Chapter 6
Monday morning 08:50
Buffy paced around her corner office, stopping every few minutes to check the time on the clock on her office wall. Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweaty and she was having a little trouble breathing properly.
Spike Giles would be here in ten minutes and she was nervous.
She'd given in to Willow and accepted that she should at least meet this Spike Giles, and there was still in the back of her mind the thought that he might be the Spike character that had been taking up way too much of her thinking time recently. Dammit she'd never even met the guy and yet, here she was, completely nervous about seeing him, even if it was only to put her plan into operation. At least she could rid her brain of all the annoying thoughts if she did this. It probably wasn't him anyway
Willow must have suspected she'd given in too easily but as it had hit her that it might be him, she'd agreed without conscious thought.
The thing was, Willow hadn't realised what it was Buffy was agreeing to.
Willow told me I could be stubborn, mad and could sulk, well believe me I'm going to do all three.
She'd spent the rest of Saturday being perfectly civil and pleasant to her traitorous, back stabbing friends. After all she didn't want to give the game away too early on. As she and Willow had gone back into the garden and dug into the meals that Dawn had put aside for them, she'd had listened to Cordy continue to rave about the God that was Spike and she'd had plotted and schemed.
She took a quick glance at the office clock. Dammit, 08.52. Why is time going so slow?
Flash back Saturday
Buffy sat sullenly eating the wonderful meal her traitorous friends had prepared and listened, with half an ear, to the conversation continuing around her, about her new PA.
Dawn especially seemed excited and started to make all sorts of plans for them to spend some more time together. She excitedly scheduled a trip to the mall and only by years of practice of biting her tongue, did Buffy manage to keep back a response that Dawn only wanted her for her gold card. Dawn didn't deserve that. She just wanted to spend some time with her. Buffy mused that it would be the perfect opportunity to get her younger sister to confide in her over this Andrew guy.
Buffy snuck a quick sideways glance at the unassuming blonde man sitting with his Game Boy. *Oh boy, he just has to be gay. * She was suddenly astounded when she saw a look of undisguised adoration on his face, when he snuck his own quick look at her laughing sister.
*Okay.really not gay. *, smiled a less sullen Buffy, happy that maybe her sister had found someone who simply worshipped her. However, there might be a little more to it, 'cos as soon as Dawn looked over to him, he quickly averted his gaze, and studiously attended to his game. *Oh yeah, mutual attraction, with neither one willing to make a move, this was going to be fun to watch.*
Buffy berated herself for wandering off the current problem and re- focused back on this Spike guy. There had to be a way to get rid of HIM. Oh she had nothing against him personally, she was sure he was a perfectly fine person, who had unfortunately got caught up in her witch of a friend's connivances.
And her friends. Well she wasn't very fond of them right now.
*How dare they think I can't cope. Sure I hated my job at first, but I learned to do it well, and I'm damn good at it.
Okay I didn't like being blackmailed into taking it, but it lets me support Dawn. And about Dawn. She's got no complaints about the way I raised her, or does she? I know I wasn't always around for her all the time. But she has school and all her friends, and the dancing. Come September she'll be off to college to do her own thing. That's all good. Isn't it?
And I'm managing to study. So, it's taking longer than it would've, and it's not really convenient to work a full time job and do all the required reading and course work.
What if I don't have the time to sculpt. It's not like I was particularly good at it anyway .
//"This wonderful, majestic form."//
.oh shut up.
Okay think Buffy think. You can't fire him, and I'm assuming he'll know that. Willow must have told him. Maybe I could just ignore him. I could just get him to sit at his desk all day and I'll never have to talk to him, and he'll never get in my way. That's not a bad idea. Or how about I completely over work him, but then I'd actually have to deal with him to give him assignments and stuff. Or I'll be a bitch to him. That's it. I'll treat him like dirt and he'll quit.* Buffy paused thinking on the last part.
*That is it. I'll be stubborn and angry and sulky - everything Willow said I could be. Mr Giles will be the one unable to cope, and the poor man will have to quit. * Buffy couldn't help the evil little grin that formed on her lips.
Unfortunately it caught Willows eye. "What are you thinking about?" she asked, fork paused in mid air.
Before she could think of a reasonable reply Cordy interrupted "I bet she's thinking about Spike."
"Yes. " Anya agreed, "and about all the orgasms he'll be able to give her."
Even those who were used to her straightforward announcements looked at Anya in shock as she continued to flick through her magazine, unaware of the looks she was receiving.
"What?" spluttered Buffy.
"Ahn, honey. What are you talking about?" asked Xander carefully.
"Well the way Cordelia describes him, he sounds well equipped to provide many fulfilling orgasms. Isn't that right Cordy?" looking at the brunette for moral support.
A flabbergasted Cordy could only nod her head in response, while her somewhat annoyed husband looked at her.
"What? I only mentioned what he looked like. Anya hopped, skipped and jumped her way to that conclusion all by herself."
Buffy looked at Willow with a hard steady look. "Willow Rosenberg, you so better tell me that is not part of his job description."
"Absolutely not." Willow stated truthfully.
"Good."
"If it wasn't orgasms, what were you thinking about?" asked Dawn.
"Dawn! No orgasm conversations." Declared her sister vehemently.
"Buffy, I'm seventeen, not seven," she huffed. "And you still haven't answered the question."
"I'm just thinking about all the things Mr Giles will be doing over the next few months." Buffy smiled innocently as she calmly ate a mouthful of potato, pointedly ignoring the suspicious look Willow was directing at her.
