A/N A big thank you to every one who reviewed my story, they were great and
got me through a rough couple of days. So thanks again. Sorry if this
chapter is a little darker than previous chapters, it just came out that
way.
Chapter 5
Spike dressed quickly and joined Buffy in the sitting room of the suite; hearing his approach, she got up off the sofa and went to stand in front of one of the large windows. She wasn't ready to look him in the eye so soon, after their previous encounter. She sighed as she looked out into the darkening night sky.
That was how Spike found her, a rush of sarcastic comments rose in his throat. He swallowed them down and sighed heavily. He didn't know what Travers was up to yet; hopefully that problem would be solved in a couple of hours when they met up with him. Buffy knew she couldn't spend the rest of the evening staring out into nothing, no matter how comforting it was; she turned to face him. Her cheeks flaming at the sight of him, his hair was still tousled from his recent showering. She was angry, but she didn't know why. She hid behind the only weapon Buffy felt she had left, her sharp tongue. She opened her mouth, her vitriol finding voice.
"Is that all you have to wear? Hardly suitable for a place like this is it?" she asked scathingly, as she looked at his jeans and usual red shirt.
Spike felt his earlier charitable feelings dissolve away, in the face of her obvious contempt. He'd entered the room actually willing to call a truce their bickering, but if that was the way she wanted to play it, then it was fine with him.
"Well I could go naked, you seemed to like that well enough," Spike snapped at her.
The comments about his clothing had stung, it was just one of the many things he'd let slide after the split with Dru. Harmony had tried to change him, being so clothing obsessed herself. And it wasn't his fault that Harm had burned most of his belongings. He didn't know why it irked him so much coming from Buffy.
"You're in my room for now, but that does not mean I have to like it Spike," she replied, ignoring his previous comment.
"Well, if that's the case, I'll remove myself from your exalted presence, I am sure I can find more congenial company than yours," he replied.
He scooped the envelope off the coffee table, which Travers had given them earlier.
"Where are you going with that?" she asked, pointing at the envelope.
"Any where, but here," he replied.
He angrily shrugged on his leather duster and slammed out of the room, leaving Buffy alone. She knew she should be glad that he had gone, but all she could think of was how huge and empty the place seemed without his presence. She curled up in an armchair and wrapped her arms defensively around her body. Tears started to form in her eyes; a fat tear made it's way down her face, she wiped it away angrily.
"I will not cry, it must be the break up with Riley, yes that's it," she told herself out loud.
But if she really took time to think, she knew that she'd hardly given Riley Finn a moment's consideration since they'd finished with each other. She had been too busy verbally fighting with Spike, and looking at that glorious naked body, her treacherous thoughts reminded her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As Spike rode the elevator down to the main lobby, he lit up a cigarette, looking challengingly at the bellboy. The boy caught his look of defiance and moved further into his corner.
Spike had looked through the envelope on the way down, there were papers for car hire included, all he had to do was collect the keys at the reception desk and sign a couple of forms and then he could be out of here. There was enough money in the envelope to last a neutered vamp for some time. That idea was starting to sound very appealing. Better than the blond bombshell that waited upstairs. Maybe he could make a new life for himself back in England; he'd steal the car and carry on driving. Spike walked over to the main desk, his mind already half made up to do just that.
Spike signed the necessary document and took the keys from the man behind the counter. He looked at the keys as they rested in the palm of his hand. With a growl he shoved them in his jeans pocket and strode out of the Hotel, walking out on to the Strand.
"You big poof, you're getting soft that's what it is, that chip in your head not only stopped you killing, you've lost your balls too," he muttered angrily.
He walked off to the nearest tube station, an idea forming in his head.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Buffy sat in the American bar, there was little or no evidence on her face that she been crying, save for a little puffiness around her eyes. She was glad of the muted lighting of her surroundings. To the casual observer she looked trouble and carefree. She checked her watch; it was five minutes to nine. Spike had not returned to their room, and she was starting to wonder if he had gone in the permanent sense.
