Chapter 2
Here Lies the Plan
"Hello, cutie," he smirked, though somewhat disappointed that Angel's broody forehead hadn't been the one to greet him.
"It is, Spike, right?" Buffy said, still standing in the doorway; her hand clutched tightly on the knob.
Spike laughed and nodded, "Sorry to bother you. Came to see Peaches. He in?"
Buffy blinked in confusion, "Uh no. But, come in, please," she offered flustered.
Spike's lips curled into another smirk as he took a surprisingly tentative step inside; Buffy closing the door behind them.
"Umm, I'm sorry, what are you doing here?"
Spike scanned the loft, a scrutinizing eye imagining the appeal Drusilla could have possibly found in the wanker's obviously effeminate décor.
"Huh?" He asked distractedly, spinning around to face her.
"Angel's not here," she reiterated.
Spike scoffed, "Figures. What? He off buying more of that nancy boy hair gel he likes so much?"
Buffy laughed unwittingly before recovering, "Uh no. I mean, he uh…he doesn't live here anymore."
Spike's cocky grin fell at her words, replaced by a menacing scowl, "Bugger."
"Sorry. I'd redirect you if I—"
"Bloody ran off with her again, hasn't he?" Spike suddenly blurted, beginning a furious pace back and forth before the tiny blonde.
Buffy glanced around nervously, the enraged acquaintance burning a hole in her carpet.
"I don't…I don't know…" she mumbled.
"This was it," he seethed, ripping out the scrap of paper from his pocket and waving it in her face. "This was where I found her last time! Where is she? Where'd they go?" he backed away again furiously, still pacing.
"I don't know who—" Buffy squeaked, her eyes trained on the man's worn out combat boots; now scuffing the floor in his wake.
"Captain Forehead and my bleedin' excuse for a soul mate!" he bellowed, lunging at her to grab her by the arms and shake, "Where are they?"
Buffy's eyes started to water; whether from the increasingly tight grip of his hands or the sudden notion of Angel somewhere with Drusilla, she didn't know.
Spike stared at her for a brief second before pushing himself away again; sighing audibly.
"He mov—" Buffy started to say as Spike turned to look at her, "He left for Los Angeles. I haven't seen him in months." She finished timidly.
Realization hit Spike as his eyes looked through her; bitter wisdom causing him to nod accordingly. "Broke up, did you? Left without so much as a fight?"
Buffy inhaled sharply at the man's awareness but nodded solemnly before ducking her head to cry.
Spike rolled his eyes at the confirmation of his long time rival's actions. The one, perverse thing he could suppose the ponce and Dru had in common; they both knew how to just simply up and leave.
"Sorry, love." Spike sighed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly as the tiny blonde continued to sob quietly.
Buffy sniffled and raised her head to face him again, "Did…did Dru….did she say she was leaving you for him?" Buffy wondered; fearing the man's earlier ravings to be true.
Spike snickered, "Not in so many words but…" he muttered bitterly, shoving his hands deep into his leather duster pockets.
Buffy nodded, his trailing comment enough confirmation. She suppressed the urge to cry again; tilting her head back to face the ceiling.
After a moment of contemplative silence, Buffy lowered her gaze back to the blond man before her and gave him a small, sad smile.
"Umm, so, what are you going to do now?"
Spike shrugged, "Don't rightly know, pet. Only got as far as ripping the wanker a new one for stealin' my bird again."
Buffy managed a small laugh, finally regaining her bearings enough to move away from the entryway and further into her apartment once more. Spike followed a few steps in before stopping at the kitchen area.
"Well, can I get you anything before you head back or whatever?" She offered, spinning around in search of possible options.
"Umm, I'd take a cuppa tea if ya got it, love?" Spike suggested humbly. Buffy giggled slightly at the puckish man's suddenly shy request.
"Sure. You got it," she nodded; gesturing for him to take a seat on the island.