At that moment a smart, if casually dressed Spike Giles in gray trousers and blue button down shirt, resumed his lift journey to the executive offices of Summers Langdon after his little detour. The outfit wasn't exactly what everyone else was wearing. He'd encountered a mountain of a man getting off at the same floor as him earlier. A complete 'aw shucks ma'am' farm boy, dressed in the ubiquitous suit in boring earth tones. You could take the boy out of Iowa, but you couldn't take Iowa outta the boy.
He'd explained outright, that if he took this job there would be no-more monkey suits for him. Trousers and shirts fine, but no tie. The Personal Manager had been adamant about the dress code when he'd met her Friday afternoon to sort all the paperwork. However, he'd charmingly explained that he didn't work for the publishing house, he worked for Willow Rosenberg's computer consultancy, and they had no dress code, She'd capitulated with an amused smile, realising she'd lost that particular argument.
As the lift neared its destination he pondered the enigma that was Buffy Summers. Willow Rosenberg had provided very little information regarding his new client. The redhead had declared that she didn't want to predispose him to his client's personality and demeanour in case it prejudiced his approach to her. It had been a risky proposition for him to take this job on with so little information, but the money was good, it was guaranteed for six months, he worked close to home, and his hours would mostly be regular. It had a lot of pros.
Despite the sketchy information he'd been provided with, his mind still managed to make some assumptions. It cast a picture of a lonely, probably dowdy spinster with little to live for other than her family obligations. She sounded very withdrawn and if the information was anything to go by, possibly a manic depressive. How had that happened? Wasn't everyone in LA with even the slightest hint of a frown immediately prescribed high doses of anti-depressants, or shuffled off to a shrink for a lifetime of therapy?
Willows instructions were to act as a PA and draw her out of herself, help with the day-to-day chores at work, free up her time so she could concentrate on spending some time on herself and her sister a little more.
He smiled at the thought of the sister Willow had described, she sounded a right little ball of energy that one. There were further instructions to get her involved in things external to work and her studies, get her to enjoy her hobbies and basically, just reintroduce the concept of living her life as if it was her own once more.
Willow had explained that this Buffy, *- what kind of a name was that to lumber a person with? -* had basically dropped everything important to her after her mum's death, to look out for her kid sister. After Willow's brief explanation about Buffy's parents and the situation the Summers girls had found themselves in, he wished he'd been able to meet Joyce, because she sounded like one hell of a decent lady. In contrast he hoped he'd never have to meet the detestable Hank Summers. Any man who could callously use his flesh and blood, and manipulate them so, deserved a long painful death.
Across town Willow checked her watch for the hundredth time, and fiddled absently with the paperwork on her desk. Wishing she was able to eavesdrop on Spike and Buffy's meeting, but at the same time grateful to be nowhere near them.
She had seen the less than innocent expression on Buffy's face on Saturday and just knew she had something up her sleeve. However, she had complete faith in Spike's abilities to deal with Tantrum Buffy. Well, almost complete faith.
When Buffy had asked about the orgasms she had answered completely truthfully. They weren't part of the job description. They'd just be a mutual perk. In all honesty she hadn't thought about that sort of relationship developing between the two people that she'd be forcing together, but when Anya had stuck her great big nose in with that comment, she'd suddenly realised the two of them would probably be great together. If they didn't kill each other first.
Willow only wanted what was best for her friend, and hadn't even considered the PA idea until she'd meet Spike at a computer conference.
He'd been heading up the covert security at the meeting. Nothing special, just keeping an eye on the petty thieves, the inebriated and especially keeping tabs on the female attendees. It was an unfortunate fact that many of these conferences were used as an excuse to behave badly when away from one's supposed loved one, and sometimes the dalliances weren't always due to mutual attraction.
She had watched fascinated as Spike had smoothed out problem after problem, caused by too much alcohol or the fact of being away from normal constraints.
She had seen him carefully observing one man lacing a woman's drink with every intention of taking advantage of her. That was until Spike had intervened, called for the police and had the man arrested for attempted drugging with intent to rape.
However, the biggest thing that had impressed her was the gentle way in which he charmed several of the shyer female delegates, either onto the dance floor or over to the buffet. He seemed to know just how to reach those people who needed to be encouraged. She was fascinated with the ease at which he charmed people, and had wanted to talk to him.
Just as she had been about to approach him, an older woman had got to him first and from where she was, she could hear the woman propositioning him. What should have been an extremely embarrassing let down for the other woman, was changed into a charming rebuff, resulting in a quick turn around the dance floor, and an escape for Spike. She had the thought that if she hadn't known he was security and the fact that she was gay, she probably would have come to a similar conclusion to the one the other woman had, as to his reasons for being there. Heavens, everyone knew how many people of negotiable affection worked these meets.
It had been at that point that she had decided Spike Giles was exactly what Buffy needed. Someone to challenge and inspire her, someone who wouldn't let her hide or avoid things. Someone that could reach her and make her live her life again. Someone, who quite simply wouldn't take Buffy Summers crap.
And if sparks flew and orgasms happened, so be it.
She looked at her watch. 09:00. Showtime.
Spike pushed open the door to Buffy Summers' office at her muffled command to enter, and sauntered in with his most confident swagger. Red had made it very clear in yesterday's telephone call, that his presence in this woman's life wouldn't be well received. He wasn't surprised. He didn't know anyone who would take kindly to the implication that they couldn't cope and were avoiding living a full life.
The woman herself was sitting at the desk, head down, features hidden from his view, and obviously avoiding looking at him. She also hadn't said anything further since he'd entered. *Ah so that's how it was, she was trying a freeze out. Let him know just how little she thought of him and the situation, and avoiding considering him a person by not acknowledging him. Well, that was neat, he had patience, he'd wait her out.*
She continued to ignore his presence, so he began to move about the room deliberately making noise, moving items, flicking through the occasional manuscript. As he made every sneaky attempt to get an acknowledgement out of her, he made a quick appraisal of the office. Smart, neat, modern and very few personal items. They were only a few photographs on shelves behind the desk. An older lady who he assumed was the mum and another of a pretty, perky teen - *ah the younger sister*. No picture of daddy, no great surprise there.
