Near Enough by Samara

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Chapter 14

“Dru?” Buffy stood nervously in the doorway of her boss’ office.

Drusilla looked up from the inventory lists she was going over and smiled at the younger woman. “Ready to leave?”

“If you don’t mind. I’m just nervous about meeting Angel on time,” Buffy answered, twisting her hands together. She hated asking to leave early, but Angel had made special reservations at an exclusive restaurant in the city, and she didn’t want to disappoint him by being late.

Dru smiled her special secretive smile, the one that always made Buffy think her boss knew more than the rest of the mere mortals around her. “Of course I don’t mind. Have a good time!”

Buffy turned to leave, but Drusilla stopped her. “What are you wearing? That new green dress you showed me last week?”

“I was thinking about it. I don’t know if Angel will like it though. I’m afraid he’ll think it’s too revealing or something.”

“Hmmm…” Dru replied, pretending to consider. The dress was dark green silk, with a sweetheart neckline and a flared skirt just above the knees. In all honesty, she could care less if Angel liked it. Drusilla was thinking about someone else.

“He’ll love it,” she said sincerely. “You should definitely wear it.”

“Okay,” Buffy smiled, eyes sparkling. She completely trusted Dru’s instincts, on fashion and just about everything else. “I’ll see you later!” she chirped, turning again to head out the door.

“Oh, and Buffy,” Dru stopped her once again, just before she could disappear around the corner. “Happy birthday.”

Buffy gave her another smile and left the office. Seconds later, Dru heard the gallery door swing shut. Excellent. Now to make sure all the pieces were in place. Languidly, she opened her address book, running a dark red fingernail down the page until she came to the number she had stolen from Buffy’s cell phone earlier. Humming to herself, she picked up the phone and began to dial.
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When Spike had originally gotten the invitation, he had been completely bewildered. His cell phone had rung around seven last Thursday night, when he was sitting in Xander’s living room eating Chinese takeout and watching the World Cup with his bandmates. He seemed to head home later and later these days, simply not able to face his empty house until he was too tired to care that Buffy wasn’t there. Her definition of being friends did not lend itself to late-night visits, even just to talk.

He missed her horribly. Oh, he had seen her and spoken to her. But the casual touching seemed more off-limits now, and his fingers continually hummed with the ache of wanting to stroke her hair, caress her skin, even just hold her hand. He had to move out of the living room and into the seriously uncomfortable bed, because it was impossible to sleep on the couch without remembering the sight of her, head flung back with that gorgeous hair falling down, and green eyes burning with passion. For him.

But she had made it clear that thoughts of that kind were also off-limits. And she didn’t invite him back to her home either, he assumed to avoid a situation where Spike and Angel might meet again. So when he answered the phone to find Angel’s assistant on the line, he was not unreasonably surprised.
“Ummm, hi,” he had answered her officious greeting unusually tongue-tied.

“Hello,” she had responded crisply. “I am calling on behalf of Angel O’Connell and Buffy Summers. Mr. O’Connell would like to invite you to a birthday dinner for his wife, next Friday evening at Per Se. Will you be able to attend?”

Spike had stuttered some more, something he supposed sounded like an acceptance, because she replied, “Very good. Please arrive no later than 7:00pm and do not mention this to Ms. Summers, as her husband wishes to surprise her.”

Well, that explained some things. If Buffy didn’t want Spike and Angel together, it seemed like Angel had other ideas. Although Spike was pretty sure the other man had some sort of ulterior motive, something other than just gathering his wife’s friends for her birthday. So should he go? After hanging up the phone, he had turned to Oz and Xander and dazedly explained the purpose of the phone call.

“Oh yeah, we’re going to that, too,” Oz had replied nonchalantly.

“You and Xander?” Spike arched an eyebrow.
“No, me and Willow. She was invited and I’m tagging along as ‘plus one’.”

“And you’re just now mentioning this?”

Oz shrugged. “Sorry, mate, I forgot. Some of us don’t think about blond girls 24/7.”

Spike ignored the pointed criticism. “Well, I’m not bloody going. Why would I want to sit there all evening and watch her prick of a husband gloat?”

Xander decided to step in, cautiously, “Why would he gloat?”

Incredulously, Spike turned on him sharply. “Because,” he said as if speaking to a very young child, “He has her and I don’t.”

“Does he know that?” Xander continued. “I mean, I know he knows he has her,” he babbled. “But does he know you want her?”

“Would you know if some hanger-on of Anya’s was in love with her?” Spike retorted.

Xander bit back a rejoinder and considered the question. “Point taken.”

“But it is her birthday,” Oz interjected. “Wouldn’t she want you to be there?”

“How am I supposed to know what she wants? She doesn’t even know what she wants.”

Despite some evidence to the contrary, his friends had wisely left that question unanswered and the conversation moved on. But Spike had been thinking about little else. He kept bouncing back and forth, making up his mind and then changing it. He had bought her a birthday present, a lovely, but perfectly acceptable, friend present. But now that the evening had arrived, he was of half a mind to wait and give it to her tomorrow. Surely she would forgive him for not showing up. Surely she wouldn’t even want him to show up.

He was pacing back and forth in the hallway at the recording studio, trying to decide whether to go home or actually attend this ill-conceived birthday dinner, when his cell rang. He checked it and saw the number for the gallery where Buffy worked. She had called him from there once or twice, usually just to pass the time while there weren’t any customers. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he always dropped everything to concentrate on her voice, even if she was just calling out of boredom.

“Buffy,” he answered warmly. “Happy birth-“

An unfamiliar female voice cut him off. “Not Buffy. Sorry to disappoint you.” The voice was low-pitched and melodious; with an unusual cadence that made Spike sure he would have remembered if he had met the woman.

“Sorry. Who is this?” he asked, somewhat suspiciously.

“Drusilla Windham, perhaps Buffy has mentioned me?”

“Oh, right sure. You own the gallery.” He couldn’t help being perplexed. Why was Buffy’s boss calling him, unless…

“Is Buffy okay?” he asked urgently.

“She’s fine. Off getting ready for the birthday dinner her husband put together.”

Spike thought he detected a slight undertone of distaste at the words “her husband” and smiled a little. At least he wasn’t the only one who thought Buffy deserved better.

“Actually, that’s why I’m calling,” Dru continued. “You will be attending, won’t you?”

“Honestly, I haven’t decided.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” she answered softly, almost to herself.

“Well, why should I?” Suddenly, his control snapped and he began to vent to this perfect stranger. “I seriously don’t want to see her canoodling with hubby dearest all evening. And I’m not sure she would even want me there, with her bloody “let’s be friends” trip…” Spike realized abruptly that he might have said too much; he didn’t know what, if anything, Buffy had confided to her boss.

But Dru replied as if he hadn’t just spilled his heart so someone he’d never met. “Spike.” She suddenly sounded very serious. “You have to go. It’s Buffy’s birthday and you have to be there. No matter how hard it is, you need to be there. Promise me,” she said intensely.

Somewhat taken aback, Spike stuttered an assent.
“Good. I’ll see you there. I’ll even save you a seat,” Now there was a little bit of teasing in her voice, and as he hung up, Spike wondered just exactly what kind of woman Buffy worked for.

Drusilla sat back in her chair, relieved. The pieces were all in place. “Pain before pleasure,” she murmured to herself, a satisfied smile forming on her face. “But eventually pleasure.”

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