Chapter 31 (Path A): Love Hurts
{A/N: This is where the story will split and go in two different directions, a 'What if?' scenario. There will be two different versions of the story, one with lots of angst and pain (Path A), and one version not as painful (Path B). Something that Spike does changes the course of the story. I'll only be posting both versions on my own website, Panther Crawl.}
Spike knocked on Buffy's dressing room door.
Their movie was shooting today. They needed to talk, or he felt that they should. Things were so weird right now. Spike tried talking to Lilah and Wilkins about recasting his part. Lilah was upset because she really didn't want Spike and Buffy doing anything together. But Wilkins insisted on it.
"Come in," Buffy said.
He went in. "Hey," Spike said softly.
Buffy looked at him in the mirror. "What do you want?" she asked coldly, her eyes shooting daggers into the mirror.
"I...um...thought that maybe we should talk before the movie today. I know this will be awkward--"
"Now, why would it be awkward? Oh! You mean because we broke up and you're an asshole?" Buffy asked sarcastically.
Spike looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? Well, why didn't you say so!? That makes it all better!"
Buffy had been freaking out all day about doing the movie with Spike.
"Buffy, please--"
"The only thing that I'm sorry about is how much time I wasted on you," she said, brushing her hair. 'I won't cry! I won't cry! Be tough! Show him that you're strong--He can't hurt you!'
"I went to...Lilah," Buffy said the name like it burned her tongue, "and Mr. Wilkins to have my part recast, but apparently, the fans think we're something special together. Ha! Shows what they know, eh?"
Spike was having a hard time maintaining his composure. She was being so cold. "I tried too, to get out of doing the movie. They want it to get made with us."
Buffy turned toward him in her chair, her face angry. "You don't want to do movies with me? Do you find me repulsive? You can't even pretend to enjoy fucking me? Sorry, I'm not Lilah!"
"No! It's not--Buffy...I knew it would be awkward for you...and me...both of us. It's not that I don't want you--That I don't want to make love to you--"
"Whoa! Stop right there! Make love to me? That isn't happening ever again. That never happened in the first place."
"Yes, it did. I love you! When I was with you, it was always making love."
Buffy almost crumbled at the sincerity and the sadness in his eyes and voice; he was so beautiful and looked so broken (as broken as she felt inside). She had the urge to throw her arms around him. Her determination wavered for a second.
'No! He's putting on an act. Nothing's changed. He's still with Lilah. Don't give him the satisfaction of seeing you crack.'
"Don't say that to me again," Buffy told him. "I have to finish getting ready. Leave."
"Don't you miss me? Even a little?" Spike asked, looking (and feeling) like a lost little boy.
Buffy pointed a shaky finger at him. "Don't you fucking start with that! I'm not the bad guy here. There's one bad guy--That would be YOU!"
"I'm not saying that," Spike struggled to say something right. "You treat me like you hate me. I miss you so much, Buffy. Can't we--"
"To answer your question, no. I don't miss you. You make me sick. You're not a man, you're a...I don't know what you are, but you're not a man. A man stands up for his convictions. A man defends the woman that he loves and wouldn't let anyone come between them. And I do hate you now, so fuck off!" Buffy had to get him out of there, she was going to start bawling any second.
Spike's heart withered at her toxic words. He couldn't take it anymore. He was trying to defend her and keep her safe, in his own way. The impulse to tell her the truth grew. Spike was about to open his mouth ag ain when there was a rapping at the door.
"Come in," Buffy said quickly, relieved that she wouldn't have to be alone with Spike anymore.
Caleb came in. He took in the scene and felt like turning right back around and leaving without a word. Something heavy was going on between the blondes; emotions were obviously running high.
"Hey...I was just comin' by to say hello. Spike, how you doin'?"
"Hi, Caleb," Spike said, his eyes watery. The urge to reveal Lilah's blackmail shrank back.
"I'm...interrupting. I'll talk to ya'll later," Caleb said, starting to close the door.
"No, it's alright," Buffy wanted to grab onto Caleb to keep him from leaving. "Spike was just leaving." She looked at him pointedly.
"Yeah...I was...leaving." God--He wanted to tell her the truth so badly! Spike hesitated a moment, cast one more pathetic glance at Buffy then left.
He needed a drink badly. He couldn't take seeing her like that, looking at him with so much venom. And Caleb...It appeared that he was taking advantage of the breakup to get with Buffy. What if Buffy decided that she did like the sexy southerner more, afterall? His raging insecurity came back with a vengeance. Spike was heartbroken all over again.
When the door shut, Buffy immediately began sobbing and dropped her face down to her hands. Caleb rushed over, patting and stroking her back.
"Hey, now...Don't cry. It's alright."
"No it isn't," she whined. "I can't do this! How can I do this, Caleb? I still love him. I can't let him get to me. But...he's going to be touching me...and kissing me...and...." Buffy shook her head and rubbed her upper arms. "I can't do it without letting him see how much I really love and miss him."
"How 'bout a little liquid courage?" Caleb asked, taking a silver flask out of his jacket pocket.
Buffy sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Booze?"
"Bourbon. Sippin' whiskey. Sometimes it helps to have a little nip when you're having a rough day."