This was not an environment that this woman had tried to adapt to fit herself. He had a feeling that she'd adapted to it. Not a good sign.
She still didn't make any attempt to converse or look at him, so he turned his attention to what he could see of her, to try and get a feel for the person she was.
*Okay so not a dowdy spinster* The woman in front of him, was fashionably if severely dressed, shoulder length blonde hair * about as natural a blonde as I am*, and fairly young. That was about all he could determine without seeing her face. But something about her seemed familiar. God knows he'd never met a Buffy in his entire life. *Poor lass was probably traumatised at birth with a name like that.*
Realising that the waiting game wasn't working, he decided on a different tack. He'd noticed the spare desk near the office door and decided that was going to be his. If she was trying this avoidance tactic, no doubt she'd not bothered to provide him a work-space. He returned the executive desk toy he'd been manhandling back to its obvious exile on the window sill, and with one last glimpse at the bowed head of the tiny woman at the desk, left the office.
He headed for the desk outside the adjacent office. The PA there was a young, short man with a nervous disposition.
"Hey mate. You know where can I get the usual bits pieces a PA needs around here? I need office supplies and a company cell phone, plus any orientation material you've got."
"Erm, human resources will have provided all that for you. If you ring up you should be able to have it sent down. You're Miss Summers PA aren't you? Didn't she get this sorted for you?" asked the man shyly.
"Actually I think she's been a bit busy. Hence the reason for a PA. If in she'd had one I'm sure she woulda had them do it."
Spike smiled in greeting. "Name's Spike by the way. Spike Giles. " He held out his hand, for the PA to shake.
"Jonathon Levenstein, good to meet you." He added as he shook the offered hand.
"Likewise mate. Look could you phone Personnel for me and ask 'em to send this lot down. At a bit of a loose end at the mo. Lady's a little busy, so thought I'd get myself settled, maybe get her drink or something. D'you know what she likes? Iced tea, espresso, whatever poofy drink's the latest craze?"
"Actually she's a bit of a tea drinker. She seems to like mochacinnos as her coffee preference, but she always has lots of teabags in her trashcan, " he confided.
"'Cuse me? You know what's in her rubbish bin?"
Jonathon had the sense to look a little guilty "Well the staff tends to gossip a little about Miss Summers. You do know she only got the job because of her father don't you? I'll admit she's good at it, but if it wasn't favouritism from Daddy she wouldn't have been hired on her credentials. Come on. An art major college drop out as an executive of a publishing company? I'm telling you it's not what you know, it's who."
Spike frowned at the barrage of tittle-tattle coming from this mans mouth. He sensed there was little malice, just a desire for a good gossip.
"Yeah well I wouldn't know that much about it. 'Least not yet..." He smiled trying to set the nervous bloke at ease. "So what kind of tea?"
"Huh?"
"What kind of tea, there's a big selection of teas."
"There are?" At Spike's nod he added, "Well they were in a bag, " trying to be helpful.
Spike shook his head at Jonathon with a small smile, indicating that he should have know better. "Bloody Americans. So Jon where can I get my lady a cuppa?"
"There's the coffee shop on the eight floor, they do the usual selection. They also do a good selection of pastries and sub's and things."
"They do phone orders too?"
"Oh yes."
"Okay then Jon mate. Give me a directory and I'll let my fingers do the walking."
Jonathon handed over his phone and the numbers, and as Spike phoned the order for delivery, put in his request for a Grande latte with hazelnut shot
Spike had ordered him the large white coffee with hazelnut syrup, all the while glaring at him, defying him to correct the phrasing.
When the order was finished he put the receiver down and smirked at the spluttering bloke. "I don't say latte for anyone."
At the sharp rap on her office door Buffy had practically jumped a foot in the air. She'd been so busy reviewing her plan of attack she'd neglected to look at the clock, and the time had flown by. She took a deep steadying breath and sat herself at her desk.
Phase I - be distant, make no eye contact, and after initial greeting, ignore. Maybe sneak one small glimpse to see what Cordy was raving on about.
"Come in."
As he'd entered she'd simply kept her head down and pretended to work on the manuscript in front of her. If she could make him uncomfortable enough maybe he'd just go away.
As the time had passed she'd got to wondering why he wasn't saying anything. Ah he thought he could out wait her. Well he had another thing coming. She'd been resolute. * I'm not saying a word * she sing-songed in her head. Realising just how childish that sounded her brow had wrinkled.
She had sensed him moving about the office, making noise as he rifled through her things. * What the hell was he doing? Why wasn't he talking to her, asking what was wrong or where he was going to work? Why was he so comfortable in an office she hated? And why the hell was he staring at her now? *
She'd had felt his eyes boring into the part of her head he could see. Then he was fiddling with something he'd picked up off of the window sill. Oh probably that awful executive ball thingy Hank had given to her as his idea of a welcome present.
*Hey. Now where was he going?* She'd wondered as he finally left the office, completely oblivious to the fact that that was what she'd wanted, and she hadn't helped but notice just how empty the room had felt all of a sudden. His absence had left a palpable hole in the room's atmosphere.
At his departure her head had come up and she'd belatedly realised she hadn't snuck that peak she was going to take. Damn. If he was gone, she'd never get to see him. She flopped back into her chair, and swung it around to stare back out the window. She'd been doing that a lot lately.
