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 12
Buffy sat on her bed, gently waving her fingers in an effort to make her nails dry more quickly. She double-checked that everything else was ready. She checked the view from her window, yet again, hoping to see Spike's big, black, hire car pulling up, but still there was no sign. She walked over to the mirror and scanned her reflection. Her black pants had survived her sitting down without becoming unattractively wrinkled. The ivory satin waistcoat she wore in lieu of a blouse looked crisp and smart, and the black jacket with ivory satin facings, which completed the suit, hung ready on its hanger for when Spike turned up. She glanced over to where the numerals on her alarm clock glowed a putrescent shade of lime green. He was already ten minutes late. Maybe his nail varnish was taking too long to dry. Or maybe he wasn't coming? Maybe she was going to sit here and wait for him all over again.
~+~
"Red, listen, don't hang up. Just listen. I haven't killed anyone, but this guy did try to kill me, so if I see him again I'm definitely going to kill him, but I'm not going to kill anyone else. Well, except for the guy that I'm here to kill, and well, there's these other two guys who're following me round, so if they get in the way I might have to kill them, but other than that...
Anyway, I saw my mom, and well, she's completely off her trolley... but she seems happy, so I suppose it's not so bad. And I saw Buffy. In fact, I'm on my way to the reunion with Buffy. I should have picked her up already, but the whole thing's got me a bit hyper, so I thought I'd give you a call, and you could maybe give me some advice or something..."
"Okay, Spike. All you need to do is calm down a little. Repeat after me, "I am at home with the "me". I am rooted in the "me" who is on this adventure." The petite redhead's voice had a happy sing-song quality to it.
"Out loud?"
"Yes, out loud. It works better if you can actually hear yourself say it."
"I'll sound like some sort of poof."
"Spike, if you're not going to do what I ask you to do, then why bother ringing?"
Spikes voice came down the phone in a deeply embarrassed monotone. "I am at home in the "me". I am rooted in the "me" who is on this adventure."
"O-okay. Now take a deep breath and then say, "This is "me" breathing."
Spike gulped in a lungful of air and then let it out almost in a sigh. "This is "me" breathing."
"Good. Now go do that. Keep it up as long as you can while you're getting ready, and while you drive over. It should help you focus and let you calm down a bit. Just keep repeating it... And, Spike, don't kill anybody."
"Right."
Spike put down the phone and pulled open the top drawer of the dressing table. Taking out the 9mm automatic he'd used at the supermarket, he ejected the clip, checking it was loaded before he slid it back into place. He stood in front of the mirror for a second, the gun in his hand seeming entirely natural to him. He manipulated the slider, so that the first round was chambered, loosing another sigh as he did so. "This is me breathing," he said to his gun-toting reflection.
Putting the gun back down in the drawer, he checked over his appearance one last time, making minute adjustments to his tie and collar. He looked in the mirror and wondered what had become of the youth he used to be, and more importantly, who was he now?
"Yeah... You're a handsome devil. What's your name?" he asked himself. Maybe it was because he wanted to change the answer to the question his inner voice was asking him that he pushed the drawer closed without taking the gun out. Or maybe it was just dumb luck.
~+~
Buffy leaned out of the window slightly so she could check the street in both directions. She let her gaze drift back to the clock and finally let her exasperation get the better of her. "This is so not happening again." She grabbed the phone book from the bottom shelf of her bookcase and dialled the number for Spike's hotel.
~+~
The phone's ring sounded startlingly loud in the hotel bedroom because of the absence of the usual clutter that would help deaden the sound. A hand hovered over the receiver for a second before moving instead to pick up the printed reunion invitation that lay next to it. Tucking the invitation into his pocket, Luke Aurelius left the room.
~+~
The sound of a car's engine drew Buffy's gaze back to the street. She gave a sigh of relief, hanging up the phone as the Lincoln pulled to a stop in front of the house. She slid her jacket off the hanger, pulling it on as she made her way downstairs at a pace faster than a walk, but not really quick enough to justify being described as a run. Spike had just rung the doorbell when she pulled the door open. He drew a bunch of roses and baby's breath from behind his back with a flourish worthy of a stage magician.
Buffy smiled but couldn't refrain from commenting on his tardiness. "Flowers. Cute. But maybe you should have spent the money on a watch instead..."
