Summary: Buffy is a rich princess type, brought up by millionaire parents who care more for their reputations than for her. She meets Spike, an artist who's happy to work different jobs just to make a few bucks here and there. Of course, Buffy's parents don't exactly approve of their daughter's budding romance...How far will they go to stop them being together? And how far are Buffy and Spike prepared to go to do just that?
The cavernous room, richly decorated in deep blue tones, was filled with Sunnydale’s rich and beautiful. Diamonds hung off the women just as the women hung off their husbands or boyfriends. Every outfit was an effort to outdo the next person in wealth, class or style. Of course, this meant that a lot of women ended up looking…hideous. Waiters and waitresses milled around, refilling champagne glasses and serving caviar.
Amongst the enormous crowd were two people having exactly the same thought: God, I really wish I was anywhere but here.
***
Spike Giles poured another glass of wine for another unsmiling woman whose forehead seemed frozen in place. Did these people not realize how privileged they were? Why the hell were they all so unhappy? There was all the wealth in the world here and he had barely seen any smiles. Apart from those two crazy chits, Harmonica and Condella or whatever their names were, who kept following him around with what seemed like smiles painted permanently on their overly made up faces. Everywhere he turned there they were, their necklines slightly lower than before and their hems slightly higher. Pretty soon he was sure they’d just be wearing a strip of fabric around their waists. Oh God, here they were again. Why the hell had he ever told them his name?
“So Spikey, as I was saying, Daddy has this fabulous little ranch, only seventeen rooms, in Aspen. Its fabulous for skiing, you really should come one time.”
“Whatever Harmony,” the brunette snapped. Harmony, that was the bint’s name. “My daddy has a magnificent 50-foot yacht that we keep in the Greek Islands just off Mikonos. Why would you want to go to the freezing cold when you could go there?”
“I don’t know. Why would you?” Spike asked before turning away, knowing that they were following closely on his heels. All this talk of wealth was making him want to heave; surely they could see how shallow they were being? How vapid and superficial? But glancing around the room, he could see this was normal. They all tried to outdo eachother every single day. Bloody rich people.
***
Across the room, Buffy Summers watched her school mates flirt with the gorgeous waiter. Those two really were attracted to anything even resembling salty goodness. But really, this one seemed very salty. He was tall enough without seeming imposing, but clearly compactly built. She could make out his intense eyes even from this far away, and his bleached hair stood out in the room. She thought it was probably one of the best bleach jobs in the place, considering 97% of the women in here were so blonde their hair was almost white. Not that she could talk, being a blonde herself, but that was only highlights on top of her natural colour. She watched as every so often he’d turn around, chat with the girls then walk on as they followed him. Life was unfair. Suddenly, she saw them both turn away and head towards the bathroom. Why couldn’t she do a little flirting of her own? In this dress she sure could.
Buffy had turned eighteen several weeks before this particular function, which she was attending with her father Hank and mother Joyce. This was the first time since then she’d had a chance to dress up, an odd occurrence since Hank was one of Sunnydale’s richest men who frequently attended parties with his family, and she had decided to make the most of her new mature status. Towering high heels and a beautiful black silk halter-neck dress completed her look along with swept up hair and light, minimal make up. Surely she looked as good as Harmony and Cordelia, right? It was time to see. She made her way over to the man carrying the tray. She obviously couldn’t actually drink, but she could just talk to him.
“Champagne, miss?”
“Oh, no thank-you, actually I only just turned…”
“Uh huh.” He walked away, uninterested. Buffy stood there, slightly embarrassed and upset. What – just because she wasn’t shoving her boobs in his face she wasn’t worth talking to? What was she supposed to do, keep walking as if she’d been on her way somewhere? Oh how she wished she were anywhere but here.
*** Finally the two chattering bints had left his side for at least a few minutes of peace. Spike glanced up and saw a gorgeous blonde making her way towards him. As she got closer he recognized her as a girl he’d seen chatting to Harmony and her friend before. Oh great, another shallow idiot. He put on his best I’m-not-completely-bored-to-death look.