Hell why was she so bothered about meeting this guy? If Willow hadn't hired him as her PA she had a feeling she'd be eager to meet him, if her attempts to locate him at the ball had anything to do with anything. She'd put this desire down to purely thanking him for bringing her friends to the realisation of what they wanted and how they were going to get it. But there was something more. That odd little niggle from Friday night just wouldn't go away.
Then there was this thing with her friends thinking she couldn't cope, the realization that Dawnie really was growing up and was soon off to college, her college work was getting more difficult to juggle with the work Hank kept piling on her. And mom's dream of the gallery wasn't really any closer to fruition. When was her life going to be her own again?
She had continued to stare out the window as her thoughts churned round and round in her head, and she'd completely missed the sound of the door opening and the presence of her new PA standing in front of the desk. Only the smell of the mochacinno he'd brought in with him registered.
"There you go, pet. Get that in you."
Her subconscious recognised the voice. "Thank you, Will." She replied distractedly.
"You're welcome, Beth."
The two people in the suddenly very small, and claustrophobic office froze.
Buffy closed her eyes, * No way. No way did I just hear that voice * she stood, turned slowly and opened her disbelieving eyes.
Hazel met blue, blinked twice, then promptly shut as she fainted for only the second time in her life.
"You're welcome, Beth."
Spike felt the air rush from his lungs and a white noise filled his ears in the realisation that, yes he had heard his real name and yes that it was HER voice.
He watched as the last woman he'd ever expected to see again turned to look at him with incredulous eyes then dropped to the floor in a dead faint.
Spike pondered the collapsed form of Beth Summers *or I suppose it would be Buffy Summers. Beth, Buffy. Buffy, Beth. Should have made that connection William old boy. Bugger it. Not William. Spike. You are Spike now. And how was I supposed to know? *
*The names are derivations from Elizabeth. *
Okay, but that didn't explain why she had used it. Plus it wasn't as if he'd even managed to find a sculptress called Summers, let alone a Beth or a Buffy.
*Buffy silly name that, maybe that's why she'd used Beth in England. *
*Or maybe she had no intention of you ever being able to find her, wasn't that what you decided William?*
*Aren't you going to help her, she can't be at all comfortable on the floor. *
*Shut up you ponce. *
*You are aware we sound like we have a multiple personality disorder, aren't you Spike? *
*William bugger of right now.*
But against his better judgement and the conflicting voices in his head, he helped the unconscious form of, whatever she was deciding to call herself today, into the low couch under the window.
As he lifted her he couldn't help but notice her appearance and the fact that she was as light as a feather. When he'd met her before she'd been a nice healthy size, a neat little package of curves and softness. Now she looked lithe and toned but he couldn't help but remember the pliability of her form, the way she melded into his arms and. *STOP. *
*Stop. Don't do this to yourself mate. No chit is worth this. So she was a little firecracker. All pretty and eager. Don't mean nothin'. She used you. Scratched 'erself an itch and got out of your way. Leave it. Don't react to her. You're here to do a job. Get her living again, the sooner you can do it the sooner you can get on with your life. And bonus, you finally manage to get closure on a part of your life that's been haunting you for the last seven years.*
He didn't even seem to notice that he'd given no thought to just resigning.
As he lay her down he looked carefully at her face. There were vestiges of the girl he'd known still there, *can you know someone in under 12 hours mate?*, but now, her features were those of a woman and by the look of it not a happy one.
He didn't think his sudden arrival had much to do with the look of tiredness and resignation he found in the shadows beneath her eyes, or in the tense lines around her mouth. Those took a long time to become etched that deeply. And he doubted that the weight loss was entirely to do with exercise and healthy eating, more like stress and barely eating. He had a feeling that eating regularly was a low priority for her.
In spite of his determination not to react to her, he couldn't help but smooth the hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. The hair was lighter and more fashionably cut but it still felt as soft as he'd remembered and memories of the way it felt tickling his chest and face arose.
"What's going on with you Beth?" he asked out loud searching her face for answers. "Who are you? Why did you leave?"
*Stop that. She left. It's obvious what it was she wanted, and it sure as hell wasn't your nancy-boy, poetry reading self. Come on. Besides she did you a favour. Made you wake up to the way you were. All moonbeams and penny whistles. Bloody stupid way to live your life. Now look at you. Confidant, charming, good with the ladies, all in all I'd say it was better than dear old William had it, wouldn't you?*
*Oh yes,* whispered the small voice of William left over, *but did being Spike work out so much better for you? Didn't exactly make Dru a keeper did it?*
*What the hell you on mate? Me and Dru had an understanding. We were happy.*
*Yes, you were for a while. Then what? She decided you weren't the man for her and found someone with a bit more of the nasty in him. Surprised you didn't re-invent yourself even more than you did for her. Or is it only petite blondes that shake you up so much?*
*Piss off.*
So what if this little chit had started that particular transformation from William to Spike. Bloody obvious William wasn't worth a second go.
*Bleedin' hell you stupid wanker.stop thinking about this. So it's her. What's the matter with you? So she did a number on you. So what? Wasn't like she was the first woman to screw you over. Can we say Cecily? *
*Yeah but at least Cecily was straight-forward, this little bitch did you in right good and proper didn't she? All coy and disarming, when all she wanted was a quick rough and tumble. What was it to her do you suppose? Let you be the sensitive boy so she had a lovely little story to tell all her mates about come the return to the USA.
A poet who she could claim took her virginity with moonlight and roses, when all that the little chit had wanted was to ditch that virginity and the bloke she seduced into taking it, come the morning light. That was assuming she'd stayed till morning, wasn't as if she'd even had the decency to stay until he woke, or even bothered to leave a note. No all she'd wanted was to get as far away from your poncy self as soon as possible. And the things you told her, how bloody funny she must have found those, considering the way she was using you. Hell she even approached you, remember? *
Tbc.
