Pretty Little Liars 4/?
Title: Pretty Little Liars
Chapter Four: Distance
Rating: NC-17 (see below at A/N)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss is boss.
A/N: 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! "Dilate" by Four Star Mary
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?
Chapter Four
Spike glanced for the umpteenth time out of the tiny airplane window, artfully ignoring the gawking stewardess.
The sun was blinding above the thick clouds, but Spike preferred it to the unabashed stares and whispers. Technically, he had a personal plane courtesy of his agency, but he had opted for first class instead.
He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Buffy briefly before his flight. It had surprised him when his phone vibrated in his pocket, an unfamiliar number appearing on the screen.
”Hello?”
“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”
“Buffy?”
“Yeah. So…where?”
“I don’t know…how’d you get this-never mind.”
“Seriously, you should answer before you get on the plane or someone sees me with contraband.”
“Contraband?”
“I know, it’s only an innocent cell phone. Come on, Spike, where?”
“Honestly?”
“Bare naked truth.”
“Anywhere with you.”
There had been a slight pause, but she replied sweetly, turning his answer into a part of their dance. However, the real truth was that it was exactly how he felt.
“Mr. Thornton, would you like another drink?” The stewardess, flight attendant he corrected himself, had a lilting voice.
“Yes, please,” he replied cordially, handing her the cup. He waited until it was back in his hand before he looked away again.
Only two more hours until he landed in LA. He touched the pocket where his lighter usually was. The question that plagued his mind was continuously: when would he see Buffy again?
*********************
Two weeks later
“Dude, you’re off.”
Spike scowled and readjusted the guitar in his hand, fully convinced his day was going from bad to worse. He watched his friend, Oz, grab his water bottle. They had reserved the stage for practice early in the afternoon for their concert later. All three of them had regular jobs; the band was just a little more than a hobby.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, knowing for a fact he wasn’t.
“Is this about that chick again?” Spike heard his other band mate, Xander, call out from behind the stage. “Are you still talkin’ about her?”
“Her name is Buffy,” Spike corrected and winced at his prudish reproach. “An’ I’m not hung up on her.”
Oz glanced at him, his look speaking louder than any words he could have said.
“I’m not,” Spike insisted, holding his pick again against the strings. “She’s just…I like her, yeah?”
Shrugging, Oz said, “Yeah.” He left his bass on the floor and stood up, walking to the stage bathroom.
Xander appeared with his drumsticks in his hand. “Remember the last girl you liked? And how she ditched your ass?”
Tapping his guitar, Spike replied, “I didn’t like Drusilla, I loved her. Buffy’s different…she’s interesting, funny, smart in a laidback way, and I like her.”
Frowning, Xander sat down. “Wait, you didn’t like Drusilla?”
“Well, I could never see us just bein’ friends. It’d always be more with her,” Spike answered as best as he could. “We never really did just…talk.”
“And you can with Buffy?” Xander asked, gulping his water.
“We did,” Spike told him, “and she was bloody funny and fascinating and kissing her was soddin’ perfect.”
With a laugh, Xander stood up and went back to his drums. “Man, you gotta stop talking about her like she’s the Second Coming.”
“Fuck off.” Spike flipped him the bird half-heartedly.
Xander snorted, turning to face the would-be audience. “Hey, Oz! Get back here! We’re doing ‘Dilate’ again.”
Oz returned almost instantly. “Here.” He picked up the bass. “Ready?”
Spike nodded, listening to the music for his cue. When it came, he let the lyrics pour out, feeling the truth behind them.
“When I see your face. My eyes just dilate…”
************
When Spike stepped into a grandiose hotel, he immediately spotted his agent, Anya Jenkins, sitting at the bar. She was wearing a short skirt and her long, lean legs were crossed, revealing a generous amount of skin.
He sat next to her and motioned for the bartender. “Hey, pet.”
“Do you know what time it is?” Anya demanded, gulping her fruity drink. “I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes!”
“Hello, nice to see you too,” Spike said dryly, and then turned to the bartender to order his drink.
Anya rotated her seat so she was facing him. “So, Xander said that you have a new girlfriend. Does she speak in riddles too? Maybe a few limericks?”
