Murphy's Law by Im_Bloody_English

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Chapter 9: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Author's Notes: Thanks to Sotia and Dusty273 for all their help – luv you my sisters. Thank you to everyone who let me know what day they preferred me to post on. Since most folks didn’t seem to care – there was only a couple that said Sun or Mon, I’m posting today and perhaps in a couple weeks go back to Mondays. I need to take the time to pimp out one of my beloved friend's fics - Darkrivertempest - her fics Omniscient and Hunter's Bane are simply awesome - just be sure to read the warnings. Hope everyone enjoys the chapter and have a great week.

Tuesday………

Spike was busy going over the portfolio he was preparing for the Capella meeting while Buffy was gathering last minute additions he’d asked for to include in their presentation. She was rummaging through the bottom drawer of a large filing cabinet that stood to the right of Spike’s desk when someone knocked on the door.

The person on the other side didn’t wait to be bidden entry and came strolling in with a smirk of his own to match Spike’s as their eyes met.

“William, buddy, thought I’d drop by to see you. The old man says you even have yourself an asss... sistant!” Indeed he does, he thought as his eyes wandered covetously towards Buffy. A very curvaceous one judging from her present angle… bent over with her rear in the air.

“Angelus,” he nodded, his facial expression tighter than a drum when noticing the way the other man was ogling the blonde woman. “Heard you were comin’ here.”

When Buffy stood up straight and turned around, Angelus ignored Spike in order to introduce himself. “Hello there. Angel O’Connor.” He held out his hand but noticing she had hers full of files, offered his help by taking them from her, setting them aside on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Mr. O’Connor.” Sliding her hand into his to shake, he turned it over instead, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss before speaking.

“Angel, please. There’s no need for formalities, is there? And what’s your first name?”

Spike sat back and watched with disgust as the great poofter laid it on thick for Buffy, Irish accent and all. `Course he’s usin’ Angel instead of Angelus. Pfft! Most of the women Angelus had ‘known’ quickly discovered he was no ‘angel’. He lured them in with sweet promises then treated them like shit after getting what he wanted whereas, like he explained to Buffy the other night, he did the decent thing by telling women upfront he was only after a bit of fun.

Spike didn’t believe he had anything to worry about, though. If he couldn’t get in Buffy’s pants, then Angelus sure as hell didn’t stand a chance either. It’d take a crow bar sent from God himself to ever pry those dimpled knees apart… or maybe the devil. She wouldn’t fall for gel-boy’s act. Not his girl.

Even though Buffy didn’t care for the ‘first name basis’ Angel was insisting on, she went along with it. She knew him to be Liam’s son and as such, had to ‘make nice’. Seeing that he and Spike knew each other, she assumed they must have worked together before because she found out through Cordelia the other day that Angel was transferring into their marketing department from another, similar company his father owned based out of Dublin.

“Could I… perhaps take you out to lunch, if you don’t already have plans? I’m new here and I’d love to talk with someone who could tell me a little more about the company, since you obviously have been here longer than William. So… what do you say?”

Uh-oh! Think fast. “I mean no disrespect, Angel, but I don’t do lunch with male co-workers. It’s a personal rule of mine. I hope you understand?” Buffy smiled at him to lessen the blow, even though she was being as polite as possible in her refusal. She actually did find him rather charming and handsome. And the accent? Well, it wasn’t like Spike’s, but it was cute and since when did I decide I preferred British accents anyways, or Spike’s for that matter?

Spike couldn’t contain the tiny chuckle that escaped his lips as Angel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at Buffy’s rejection.

“Oh, alright.” But as other plans formed in his mind, he put a sweet smile back on his face. “I can respect that.” Turning his attention towards Spike, he began asking him questions related to his position.

And as he did so, Buffy decided to make herself scarce by using the excuse she had to run some errands. She hated to turn him down, but it was a firm rule she had to keep, whether this was the big boss’s son or not.

“Nice piece of ass you got working for you there, William. Wouldn’t mind taking a poke at that.” As he licked his lips and adjusted himself, he heard Spike growl. “What? Are you two an item?” When Spike glared harder but didn’t answer, Angel immediately figured out the situation out for himself. “Ahhhhhhhh. I see. So you haven’t hit on the lass yet, have you, boy?”

“Buffy’s not like that, mate, and you’d do well to remember that.” But Captain Forehead only leered at him.

“Maybe right now, but people change. Just depends on how you… persuade them.”

“Don’ even think `bout it.” The last thing he wanted was for Buffy to get used by the likes of Angel. As if gettin’ used by me is any better? And when did he suddenly decide to grow a conscience? But before he could explore that thought, Angel was talking again.