Monday morning 08:50
Buffy paced around her corner office, stopping every few minutes to check the time on the clock on her office wall. Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweaty and she was having a little trouble breathing properly.
Spike Giles would be here in ten minutes and she was nervous.
She'd given in to Willow and accepted that she should at least meet this Spike Giles, and there was still in the back of her mind the thought that he might be the Spike character that had been taking up way too much of her thinking time recently. Dammit she'd never even met the guy and yet, here she was, completely nervous about seeing him, even if it was only to put her plan into operation. At least she could rid her brain of all the annoying thoughts if she did this. It probably wasn't him anyway
Willow must have suspected she'd given in too easily but as it had hit her that it might be him, she'd agreed without conscious thought.
The thing was, Willow hadn't realised what it was Buffy was agreeing to.
Willow told me I could be stubborn, mad and could sulk, well believe me I'm going to do all three.
She'd spent the rest of Saturday being perfectly civil and pleasant to her traitorous, back stabbing friends. After all she didn't want to give the game away too early on. As she and Willow had gone back into the garden and dug into the meals that Dawn had put aside for them, she'd had listened to Cordy continue to rave about the God that was Spike and she'd had plotted and schemed.
She took a quick glance at the office clock. Dammit, 08.52. Why is time going so slow?
Flash back Saturday
Buffy sat sullenly eating the wonderful meal her traitorous friends had prepared and listened, with half an ear, to the conversation continuing around her, about her new PA.
Dawn especially seemed excited and started to make all sorts of plans for them to spend some more time together. She excitedly scheduled a trip to the mall and only by years of practice of biting her tongue, did Buffy manage to keep back a response that Dawn only wanted her for her gold card. Dawn didn't deserve that. She just wanted to spend some time with her. Buffy mused that it would be the perfect opportunity to get her younger sister to confide in her over this Andrew guy.
Buffy snuck a quick sideways glance at the unassuming blonde man sitting with his Game Boy. *Oh boy, he just has to be gay. * She was suddenly astounded when she saw a look of undisguised adoration on his face, when he snuck his own quick look at her laughing sister.
*Okay.really not gay. *, smiled a less sullen Buffy, happy that maybe her sister had found someone who simply worshipped her. However, there might be a little more to it, 'cos as soon as Dawn looked over to him, he quickly averted his gaze, and studiously attended to his game. *Oh yeah, mutual attraction, with neither one willing to make a move, this was going to be fun to watch.*
Buffy berated herself for wandering off the current problem and re- focused back on this Spike guy. There had to be a way to get rid of HIM. Oh she had nothing against him personally, she was sure he was a perfectly fine person, who had unfortunately got caught up in her witch of a friend's connivances.
And her friends. Well she wasn't very fond of them right now.
*How dare they think I can't cope. Sure I hated my job at first, but I learned to do it well, and I'm damn good at it.
Okay I didn't like being blackmailed into taking it, but it lets me support Dawn. And about Dawn. She's got no complaints about the way I raised her, or does she? I know I wasn't always around for her all the time. But she has school and all her friends, and the dancing. Come September she'll be off to college to do her own thing. That's all good. Isn't it?
And I'm managing to study. So, it's taking longer than it would've, and it's not really convenient to work a full time job and do all the required reading and course work.
What if I don't have the time to sculpt. It's not like I was particularly good at it anyway .
//"This wonderful, majestic form."//
.oh shut up.
Okay think Buffy think. You can't fire him, and I'm assuming he'll know that. Willow must have told him. Maybe I could just ignore him. I could just get him to sit at his desk all day and I'll never have to talk to him, and he'll never get in my way. That's not a bad idea. Or how about I completely over work him, but then I'd actually have to deal with him to give him assignments and stuff. Or I'll be a bitch to him. That's it. I'll treat him like dirt and he'll quit.* Buffy paused thinking on the last part.
*That is it. I'll be stubborn and angry and sulky - everything Willow said I could be. Mr Giles will be the one unable to cope, and the poor man will have to quit. * Buffy couldn't help the evil little grin that formed on her lips.
Unfortunately it caught Willows eye. "What are you thinking about?" she asked, fork paused in mid air.
Before she could think of a reasonable reply Cordy interrupted "I bet she's thinking about Spike."
"Yes. " Anya agreed, "and about all the orgasms he'll be able to give her."
Even those who were used to her straightforward announcements looked at Anya in shock as she continued to flick through her magazine, unaware of the looks she was receiving.
"What?" spluttered Buffy.
"Ahn, honey. What are you talking about?" asked Xander carefully.
"Well the way Cordelia describes him, he sounds well equipped to provide many fulfilling orgasms. Isn't that right Cordy?" looking at the brunette for moral support.
A flabbergasted Cordy could only nod her head in response, while her somewhat annoyed husband looked at her.
"What? I only mentioned what he looked like. Anya hopped, skipped and jumped her way to that conclusion all by herself."
Buffy looked at Willow with a hard steady look. "Willow Rosenberg, you so better tell me that is not part of his job description."
"Absolutely not." Willow stated truthfully.
"Good."
"If it wasn't orgasms, what were you thinking about?" asked Dawn.
"Dawn! No orgasm conversations." Declared her sister vehemently.
"Buffy, I'm seventeen, not seven," she huffed. "And you still haven't answered the question."
"I'm just thinking about all the things Mr Giles will be doing over the next few months." Buffy smiled innocently as she calmly ate a mouthful of potato, pointedly ignoring the suspicious look Willow was directing at her.