Not that she cared, she told her self. Buffy frowned as a young man approached her; it was third in the last twenty minutes. She had come down early to get away from the deafening silence of her room only to be repeatedly hit on by young men who seemed to think that a woman alone must be desperate for male company. She looked away and the man got her silent message and went to sit back at the other end of the bar.
Buffy looked down at the luxurious carpet, deciding to avoid all eye contact with the patrons of the bar, she went off into a little daydream, sighing sadly. It was several moments before she noticed the pair of smart black shoes in her line of vision; she raised her head, another refusal on her lips, which died a swift death as she saw Spike standing there. Her heart did a little flip flop in her chest.
"Spike?" she asked, almost unable to believe her eyes.
"Unless there's two devilishly handsome men that look just like me, then that would be correct," he grinned.
Her eyes travelled up his body of their own volition, taking in every inch of his appearance, from the black leather shoes to the smart black shirt and tailored trousers. Her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth.
"Don't say that I've managed to achieve the impossible and actually shut you up?" he asked.
Buffy swallowed hard.
"Don't be so stupid, just didn't expect you to show, that's all. What else would it be?" she asked.
"I dunno, why don't you tell me Summers," he answered, staring intently into her green eyes.
Buffy knew she was still staring at him as though she could devour him with a spoon, but she couldn't help herself. Maybe it was true that vampires had some kind of mystical thrall about them, because try as she might, Buffy couldn't look away.
Quentin Travers entered the American bar of the Savoy at exactly nine o'clock. He scanned the room to find Buffy and Spike waiting at the bar. Only seeing what he wanted to see, he didn't notice Buffy's flushed cheeks or the studied nonchalance on Spike's face as he approached them.
"Good evening, glad to see you are both here, unpunctuality is utmost sign of sign of bad breeding," he said smugly.
"So is sticking me in the same room as him," Buffy replied angrily, as she pointed towards Spike.
"Ah, yes I did wonder how long it would take to get around to that subject," answered Quentin.
"You must see that it can't work, mortal enemies under the same roof, bloodlust aside what were you thinking?" asked Spike.
There was certainly some kind of lust brewing between them and it had little to do with blood, thought Spike as he watched her through half lowered lids. Not that she would ever admit he thought, with a wry smile.
"We may have an account here, but it only runs to one room, if you don't like it, there's always the streets, what money you have wouldn't be enough to get you home if that's what you are thinking of doing," suggested Quentin dryly.
"So basically what you are saying is that we are at your mercy for the next two weeks?" asked Spike.
"That's exactly what I am saying," smiled Quentin.
Spike stood up and grabbed Quentin by the lapels of his expensive suit, raising his fist, only to lower it as a blinding pain shot through his head.
"Interesting little mechanism you have in your head there William, which is exactly why we are so interested in you," said Quentin as he straightened out his suit.
"Well I don't have any problem with violence, so if you wanna keep your head on your shoulders, then a few more explanations are in order," said Buffy, threateningly.
Spike held his head, waiting for the pain to subside.
"I just bloody knew it! You want to mess with my head, sorry, but I am out of here," said Spike.
"Hear me out, if you don't like what I have to say, then you are free to leave," said Quentin.
"Spike lets hear the old wind bag out," sighed Buffy.
Travers ignored her intended insult.
"Good, then lets get a table," said Quentin, as he led the way.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Spike looked at the menu, closing it with a snap.
"Guess I'm going hungry this evening," he said.
"Not at all, they can make pretty much what ever you want here," Quentin informed Spike.
"I'll have a steak tartare then," grinned Spike.
Their meal arrived a little while later along with a bottle of the finest red wine the hotel had to offer. Buffy pulled a face of disgust as she saw what Spike had ordered. It was raw steak, the sight of it was almost enough to kill her appetite, but her stomach growled reminding her that she had eaten nothing since the plane this afternoon.
"Ok, I'll make it simple for you both. William the watchers council want to study you, we know a little about the organisation that put the chip in your head, but we need to learn it's capabilities as well as any information that you could give us about what type of show they are running. Their technology is years ahead of anything we have developed," said Quentin.