“Bet I get to her first.” Again, Spike growled, only this time a bit louder. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said while heading for the door. “Be seeing you, William.”

He closed the door behind him before Spike managed to say Buffy was not someone he would turn into some cheap bet. But then again, it didn’t matter. Gel-boy could try all he wanted, Buffy would never have anything to do with him, he’d bet his life on it.

~~~*~~~

After Buffy left for lunch, Spike checked his schedule to see if they had anything going on this afternoon before heading out to grab a bite to eat, and that’s when he saw something that had him sitting ramrod straight in his chair to glare at the screen close up, re-reading it three times to make certain he was truly seeing what he was seeing… in bold!

‘12:30 PM - Wear bikini for Lorne’

His blood began to boil as his mind raced with thoughts of who this Lorne guy was and why Buffy would wear a bikini for him. Every path his treacherous brain led him down ended with the idea of Buffy planning on an afternoon quickie with this guy. His hands clenched the chair’s armrests so tight his fingernails cut little crescent shaped indents into the leather material as his mind filled with visions of Buffy… and another man’s hands caressing her legs, breasts, pushing her bikini bottom aside to… to…

Without even grabbing his jacket he left the building, needing the chilly New York air to cool him down before facing Buffy and to figure out just what he was going to say to her since she gave him the impression she was single. And he did, he came up with a smooth way to approach the matter.

Until Buffy made it back to the office twenty five minutes later than her scheduled lunch-break, pissing him off all over again.

The first thing he noticed were the new highlights she had in her hair; then he became aware she was acting all languid, her eyes half lidded and glowing with something akin to sated pleasure. He watched her sit down in her chair, wincing slightly like she was in pain. Seeing her do that made him livid beyond belief, but he kept his temper in check when asking, “Have a nice lunch?”

“Mmmmm, the best,” she hummed contentedly and twirled around in her chair with her eyes closed.

Boy was that the wrong thing to say. “You’re late,” he barked.

She looked at the clock then answered him as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Ooops.”

“Ooops? Ooops?!?! There’s no excuse for tardiness,” he chastised her, but she only shrugged at him casually.

“So fire me.” She quirked a challenging eyebrow up, but aside from that, her relaxed posture didn’t change a bit.

He glared at her harshly and did his best to let it go, which only served to let the whole ordeal fester in his head. Over the next hour, he banged drawers shut, shoved things about loudly on his desk as he worked, even huffed a few times though none of it seemed to gain any notice from her. He wanted to know where she went, what happened, for her to explain herself even if he knew she owed him nothing of the sort. But she continued acting just as unfazed as she was when she came back from lunch and it was making him insane.

After his patience wore thin from his efforts to get her attention, he decided he’d finally had enough and just came right out and asked, “So, what did you do durin’ lunch? Or should I say who?”

“Excuse me?” Buffy turned to look at him, noticing his jaw tightly clenched along with his fists, wondering where this came from and what the hell his problem was. “I had an appointment. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Appointment my arse! I can see your calendar, you know, and I don’ appreciate bein’ lied to.” He turned his laptop around so she could see it and pointed to the ‘Lorne’ entry.

As soon as she read it, she knew exactly what he must have thought and began laughing uncontrollably.

“Wha’s so bloody funny?”

“Nothing. Just thinking that at least Lorne knows how to treat a lady.” Getting her laughter under control, she told him, “You could really take lessons from him.” Sliding a loose piece of hair behind her ear, she added with a purr, “Lorne has greeeeat hands. Not to mention he’s an expert at waxing my ass.” Oh-my-God, I really just said that! Oh well, she laughed again, it was true, she just wasn’t thinking when she accidentally used the crude expression to describe what Lorne did for her.

“He did WHAT?!?!” He couldn’t believe he just heard that come out of her mouth.

“You know those Brazilians, they can be rough,” she sighed.

“He’s Brazilian?” How the bloody hell am I supposed to compete with that?

“Nooooo. Brazilian… as in the wax variety? You know… down there,” she pointed towards her crotch.

“So Lorne isn’t a, a-”

“Boyfriend?” she finished his question for him and chuckled. “No. I already told you I’m single. And for the record, Lorne drives stick.”

The feeling of relief that flooded him was immense before it was quickly replaced with naughty curiosity. “Can I see?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, a wicked smirk forming while looking at her lower half.

“Not even if hell froze over,” she replied icily without even looking at him.

“Can’t blame a bloke for askin’.” As Buffy continued busying herself with work, he couldn’t help thinking about the reasons why she would go and get herself pampered like that. Hmmmm. Bikini wax… overnight trip… her ‘goods’ all nice and bare and smooth… Readjusting himself, he was convinced she must have done it for him. Why else unless she planned on going to the beach? It was possible though he highly doubted it given the time frame of the meeting. Maybe this trip would see the success of business and the ‘getting down to business’ he’d been longing for.

When she left the room to go to the photocopier, he phoned the hotel they were to stay at and ‘rearranged’ their accommodations, thinking she’d initially have his arse for it. ‘Course since I want it the other way ‘round, I’ll have to make sure the hotel folk blame it on shortage `f rooms!

