Pretty Little Liars
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
This is a Spuffy story, but dark (see title) and I AM WARNING FAINT-HEARTED INDIVIDUALS. This story deals with certain issues concerning depression and also eating disorders. You've been warned, but don't worry, it'll still be lighter at times and lots o' Spuffy!
Summary:
"We're all damaged somehow."
Spike Thorton, silverscreen heartthrob, meets Buffy Summers, damaged rich girl, in an unconventional way and place. In the beginning, it doesn't mean anything for the blonde duo, but secrets and lies tend to reveal themselves somehow. Can the two survive or are they doomed to be chained to their past?
Pretty Little Liars
Chapter One: Discretion
William “Spike” Thornton eyed the brownstone warily. No sign proclaimed its purpose, but since he never doubted his driver, this had to be the place. Sighing, he ran a hand through his gelled locks.
Spending the late morning with a bunch of little fuck-ups wasn’t his idea of fun, but his agent was right; Spike had to get back in the industry’s good graces. And what was better than visiting a bunch of wealthy, adoring fans in a mental institute?
Spike slid out of his seat, not bothering to shut the door and walked up the steps, pausing at the door. Was he supposed to ring the bloody doorbell?
Thankfully, his dilemma was solved. An ice blonde dressed immaculately in a Channel suit opened the door with a smile on her Botox-ed face.
“Hello, you must be Spike. Come on in. The girls have been so excited to meet you,” the blonde greeted. “I’m Nancy Sinclair. We spoke on the phone, and this,” she gestured to a frumpier brunette, “is Martha Jensen. She’s been running this place for years.”
Spike stuck out his hand to Martha who promptly turned pink in the cheeks. Typical, Spike thought with a small smirk as they shook hands.
Clearing her throat, Nancy subtly moved them along toward a chrome elevator. “Now,” her voice was brisk. “As you know, this is a safe haven for girls, teen especially, who have…struggled in their daily lives.”
Martha was blunter. “We’ve tried to make this place less like a hospital, and more like a boarding school, just with different activities.”
Nancy shot the brunette a look. Then the blonde turned to Spike once more, “Well, I’ll leave you to it then. I believe you said you were leaving around 1:00?”
Spike nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? Was Steven Spielberg worth this? Yes, he realized miserably, he was.
Nancy’s heels clacked against marble as she retreated, leaving Martha to walk him into the “main hall.”
The place was impressive, Spike noted as the walked through the cherry wood door, entering a less ornate hallway to a place that reminded him of his college common room.
A few young girls lingered around, a couple reading and a pair talking. From the size of the place, Spike guessed it was exclusive as well as expensive.
One girl with long brown hair glanced up, her doe eyes wide. “Oh,” her voice had a Texan twang.
The noise altered the others, who looked up with equal excitement.
“Omigod! You’re Spike!” One girl exclaimed loudly, her figure and hair were both thin and pale.
Spike slipped into his charismatic role. “Yes I am, luv. And just who might you be?”
The blonde stepped forward, her skin nearly translucent. “I’m Annalise. I’m a huge fan,” her mouth split open in a wide smile.
“That right?” Spike grinned back. “How old are ya?”
“15,” she responded sweetly, moving closer. “God, you are, like, so cool.” Her relaxed posture encouraged the others to move in.
“Is it true Drusilla broke up with you?” A different blonde piped up, her face curious.
Clenching his jaw, Spike managed a yes.
“She sucks,” the girl said with a huff. “I heard she’s going out with some greasy loser now.”
Pathetic as it was, Spike took a little comfort in the girl’s proclamation. “Yeah, well, we just went our separate ways. So, what do you do for fun around here?” He asked, a twinkling look in his eyes that made all the girls giggle.
“I like to read,” the first blonde offered.
“Me too,” the southern brunette added, “I’m reading about Quantum Physics by Dr. Levinstine.”
Spike’s eyebrow rose at the comment. “I don’t think I even know how to spell quantum bloody physics. Smart girl,” he nodded at her.
Her cheeks flushed red at the praise. “Thanks.”