"Now I want you to tell me why the bleeding hell I should do anything to help you, especially as you are about the extinction of my kind?" Asked Spike.
"Because William, after the two weeks, if you give us your full cooperation. We will deposit the sum of two million pounds to an account for you," Quentin replied.
Spike looked at him, his fork froze half way to his mouth.
"Where do I sign up?" he asked.
Buffy was a little more sceptical.
"Spike! He can't be trusted," said Buffy.
"For two million, I'd make a pact with the devil," said Spike.
"I think you already have, I can't be bought so easily Mr Travers. I haven't forgotten one moment of what you did to me in the past," said Buffy.
"Ah, yes, but you haven't heard what I have to say yet, have you Miss Summers? How does a salary for the work that you do, as well as Mr Giles's return to the watchers council sound for starters?" he asked, supreme in his confidence.
"And?" she asked
"What do you mean And?" asked Spike.
"I want to know what else Mr Travers is prepared to offer," said Buffy.
"Smart girl, always negotiate for more, did Rupert teach you that little gem? It's simple really, we want you to assist with our watchers training programme. Many of our operatives in the field, will never have the chance to even train a slayer, let alone meet one. How about we look on these two weeks as a trial period to see if it will work out? If you feel you can help, I would be willing to move the operation state side, it needn't interfere with your slayer duties, or your studies, plus you will be paid the same amount as Spike for your time over the next two weeks," said Quentin.
"You seem to know a lot about what I have been doing," said Buffy.
"You think we would be dim-witted enough to repeat the same mistakes we made with Faith? One rogue slayer was quite enough," said Travers.
Buffy considered what he's said for a moment.
"Okay, I'll do it, but step one foot out of line and it's your ass," said Buffy.
"Well that's settled then, how about you and I go back to that huge bed in our room and give it a test run?" asked Spike.
"When there's a blue moon in the sky, I don't see one do you Spike? But anything is better than hanging around here, not giving the bed any test run either," said Buffy.
"As if I should be so needy," said Spike.
With that, Spike and Buffy left Quentin alone to finish his drink. He smiled to himself as he swirled the almost blood red liquid around in his wine glass.
They had fallen for it hook, line and sinker.
TBC
Chapter 5
Spike dressed quickly and joined Buffy in the sitting room of the suite; hearing his approach, she got up off the sofa and went to stand in front of one of the large windows. She wasn't ready to look him in the eye so soon, after their previous encounter. She sighed as she looked out into the darkening night sky.
That was how Spike found her, a rush of sarcastic comments rose in his throat. He swallowed them down and sighed heavily. He didn't know what Travers was up to yet; hopefully that problem would be solved in a couple of hours when they met up with him. Buffy knew she couldn't spend the rest of the evening staring out into nothing, no matter how comforting it was; she turned to face him. Her cheeks flaming at the sight of him, his hair was still tousled from his recent showering. She was angry, but she didn't know why. She hid behind the only weapon Buffy felt she had left, her sharp tongue. She opened her mouth, her vitriol finding voice.
"Is that all you have to wear? Hardly suitable for a place like this is it?" she asked scathingly, as she looked at his jeans and usual red shirt.
Spike felt his earlier charitable feelings dissolve away, in the face of her obvious contempt. He'd entered the room actually willing to call a truce their bickering, but if that was the way she wanted to play it, then it was fine with him.
"Well I could go naked, you seemed to like that well enough," Spike snapped at her.
The comments about his clothing had stung, it was just one of the many things he'd let slide after the split with Dru. Harmony had tried to change him, being so clothing obsessed herself. And it wasn't his fault that Harm had burned most of his belongings. He didn't know why it irked him so much coming from Buffy.
"You're in my room for now, but that does not mean I have to like it Spike," she replied, ignoring his previous comment.
"Well, if that's the case, I'll remove myself from your exalted presence, I am sure I can find more congenial company than yours," he replied.
He scooped the envelope off the coffee table, which Travers had given them earlier.
"Where are you going with that?" she asked, pointing at the envelope.
"Any where, but here," he replied.