~~~*~~~

Go straight to bed, crawl under the covers and get some sleep was all Buffy had in mind right now, still feeling the wonderful, lasting effects of the massage Lorne gave her. That was the plan, even if it was only six thirty. Not even the presence of the obnoxious blond who left work early and was sure to be inside wanting to chat or whatever would deter her. Unless said blond is going through my family pictures!

“Hey!” Slamming the door shut behind her, she was angry as hell. “What do you think you’re doing?!?!” She stalked over to him and ripped her photo album from his hands. “That’s private!” Dropping her briefcase to the floor, she hugged the album close to her chest.

“Not when it’s in plain view,” he replied with a shrug of indifference.

“It was in my room which means you were snooping.”

“Retract those claws, kitten.” Re-crossing his ankles, he smirked and spread both arms casually across the back of the couch. “It was sittin’ right here on the side table.” He motioned his head sideways towards said table and watched as the lights came on in her head, knowing he wasn’t lying.

“Oh.” Late last night, she couldn’t sleep and brought it out to the living room to take some photos out she no longer wanted. “But that isn’t an invitation to go looking through it. You had no right.” She scowled and nudged his thigh with her knee. “And get your feet off the coffee table.”

Lowering his feet to the floor, he tried to explain himself. “I wanted to know more `bout you, saw it, and couldn’ help myself. Don’ be cross, please? I didn’ set out to make you mad.”

When he stuck that full bottom lip out she was doomed. “If you wanted to know more about me, all you had to do was ask.”

Encouraged, he did just that. “Sit with me then. I’d like to see `em, hear stories `bout your family.”

“You’re serious?” As hard as it was to believe, he did seem sincere. Nodding his head, he beckoned her to come and sit next to him by patting the couch. “Alright,” she sighed, blaming her weakness for his pout as to why she was giving in. “My life isn’t that interesting, though. You’ll probably be bored to tears within minutes, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I highly doubt that, pet.” He welcomed anything she might share in hopes it would shed more light on why she wore such a tough shell.

She slid her shoes and jacket off then joined him. Before they got started, however, he lifted her feet to set them on the table, sending her a warning glare and a comment about needing to relax then handed her the cup of tea he originally prepared for himself.

“Thanks.” She was too tired to question his motives if he had any, yeah, like Spike would do anything without some ulterior motive, and chose not to comment when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder to hold the other side of the book sitting between their laps.

Together, they thumbed through the pages while Buffy explained her ‘only child’ existence and the various events captured on film from kiddie birthday parties to Christmas mornings. Her childhood was ordinary. So ordinary, in fact, that he was envious. His childhood came with the privilege of money, but he didn’t remember being half as happy with his extravagant gifts as she looked with her inexpensive ones in the pictures as she proudly held them up and posed. He didn’t fault her for it of course since neither of them asked to be born into their respective families.

Something suddenly occurred to him in that moment. Maybe she’s uncomfortable `bout me givin’ her that pen cuz `f the cost? He didn’t think to take the price tag off when he wrapped it up, so maybe she thought he was trying to show off his wealth? He hadn’t really given it much thought when he bought it; he just wanted to get her something nice to write with so she’d throw away that chewed up pen of hers. The amount he’d spent on his gift was never something he factored into it one way or another.

Listening to her tell stories behind certain pictures, he was rapt with how animated she became. Her enthusiasm as she reminisced was adorable, causing him to ask more questions to keep her talking like that. For twenty minutes she was a different person, one that had him spellbound with her unguarded smiles and bubbling laughter. That came to a halt, however, when asked about the sudden absence of her father in the photos. She rushed through the explanation that he’d left her mother for another woman. He could identify with that. Somewhat. His own mother had left her first husband for his widowed father. But unlike Buffy, that union gave him birth and forced him into dealing with a half-brother from her previous marriage who’d taken his own frustrations out on Spike by creating a relationship of constant, and often grueling, competition over everything.