Spike fanned his jacket out behind him, jumping up to land on the stool as he mindlessly watched the young woman prepare their libations. Sweet thing, she was. He hadn't really given her a proper once over the last time he'd been here. With good reason, of course; he'd been so beside himself, trying to track down Dru, he'd only briefly encountered Angel's then own playmate.
But she was adorable; far better than what that lumbering oaf ever deserved. And far too naïve and trusting; as it turned out. Oh well, Spike supposed. He couldn't very well save every girl from Angel's evil clutches.
"Got any milk?" He wondered politely as she set the mug of tea before him. She wrinkled her nose in uncertainty before assessing the fridge; smiling as she triumphantly produced a small carton and handed it over.
"Thanks, pet," he sighed before setting off to his task.
Buffy cleared her throat casually as she hopped onto the stool beside him; warming her hands around the warm ceramic and staring into the cloudy pool of liquid.
"So, you're from England huh?" Buffy asked after a minute, flashing him a bashful smile. Her question was obviously rhetorical, but Spike decided to engage the young woman.
"In the heart or in the head," he mused, smirking as she grimaced; not understanding the reference.
"Where is fancy bred?" He clarified, narrowing his gaze incredulously, "Shakespeare?"
Buffy blushed, embarrassed by her ignorance, "Oh. Got it."
Spike snickered, "Bloody Yanks."
"How long have you been in town?" She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her foot already seeming mighty appetizing.
"A few hours," he explained, "Drove straight here."
Buffy's eyes widened at the sudden implication that the man beside her had truly been on a mission. "Wow."
"Landed in L.A.," he furthered, taking a sip of his beverage, "As it turns out, could have saved everyone the trouble, yeah?"
Buffy snickered, "I guess. I don't where in the city he moved to," she said, "He could be anywhere."
"I'd have smelled him eventually," Spike jeered, a smirk dancing on his lips.
Buffy laughed, "And Dru's pretty hard to miss," she added quietly.
Spike caught the jab and turned to her; smirking slightly, "Long time coming, eh pet?"
Buffy shot him a confused look, "Huh?"
"Had the same worry I did the first time round," he clarified, "Knew something was going on with those two."
Buffy bit her lip and nodded, "Yeah. Angel talked about her sometimes…I guess I should have taken the hint."
Spike laughed, "Get in line, love."
Buffy too, giggled; nodding in appreciative understanding as they finished the rest of their tea in silence; the unusual but understandable alliance of two scorned ex-lovers.
***
"He flew all the way from London to Los Angeles, drove up here to Sunnydale and then drove straight back."
"All just to try and get her back?" Willow asked wide eyed.
"Yep," Buffy said with an impressed nod; taking a sip of her coffee as the redhead beamed from across the table.
"That's really romantic," she sighed. Xander rolled his eyes as Oz gave a characteristically small chuckle.
"Should I leave for awhile and then come back?" Oz wondered as Willow rested her head on his shoulder.
"Nope. I like having you right here," Willow cooed as the stoic man ran a hand through his girlfriend's hair.
"Romantic but hey, expensive?" Xander quipped, eyeing the table knowingly. "I've done the road trip thing. Not happy to the wallet. And this Spike guy sounds obsessive."
Buffy shrugged distractedly. She saw both sides of the argument. While yes, it was frightening to think how determined Spike had been when he'd first arrived at her door; demanding to know Angel's and Dru's whereabouts, very few men could actually claim to have gone to such lengths to try and win back the woman they loved.
Spike had left after finishing his tea; thanking Buffy for an ear and apologizing for disrupting. He was actually quite charming about the whole thing; despite expressing his need to leave as soon as possible to hunt down her ex-boyfriend in the hopes of kicking his ass.
Not that the threat of something unpleasant happening to Angel hadn't appealed to her. On the contrary, she'd had numerous daydreams of various incendiary 'accidents' befalling her former love. But those were purely hypothetical and usually carried out by some higher power or deus ex machina to restore balance to her lovelorn state.
