Chapter 7 – Propositions
"I have to go back to my apartment to unpack," Riley said. He was sitting at the kitchen island. Buffy leaned against the counter, chewing on a dry bagel and staring into the backyard through the window over the sink. "I basically dumped my stuff and sprinted over here."
"Hmm," Buffy said.
"So then I decided to become a monk and shave my head and I really don't think you're listening to me."
Buffy nodded absently.
"Buffy?" Riley said, raising his voice a bit.
"I heard you Riley. But I'm not sure a big brown monkish potato sack is really a good look for you."
"You look like you're miles away." He came around the island to stand next to her. He looked out the window too. "What's out there that's got you so fascinated?"
"Nothing now," Buffy said. "I'm just thinking about—stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Stuff stuff ," she said, turning to look up at him. "So you need to go pack? I mean, unpack?"
"I do." Riley pulled her in for a kiss. Their lips touched lightly before Buffy moved back.
"That works for me. I was able to get a corner single at the dorm, so I'll need to start packing my stuff up here to get it over there by Monday."
"You didn't tell me you got a single room," Riley said. "Not that I don't think that's great and all."
"Sure I told you. I mean, I must have told you. Didn't I tell you?"
"I think I'd remember news like that." Riley seemed a little hurt.
"Sorry, Riley," Buffy said. She stepped out of his embrace and squeezed his hand. "My bad. It was hard to remember everything when we talked on the phone."
"Yeah, all five times we talked."
Buffy let go of his hand. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing. It's just, I thought you'd miss me more. That you'd want to talk to me more often. I missed hearing you voice. But I don't think you missed hearing mine."
"I did miss you, Riley. I did." She kissed his cheek. "Let's not argue about this now, okay? Go unpack. I'll go pack. And we can meet up later."
Riley crossed his arms. "Is that what we're doing? Arguing?"
"We will be if you don't let this go," Buffy said, more sharply than she intended.
Riley closed his eyes for a moment and then gave her a tight smile. "Understood. I'll be getting out of your way now." He turned and left the kitchen, heading for the front door.
"Riley..." Buffy called after him.
He opened the door and looked back at her. "No, really. It's fine, Buffy. Hey, maybe we could meet up at the Bronze later? I was thinking about giving Graham a call."
"Sure. That'd be great." She went up to him and gave him a hug. "Are we okay?"
"Yeah," he said into the hair on top of her head. "Just gotta get used to each other again, right?"
"Exactly."
He kissed her softly. "I'll call you about the time later."
Buffy waved him down the front walk before closing the door. She leaned against it and mentally yelled at herself. What the hell was she doing? Here was this really nice, great guy and all that was racing though her head was God, I wish he kissed like Spike.
She took several deep breaths and went upstairs to tackle her closet.
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She had moved from her closet to her drawers and was picking through her underwear when the phone rang. She looked at her clock. Six-thirty! No wonder she was so hungry. She grabbed the phone right before the answering machine picked up. It was Riley.
"How does the Bronze at seven sound?" he asked.
"Make it seven-thirty and I'll be there clean and smelling pretty."
"Seven-thirty it is."
Buffy hung up and looked at the disaster that was her room. She just needed to figure out which pile of things she intended to take with her, which pile was to donate and which pile was going to be shoved back into her closet. Glancing at the clock again, she picked something to wear off the closest pile and ran to the bathroom.
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Buffy dabbed at her lip gloss and checked herself out in the mirror one last time. Her red top draped across her breasts and was held up by spaghetti straps. Her black pants fit her snugly and looked excellent with her fashionable, yet slaying-friendly, ankle boots. She tucked a stake into her small shoulder purse and decided she was ready.
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The Bronze was even more crowded than the last time she'd gone. Buffy had an idea of where Riley would be—over by the pool tables—so she made her way through the crowd to get there. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment when she thought she saw platinum blond hair. That she wasn't ready for. But before she could find out if the hair was Spike's, Riley appeared in front of her.
"Wow. You look unbelievable," Riley said. He hugged her and slung an arm around her shoulders, directing her to where Graham waited.
"Hi, Buffy," Graham said, offering her a beer.
Buffy waved the beer off. "Thanks anyway, Graham. How's the new and hopefully improved Initiative treating you?"
"Well, um, that's classified."
"Of course it is." Buffy turned back to Riley. "Did you get your unpacking done?"
"I did. And actually, there's something I wanted to ask you, though now is probably not the best time."
"Ask me?" Buffy felt the beginnings of panic flutter in her stomach. "Why don't you ask me to dance?" she asked quickly.
Riley handed his beer bottle off to Graham and led Buffy out to the dance floor. A fast song was just finishing up. Riley twirled Buffy a few times before drawing her in close as a new, slower song began. Buffy could hear the thudding of his heart as he pressed her head to his chest. She was a little startled when Riley pulled back from her.