Without thinking, he moved his hand to her shoulder for a comforting half-hug and relayed his apologies. To his surprise, she didn’t go on the defensive at the contact. She simply shrugged, said that was life and moved onto the next page. He couldn’t tell whether the situation had any lasting effects on her she was trying to hide or she’d simply had brushed it under the carpet of time. Either way, he left his hand where it was and encouraged her to continue. Call him a rogue, but this unexpected and pleasant evening they were sharing made her even more irresistible to him.

As the years progressed on film, he was startled to learn she’d lost her mother during her first semester of college, and felt awful as she elaborated on that dark chapter of her life. Not only did she have to go through the mourning process by herself, but she struggled to make ends meet at the same time just to keep herself in college, live on her own and pay the hospital bills her wanker of a father refused to help with. That right there explained a good portion of her pride behind her professional life and that she wasn’t afraid of hard work. For the second time since meeting her, Spike felt genuine guilt that he’d swooped in to take a position she’d rightfully earned. And though he could tell Buffy wasn’t the type to ever accept a hand-out, he made a silent vow to himself to do what he could to somehow compensate her for the loss in anyway he could. Even if only in monetary terms.

There was another thing he discovered that ran consistently throughout her life history. Loss. On top of losing her Da then Mum, she went and lost her ‘best friend ever’. Nearly every page contained a picture of her beloved pet. From age five, when she received Mr. Gordo as a kitten, to when she lost him sixteen years later. She never replaced him, never bought another, had a tear in her eye when she retold the day she had to have him put to sleep. He could relate to this too, though his parents were quick to provide him with another pet after his own cat Zachary got hit by a car.

“Well, that’s it. That’s me,” she said with finality, still flipping page after empty page waiting to be filled.

“Wha’s all this?”

In the very back, the corners from the small stack of loose pictures she’d weeded out last night, stuck up from the pocket-sleeve. She hadn’t done it yet, but they were so trash bound. “Nothing. Just garbage materi-Spike, don’t!” He unexpectedly grabbed them out.

“Don’ look like nothin’ to me.” Leafing through them revealed the same guy in every photo, hulking over a tiny Buffy with his beefy frame. He quirked an eyebrow after coming across a particular shot and held it up. “You were engaged,” he said more to himself in surprise. It was obvious from the guy holding her left hand in an attempt to show off the puny diamond of her engagement ring. Stupid pillock bought her a rock so small you can’ even see it. And since when did he care about that or anything of the nature? He wasn’t jealous, didn’t have to be. In the end, Buffy hadn’t married the git so nope, not jealous.

“Were... being the key word. That was a long time ago.”

“What happened?”

“That’s personal, Spike.”

“Doesn’ mean I can’ ask.”

“Fine. You want to know? I’ll tell you. Riley was cheating on me. I found out about month before our wedding. And I don’t want your pity.”

“Who said I was gonna give you any?”

Ouch! That shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. She should have guessed he’d be insensitive about this, but it didn’t stop the temporary flash of pain from crossing her features before straightening herself. “Good.”

Bugger! He took the hint when she rolled her shoulders, loosening herself from his grasp. Christ, he felt like a wanker. He didn’t mean it... not exactly. Yes, he felt bad for her, must have crushed her heart though she’s better off without the overgrown pillock, but her shackles were back up now and it bothered him. Here they’d had a great evening together where she’d finally opened up to him and then chose now to ruin it? Like she undermined his ability to understand her pain? Okay, so he couldn’t really comprehend it, never having had a steady girlfriend in his entire life. But that didn’t make him heartless. Er, well, that last statement didn’t support the notion, but... whatever. He wasn’t an evil, soul-less monster, he wanted to be supportive towards her no matter the reason for the breakup but said the wrong thing and predictable Buffy came back to shut down on him, rearing her ‘I don’t need a thing from you’ attitude.

“Is that why you hate men? Don’ trust `em?”

“I don’t hate men and it isn’t the reason I don’t trust them,” she defended herself.

“A-ha! So you don’ trust men.”

“That’s not it either.” She could see she had him puzzled. “People cheat on people all the time. That wasn’t the reason we broke up. Well, it was the bulk of it, just not all of it.”

“What did you do?” He instantly regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth, but he couldn’t help thinking he saw a flash of guilt in her eyes when dodging the real reason why the engagement had gone sour. Should have asked what he’d done instead. Way to go again, mate.

“Me?!?!” she asked offended. “I didn’t do anything. But...” There was always a ‘but’, wasn’t there? “It... that was part of the... the problem, too.” He cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow raised in total confusion.

