Untouched

A/N: Phi Beta is probably a real frat/sorority somewhere in this world. Never having been a connoisseur of Greek life, I wouldn’t know. I just grabbed some Greek letters and made up a name. No infringement intended and I’m not trying to represent any group of people here. So…yes!



“Do you think they’ll like this?” Buffy held up a cast iron sconce, eyeing it critically.

“They’ll like anything you get them.” Angel glanced at the sconce briefly and went back to picking through a display of paintings.

“Christmas shopping makes my insides hurt.” Buffy frowned and fiddled with the cowl neck of her cream colored sweater.

“What about getting presents?” Angel raised his eyebrows at her and gave her a thin-lipped smile.

“Getting is so much easier.” Buffy walked across the store, to a display of cooking utensils. She picked up the various bowls, spoons, and potholders, inspecting them for some sign that they were the perfect gift for Giles and Jenny. The department store seemed to have everything…which wasn’t enough for Buffy to make a good purchase, apparently. It was then that she spotted a dilapidated stand set up outside the front doors of the store. “I’ll be right back.” She called to her preoccupied boyfriend as she shuffled out the front doors.





“What did you find?” Angel asked, as Buffy ran back into the store a few minutes later, a brown sack in hand. Buffy fished into the sack and pulled out a leather bound book with the words Vampyr engraved into the cover.

“You know how he loves all that ancient fantasy stuff!” Buffy smoothed her hand over the cover and then flipped it open. “And,” she tugged a small square envelope out of the front cover. “It came with a new CD version, created independently! Now Jenny can use the computer since she’s all techno-savvy!” Buffy clapped her hands together like a small child.

“Those are great gifts, Buffy. They’ll love them.” Angel kissed her on the forehead and they wandered, satisfied, out of the store. “Now, we should probably start looking for stuff for formal, right?”

“Huh?”

“Phi Beta’s Winter Formal? It’s on the twenty-first, remember?”

“Oh…yeah.” Buffy smiled cautiously, cringing inwardly. Angel (along with most of his football buddies) were all members of Phi Beta, the most prestigious frat on campus. Most of the members were athletes hailing from old money---Angel fit in perfectly. Buffy, however, was much for the Greek life. Ever since she’d attended a frat party her senior year of high school and practically been molested by a slobbering frat guy with too much hair gel, she’d sworn them off in general. Angel hadn’t mentioned his membership until she’d fallen hard and she’d been able to ignore that one facet of his personality in favor of everything else that was so dreamy about him.

“Is something wrong? Do you have plans that night?”

“No, nothing’s wrong, I just forgot.”

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“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? I feel awful knowing you’re going to be all alone in this huge house for Christmas.” Jenny screwed up her face and leaned forward so that her elbows were propping her against the kitchen counter.

“I won’t be alone. I’m going to go to Clem’s.” Spike lied, trying to reassure his worried step-mother. She’d been quite upset when he’d first refused to join them on their five-week vacation to Sunnydale for Angel’s school break, but now she just seemed worried. Truth be told, he would have loved to get out of New York for a while, but he couldn’t bear the thought of being stuck with his entire family (plus one girl he’d been trying actively not to think about) for more than a month. Not that being stuck here would be much better. He’d been in hiding for the last week, hiding out from that awful girl he’d gone with the previous week. She’d been attractive (at least with beer goggles firmly in place) and usually this was the only prerequisite for a full night of Spike lovin’. But the entire night had been a disaster. They’d stumbled into her pink-themed apartment a little after three-am and spent a good twenty minutes making out like high-schoolers on her couch. But when she’d tried to up the ante, Spike had found himself completely unable to…well…perform. That had never happened. Never. It was the one thing he couldn’t possibly have failed at---and he did. She’d thrown him out, yelling some anecdote or excuse and he’d spent the night in his car, with his tail between his legs. Apparently, the entire incident had lowered her self-esteem a few notches, because she’d been calling three or four times a night for the last six days. He ignored her of course---he’d become well-aware that his problem wasn’t going to be easily fixed. Whiskey dick, he’d tried to reason. That fluffy pink apartment, he’d thought. Her damn Pomeranian barking, he’d excused. But Spike knew he couldn’t blame any of those things solely for his inability to resume his player antics.



Buffy. It was her fault.



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Buffy knew what she had to do. It was the only way. As she walked into the dreaded room, an enemy clutching at her wrist, her heart skipped a beat.

“What’s with the freak-out face, Buffy? God, you can be so weird.” Cordelia Chase dropped Buffy’s waist and rolled her eyes at the red-faced girl. “I mean, it’s like you’ve never been in a lingerie store before.” Buffy looked around at the red velvet walls, the plush white carpet, and the display racks of lacy balconette bras and gulped.

“Of course I have, Cordelia.”