She looked up as she heard Riley say, "No you sure as hell can't cut in. Get lost."
Buffy moved away from Riley to see who was trying to dance with her. "Spike," she said before she could stop herself. It came out a lot breathier than she wanted it to.
"Buffy," Spike said. "Thought it'd be a lark, you and me cutting a proverbial rug. But Cro-Magnon Man won't hear of it. He book all your dances for you?"
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Spike?" Riley shoved Spike's shoulder. "There's no way Buffy would ever dance with—"
Buffy put her hand on Riley's arm. "Riley. Really, I don't mind. It's just one dance."
Riley stared at her. "What? You want to dance with this undead joker?"
"Spike and I have some—unfinished business to talk about."
"What's going on with you, Buffy?" Riley asked her. "I was only gone a month and it's like you're a stranger to me."
"Riley, please. I'll explain everything later. Just do this for me, okay?"
Riley stepped back and put his hands in the air. "Fine. Dance with him. But I'm not about to watch."
Buffy started to go after him as he walked away, but Spike took her hand, stopping her. "Song's nearly half over already, pet. Let's not waste the rest, shall we?"
She allowed him to lead her further onto the crowded dance floor. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to draw her body against his. She put her hands on his biceps to keep some distance between them.
"What game are you playing now, Spike?"
"No game, love. Just saw you and felt like dancing with you."
"Is that right?" Buffy asked skeptically.
He brought his mouth to her ear and lightly bit her lobe. "Wanted another taste of you," he said.
Buffy pushed him away. "No. You had your taste. It's done."
"Changed my mind," Spike said as he reached for her again. "Haven't really tasted you yet."
"You are so not drinking from me."
Spike smiled slowly and put Buffy's left hand on his shoulder before clasping her right and putting it against his chest. "Your blood's not the taste I'm wanting." He ground his pelvis into hers suggestively.
"Spike, no."
"Buffy, you should know by now you can't hide it from me. I can smell how much you want me."
"Gross, Spike."
"But true." They were just barely moving to the music. He lifted her chin with their combined hands, forcing her to look at him. "Maybe there is a spell because I was sure I'd gotten you out of my system. Then I saw you standing here, all golden and beautiful and I needed more."
"Don't tell me these things," Buffy said. "I don't want to hear them."
"You don't want to accept them, you mean."
"No. Riley's back. I can't be doing these things with you." She pulled her hand out of his. "I want a normal life, Spike. I want Riley."
"No, Buffy. You want me. I want you. Maybe a proper fuck will finish this wanting."
"No! We can't do that again!"
Spike's hand slid down the back of her silky shirt to lightly cup her bottom through her black pants. He rubbed her gently against his erection. She closed her eyes slowly. When she opened them, Spike was looking at her very seriously.
"One night, Buffy. Just one. Just to see."
"To see what? That I can screw around on my boyfriend again? I'm not like that, Spike. In addition to all the obvious reasons why we can't—"
Spike touched her, sliding his hand between them. Buffy's eyes opened wide as he cupped and squeezed her. "Stop it. People will see."
"Then say it. One night. Say it, Buffy."
"Dammit , Spike. Move your hand or I'll break it."
"Don't want to make a scene, now, do we, Slayer? One night, Buffy."
"Fine," she hissed at him. "Wednesday night. After patrol. I'll come to your crypt. You son of a bitch."
"That's my girl," Spike said. He released her and brought his hand to his nose. He sniffed deeply and smiled. "Be prepared to spend the whole night, love."
"You are disgusting. And I'm not your girl," Buffy said, her voice hard.
"We'll see, won't we?" Spike said. He backed away from her and melted into the crowd.
Buffy mentally shook herself and looked around. It didn't seem like anyone was looking at her in any particular way. Even so, she hated herself for being so reckless around Spike. If Riley had seen...
She needed to find Riley.
He wasn't with Graham. "He left," Graham said.
"Where did he go? Did he tell you?" Buffy asked.
"I'd leave him alone for a while, Buffy. He's not real happy with you right now."
"Him and me both. What did he say?"
"Just that you ditched him to dance with some creep. Don't hurt him, Buffy. You're everything to him."
Buffy gave Graham a pained look. "Thanks," she said.
She left the Bronze. This thing with Spike—it was some kind of temporary madness. And now she'd agreed to do the nasty with him. Again. But she had to know. Everything inside her was screaming at her that anything to do with Spike was wrong and bad, yet she knew he had a point. There had always been something between them—since the first time she saw him in this very alley. And for some reason, it was all coming to a head right now.
Don't hurt Riley. Well, it was too late for that now, wasn't it?
She wrapped her arms around herself and headed for home.