She wished Spike well and said good bye; assuring him he was always welcome back to the loft if he ever found himself in Sunnydale again. He'd scoffed at the unlikely possibility but thanked her nonetheless. She rinsed out the mugs and headed for bed shortly thereafter.
"We still on for tonight?" Willow asked, her question breaking Buffy from her stupor.
"Totally," Buffy nodded as the redhead smiled gleefully, rising out of her boyfriend's lap as he too stood.
"Oswald," Xander chimed in as they all collected their bags and trash from the table, "Dingoes playing again soon?"
Oz gave a wry grin and nodded, "Devon's been in L.A. promoting, we're playing the Sigma Pi party when he gets back."
"Score," Xander gushed, nodding as the group began their retreat back to class.
Buffy cringed at Oz's words, "Jesus, does everybody go to L.A. nowadays?"
Willow gave the boy's arm a comforting squeeze as Oz scowled thoughtfully. Buffy shot him an apologetic grin. He knew she hadn't meant any malice toward him.
Xander laughed and wrapped an affectionate arm around his friend, "Just your usual whack-jobs and broody, self-righteous bastards."
Buffy graced him with a small smile, grateful for the boy's unyielding loyalty, "Thanks, Xand."
"Don't mention it, Buffster." he beamed, crunching down loudly into an apple as his arm remained draped over her shoulder.
The foursome continued out of the cafeteria; eventually splitting off to their respective classrooms. The promise of a carefree night of Bronze variety fun awaited.
***
His search had been futile. What did he expect? It wasn't like he knew anyone he could call, hoping to six-degree his way into their paths. As it was, Angel and Dru were his only contacts. Calling beforehand to tell the person whose head you wanted to beat in that you were in fact, on your way to do so was slightly counterproductive.
And bloody hell, if he wasn't tired. He'd been traveling, by one means or another, nonstop for the past 48 hours. He'd blown off a large portion of his meager inheritance from his mum's recent passing just to fly out here and back. Damn currency exchange rate.
Naturally, he'd made allowances for a rental car, gas, smokes, food…maybe a hotel and a little spending money he could spoil Dru with, before they would return home.
Of course, that was all to shit now. He'd made the wise decision to only purchase a one way ticket to America; unsure how long it'd take him to wrangle up his lady love. So thank god he hadn't wasted his money. Though part of him now wished for the imposed deadline if only to quell this listless feeling he now possessed.
He hadn't even bothered to book a hotel room, anywhere. So focused was his intent. But after arriving in Los Angeles early that morning and fruitlessly journeying the city in search of the two increasingly dreaded faces he sadistically longed to see; he was spent. But he was also restless. He couldn't let himself unwind in some catered cell, knowing the blockhead and the loony bint were within reach doing god only knows what together.
This brief reflection of his current plight left him wondering what to do on a larger scale.
He'd effectively dropped everything in an effort to get Dru back. He was still in school back home in London, already missing half a term plotting this epically romantic gesture. The same one he knew would go completely unrecognized even if and when he did find her.
Maybe he should just sod all. Though he knew deep down he couldn't. Despite the assumptions his outward appearance gave people, Spike was actually quite reserved. That is to say, William was quite reserved. Spike was most assuredly anything and everything people assumed. Spike laughed to himself. He knew better. His external façade had developed out of necessity, survival of the fittest, you might say. But despite his insistence on fostering his alter ego, he knew truthfully what he was.
"Sentimental, right proper ponce," he muttered on a smoky exhalation; ashing the cigarette out the window.
He enjoyed school, always had. Even in spite of the discouraging rites of passage that had led him to seek out a tougher exterior in the first place. Now he just felt unstoppable. The scourge of plonkers that he used to suffer now left him alone. But he could still mop the floor with them academically. He knew it was blood written proof of his poncedom to gloat over mental supremacy, but fag off, he didn't care.
His whole life had revolved around three things; his mum, his studies, and Drusilla. Now he had nothing. With a bitter resolve and reluctant foot to the pedal; Spike hauled his rented vehicle back onto the highway; heading back toward Sunnydale.