“Not sure I followed you `round that bend, luv.” The way she danced around this issue was bewildering to say the least, but it made him all the more curious.

“It’s just... Buffy and relationships are un-mixy things.”

“Un-mixy things.” She was acting positively quirky now. “But you’ve had boyfriends since then, right?”

“No.” At his stare of disbelief, she explained. “I don’t have time for boyfriends. With work and all.”

“Tha’s a load of rubbish,” he huffed. “You were home all weekend and home most evenin’s at a reasonable hour.”

“Your point?”

“You’ve got time,” he accused. “If you wanted someone in your life.” Like me. Even an ounce of her time, her intimate time, he corrected himself, would do them both a world of good.

“That’s just it. I don’t.”

“So what then? You gonna sit around and let it rot?” He pointed at her crotch.

“Since when do you care?” And ewww!

“I don’.” But he did. And he knew it. “Jus’ sayin’.” But he wanted to know, needed to know the ‘why’ behind the breakup. “I don’ understand. What went so wrong with dumpin’ a loser like him that made you give up on men? And how long ago was this?”

“Nine years ago and it was... he... The thing is... it’s complicated.”

She could certainly be complicated at times, but that wasn’t an answer and nine friggin’ years? “As in how?” Her eyes began darting about nervously, her cheeks glowing pink. What is she thinkin’?

“I’m... It’s me, alright?” she sighed heavily. “A-as in my fault. It’s my fault he cheated... that we broke up.”

“What?!?!” No way. Not possible. He got cranky after hearing her say such a ridiculous thing and didn’t conceal it when asking, “The wanker cheated on you and you think you’re to blame?” This Riley git obviously didn’t know the value of what he had in Buffy, what he’d lost, and Spike became buggering mad she believed such shite, that the unfaithful bastard had somehow convinced her she was responsible.

“I wasn’t there for him. Like he... like he needed me to be.”

What in the name of Her Majesty was she trying to hide? What was she not there for that was so horrible she couldn’t say? “Sounds like bullshit to me.” She was everything a bloke could ask for. Beautiful, smart, witty, sexy... Bloody hell! She was everything he could ever hope to find in a woman. Wanted. To have and to possess and especially to...

Buffy noted Spike unexpectedly went from looking angry to something else entirely different with his hooded lids and-and... glazed eyes and... She needed to remain focused on the conversation. “Look. You don’t know me.”

“But I’d like to,” he confessed heatedly, turning his body to face her, his hand finding its way back to her shoulder.

“No, you don’t,” she said weakly.

Tension filled the room, became thicker the nearer he came to her, her nerves seizing up on her, immobilizing her. A dirty smirk slowly curled his lips and the air between them crackled with sparks of a different nature... primal, raw, twisting her womb with a strange need, heating her blood.

“Rest assured when I say, pet, that I really, really do.” Little by little, inch by inch, he backed her into the corner of the couch. If she would willingly kiss him, just once, there might be a chance she’d open up to the possibility of, well, ‘them’.

“I’m complicated.” She had nowhere to go as he drew closer and closer, leaning over her, her head sinking deeper into the cushion, his masculine scent washing through her to tangle and ensnare her senses. The weight of his chest slowly pressed upon hers, bearing down, lying heavy, causing a brush fire to singe every inch in contact with his solid, well-muscled body.

“Go ahead,” he invited, his chest tingling from the two hardened peaks he felt heaving beneath him, eyes studying her wide green depths, lowering his mouth a humid breath away from hers to whisper in a sweltering tone, “Complicate me.”

“Oomph!” The second before she was sure to be kissed, she swiftly rolled away, fell to the floor in a graceless heap then bolted upright on her knees, smoothing her hair back as if nothing happened. “I’m-fine. Nothing-broken,” she spoke hurriedly and glanced at her watch. “Wow, would ya look at the time? I’m-bushed. Going-to-bed-now,” she chirped. Damnit! Her normal reserves of sharp wit had all but fled under the threat of his kiss. Before she could berate herself or stick around to hear his response, she stood and made a beeline for her room.

Spike wasn’t sure what the problem was, but did know she wanted it, wanted him, no doubt there, mate! The goal was clear, and he was determined more than ever to solve her mystery. Once he did that... she would be his.

Next week I’ll be posting on Sunday (The Florida trip, *winks*) because my husband is flying in on Monday - taking leave to come home and visit us for 8 days. I’ll do my best, though, to keep up with answering the reviews during that time. Hope you all liked the update and would love to hear from you if you have some time, thanks – hugs and kisses.

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