The girls all clamored for a chance to show off, and Spike found himself relaxing as well, joking around and divulging little bits of his future plans.
Martha entered the room in the middle of Spike’s story of being on the set of his latest movie. She waited until the end before walking up to him and leaned down to whisper, “There are a few girls here who are currently...a little under the weather, and I was hoping you could visit their rooms. I’ll have Molly escort you.”
A young nurse appeared behind Martha. “Uh, sure,” Spike responded gamely. He waved goodbye to the still giggling teens. “Later, luvs.”
He followed Molly down a narrow hallway and made a sharp right, facing a solid door. “Wait here a moment, please,” the nurse commanded, opening the door.
Spike complied, curiously peering around the nurse’s slight frame. Instead of the college like feel, the room was sterile and bare with light gray walls and various machines beeping. Involuntarily, his stomach lurched a little at the sight of the girl on the bed. Her hair, he imagined, must have once been beautiful, but now was in scattered clumps on her scalp. Her skin was pale and clammy, every bone accentuated.
As soon as he caught his glimpse of the broken woman, the nurse shut the door in his face with a glare.
Suddenly, Spike realized he was by himself. Sighing, he walked up and down the corridor, feeling strange. The difference between the sweet girls he’d met in the common room and the girl in the hospital room was terrifying.
Had they all been there? Or were they headed there? He wondered, staring at a blank door. It had no room number, so he assumed it was a bathroom. Pushing the door open slightly, he found a sight the severely contradicted his previous assumption.
A pair of young women was intertwined on a large fluffy white bed. The fully clothed blonde was on her back, her hair spilling in waves over the pillows. The other, a curvier brunette, was on top, her top gone, leaving her in tight black pants. Mutual groans escaped from their mouths, shocking Spike. It really was erotica at its best.
Suddenly the blonde’s eyes popped open, revealing surprised grotto green iris. “Fuck!”
The brunette’s head snapped to face open-mouthed Spike. A slow sultry grin crept on her full lips with dangerous undertones. “And who,” she drawled, “the fuck are you?”
Spike swallowed hard. He really was so bloody fucked right now.
This is a Spuffy story, but dark (see title) and I AM WARNING FAINT-HEARTED INDIVIDUALS. This story deals with certain issues concerning depression and also eating disorders. You've been warned, but don't worry, it'll still be lighter at times and lots o' Spuffy!
Summary:
"We're all damaged somehow."
Spike Thorton, silverscreen heartthrob, meets Buffy Summers, damaged rich girl, in an unconventional way and place. In the beginning, it doesn't mean anything for the blonde duo, but secrets and lies tend to reveal themselves somehow. Can the two survive or are they doomed to be chained to their past?
Pretty Little Liars
Chapter One: Discretion
William “Spike” Thornton eyed the brownstone warily. No sign proclaimed its purpose, but since he never doubted his driver, this had to be the place. Sighing, he ran a hand through his gelled locks.
Spending the late morning with a bunch of little fuck-ups wasn’t his idea of fun, but his agent was right; Spike had to get back in the industry’s good graces. And what was better than visiting a bunch of wealthy, adoring fans in a mental institute?
Spike slid out of his seat, not bothering to shut the door and walked up the steps, pausing at the door. Was he supposed to ring the bloody doorbell?
Thankfully, his dilemma was solved. An ice blonde dressed immaculately in a Channel suit opened the door with a smile on her Botox-ed face.
“Hello, you must be Spike. Come on in. The girls have been so excited to meet you,” the blonde greeted. “I’m Nancy Sinclair. We spoke on the phone, and this,” she gestured to a frumpier brunette, “is Martha Jensen. She’s been running this place for years.”
Spike stuck out his hand to Martha who promptly turned pink in the cheeks. Typical, Spike thought with a small smirk as they shook hands.
Clearing her throat, Nancy subtly moved them along toward a chrome elevator. “Now,” her voice was brisk. “As you know, this is a safe haven for girls, teen especially, who have…struggled in their daily lives.”
Martha was blunter. “We’ve tried to make this place less like a hospital, and more like a boarding school, just with different activities.”