Sending Anya a glare, Spike took a moment to drink before replying, “She’s not like that.”
For a second, Spike thought he had rendered her speechless. She was staring at him like a fish-her mouth forming a silent ‘O’.
“Who is she?” Anya asked with gravity. “Is it that blonde bimbo from the bar-Harmonica or whatever?”
“God no,” Spike said quickly. “I couldn’t get that bird off me fast enough. No, I met her in New York.”
Anya let out a sputtering laugh. “What? At the hospital place I sent you to?”
Spike gave her a surprised look. “Well, yeah, actually.” He shifted in his seat. “I know that sounds like I’ve gone batty, but she’s amazing.”
“Well,” Anya asked, trying to contain her laughter, “what’s her name?”
He hesitated. “Buffy. Buffy Summers.”
This time, Anya did choke on her drink. In between coughs, she demanded, “What? How? What?”
“Figured that one out, yeah?” Spike mumbled, tilting his glass back.
“Th-that’s Hank Summers’ daughter,” Anya said slowly. “Spike, you’re a dead man.”
“Bloody hell, Anya, I’ve gone on one date with her, and it wasn’t even really a soddin’ date,” Spike snapped.
“If you like her that much, it’s not gonna be just one date,” Anya remarked wisely. She reached over the bar and grabbed a handful of peanuts.
Spike copied her and munched thoughtfully. “She’s on the other side of the country, pet. I don’t think anything will come out of it right now.”
“You better be right, Spike, or our asses will be slow roasted,” Anya grumbled darkly. “And I’ll loose valuable money.”
Chuckling slightly, Spike stood up, leaving a twenty on the table. “I promise you’re not gonna lose any of your precious money. Now, go home to your hubby.”
“You better be right,” Anya warned as she hopped off the barstool. “Okay, I’m going to call Xander and tell him to meet me at the door covered in chocolate sauce, this day’s been shot to hell.”
Spike winced slightly at the overtly detailed comment, but kissed her forehead, a big brother gesture. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine,” he reminded her before stepping out of the hotel.
“It’s nothing,” Spike echoed to himself, staring down at his car. Nothing at all.
Chapter Four: Distance
Rating: NC-17 (see below at A/N)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss is boss.
A/N: 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! "Dilate" by Four Star Mary
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?
Chapter Four
Spike glanced for the umpteenth time out of the tiny airplane window, artfully ignoring the gawking stewardess.
The sun was blinding above the thick clouds, but Spike preferred it to the unabashed stares and whispers. Technically, he had a personal plane courtesy of his agency, but he had opted for first class instead.
He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Buffy briefly before his flight. It had surprised him when his phone vibrated in his pocket, an unfamiliar number appearing on the screen.
”Hello?”
“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”
“Buffy?”
“Yeah. So…where?”
“I don’t know…how’d you get this-never mind.”
“Seriously, you should answer before you get on the plane or someone sees me with contraband.”
“Contraband?”
“I know, it’s only an innocent cell phone. Come on, Spike, where?”
“Honestly?”
“Bare naked truth.”
“Anywhere with you.”
There had been a slight pause, but she replied sweetly, turning his answer into a part of their dance. However, the real truth was that it was exactly how he felt.
“Mr. Thornton, would you like another drink?” The stewardess, flight attendant he corrected himself, had a lilting voice.
“Yes, please,” he replied cordially, handing her the cup. He waited until it was back in his hand before he looked away again.
Only two more hours until he landed in LA. He touched the pocket where his lighter usually was. The question that plagued his mind was continuously: when would he see Buffy again?
*********************
Two weeks later
“Dude, you’re off.”
Spike scowled and readjusted the guitar in his hand, fully convinced his day was going from bad to worse. He watched his friend, Oz, grab his water bottle. They had reserved the stage for practice early in the afternoon for their concert later. All three of them had regular jobs; the band was just a little more than a hobby.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, knowing for a fact he wasn’t.
“Is this about that chick again?” Spike heard his other band mate, Xander, call out from behind the stage. “Are you still talkin’ about her?”
“Her name is Buffy,” Spike corrected and winced at his prudish reproach. “An’ I’m not hung up on her.”
