Grosse Pointe Buff
By TalesOfSpike
Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy and all the other members of the Sunnydale crowd belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Fox, and so on, and so on. Grosse Point Blank was written by Tom Jankiewicz, D V deVincentis, S K Boatman & the vastly talented John Cusack. It is of course owned by Hollywood pictures and Caravan Pictures and not me. I’m ripping them both off for no profit whatsoever, other than the happies I may get when and if you lovely people review.
Chapter 10
"So, Cordy, what have you got for me?" Spike sat down on the bed, fresh from the shower, wearing nothing but a towel.
"Since it's the middle of the night here, or to be more precise, the early hours of the morning you're lucky I've got anything for you," his secretary replied, squinting at the alarm clock beside her bed as she opened up the laptop that rested on her bedside cabinet.
"C'mon, pet. You know I'll remember come bonus season. Now make with the goodies?"
"Okay, you online? Right, let's see. Your two spooks. We've got one Forrest Gates, ex-college football star from Georgetown, majored in abnormal psychology, and Graham Miller, one time wrestler from North Western, business major. They're down there in your neck of the woods as part of the government's new policy on gun crimes. Their big get "tough on terror" campaign. It's basically a publicity stunt. These guys need to take down someone quick, make the government look good. They needed a patsy, an Oswald. Angelus fed them you."
"So our Irish friend is the one behind all this?"
"Well, duh. Are you saying you're surprised?"
"Not really. No."
"Anyway, they were supposed to catch you in the act, then they get to take you out and be heroes, but they were too late..." Cordy waited for confirmation that didn't come. "They were too late, right? The job's done and you're on a flight out of there tonight. I mean, I know I went on about this reunion thing, but we are talking serious heat, so you're out of there, right?"
"It's not done, yet."
"Spike, this is not good. This is so far from the vicinity of good that on a scale from Mother Theresa to Rasputin, we're talking Saddam Hussein."
"Can you wait long enough to tell me about the ghoul before you get your knickers in a twist?"
"Luke Aurelius. Started out as an amateur with the Basque separatists. Car bombings... kidnapping... a few high-profile hits. Went professional with that cruise-liner for ransom deal a few years back."
"That's where I know that wanker from... but since I don't think he's offended by my politics, you have to figure someone somewhere is paying him to try'n' blow me into chunks that even my dentist wouldn't recognise."
"It's the Oregon thing... with the dog..."
"Jesus bloody Christ on a bike. Is that guy never going to give up?"
Cordy shrugged, the corners of her mouth turning down, and then she realised Spike would be oblivious to the gesture. "That probably depends on how much he has to pay to get someone good enough to get the job done, and since the job in question is you, I'd be hoping that Angelus prices him and his crew out of the bidding..."
"Mmmh," replied Spike, deliberately avoiding telling his secretary that Angelus had threatened to kill him, without any added cash incentive.
"Spike, just lose the spooks, do the job and get the hell out of there before you get hurt."
"I didn't know you cared, princess..."
Cordy snorted. "As if, but if you don't get your ass back, I've only got two days to learn how to forge your signature before payday."
"More like it took you two days to learn to do it, five years ago."
"Hey, it's not like I've abused the privilege. It's been strictly for emergencies."
"The beauty salon?"
"Have you ever tried touch typing with a hangnail?"
"Fortunately, no. I can't say that I have," responded Spike.
"Look, Spike, I am seriously worried about your safety here. Just do the job and get the hell out of there." Cordy countered.
"I've got to go, princess."
"We've all got to go, but we can choose when," Cordelia answered snippily.
Spike answered, as much to himself as to Cordy, as he cut the connection. "Nobody chooses when."
Spike flicked through the profiles that Cordy had e-mailed across to his laptop, making sure he had memorised all the details before he shut down the computer. He double-checked the guns and spare clips that he'd reloaded with ammunition from the case he'd taken from the old fireplace. He absent-mindedly tested the sharpness of a blade that fitted snugly in the top tier of the case, before he closed it up again. He picked up the red, plastic wallet, flipping it between his hands.
~+~
It didn't take much for Spike to throw off the men who had been following him. He had room service send up a bottle of bourbon and made a pretence of drinking half of it, before collapsing on his bed. All of this he did in plain-view of the parked station wagon, with the lights on in his room and the curtains open. When he doused the room light, he wasted no time rolling off the far side of the bed. He pulled on the clothes he had left draped over a nearby chair and a pair of black canvas hightops he preferred to his boots for climbing and was good to go. The men outside in the car never even noticed the chink of light that penetrated from the hall as he exited his room. He moved easily through the walled gardens at the rear of the hotel, finding them deserted, now that the sun had set and darkness fallen. The wall itself presented him with no problems, being far lower than those he had faced in basic training, and minutes after leaving his room, he was retracing familiar shortcuts through Sunnydale's back alleys and side streets.