Nancy shot the brunette a look. Then the blonde turned to Spike once more, “Well, I’ll leave you to it then. I believe you said you were leaving around 1:00?”
Spike nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? Was Steven Spielberg worth this? Yes, he realized miserably, he was.
Nancy’s heels clacked against marble as she retreated, leaving Martha to walk him into the “main hall.”
The place was impressive, Spike noted as the walked through the cherry wood door, entering a less ornate hallway to a place that reminded him of his college common room.
A few young girls lingered around, a couple reading and a pair talking. From the size of the place, Spike guessed it was exclusive as well as expensive.
One girl with long brown hair glanced up, her doe eyes wide. “Oh,” her voice had a Texan twang.
The noise altered the others, who looked up with equal excitement.
“Omigod! You’re Spike!” One girl exclaimed loudly, her figure and hair were both thin and pale.
Spike slipped into his charismatic role. “Yes I am, luv. And just who might you be?”
The blonde stepped forward, her skin nearly translucent. “I’m Annalise. I’m a huge fan,” her mouth split open in a wide smile.
“That right?” Spike grinned back. “How old are ya?”
“15,” she responded sweetly, moving closer. “God, you are, like, so cool.” Her relaxed posture encouraged the others to move in.
“Is it true Drusilla broke up with you?” A different blonde piped up, her face curious.
Clenching his jaw, Spike managed a yes.
“She sucks,” the girl said with a huff. “I heard she’s going out with some greasy loser now.”
Pathetic as it was, Spike took a little comfort in the girl’s proclamation. “Yeah, well, we just went our separate ways. So, what do you do for fun around here?” He asked, a twinkling look in his eyes that made all the girls giggle.
“I like to read,” the first blonde offered.
“Me too,” the southern brunette added, “I’m reading about Quantum Physics by Dr. Levinstine.”
Spike’s eyebrow rose at the comment. “I don’t think I even know how to spell quantum bloody physics. Smart girl,” he nodded at her.
Her cheeks flushed red at the praise. “Thanks.”
The girls all clamored for a chance to show off, and Spike found himself relaxing as well, joking around and divulging little bits of his future plans.
Martha entered the room in the middle of Spike’s story of being on the set of his latest movie. She waited until the end before walking up to him and leaned down to whisper, “There are a few girls here who are currently...a little under the weather, and I was hoping you could visit their rooms. I’ll have Molly escort you.”
A young nurse appeared behind Martha. “Uh, sure,” Spike responded gamely. He waved goodbye to the still giggling teens. “Later, luvs.”
He followed Molly down a narrow hallway and made a sharp right, facing a solid door. “Wait here a moment, please,” the nurse commanded, opening the door.
Spike complied, curiously peering around the nurse’s slight frame. Instead of the college like feel, the room was sterile and bare with light gray walls and various machines beeping. Involuntarily, his stomach lurched a little at the sight of the girl on the bed. Her hair, he imagined, must have once been beautiful, but now was in scattered clumps on her scalp. Her skin was pale and clammy, every bone accentuated.
As soon as he caught his glimpse of the broken woman, the nurse shut the door in his face with a glare.
Suddenly, Spike realized he was by himself. Sighing, he walked up and down the corridor, feeling strange. The difference between the sweet girls he’d met in the common room and the girl in the hospital room was terrifying.
Had they all been there? Or were they headed there? He wondered, staring at a blank door. It had no room number, so he assumed it was a bathroom. Pushing the door open slightly, he found a sight the severely contradicted his previous assumption.
A pair of young women was intertwined on a large fluffy white bed. The fully clothed blonde was on her back, her hair spilling in waves over the pillows. The other, a curvier brunette, was on top, her top gone, leaving her in tight black pants. Mutual groans escaped from their mouths, shocking Spike. It really was erotica at its best.
Suddenly the blonde’s eyes popped open, revealing surprised grotto green iris. “Fuck!”
The brunette’s head snapped to face open-mouthed Spike. A slow sultry grin crept on her full lips with dangerous undertones. “And who,” she drawled, “the fuck are you?”
Spike swallowed hard. He really was so bloody fucked right now.