He angrily shrugged on his leather duster and slammed out of the room, leaving Buffy alone. She knew she should be glad that he had gone, but all she could think of was how huge and empty the place seemed without his presence. She curled up in an armchair and wrapped her arms defensively around her body. Tears started to form in her eyes; a fat tear made it's way down her face, she wiped it away angrily.
"I will not cry, it must be the break up with Riley, yes that's it," she told herself out loud.
But if she really took time to think, she knew that she'd hardly given Riley Finn a moment's consideration since they'd finished with each other. She had been too busy verbally fighting with Spike, and looking at that glorious naked body, her treacherous thoughts reminded her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As Spike rode the elevator down to the main lobby, he lit up a cigarette, looking challengingly at the bellboy. The boy caught his look of defiance and moved further into his corner.
Spike had looked through the envelope on the way down, there were papers for car hire included, all he had to do was collect the keys at the reception desk and sign a couple of forms and then he could be out of here. There was enough money in the envelope to last a neutered vamp for some time. That idea was starting to sound very appealing. Better than the blond bombshell that waited upstairs. Maybe he could make a new life for himself back in England; he'd steal the car and carry on driving. Spike walked over to the main desk, his mind already half made up to do just that.
Spike signed the necessary document and took the keys from the man behind the counter. He looked at the keys as they rested in the palm of his hand. With a growl he shoved them in his jeans pocket and strode out of the Hotel, walking out on to the Strand.
"You big poof, you're getting soft that's what it is, that chip in your head not only stopped you killing, you've lost your balls too," he muttered angrily.
He walked off to the nearest tube station, an idea forming in his head.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Buffy sat in the American bar, there was little or no evidence on her face that she been crying, save for a little puffiness around her eyes. She was glad of the muted lighting of her surroundings. To the casual observer she looked trouble and carefree. She checked her watch; it was five minutes to nine. Spike had not returned to their room, and she was starting to wonder if he had gone in the permanent sense.
Not that she cared, she told her self. Buffy frowned as a young man approached her; it was third in the last twenty minutes. She had come down early to get away from the deafening silence of her room only to be repeatedly hit on by young men who seemed to think that a woman alone must be desperate for male company. She looked away and the man got her silent message and went to sit back at the other end of the bar.
Buffy looked down at the luxurious carpet, deciding to avoid all eye contact with the patrons of the bar, she went off into a little daydream, sighing sadly. It was several moments before she noticed the pair of smart black shoes in her line of vision; she raised her head, another refusal on her lips, which died a swift death as she saw Spike standing there. Her heart did a little flip flop in her chest.
"Spike?" she asked, almost unable to believe her eyes.
"Unless there's two devilishly handsome men that look just like me, then that would be correct," he grinned.
Her eyes travelled up his body of their own volition, taking in every inch of his appearance, from the black leather shoes to the smart black shirt and tailored trousers. Her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth.
"Don't say that I've managed to achieve the impossible and actually shut you up?" he asked.
Buffy swallowed hard.
"Don't be so stupid, just didn't expect you to show, that's all. What else would it be?" she asked.
"I dunno, why don't you tell me Summers," he answered, staring intently into her green eyes.
Buffy knew she was still staring at him as though she could devour him with a spoon, but she couldn't help herself. Maybe it was true that vampires had some kind of mystical thrall about them, because try as she might, Buffy couldn't look away.
Quentin Travers entered the American bar of the Savoy at exactly nine o'clock. He scanned the room to find Buffy and Spike waiting at the bar. Only seeing what he wanted to see, he didn't notice Buffy's flushed cheeks or the studied nonchalance on Spike's face as he approached them.
"Good evening, glad to see you are both here, unpunctuality is utmost sign of sign of bad breeding," he said smugly.
"So is sticking me in the same room as him," Buffy replied angrily, as she pointed towards Spike.
"Ah, yes I did wonder how long it would take to get around to that subject," answered Quentin.
"You must see that it can't work, mortal enemies under the same roof, bloodlust aside what were you thinking?" asked Spike.
There was certainly some kind of lust brewing between them and it had little to do with blood, thought Spike as he watched her through half lowered lids. Not that she would ever admit he thought, with a wry smile.
