fired so many
useless employees of mine."
Buffy scoffed. "Of course. Maybe you don't
remember her, but here's the clue; long blonde hair in her early 20's, blue
eyes and really fragile. Not that it would remind you but her name was Tara
MacClay."
Spike frowned, trying to remember the particular girl she had described. "Oh,
that girl!" He chuckled sardonically, and tilted his head. "Well, sorry to
disappoint you, pet, but we play hard in London. We don't like wasting our time
for such a dawdling girl like her."
Buffy gasped in disbelief and rage at his statement. "God, I've never met such a cold-hearted person like you!"
"Well then, I'm honored to be the first one you
knew." A synthetic smile plastered on his handsome features as the petite
blonde opened and closed her mouth twice before brushing past him brusquely,
stomping her heels away in a huff.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
Fuck!
He kicked an imaginary object as he expressed his rage at the unfairness
that had been happening to him. He patted his jeans for cigarettes; finding
them, he lit one as he strode towards the balcony. He gripped the metal railing
and lowered his head. God, he's so damn bored! How the hell is he going to
spend another 28 days in a small quite town like this and live in an apartment
that was smaller than his old room?
"Sod it all!! And fuck you, father! I don't need this shit!" He screamed
at the top of his lungs and was soon answered by an incensed voice from
below.
"Hey, shut up! It's 3 damn o'clock in the morning and people are trying to sleep here!" Spike only rolled his eyes, bringing the cig to his mouth.
Dammit! He couldn't do this. It's just too frustrating. He needed to work, something to do rather than sit and watch the telly. Walking back inside, he grabbed the wireless phone and dialled a number. A female voice came through the other end of the line.
"I can't do this, Lilah." He said, pacing
the living room restlessly.
"Try, Spike. It'll be good for you."
"Good?!?" He gave an ironic laugh. "What good can it come from all of this? I
need to work, Lilah." He was desperate for work. "I can't
just sit here doin' nothing. And by the way, my father really has a good
sense of humor. He gave me this sodding apartment where people can see me
prancing around my room in all my naked glory." He frowned when he heard a
suppressed chuckle from the other end.
"I'm sure he didn't mean that. Oh, whom am I kidding? He did mean it and it's a good one, too."
"Lilah…" Spike snarled, his tone low and
dangerous.
"Okay, fine. Here's my suggestion…" He immediately rolled his eyes.
"Oh, great! Another suggestion."
"Do you want to survive or not?" At a beat of silence, Lilah continued.
"Call your friends and ask them to come for a visit." Another silence. "Good,
now that you understand…I have another appointment in fifteen minutes. Good
luck, Spike." She cut the line off before Spike could say anything.
He plopped back into the couch with a sigh. Maybe having his friends wouldn't
be such a bad idea. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he picked the phone again
and pressed a series of digits by heart and waited impatiently for the other
line to be picked up. As he waited, he unfolded himself, lit another cigarette
and took a much-needed drag.
First ring…second ring.
A professional British voice greeted him. "Hello, this is Wyndam-Price
residence. How may I-?"
"Yeah, yeah...cut the crap, Wes! I need you to
come to Sunnydale in 24 hours." Spike cut him off wryly. He listened to some
typing noises and frowned at the brief silent treatment his employee was giving
him as he paced around again. "Well, don't just sit there! Start organizing
everything!" He barked impatiently at the phone.
Wes only rolled his eyes. Sighing, he said, "This is a small town near Los
Angeles, correct? And if I'm not mistaken, you currently live in unit 20, 588
Crawford St.?"
Spike froze on his feet, taken aback. The only people who knew his
whereabouts at the moment were his therapist, father and stepmother. "How
did y-? Oh, never mind." Wesley might not know as many places as he did, but
with his technological skills, he could easily find every single person in
the sodding universe. "Just start packing and arrange your departure. One more
thing, if anybody ask you, tell 'em you're going on a job vacation."
Words were passed quickly in London and if he's not careful, the press
would eat it up
in no time once they knew of his situation. Spike was sure as hell did not
want that. This could easily put his family to shame and the respect
that he'd worked hard for would possibly go down the drain - and
people would be laughing at him instead. He didn't need that, especially
not from Travers Co.
Meanwhile, a small smile crept across Wesley's face at the realization of what
his boss had just said. Vacation, eh? So, that means no paperwork, no
computers or research needed. Exactly what he needed right now. His smile
soon crumpled and he glared at the phone when he heard his boss said, "Oh, and don't forget to bring your highly sophisticated
laptop with you."
Click.
Spike started dialling another number again. This time, the phone rang
unattended for a few seconds making him groan in exasperation. "Pick up
the bloody phone, you pillock!"
A groggy and irritated voice was finally heard from the receiver. "WHAT?!?
Don't you know I'm still sleeping here?!"
"For fuck's sake, Peaches, it's eleven o'clock over there and you should've been at work by now!" Spike roared at his cousin.
Angel only groaned. "I'm taking a day off
today."
"Who said you could get a day off? I'm your boss, remember?"
"Oh come on, gimme a
break here. Where the hell are you anyway?" Angel changed the subject as Spike
heaved a sigh, trying hard to contain his frustration.
"Book a ticket to Sunnydale for the next flight you can get, or just ask Wesley
to do that for you. You both need to be here in 24 hours." He paused for a
beat. "Oh, and don't forget to bring those hair gels you seem to like so much.
M'afraid you can't get 'em here."
Click.
He threw the wireless phone onto the couch and collapsed next to
it, lighting another cigarette.