Oz glanced at him, his look speaking louder than any words he could have said.
“I’m not,” Spike insisted, holding his pick again against the strings. “She’s just…I like her, yeah?”
Shrugging, Oz said, “Yeah.” He left his bass on the floor and stood up, walking to the stage bathroom.
Xander appeared with his drumsticks in his hand. “Remember the last girl you liked? And how she ditched your ass?”
Tapping his guitar, Spike replied, “I didn’t like Drusilla, I loved her. Buffy’s different…she’s interesting, funny, smart in a laidback way, and I like her.”
Frowning, Xander sat down. “Wait, you didn’t like Drusilla?”
“Well, I could never see us just bein’ friends. It’d always be more with her,” Spike answered as best as he could. “We never really did just…talk.”
“And you can with Buffy?” Xander asked, gulping his water.
“We did,” Spike told him, “and she was bloody funny and fascinating and kissing her was soddin’ perfect.”
With a laugh, Xander stood up and went back to his drums. “Man, you gotta stop talking about her like she’s the Second Coming.”
“Fuck off.” Spike flipped him the bird half-heartedly.
Xander snorted, turning to face the would-be audience. “Hey, Oz! Get back here! We’re doing ‘Dilate’ again.”
Oz returned almost instantly. “Here.” He picked up the bass. “Ready?”
Spike nodded, listening to the music for his cue. When it came, he let the lyrics pour out, feeling the truth behind them.
“When I see your face. My eyes just dilate…”
************
When Spike stepped into a grandiose hotel, he immediately spotted his agent, Anya Jenkins, sitting at the bar. She was wearing a short skirt and her long, lean legs were crossed, revealing a generous amount of skin.
He sat next to her and motioned for the bartender. “Hey, pet.”
“Do you know what time it is?” Anya demanded, gulping her fruity drink. “I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes!”
“Hello, nice to see you too,” Spike said dryly, and then turned to the bartender to order his drink.
Anya rotated her seat so she was facing him. “So, Xander said that you have a new girlfriend. Does she speak in riddles too? Maybe a few limericks?”
Sending Anya a glare, Spike took a moment to drink before replying, “She’s not like that.”
For a second, Spike thought he had rendered her speechless. She was staring at him like a fish-her mouth forming a silent ‘O’.
“Who is she?” Anya asked with gravity. “Is it that blonde bimbo from the bar-Harmonica or whatever?”
“God no,” Spike said quickly. “I couldn’t get that bird off me fast enough. No, I met her in New York.”
Anya let out a sputtering laugh. “What? At the hospital place I sent you to?”
Spike gave her a surprised look. “Well, yeah, actually.” He shifted in his seat. “I know that sounds like I’ve gone batty, but she’s amazing.”
“Well,” Anya asked, trying to contain her laughter, “what’s her name?”
He hesitated. “Buffy. Buffy Summers.”
This time, Anya did choke on her drink. In between coughs, she demanded, “What? How? What?”
“Figured that one out, yeah?” Spike mumbled, tilting his glass back.
“Th-that’s Hank Summers’ daughter,” Anya said slowly. “Spike, you’re a dead man.”
“Bloody hell, Anya, I’ve gone on one date with her, and it wasn’t even really a soddin’ date,” Spike snapped.
“If you like her that much, it’s not gonna be just one date,” Anya remarked wisely. She reached over the bar and grabbed a handful of peanuts.
Spike copied her and munched thoughtfully. “She’s on the other side of the country, pet. I don’t think anything will come out of it right now.”
“You better be right, Spike, or our asses will be slow roasted,” Anya grumbled darkly. “And I’ll loose valuable money.”
Chuckling slightly, Spike stood up, leaving a twenty on the table. “I promise you’re not gonna lose any of your precious money. Now, go home to your hubby.”
“You better be right,” Anya warned as she hopped off the barstool. “Okay, I’m going to call Xander and tell him to meet me at the door covered in chocolate sauce, this day’s been shot to hell.”
Spike winced slightly at the overtly detailed comment, but kissed her forehead, a big brother gesture. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine,” he reminded her before stepping out of the hotel.
“It’s nothing,” Spike echoed to himself, staring down at his car. Nothing at all.