***
Maybe she was getting old. How silly, to already feel old when you're barely 21.
Or maybe that was the problem. Maybe she was too young; too immature. Or maybe it was some bizarre mixture of both; like she'd grown up too fast…she didn't know.
But she knew something had made her less inclined to let loose that evening. Maybe she was still nursing Angel abandonment wounds…maybe she was stressed with school…maybe she resented the fact that she couldn't legally drink despite not caring for alcohol anyway…maybe she should tell her brain to shut up and just go dance already.
"Come on, Buffster! Everybody's doing it!" Xander urged, bobbing his head up and down to the beat.
Maybe the inordinate amount of time she'd spent around her friends kept her analytical. While she was over the moon for the happiness Willow and Oz shared; it was a bittersweet reminder. And Xander, poor dolt, never gave up. His juvenile tactics for courting Buffy hadn't changed in the six years she'd known him. But bless him for trying. And she couldn't deny his energy was infectious.
"Oh alright," she caved; reaching for Xander's extended hand and led them out to the dance floor.
The music was insipid, but perfect if you didn't want to think and simply get your jollies on the dry humping contact that bodies naturally made when dancing in a crowded club.
Spike rolled his eyes as another techno ballad raged on; scanning the room skeptically before turning back to the bar and waited for his drink.
A silent thank you and a couple bills lighter; Spike slipped off the stool and nursed his beer, meandering curiously about the space in search of something remotely interesting to focus on.
He wasn't sure where he'd go once he'd arrived back in Sunnydale, or why he'd even returned; honestly. So he'd driven around the small town for about an hour; finally stopping at a gas station to refill and ask about nightly entertainment. His query had led him to The Bronze. Nice enough club; he supposed. Big; two story industrial feel with a decent bar and billiards. The music; well, there was no accounting for taste.
He smirked as he watched a bit of a pool game; reminding himself to shark some of these pisser college frat boys at a later time. He could make a proper buck swindling these cats. Bollocks, they were bad at pool.
He laughed at his scheming enterprise and rounded the underside of the open staircase, smiling in appreciation as he passed a clandestine couple snogging behind the wall. He briefly wondered how old those kids were; but shrugged it off as he continued by.
He took another swig of his beer and glanced up; noticing the accessible catwalk above him. Perfect. He took the stairs two at a time before stepping onto the landing, spinning around to view the aerial perspective he now enjoyed.
Smoking was not permitted; an eternal flaw of any late night establishment. But no one was around, and he didn't care even if they were. Setting the half empty bottle of beer on the ledge, Spike dug around his duster pockets and reached for his lighter and smokes.
Producing the coveted stick, Spike slipped it between his lips and tilted his head; preparing to light it. The Zippo snapped shut and he closed his eyes as the first drag infiltrated his lungs. Opening them on the exhale; Spike leaned on the railing with his elbows, amused by the sea of gyrating bodies beneath him.
His head inevitably bopped slightly to the only musical option available as his eyes wandered aimlessly before stopping abruptly at one particular figure.
Long, blonde locks whipped to and fro as her sun kissed arms stretch high above her head. Spike raised an intrigued eyebrow as his gaze lowered; appraising the sliver of her exposed stomach, courtesy of the skimpy halter top she was wearing. She spun around, and he involuntarily licked his lips as his eyes now focused on her tight, little ass. It didn't hurt this girl to be wearing the skin tight leather pants that she was. No, no harm at all.
Bloody hell, even her back was sexy; toned and golden brown, smooth and sweaty from the room, no doubt. She grabbed her hips and glanced over her shoulder; arching her back as she teased the air. Spike's ogling was stifled momentarily when a decidedly male figure suddenly stepped up into the girl's backside; grabbing hold of her hips.
He rolled his eyes as his mysterious sex kitten welcomed the whelp and pressed her back against his chest, hands ghosting in a predictable fashion.