“Right.” Cordelia snorted and tossed her thick dark hair over her shoulder. Buffy had known Cordelia Chase since high-school. She didn’t really like her. It was more like tolerated. In fact, they’d been bitter enemies in high school---rivals at cheerleading tryouts, homecoming elections, even dating. But when Buffy had started dating Angel, she’d been forced to hobnob with the other “football girlfriends”. Cordelia had briefly dated (well, fucked would be a better word) one of Angel’s teammates and had since been initiated into the group of friends he surrounded himself with. Buffy hadn’t really wanted to spend the day with Cordelia---but Anya was busy and she couldn’t exactly ask Willow to go lingerie shopping with her. The shy redhead would probably faint at first sight of a pair of crotch less panty.

“How about this?” Buffy held up a pink cotton tank top and matching boy-shorts.

“Bo-ring.” Cordelia snatched the offending item away and tossed it back into the bargain bin. “You obviously know nothing about men.” Buffy didn’t answer that comment---it was probably true. After all, she’d hooked up with her boyfriend’s step-brother, hadn’t gotten into her boyfriend’s pants yet, and was largely unaware of how to make that happen. Her only idea (and that was after hours of deliberation) was lingerie. She’d wear it under her dress for winter formal, and at just the right time, she’d show him what was under all the pretty wrapping. He couldn’t resist that…right?

“This?” Buffy held up a white lacey bra with a pink rosette in the center.

“That’s fine, I guess. But I bet he’d prefer this.” Cordelia held up a set that was decidedly out of Buffy’s comfort range.

“Um..” She eyed it nervously.

“Just try it on.” Cordelia shoved the fabric into Buffy’s hands and pushed her past a satin curtain and into the dressing room. Buffy looked down at the lingerie and then at the mirror. She couldn’t put two and two together. Her, this petite girl with long, straight hair, jeans, and a plain green tee-shirt? She was a Bible and a pair Mary-Janes away from Sunday school. She unbuttoned her jeans, tossed them onto the floor, and proceeded to change into the outfit. She peeked out of the curtain.

“Cordy?”

“Well, come out then.” Cordelia sat down on the red chaise lounge that was sitting in the center on the dressing room. Buffy stuck one leg out of the curtain, hesitating. “Oh for Christ’s sake, this isn’t your 3rd grade piano recital, Buffy.”

“Sorry.” Buffy pushed the curtain aside. She was dressed in a boned corset, that was covered in black satin. The bodice of the top was decorated with red ribbon threaded vertically along the boning off the corset. Her breasts were pushed up into impressive cleavage (she didn’t even know she could have cleavage, honestly) with low cups accentuated by three rows of red ruffles that ran from one side of each cup to the other. The look was topped off with a big black bow that hung in the center, just below the cups. On the bottom, she wore black satin boy short panties and black thigh-highs with a black back seam that ended with a tiny red bow at the top of each nylon. She tugged uncomfortably at one of the thigh-highs.

“I hate to say this Buffy,” Cordelia tapped one perfectly manicured nail on her knee, “But you look hot.”

“I do?”

“Surprisingly, yes. And you know---if you cut that freakishly long hair, I might even vote you as a 7. Or an 8.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Here to help. What do you say---can we chop off that hair?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope.” Cordelia smiled devilishly.



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Buffy walked sullenly behind Angel, her hands clutched into little fists at her sides. She’d spent the afternoon with Cordelia, allowing her to work her evil girly magic. She’d come out of the experiment with three new-outfits, one set of lingerie, a new haircut, new makeup, and ready to wow Angel.



But he hadn’t even noticed. She’d flounced into his dorm room, dressed in her newest come-fuck-me outfit, and he’d said nothing. Nothing. From the time they’d left the room, driven to the airport, and walked through the airport, she’d been waiting for him to saying something--anything. Just a “you look nice” would have sufficed. If her look was enough to wow Cordelia, it should have been enough for him.

“We should hurry,” Angel said to her, “They landed about five minutes ago, so they’ll be at baggage claim soon.”

“I know.” Buffy said, annoyance evident in her voice.



As the couple arrived in baggage claim, Buffy sat her leather purse down on the floor next to her feet and grabbed Angel by the bicep. She tugged him towards her, grabbed his head, and pulled his face down to meet hers.

“What are you doing, baby?” Angel lifted his head and smiled down at her.

“What does it look like?” She pulled him back down and crushed her lips to his.



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He spotted them as soon as he entered baggage claim. The little blonde, kissing Angel hungrily, as she stretched up to meet his face. She looked different. Her armpit-length hair was cut into a choppy new hairstyle that fell just below her shoulders and it was blonder than before---less ‘natural hippie blonde’ and more ‘bronzed California girl’ blonde. His eyes traveled up her figure, from her tight skinny jeans and sky-high black heels, to her lacy top. The long-sleeved, v-neck top was made of nothing was black, intricate lace and beneath it she wore a black spaghetti strap top. In short, she looked tantalizing. She pulled away from Angel, eyes focusing in the distance, suddenly landed on his approaching figure, flanked at each side by Jenny and Giles.

“Spike?” Her voice was cold.

“Hey Buffy.”