Spike shrugged apologetically and pulled back the cuffs of his shirt to show the timepiece on his wrist.
"Well, I'll just go put these in the waste disposal or something. Mom's working late, but Giles is in the den. I kinda get the feeling he wanted a couple of words."
Buffy took the route through the dining room to reach the kitchen, pushing Spike in the direction of the front room. He knocked gently on the doorjamb before sauntering into the room.
"Mr Giles. It's Spike or well, Joyce always called me William, William Blank. Em, Buffy said you wanted to see me."
Giles put down his copy of "Archaeology of the Indigenous Peoples of California," and looked up at Spike with a familiar exasperated expression, before removing his glasses and pulling a handkerchief from his pocket with which to clean them. "Spike, I may be ten years older, but I'm not entirely senile, yet."
"Ehm, no. Sorry. Good evening. How are you?"
"Hmm. Technically, you still beat the millennia. I guess that means Joyce wins our little bet."
"Yeah, she did say she expected me sooner. Just wanted to say hello, see how you were..."
Giles replaced his now sparkling glasses. "Spike, I don't know where you've been since you abandoned Buffy ten years ago, and I can't say that I particularly care, either.
It's good that you left. I'm glad that you did. You seem to have grown up a bit, gained some sort of direction to your life. Or perhaps I misjudged you?"
Spike shrugged. "I don't know. I mean I hope so..."
"I visualised you, when I gave it any thought, as some sort of roadie or something, following round behind some of those punk bands you used to play all the time." Giles serious facade slipped, and he let an ironic smile turn up his lips at one side. "Now, Pink Floyd I could have understood..."
Spike shook his head. "'Fraid not, though if The Clash had still been touring and were prepared to take on an eighteen year old with no experience as Tour Manager or something, then maybe things would have turned out a bit different. No, I went the other way. Six figures. Doing business with mercenary sensibilities, ruthless enterprise, cutthroat attitude, you know. Sports sex, no real relationships... What about you?"
"You know me. Still digging holes all over the West Coast wherever they'll pay me. There's this hugely important site that we found not too far from here. It was supposed to just be a token dig, before they levelled the area for..." Giles realised that his enthusiasm had caused him to run on. "But you don't really want to hear about that.
Bugger it. Let's have a drink and forget the whole damn thing." Giles had poured one generous measure of Scotch before Spike could respond.
"I'd love to, but I think Buffy would kill me if I make her any later than I already have, so... Just wanted to say hi, see how you were..."
"So what exactly have you been doing with your life then, Spike?"
"Uh, professional killer."
Giles raised his glass. "Good for you. I hear it's a growth industry." He picked up his book and was engrossed again before Spike had even left the room.
"Okay. Well, it's been good seeing you again."
Spike was rewarded by a non-committal grunt from behind the book.
~+~
The Lincoln pulled into the parking lot across the road from the school building, as Forrest and Graham watched, debating Spike's sincerity.
Graham watched the two as Spike rushed to open Buffy's door for her. "Okay, he's definitely fallen for her."
Forrest gave his head a decisive shake. "No way, man. He's just using her."
"Just look at them. Look at the pair of them together. She looks real pretty with her hair up like that," Graham argued.
"Yeah, she's a hottie, and she's got herself all prettied up just for him," Forrest countered. "But he's just usin' her. I'm goin' to enjoy killing that bastard."
"Me too," Graham finally agreed.
~+~
Buffy surveyed the other couples making their way to the auditorium. "I should have worn a skirt." She half-turned back toward the car before Spike caught her elbow.
He assessed her appearance in the light that spilled from the nearby building, taking in the way the vest and the pearl choker she wore set off her California tan, the way wisps of hair escaped the clips she'd used to pin up the glossy waves, and how her eyes still had that same luminescence he remembered. "Buffy, you look absolutely gorgeous. Ten years on, and you are still going to be the prettiest girl in the room. You glow."
Buffy smiled and turned toward the school once more, her confidence boosted. Spike, however, became more anxious as he neared the building, realising how easy it would be for someone to infiltrate the gathering. "I should have brought the gun," he muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" Buffy asked in a startled tone.
"Nothing, nothing..." Spike demurred despite the obvious tension in his tone. "Just saying this should be fun." Spike ground his teeth together and forced himself to go on into the building.
end of chapter 12