"We may have an account here, but it only runs to one room, if you don't like it, there's always the streets, what money you have wouldn't be enough to get you home if that's what you are thinking of doing," suggested Quentin dryly.
"So basically what you are saying is that we are at your mercy for the next two weeks?" asked Spike.
"That's exactly what I am saying," smiled Quentin.
Spike stood up and grabbed Quentin by the lapels of his expensive suit, raising his fist, only to lower it as a blinding pain shot through his head.
"Interesting little mechanism you have in your head there William, which is exactly why we are so interested in you," said Quentin as he straightened out his suit.
"Well I don't have any problem with violence, so if you wanna keep your head on your shoulders, then a few more explanations are in order," said Buffy, threateningly.
Spike held his head, waiting for the pain to subside.
"I just bloody knew it! You want to mess with my head, sorry, but I am out of here," said Spike.
"Hear me out, if you don't like what I have to say, then you are free to leave," said Quentin.
"Spike lets hear the old wind bag out," sighed Buffy.
Travers ignored her intended insult.
"Good, then lets get a table," said Quentin, as he led the way.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Spike looked at the menu, closing it with a snap.
"Guess I'm going hungry this evening," he said.
"Not at all, they can make pretty much what ever you want here," Quentin informed Spike.
"I'll have a steak tartare then," grinned Spike.
Their meal arrived a little while later along with a bottle of the finest red wine the hotel had to offer. Buffy pulled a face of disgust as she saw what Spike had ordered. It was raw steak, the sight of it was almost enough to kill her appetite, but her stomach growled reminding her that she had eaten nothing since the plane this afternoon.
"Ok, I'll make it simple for you both. William the watchers council want to study you, we know a little about the organisation that put the chip in your head, but we need to learn it's capabilities as well as any information that you could give us about what type of show they are running. Their technology is years ahead of anything we have developed," said Quentin.
"Now I want you to tell me why the bleeding hell I should do anything to help you, especially as you are about the extinction of my kind?" Asked Spike.
"Because William, after the two weeks, if you give us your full cooperation. We will deposit the sum of two million pounds to an account for you," Quentin replied.
Spike looked at him, his fork froze half way to his mouth.
"Where do I sign up?" he asked.
Buffy was a little more sceptical.
"Spike! He can't be trusted," said Buffy.
"For two million, I'd make a pact with the devil," said Spike.
"I think you already have, I can't be bought so easily Mr Travers. I haven't forgotten one moment of what you did to me in the past," said Buffy.
"Ah, yes, but you haven't heard what I have to say yet, have you Miss Summers? How does a salary for the work that you do, as well as Mr Giles's return to the watchers council sound for starters?" he asked, supreme in his confidence.
"And?" she asked
"What do you mean And?" asked Spike.
"I want to know what else Mr Travers is prepared to offer," said Buffy.
"Smart girl, always negotiate for more, did Rupert teach you that little gem? It's simple really, we want you to assist with our watchers training programme. Many of our operatives in the field, will never have the chance to even train a slayer, let alone meet one. How about we look on these two weeks as a trial period to see if it will work out? If you feel you can help, I would be willing to move the operation state side, it needn't interfere with your slayer duties, or your studies, plus you will be paid the same amount as Spike for your time over the next two weeks," said Quentin.
"You seem to know a lot about what I have been doing," said Buffy.
"You think we would be dim-witted enough to repeat the same mistakes we made with Faith? One rogue slayer was quite enough," said Travers.
Buffy considered what he's said for a moment.
"Okay, I'll do it, but step one foot out of line and it's your ass," said Buffy.
"Well that's settled then, how about you and I go back to that huge bed in our room and give it a test run?" asked Spike.
"When there's a blue moon in the sky, I don't see one do you Spike? But anything is better than hanging around here, not giving the bed any test run either," said Buffy.
"As if I should be so needy," said Spike.
With that, Spike and Buffy left Quentin alone to finish his drink. He smiled to himself as he swirled the almost blood red liquid around in his wine glass.
They had fallen for it hook, line and sinker.
TBC