"Move away you bloody—" he grumbled as one might do to a foolhardy horror movie character for running back into the house. He needed the boy-shaped object to move out of his way so he could continue to watch the gloriously hot girl-shaped one.
He supposed he could leave his perch, wander back down to where the mortals were and innocently find himself amidst the dance floor population; conveniently beside her.
He went to take a drag off his cigarette before realizing it had burned down. Tossing the stub to the wayside, he grabbed another and lit up; content to simply watch the pretty scenery from afar.
***
"I suppose I could manage that, yes," the older man smirked as he and his companion walked comfortably down the sidewalk.
"You suppose?" Buffy balked, "You have to! You're obligated!" She laughed.
Rupert Giles smiled down at her, "Very well, if I must."
Buffy flashed him a satisfied grin as they continued their way down the path along the center of campus. Professor Rupert Giles was the head of the English department at UC Sunnydale, a close friend, and now her guardian.
She knew he knew she didn't really need him, per se. Not anymore. She was technically old enough to take care of herself. But the man has always been like a father to her, and neither of them wanted to rid themselves of the familial bond they'd grown so accustomed to, not just yet.
Buffy's parents had divorced long ago; her father having left her mother. She hadn't seen the man since she was fourteen, and it was just as well. Rupert had always thought fondly of Buffy's mom, Joyce. They'd met around the time of her divorce; at the Art Gallery Joyce managed. Though nothing official had ever occurred between the two adults; Buffy knew the pair fancied one another. It had been good for Joyce; to feel desirable again, to experience something outside of simply being a single mother.
And when Joyce had passed away a year ago, Rupert had been right at her side; comforting Buffy and her sister, Dawn. Already past her majority, she and the older Brit knew he didn't need to be there. But he was; a much more substantial and respectable father figure than her biological one had ever been; even offering his place as a makeshift homestead for Dawn while Buffy kept Angel's old apartment.
And that's why they carried on the way they were currently; Buffy pouting at the man's suggestion of skipping out on their weekly ritual of dinner and a movie with her and Dawn. He always teased her, insisting he was too busy or too tired to join them. But she knew better. He coveted the time he and his two surrogate daughters spent together; catching up on each other's lives and checking in.
He'd never had a daughter; never had a family, still a bachelor into his late forties. But he could honestly say he'd been in love with Joyce Summers, and consequently the two young women she'd brought into this world. He was forever grateful.
"Dawn's gonna meet us there," Buffy informed him as they meandered through a small group of students.
Giles' eyes widened, "Good Lord," he cringed as he remembered the younger girl's most recent accomplishment.
Buffy nodded, smirking in agreement, "Dawn's driving by herself finally, help us all."
"I dare say, Buffy," the man questioned, slipping off his glasses to give them a quick clean. "Do you think it wise to let her go it alone?"
Buffy shrugged, "Waiting period's over Giles," she explained, "She's gonna have to do it sometime."
"Yes but, given your history with automobiles…" Rupert scowled, remembering a time when he'd attempted to instruct the girl on basic driving mechanics. His poor DeSoto was still sitting idly by in his garage; mourning its ability to serve its proper function.
Buffy snickered, "Don't remind me. I get enough grief from Dawn. Do you think I'm proud to be twenty and still driver's licenseless?"
Giles' gave her a knowing smirk, "You could always…you know, take the class again," he suggested. "Practice with someone else's car preferably," he added quietly.
Buffy rolled her eyes, "Xander's giving me a ride to the restaurant," she informed him; effectively dismissing his comment.
Giles sighed as they approached his office building, "Yes, I suppose it's the least he can do."
Buffy grabbed his arm to stop him and turned him to face her, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Giles smiled sheepishly, "Well, Buffy…it seems rather obvious that Xander wishes to be more than your personal chauffeur."
Buffy blushed as she quickly looked away from the older man; releasing his arm. She started to comment on his statement as her eyes caught a glimpse of someone approaching them. She lifted her head in surprise, ready to address him before Giles beat her to it.
"William?"
"Ripper."
To Be Continued...