As In: To Swing?
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
9,182
Reviews:
96
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
9,182
Reviews:
96
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Angel had crawled back to his house and somehow had managed to find himself a drink. He sat in the darkness, nursing a fifth of scotch and his anger. After the bottle was gone, he found the strength to stand, get a frozen bag of something from the fridge and slap it over his face. When he stopped feeling his skin, he threw the bag in the sink and headed back to his room.
He stumbled over the drawer, askew on the floor where Buffy had fallen against it. He kicked it across the room, her clothes flying across the floor. He slumped onto the corner of the bed, hands limply dangling from his sides and surveyed the mess.
*She’ll be back. Better pick this up. She’ll want it clean when she gets home.*
He threw all of the laundry into the drawer and struggled to get it back on the tracks. Angel then straightened the bed clothes, rumpled from his attack on Buffy, and fluffed the pillow. *Buffy likes it when the pillows are all nice.*
He went back to the kitchen, grabbed a new bottle of liquor and headed back to his room. He turned the shower on and climbed in, still dressed, still holding his liquor bottle. The combination of the steam and alcohol proved too much and he sank in a heap, hot water pouring over him, bottle cradled in his arms and darkness took him.
*********************
Buffy and Spike woke, dressed, and drove to a café for breakfast. Buffy wore her hair down and close to her face to hide the bruise that was already green and yellow, high up on her cheekbone. They chose a table outside and in the morning sun and watched the cars drive by.
“So, isn’t London the land of the no-sun? Am I going to have to do one of those paint-on tans? Gotta keep my good Cali looks. And the appearance of having a stylish, yet affordable wardrobe.”
Spike laughed. “Granted it’s not as sunny as here, but I’ve got to admit, pet. Everyday being the same can get a little old. And I happen to think I look quite dashing in winter wear. Got a great leather coat I can’t wear in this blazing sunshine...”
Honestly, Buffy didn’t care if they left for Antarctica, as long as they were together. In the small hours of the morning they had come to the conclusion that they needed to leave and start over fresh. Spike tried to keep it light, but he was afraid of Angel coming after her and really hurting her. That was simply unacceptable. At least in London they would be with a network of family and friends. He wanted to take her someplace beautiful, show her where and how he grew up, share everything about himself with her.
*God, I’m turning into a sot.* He looked across the table at Buffy, who was fiercely debating with herself why she should get the kitchen sink omelette and had no idea she was being watched. Her green eyes were narrowed in concentration, her cheeks becoming high with color. Beautiful. She felt his gaze and looked up, smiled, shrugged, and went back to her internal argument. He had never felt better in his life. He reached across the table and held one of her hands in his while finally looking at the menu.
A large sedan was waiting at a light across from where Buffy and Spike were sitting. The large woman driving looked over at the young couple, so obviously in love and smiled, thinking of her precious 30 years with her husband. The young lady tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she saw the huge bruise it had been hiding. She saw the man lean over and kiss her on the lips, then sit back down. She knew the face....
The light turned green and as she pulled through the intersection it hit her. She scrambled in her Coach bag for her cell and called the first number in her list.
“Jeannie, give me Mr. Baxter.” She waited for her call to be patched through and barely let her husband get out a “hello” before she bulldozed over him. “I KNEW there was something wrong with her.”
“Who, dear?”
“Buffy. Angel’s wife. You remember her - the one who dressed like a tart with the eating disorder? I JUST saw her sitting with some man, KISSING. Yes! And someone has knocked her around a bit as she had massive bruises ALL OVER her face. Horrible. Simply disgusting. And sitting right where all the world could see! They were practically having RELATIONS on the sidewalk. Just shameful. Darling, I’m here at the groomer’s so I must go, but I thought you would want to know what has infiltrated the company.”
She hung up, horribly affronted by what she had witnessed, until the groomer brought her precious Pomeranians to her fat arms. “Here are your babies, Mrs. Cookie.”
***************
“I am not an ani-MAL...” Angel had that pounding through his head. The Elephant Man. That made him giggle a little, which only made the ringing in his ears worse. He brought his hands to his head and squeezed, otherwise he was afraid it might pop. That’s when he realized he was shivering. And wet. And sitting in the shower, with cold water pouring over him.
He reached up and shut the water off, the surveyed his situation. Fully clothed, half empty bottle of whiskey in his lap, horrible pain in his head, and a distinct feeling that his face had modeling clay stuck to it. He stood by sliding his body up the tiles of the shower, held on to the handle, then made his way to the counter.
Seeing his ruined nose, his blood stained clothes, and bruises on his face and neck reminded him with a jarring clarity what had brought the current state of appearance. From the light in the room, he guessed he had slept through breakfast, maybe even lunch. The clock in the hallway indicated 12:47pm. *Fuck!*
He made his way to his office and saw the light on the answering machine blinking 5. He slumped into a chair, hit the Play button, and held his head in his hands.