At that moment a smart, if casually dressed Spike Giles in gray trousers and blue button down shirt, resumed his lift journey to the executive offices of Summers Langdon after his little detour. The outfit wasn't exactly what everyone else was wearing. He'd encountered a mountain of a man getting off at the same floor as him earlier. A complete 'aw shucks ma'am' farm boy, dressed in the ubiquitous suit in boring earth tones. You could take the boy out of Iowa, but you couldn't take Iowa outta the boy.
He'd explained outright, that if he took this job there would be no-more monkey suits for him. Trousers and shirts fine, but no tie. The Personal Manager had been adamant about the dress code when he'd met her Friday afternoon to sort all the paperwork. However, he'd charmingly explained that he didn't work for the publishing house, he worked for Willow Rosenberg's computer consultancy, and they had no dress code, She'd capitulated with an amused smile, realising she'd lost that particular argument.
As the lift neared its destination he pondered the enigma that was Buffy Summers. Willow Rosenberg had provided very little information regarding his new client. The redhead had declared that she didn't want to predispose him to his client's personality and demeanour in case it prejudiced his approach to her. It had been a risky proposition for him to take this job on with so little information, but the money was good, it was guaranteed for six months, he worked close to home, and his hours would mostly be regular. It had a lot of pros.
Despite the sketchy information he'd been provided with, his mind still managed to make some assumptions. It cast a picture of a lonely, probably dowdy spinster with little to live for other than her family obligations. She sounded very withdrawn and if the information was anything to go by, possibly a manic depressive. How had that happened? Wasn't everyone in LA with even the slightest hint of a frown immediately prescribed high doses of anti-depressants, or shuffled off to a shrink for a lifetime of therapy?
Willows instructions were to act as a PA and draw her out of herself, help with the day-to-day chores at work, free up her time so she could concentrate on spending some time on herself and her sister a little more.
He smiled at the thought of the sister Willow had described, she sounded a right little ball of energy that one. There were further instructions to get her involved in things external to work and her studies, get her to enjoy her hobbies and basically, just reintroduce the concept of living her life as if it was her own once more.
Willow had explained that this Buffy, *- what kind of a name was that to lumber a person with? -* had basically dropped everything important to her after her mum's death, to look out for her kid sister. After Willow's brief explanation about Buffy's parents and the situation the Summers girls had found themselves in, he wished he'd been able to meet Joyce, because she sounded like one hell of a decent lady. In contrast he hoped he'd never have to meet the detestable Hank Summers. Any man who could callously use his flesh and blood, and manipulate them so, deserved a long painful death.
Across town Willow checked her watch for the hundredth time, and fiddled absently with the paperwork on her desk. Wishing she was able to eavesdrop on Spike and Buffy's meeting, but at the same time grateful to be nowhere near them.
She had seen the less than innocent expression on Buffy's face on Saturday and just knew she had something up her sleeve. However, she had complete faith in Spike's abilities to deal with Tantrum Buffy. Well, almost complete faith.
When Buffy had asked about the orgasms she had answered completely truthfully. They weren't part of the job description. They'd just be a mutual perk. In all honesty she hadn't thought about that sort of relationship developing between the two people that she'd be forcing together, but when Anya had stuck her great big nose in with that comment, she'd suddenly realised the two of them would probably be great together. If they didn't kill each other first.
Willow only wanted what was best for her friend, and hadn't even considered the PA idea until she'd meet Spike at a computer conference.
He'd been heading up the covert security at the meeting. Nothing special, just keeping an eye on the petty thieves, the inebriated and especially keeping tabs on the female attendees. It was an unfortunate fact that many of these conferences were used as an excuse to behave badly when away from one's supposed loved one, and sometimes the dalliances weren't always due to mutual attraction.
She had watched fascinated as Spike had smoothed out problem after problem, caused by too much alcohol or the fact of being away from normal constraints.
She had seen him carefully observing one man lacing a woman's drink with every intention of taking advantage of her. That was until Spike had intervened, called for the police and had the man arrested for attempted drugging with intent to rape.
However, the biggest thing that had impressed her was the gentle way in which he charmed several of the shyer female delegates, either onto the dance floor or over to the buffet. He seemed to know just how to reach those people who needed to be encouraged. She was fascinated with the ease at which he charmed people, and had wanted to talk to him.
Just as she had been about to approach him, an older woman had got to him first and from where she was, she could hear the woman propositioning him. What should have been an extremely embarrassing let down for the other woman, was changed into a charming rebuff, resulting in a quick turn around the dance floor, and an escape for Spike. She had the thought that if she hadn't known he was security and the fact that she was gay, she probably would have come to a similar conclusion to the one the other woman had, as to his reasons for being there. Heavens, everyone knew how many people of negotiable affection worked these meets.
It had been at that point that she had decided Spike Giles was exactly what Buffy needed. Someone to challenge and inspire her, someone who wouldn't let her hide or avoid things. Someone that could reach her and make her live her life again. Someone, who quite simply wouldn't take Buffy Summers crap.
And if sparks flew and orgasms happened, so be it.
She looked at her watch. 09:00. Showtime.
Spike pushed open the door to Buffy Summers' office at her muffled command to enter, and sauntered in with his most confident swagger. Red had made it very clear in yesterday's telephone call, that his presence in this woman's life wouldn't be well received. He wasn't surprised. He didn't know anyone who would take kindly to the implication that they couldn't cope and were avoiding living a full life.
The woman herself was sitting at the desk, head down, features hidden from his view, and obviously avoiding looking at him. She also hadn't said anything further since he'd entered. *Ah so that's how it was, she was trying a freeze out. Let him know just how little she thought of him and the situation, and avoiding considering him a person by not acknowledging him. Well, that was neat, he had patience, he'd wait her out.*
She continued to ignore his presence, so he began to move about the room deliberately making noise, moving items, flicking through the occasional manuscript. As he made every sneaky attempt to get an acknowledgement out of her, he made a quick appraisal of the office. Smart, neat, modern and very few personal items. They were only a few photographs on shelves behind the desk. An older lady who he assumed was the mum and another of a pretty, perky teen - *ah the younger sister*. No picture of daddy, no great surprise there.