“Champagne, miss?”
“Oh, no thank-you, actually I only just turned…”
“Uh huh.” Oh, so she obviously hadn’t been heading towards him for a drink. Shame, with a body like that. But clearly one of them. Alright, get rid of these drinks then its time for a smoke. Definitely.
***
Luckily, Buffy found her father only a few steps away.
“Hi Dad.” She smiled at him, then at his companion. “Mr. Finn.”
“Buffy.” Her father nodded at her as if she were one of his business associates. He waved his hand at the young man standing next to Mr. Finn. “This is Riley, Patrick’s son. I think you two may know eachother from Sunnydale High, hmm? Riley, I’m sure my daughter would love to dance with you, yes?”
Riley didn’t wait for an answer from Buffy but smiled eagerly and grasped her dainty hand in his large paw, practically dragging her out to the dance floor. A symphony was playing a rather slow song so he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her close, swaying slowly. Buffy hated this feeling, as if she was a piece of meat to be passed from one person to the next. Her dad rarely let her have a say in anything once his decision was made, and he had obviously taken a liking to the Finn family. Too bad she hadn’t at all.
She didn’t notice Riley maneuvering her around so that her back was facing a wall until she felt his hands slip down over her ass. Her head shot up in surprise and stared at his smirking face. She quickly looked over to where her father and Mr. Finn were standing, watching them approvingly. All they could see was Riley’s back and her head when she peeked it round his corner. Buffy knew that there’d be hell to pay later if she made a scene, so she gritted her teeth and waited for the song to end as his hands continued to rub and knead her bottom.
***
Spike watched them from across the room, knowing he’d never be in her league enough to dance with her like Soldier Boy, the big overgrown lug. What the hell was he thinking? Why would he want to be anyway? All she’d talk about would be what her daddy owned. Shaking his head, he finally ducked outside for a smoke.
***
The song couldn’t end soon enough for Buffy. Eventually she was able to pull free of him as everyone raised their hands to applaud. She made her way to the nearest exit, desperately needing some fresh air. Walking out the side door and down a corridor only filled with empty trestle tables, she finally found another door that clearly led to an alley of some sort. She sat down on a clean enough step miserably before the pungent smell of tobacco hit her nostrils. She turned around and jumped, noticing the blonde waiter standing there. She smiled hesitantly.
He looked at her and noticed her nervousness. God, these rich people just couldn’t stand to be around anyone who wasn’t dressed in a tuxedo or a cocktail dress could they? He glared back at her. Buffy noticed his glare and tried to make conversation to ease the tension.
“So, you’re a waiter here tonight?”
“No, I’m the Mayor of Sunnydale.” He motioned to the outfit he was wearing, just as all the other waiters were. “Of course I’m a bloody waiter.”
Damn. This was harder than she expected. He apparently wasn’t in the best of moods. She was never really expected to strike up conversations with her father’s friends so it was more difficult talking to a complete stranger than she imagined. However, she was eighteen now, which meant maturity, sophistication and all that other stuff she kept repeating in her mind. She tried again despite her nervousness.
“Oh, yeah. Um, and what’s it like being a waiter?”
Crap. She forgot that nervous Buffy equals Stupid Questions Buffy.
Holy Christ, no wonder she was beautiful and rich, God had to make up for her complete lack of a brain.
“Its just brilliant love, and what’s it like being a rich, stuck-up bitch?”
Buffy’s eyes widened. Did he really just say that to her? What did she do to make him so angry? This was really the last straw. Why couldn’t any man she knew give her some respect? She didn’t want him to see how much her feelings were hurt so she got up quickly and hurried back inside. She’d tell her mom she was feeling sick and get the driver to take her home. So much for expressing her maturity for the first time since her eighteenth birthday. If anything she’d never felt more like a child.
***
Were those tears in her eyes? Had he really upset her? Nah, rich bitches like her weren’t capable of emotion. Now if only he could make himself really believe that.