*beep*
“Angel, it’s Bill. Where are you? The LA office needs an update on the NY meeting, and you are nowhere to be found. Get here, or call me with why not.”
*beep*
“Angel, Bill. It 10:30 now, and we had to conference in the NY office, which pissed them off since they already did this shit, man. Get your ass up here, or get the ER to call.”
*beep*
”Uh, Angel, Geoffrey Baxter here. It has come to my attention that, uh, there have been multiple problems at your end of a *ahem* personal nature, not to mention what I’m hearing back from NY and the projects assigned to you. We here at Worthington and Fife like to have a certain level of professionalism among our employees, and I’m afraid that we aren’t seeing that with you.” In a quieter tone, “Gosh, kid, I’m not sure what’s going on with you, but your wife is prancing around town with other men, dressing the way she does... Bruised? I don’t know what goes on in your home, but it isn’t what we want here. I don’t want to be associated with those kind of goings on. I’ll have Jeannie box your things and mail them to you, along with your last paycheck. Pull it together, huh?”
*beep*
“Angel? You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. Probably while you’re in police custody. Feel like everything is in control? I sure do.” And in the background, “Tell the bloody wanker to piss off. Big fucking man - hitting women. Wait let me-“
He heard a knock at the door.
“Sir? LAPD. Could you open the door? We’d like to have a talk with you.”
**********************
“Flight 1736, LAX to Heathrow is now boarding First Class tickets. That’s First Class for flight 1736.”
Buffy had her purse and one carry-on. Spike and she had done a little shopping before arriving at the airport to allow Buffy to have something clean to wear, with the promise of a full blown excursion to the best that London had to offer. She was still uncomfortable with him spending money on her and hoped to be able to repay him. Spike was touched. Most girls he had been with saw him as a bank account and got pissed when the gifts stopped coming. It was something else that made her special.
“How about a job?”
She brightened at that. “That’d be great! I used to be a... Oh. Spike!” She saw him waggle his eyebrows at her.
“Ever joined the mile high club? I’m offering an exclusive membership...” He laughed, “ow,” when she slugged him in the arm. The steward showed them to their seats. As the rest of the passengers boarded, Buffy got her entertainments in order for the long flight. She mumbled under her breath “mags, chick book, peanuts.. Oh thank you! Drink... ‘Kay. I’m ready.”
He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, held hers and gave it a kiss. As the plane taxied down the runway, Buffy leaned her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and whispered in his ear, “um Spike? About that club...”
~~~~~~~~~~~
Maybe one more... Then they need time to heal, people!
Angel had crawled back to his house and somehow had managed to find himself a drink. He sat in the darkness, nursing a fifth of scotch and his anger. After the bottle was gone, he found the strength to stand, get a frozen bag of something from the fridge and slap it over his face. When he stopped feeling his skin, he threw the bag in the sink and headed back to his room.
He stumbled over the drawer, askew on the floor where Buffy had fallen against it. He kicked it across the room, her clothes flying across the floor. He slumped onto the corner of the bed, hands limply dangling from his sides and surveyed the mess.
*She’ll be back. Better pick this up. She’ll want it clean when she gets home.*
He threw all of the laundry into the drawer and struggled to get it back on the tracks. Angel then straightened the bed clothes, rumpled from his attack on Buffy, and fluffed the pillow. *Buffy likes it when the pillows are all nice.*
He went back to the kitchen, grabbed a new bottle of liquor and headed back to his room. He turned the shower on and climbed in, still dressed, still holding his liquor bottle. The combination of the steam and alcohol proved too much and he sank in a heap, hot water pouring over him, bottle cradled in his arms and darkness took him.
*********************
Buffy and Spike woke, dressed, and drove to a café for breakfast. Buffy wore her hair down and close to her face to hide the bruise that was already green and yellow, high up on her cheekbone. They chose a table outside and in the morning sun and watched the cars drive by.
“So, isn’t London the land of the no-sun? Am I going to have to do one of those paint-on tans? Gotta keep my good Cali looks. And the appearance of having a stylish, yet affordable wardrobe.”
Spike laughed. “Granted it’s not as sunny as here, but I’ve got to admit, pet. Everyday being the same can get a little old. And I happen to think I look quite dashing in winter wear. Got a great leather coat I can’t wear in this blazing sunshine...”
Honestly, Buffy didn’t care if they left for Antarctica, as long as they were together. In the small hours of the morning they had come to the conclusion that they needed to leave and start over fresh. Spike tried to keep it light, but he was afraid of Angel coming after her and really hurting her. That was simply unacceptable. At least in London they would be with a network of family and friends. He wanted to take her someplace beautiful, show her where and how he grew up, share everything about himself with her.
*God, I’m turning into a sot.* He looked across the table at Buffy, who was fiercely debating with herself why she should get the kitchen sink omelette and had no idea she was being watched. Her green eyes were narrowed in concentration, her cheeks becoming high with color. Beautiful. She felt his gaze and looked up, smiled, shrugged, and went back to her internal argument. He had never felt better in his life. He reached across the table and held one of her hands in his while finally looking at the menu.