This was not an environment that this woman had tried to adapt to fit herself. He had a feeling that she'd adapted to it. Not a good sign.
She still didn't make any attempt to converse or look at him, so he turned his attention to what he could see of her, to try and get a feel for the person she was.
*Okay so not a dowdy spinster* The woman in front of him, was fashionably if severely dressed, shoulder length blonde hair * about as natural a blonde as I am*, and fairly young. That was about all he could determine without seeing her face. But something about her seemed familiar. God knows he'd never met a Buffy in his entire life. *Poor lass was probably traumatised at birth with a name like that.*
Realising that the waiting game wasn't working, he decided on a different tack. He'd noticed the spare desk near the office door and decided that was going to be his. If she was trying this avoidance tactic, no doubt she'd not bothered to provide him a work-space. He returned the executive desk toy he'd been manhandling back to its obvious exile on the window sill, and with one last glimpse at the bowed head of the tiny woman at the desk, left the office.
He headed for the desk outside the adjacent office. The PA there was a young, short man with a nervous disposition.
"Hey mate. You know where can I get the usual bits pieces a PA needs around here? I need office supplies and a company cell phone, plus any orientation material you've got."
"Erm, human resources will have provided all that for you. If you ring up you should be able to have it sent down. You're Miss Summers PA aren't you? Didn't she get this sorted for you?" asked the man shyly.
"Actually I think she's been a bit busy. Hence the reason for a PA. If in she'd had one I'm sure she woulda had them do it."
Spike smiled in greeting. "Name's Spike by the way. Spike Giles. " He held out his hand, for the PA to shake.
"Jonathon Levenstein, good to meet you." He added as he shook the offered hand.
"Likewise mate. Look could you phone Personnel for me and ask 'em to send this lot down. At a bit of a loose end at the mo. Lady's a little busy, so thought I'd get myself settled, maybe get her drink or something. D'you know what she likes? Iced tea, espresso, whatever poofy drink's the latest craze?"
"Actually she's a bit of a tea drinker. She seems to like mochacinnos as her coffee preference, but she always has lots of teabags in her trashcan, " he confided.
"'Cuse me? You know what's in her rubbish bin?"
Jonathon had the sense to look a little guilty "Well the staff tends to gossip a little about Miss Summers. You do know she only got the job because of her father don't you? I'll admit she's good at it, but if it wasn't favouritism from Daddy she wouldn't have been hired on her credentials. Come on. An art major college drop out as an executive of a publishing company? I'm telling you it's not what you know, it's who."
Spike frowned at the barrage of tittle-tattle coming from this mans mouth. He sensed there was little malice, just a desire for a good gossip.
"Yeah well I wouldn't know that much about it. 'Least not yet..." He smiled trying to set the nervous bloke at ease. "So what kind of tea?"
"Huh?"
"What kind of tea, there's a big selection of teas."
"There are?" At Spike's nod he added, "Well they were in a bag, " trying to be helpful.
Spike shook his head at Jonathon with a small smile, indicating that he should have know better. "Bloody Americans. So Jon where can I get my lady a cuppa?"
"There's the coffee shop on the eight floor, they do the usual selection. They also do a good selection of pastries and sub's and things."
"They do phone orders too?"
"Oh yes."
"Okay then Jon mate. Give me a directory and I'll let my fingers do the walking."
Jonathon handed over his phone and the numbers, and as Spike phoned the order for delivery, put in his request for a Grande latte with hazelnut shot
Spike had ordered him the large white coffee with hazelnut syrup, all the while glaring at him, defying him to correct the phrasing.
When the order was finished he put the receiver down and smirked at the spluttering bloke. "I don't say latte for anyone."
At the sharp rap on her office door Buffy had practically jumped a foot in the air. She'd been so busy reviewing her plan of attack she'd neglected to look at the clock, and the time had flown by. She took a deep steadying breath and sat herself at her desk.
Phase I - be distant, make no eye contact, and after initial greeting, ignore. Maybe sneak one small glimpse to see what Cordy was raving on about.
"Come in."
As he'd entered she'd simply kept her head down and pretended to work on the manuscript in front of her. If she could make him uncomfortable enough maybe he'd just go away.
As the time had passed she'd got to wondering why he wasn't saying anything. Ah he thought he could out wait her. Well he had another thing coming. She'd been resolute. * I'm not saying a word * she sing-songed in her head. Realising just how childish that sounded her brow had wrinkled.
She had sensed him moving about the office, making noise as he rifled through her things. * What the hell was he doing? Why wasn't he talking to her, asking what was wrong or where he was going to work? Why was he so comfortable in an office she hated? And why the hell was he staring at her now? *
She'd had felt his eyes boring into the part of her head he could see. Then he was fiddling with something he'd picked up off of the window sill. Oh probably that awful executive ball thingy Hank had given to her as his idea of a welcome present.
*Hey. Now where was he going?* She'd wondered as he finally left the office, completely oblivious to the fact that that was what she'd wanted, and she hadn't helped but notice just how empty the room had felt all of a sudden. His absence had left a palpable hole in the room's atmosphere.
At his departure her head had come up and she'd belatedly realised she hadn't snuck that peak she was going to take. Damn. If he was gone, she'd never get to see him. She flopped back into her chair, and swung it around to stare back out the window. She'd been doing that a lot lately.