He stopped some distance away, watching until he was sure his target was in the room he had expected, before he strolled nonchalantly toward the building. He made short work of climbing the tree out front, landing lightly on the porch roof that led up to Buffy's bedroom window. He knocked gently before pushing up the sash window that had been open a few inches when he arrived and taking a seat on the windowsill, resting his back against the side of the frame.
Buffy's smile of welcome was almost a reflexive action. Then, she remembered their years of estrangement and the fact she had a towel on her head and was wearing only a robe. Her brain was incapable of deciding whether the robe's bulk and practicality was a good thing or not. She snatched the towel from her hair and half-hissed at Spike as if she was still seventeen and afraid her parents would hear. "You can't come in."
"Okay, then. I can't come in." Spike stood up and extended his hand through the window toward her. "Maybe, it's time that you came out?"
"Dressed like this? I don't think so... You can come in... but just for a few minutes."
Spike's smile gained a few extra watts, as he sat down once more and swung his legs over the sill. He looked round the room as he straightened up. "Is this still the same wallpaper?"
"Yeah, well, it's not like I've been looking at it for the last ten years, what with going away to college and stuff... My lease ran out a couple of months back, and I'm staying here till I find someplace to buy."
"Really. Y'know I saw a nice place for sale down by the seafront.." Spike answered thinking of the family home Xander had been showing that afternoon.
Buffy smiled over at him. "I take it you ran into Xander, then."
"It's a possibility," Spike admitted before taking a deep breath and continuing. "But, then, I'm kind of thinkin' that you're not ready to be making joint real-estate decisions, yet... So, what d'you say we just settle for, say, making plans for me to pick you up tomorrow."
"I haven't agreed to go with you, yet," Buffy answered. "I said we'd talk about it later."
"And now is later. And you just said you hadn't agreed yet, which implies that you will."
"What makes you so cocky, Bleach-Freak?" Buffy countered before a frown settled on her features. "Wait, you said because I said I hadn't agreed, yet, that I was going to agree, but then you said we weren't ready to buy real-estate together, yet. That's a pretty big assumption there."
"Actually, pet, I didn't say we weren't ready. I said you weren't ready... But, look about the reunion, is seven okay for you?"
"Spike, you don't just get to walk back in here, like the last ten years didn't happen. I have not just been sitting round waiting for you. I have a life and I'm happy, well sort of... and you don't just get to come in here and turn it all upside down. I am not about to reshape my entire existence because William Jefferson Blank decided to finally turn up." Buffy's face flushed with anger as she turned on her former suitor.
"I'm not asking you to change your life. All I'm asking you to do, for now, is go with me to the reunion. And believe me, love, I don't assume that things are how they were ten years ago." All the time he was talking, Spike moved inexorably closer to Buffy. "If I thought I could pick up where I left off, then as soon as I came in I would have done this." Spike's head lowered to claim her mouth. At first his lips were gentle, teasing hers apart with all the expertise born of years of familiarity. As her lips parted, his tongue moved to tease hers, brushing against it with a gentle friction. Finally, he drew back leaving Buffy dazed, her pupils dilated and her breath uneven. "...And after that..." Spike stepped back, putting the temptation to follow up further on his words, out of reach. "...That robe of yours would have lasted about five seconds before it was in a pile on the floor." Spike's eyes held hers, letting her see the depth of his desire matched her own. "I know it's not ten years ago. I just want to... We had something special... and I think the first step to seeing if we still have it, is for you to come, with me, to the reunion."
"Alright, already, Blondie. I'll come. You can pick me up at seven. Okay? Now, go."
Spike, for once, decided not to push his luck. He retreated to the window, pausing as he swung his legs through. "Love, this, tomorrow, it's going to be an important step in our relationship."
"Spike," Buffy half-laughed as she spoke his name, torn between amusement and exasperation. "You... are... a... complete... psycho. You know that right?"
Spike ducked his head underneath the open window as he stood on the porch roof. His voice was so serious that Buffy found it vaguely unsettling. "You know, you really shouldn't rush to judgement on something like that until you have all the facts, pet. ...And, Buffy, you really shouldn't leave your window unlocked like that. There are some bad people round town right now." Buffy made a shooing gesture with her hands and pushed the window closed. She looked up and realised Spike still stood on the roof. He raised an eyebrow and looked down at the lock. Buffy slid the catch closed and mirrored his own raised eyebrow before he finally turned to leave.
Spike climbed as effortlessly down the tree as if it were a ladder. He jumped the last few feet, only to freeze in surprise when someone behind him cleared their throat too noisily for it to be anything other than a bid for his attention.
end of chapter 10