A large sedan was waiting at a light across from where Buffy and Spike were sitting. The large woman driving looked over at the young couple, so obviously in love and smiled, thinking of her precious 30 years with her husband. The young lady tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she saw the huge bruise it had been hiding. She saw the man lean over and kiss her on the lips, then sit back down. She knew the face....
The light turned green and as she pulled through the intersection it hit her. She scrambled in her Coach bag for her cell and called the first number in her list.
“Jeannie, give me Mr. Baxter.” She waited for her call to be patched through and barely let her husband get out a “hello” before she bulldozed over him. “I KNEW there was something wrong with her.”
“Who, dear?”
“Buffy. Angel’s wife. You remember her - the one who dressed like a tart with the eating disorder? I JUST saw her sitting with some man, KISSING. Yes! And someone has knocked her around a bit as she had massive bruises ALL OVER her face. Horrible. Simply disgusting. And sitting right where all the world could see! They were practically having RELATIONS on the sidewalk. Just shameful. Darling, I’m here at the groomer’s so I must go, but I thought you would want to know what has infiltrated the company.”
She hung up, horribly affronted by what she had witnessed, until the groomer brought her precious Pomeranians to her fat arms. “Here are your babies, Mrs. Cookie.”
***************
“I am not an ani-MAL...” Angel had that pounding through his head. The Elephant Man. That made him giggle a little, which only made the ringing in his ears worse. He brought his hands to his head and squeezed, otherwise he was afraid it might pop. That’s when he realized he was shivering. And wet. And sitting in the shower, with cold water pouring over him.
He reached up and shut the water off, the surveyed his situation. Fully clothed, half empty bottle of whiskey in his lap, horrible pain in his head, and a distinct feeling that his face had modeling clay stuck to it. He stood by sliding his body up the tiles of the shower, held on to the handle, then made his way to the counter.
Seeing his ruined nose, his blood stained clothes, and bruises on his face and neck reminded him with a jarring clarity what had brought the current state of appearance. From the light in the room, he guessed he had slept through breakfast, maybe even lunch. The clock in the hallway indicated 12:47pm. *Fuck!*
He made his way to his office and saw the light on the answering machine blinking 5. He slumped into a chair, hit the Play button, and held his head in his hands.
*beep*
“Angel, it’s Bill. Where are you? The LA office needs an update on the NY meeting, and you are nowhere to be found. Get here, or call me with why not.”
*beep*
“Angel, Bill. It 10:30 now, and we had to conference in the NY office, which pissed them off since they already did this shit, man. Get your ass up here, or get the ER to call.”
*beep*
”Uh, Angel, Geoffrey Baxter here. It has come to my attention that, uh, there have been multiple problems at your end of a *ahem* personal nature, not to mention what I’m hearing back from NY and the projects assigned to you. We here at Worthington and Fife like to have a certain level of professionalism among our employees, and I’m afraid that we aren’t seeing that with you.” In a quieter tone, “Gosh, kid, I’m not sure what’s going on with you, but your wife is prancing around town with other men, dressing the way she does... Bruised? I don’t know what goes on in your home, but it isn’t what we want here. I don’t want to be associated with those kind of goings on. I’ll have Jeannie box your things and mail them to you, along with your last paycheck. Pull it together, huh?”
*beep*
“Angel? You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. Probably while you’re in police custody. Feel like everything is in control? I sure do.” And in the background, “Tell the bloody wanker to piss off. Big fucking man - hitting women. Wait let me-“
He heard a knock at the door.
“Sir? LAPD. Could you open the door? We’d like to have a talk with you.”
**********************
“Flight 1736, LAX to Heathrow is now boarding First Class tickets. That’s First Class for flight 1736.”
Buffy had her purse and one carry-on. Spike and she had done a little shopping before arriving at the airport to allow Buffy to have something clean to wear, with the promise of a full blown excursion to the best that London had to offer. She was still uncomfortable with him spending money on her and hoped to be able to repay him. Spike was touched. Most girls he had been with saw him as a bank account and got pissed when the gifts stopped coming. It was something else that made her special.
“How about a job?”
She brightened at that. “That’d be great! I used to be a... Oh. Spike!” She saw him waggle his eyebrows at her.
“Ever joined the mile high club? I’m offering an exclusive membership...” He laughed, “ow,” when she slugged him in the arm. The steward showed them to their seats. As the rest of the passengers boarded, Buffy got her entertainments in order for the long flight. She mumbled under her breath “mags, chick book, peanuts.. Oh thank you! Drink... ‘Kay. I’m ready.”
He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, held hers and gave it a kiss. As the plane taxied down the runway, Buffy leaned her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and whispered in his ear, “um Spike? About that club...”
~~~~~~~~~~~
Maybe one more... Then they need time to heal, people!