Hell why was she so bothered about meeting this guy? If Willow hadn't hired him as her PA she had a feeling she'd be eager to meet him, if her attempts to locate him at the ball had anything to do with anything. She'd put this desire down to purely thanking him for bringing her friends to the realisation of what they wanted and how they were going to get it. But there was something more. That odd little niggle from Friday night just wouldn't go away.
Then there was this thing with her friends thinking she couldn't cope, the realization that Dawnie really was growing up and was soon off to college, her college work was getting more difficult to juggle with the work Hank kept piling on her. And mom's dream of the gallery wasn't really any closer to fruition. When was her life going to be her own again?
She had continued to stare out the window as her thoughts churned round and round in her head, and she'd completely missed the sound of the door opening and the presence of her new PA standing in front of the desk. Only the smell of the mochacinno he'd brought in with him registered.
"There you go, pet. Get that in you."
Her subconscious recognised the voice. "Thank you, Will." She replied distractedly.
"You're welcome, Beth."
The two people in the suddenly very small, and claustrophobic office froze.
Buffy closed her eyes, * No way. No way did I just hear that voice * she stood, turned slowly and opened her disbelieving eyes.
Hazel met blue, blinked twice, then promptly shut as she fainted for only the second time in her life.
"You're welcome, Beth."
Spike felt the air rush from his lungs and a white noise filled his ears in the realisation that, yes he had heard his real name and yes that it was HER voice.
He watched as the last woman he'd ever expected to see again turned to look at him with incredulous eyes then dropped to the floor in a dead faint.
Spike pondered the collapsed form of Beth Summers *or I suppose it would be Buffy Summers. Beth, Buffy. Buffy, Beth. Should have made that connection William old boy. Bugger it. Not William. Spike. You are Spike now. And how was I supposed to know? *
*The names are derivations from Elizabeth. *
Okay, but that didn't explain why she had used it. Plus it wasn't as if he'd even managed to find a sculptress called Summers, let alone a Beth or a Buffy.
*Buffy silly name that, maybe that's why she'd used Beth in England. *
*Or maybe she had no intention of you ever being able to find her, wasn't that what you decided William?*
*Aren't you going to help her, she can't be at all comfortable on the floor. *
*Shut up you ponce. *
*You are aware we sound like we have a multiple personality disorder, aren't you Spike? *
*William bugger of right now.*
But against his better judgement and the conflicting voices in his head, he helped the unconscious form of, whatever she was deciding to call herself today, into the low couch under the window.
As he lifted her he couldn't help but notice her appearance and the fact that she was as light as a feather. When he'd met her before she'd been a nice healthy size, a neat little package of curves and softness. Now she looked lithe and toned but he couldn't help but remember the pliability of her form, the way she melded into his arms and. *STOP. *
*Stop. Don't do this to yourself mate. No chit is worth this. So she was a little firecracker. All pretty and eager. Don't mean nothin'. She used you. Scratched 'erself an itch and got out of your way. Leave it. Don't react to her. You're here to do a job. Get her living again, the sooner you can do it the sooner you can get on with your life. And bonus, you finally manage to get closure on a part of your life that's been haunting you for the last seven years.*
He didn't even seem to notice that he'd given no thought to just resigning.
As he lay her down he looked carefully at her face. There were vestiges of the girl he'd known still there, *can you know someone in under 12 hours mate?*, but now, her features were those of a woman and by the look of it not a happy one.
He didn't think his sudden arrival had much to do with the look of tiredness and resignation he found in the shadows beneath her eyes, or in the tense lines around her mouth. Those took a long time to become etched that deeply. And he doubted that the weight loss was entirely to do with exercise and healthy eating, more like stress and barely eating. He had a feeling that eating regularly was a low priority for her.
In spite of his determination not to react to her, he couldn't help but smooth the hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. The hair was lighter and more fashionably cut but it still felt as soft as he'd remembered and memories of the way it felt tickling his chest and face arose.
"What's going on with you Beth?" he asked out loud searching her face for answers. "Who are you? Why did you leave?"
*Stop that. She left. It's obvious what it was she wanted, and it sure as hell wasn't your nancy-boy, poetry reading self. Come on. Besides she did you a favour. Made you wake up to the way you were. All moonbeams and penny whistles. Bloody stupid way to live your life. Now look at you. Confidant, charming, good with the ladies, all in all I'd say it was better than dear old William had it, wouldn't you?*
*Oh yes,* whispered the small voice of William left over, *but did being Spike work out so much better for you? Didn't exactly make Dru a keeper did it?*
*What the hell you on mate? Me and Dru had an understanding. We were happy.*
*Yes, you were for a while. Then what? She decided you weren't the man for her and found someone with a bit more of the nasty in him. Surprised you didn't re-invent yourself even more than you did for her. Or is it only petite blondes that shake you up so much?*
*Piss off.*
So what if this little chit had started that particular transformation from William to Spike. Bloody obvious William wasn't worth a second go.
*Bleedin' hell you stupid wanker.stop thinking about this. So it's her. What's the matter with you? So she did a number on you. So what? Wasn't like she was the first woman to screw you over. Can we say Cecily? *
*Yeah but at least Cecily was straight-forward, this little bitch did you in right good and proper didn't she? All coy and disarming, when all she wanted was a quick rough and tumble. What was it to her do you suppose? Let you be the sensitive boy so she had a lovely little story to tell all her mates about come the return to the USA.
A poet who she could claim took her virginity with moonlight and roses, when all that the little chit had wanted was to ditch that virginity and the bloke she seduced into taking it, come the morning light. That was assuming she'd stayed till morning, wasn't as if she'd even had the decency to stay until he woke, or even bothered to leave a note. No all she'd wanted was to get as far away from your poncy self as soon as possible. And the things you told her, how bloody funny she must have found those, considering the way she was using you. Hell she even approached you, remember? *
Tbc.