Buffy remembered how loose she'd felt when Parker had plied her with expensive Brandy. Maybe it would help.
"How about a BIG nip?"
Caleb smiled and handed the flask to her. Buffy opened it and downed a big gulp. It burned it's way down her throat.
"Euugwwaa!" She screwed up her face and stuck out her tongue.
"Hey, don't gulp it down like that! Little nips, remember?" Caleb knelt on the floor next to her chair. "Sip on it. You're gonna be alright, ya hear?" He took her chin and turned her face so that he could look in her
eyes.
Buffy sighed and smiled. "Yeah, I hear. Hearing isn't the hard part, it's believing it."
"You're an actress. This will be a piece of cake. All you gotta do is go out there and have some great sex. I know you can do that."
"But...it's Spike." She took another sip of the whiskey. "I miss him so fucking much...But I don't want it like that. I want him to come to me, begging for my forgiveness, telling me that he doesn't care what Lilah
says..." Buffy sobbed and took another drink. "I don't want to have sex with him...It's not right. His kisses, his touches, his...I can't have him do those things to me without showing him that I still love him. He didn't mean it...when he said he loved me all those times. He couldn't have. God...he really is a good actor."
Caleb hugged her loosely. "If it helps..." he pulled back to look in her eyes, his disarming grin in place, "you can pretend it's me instead. No pesky emotions to get in the way. Just world-class screwing."
Buffy sniffed and giggled. "Yeah, maybe I'll do that. I do care about you though, don't think that I don't."
"I know, Buffy. But not like you care about...him. Just pretend it's me. That and the bourbon might help you make it through."
Buffy nodded, throwing back another large swallow of the burning liquid. "Euughhlaa!"
Caleb was thoughtful for a second. "What if Lilah said she'd fir e him--or you, if he didn't break up with you? Maybe it's something like that?"
Buffy shook her head. "Then why wouldn't he tell me? No, that wouldn't make sense. All he said was that we couldn't be together 'for a while', whatever the fuck that means. He lied to me. If he really loved me he
would have stuck up for us."
Caleb patted her on the back soothingly.
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'Okay...Okay...I can do this.' Spike paced around on the set.
He was an emotional wreck. Every time he spoke with Buffy, he left more devastated than the last. Seeing the hurt, anger and hate in her eyes, hearing the cutting edge in her voice was painful. More painful than an actual physical blow. He felt like he could easily go insane from it. It was getting more and more difficult to hang on.
Spike wished that he could tell her the truth, but it would be selfish of him. He had almost blown it in her dressing room by blurting it out, before Caleb showed up. He'd be helping himself but be hurting her even more if he told her--He couldn't do that. The panic that Buffy experienced at the slightest mention of her parents finding out about her movie career was a big indication of how she'd react if she knew of Lilah's threat. One possibility was that she might flip out and attack Lilah or something. He didn't know what exactly Buffy would say, do or feel if she knew--and he didn't want to find out. Spike resolved to be strong and find an equitable way out of this.
But that left him like this: still deeply in love and hurting down to the very marrow of his bones. Missing her, spilling buckets of tears crying over her, stumbling away, wounded to the core, from one of her angry attacks when he tried talking to her. He bled from a thousand invisible wounds, feeling weaker and weaker by the day. It was easy for Spike to understand now--Why man once believed that the human heart was the center of thinking; where the soul was housed. His heart ached; it hurt so badly that he'd think there was really something organically wrong with it, if he didn't know better.
To make matters worse (if that were possible), Harmony was back from her self-imposed exile. At least she wasn't trying to talk to him like she used to. She barely even made eye contact with Spike or any of the others.
"About time, Princess," Warren said, attracting Spike's attention.
Buffy was striding onto the set, looking relaxed and smiling. "Sorry, Warren. I was chatting with Caleb and lost track of time. I'm ready, let's go."
Buffy took off her robe and handed it to Andrew. She was wearing a black lace bra and panty set. Spike sighed inwardly, he loved her body; so toned, tanned and beautiful. He took off his robe, leaving him in his dark blue boxer-briefs.
Buffy glanced at him and then away quickly, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. God, she loved his body. She missed touching it and feeling it pressed against her.
'Don't think about that. Think of Caleb--imagine he's Caleb. That will make it easier.'
"Take your places by the bed," Warren said.
Spike and Buffy walked over to the bed.
This movie was just straight-forward fucking; no plot. The PWP's were still the studio's bread and butter, though they'd done several big budget features.
Skin on Skin
Starring: Spike, Buffy Winters, Anya, Kendra, Darla St. John, Robin Wood, Holden Webster, Harmony Kendall
Spike and Buffy were both hesitant, he more so than she was. He didn't have a warm, bellyful of bourbon to help him relax. She put her arms around his neck and moved against his body. Spike put his arms around her waist. They looked at each other for a few, seemingly endless moments.
Buffy looked away from hi s intense eyes, closing her own. If she kept her eyes closed and didn't see Spike, maybe she could pretend it wasn't him. It hurt too much for it to be him. She began kissing his neck as her hands moved over his shoulders.
Spike sighed softly, beginning to move his hands up her back. He unhooked her bra then ran his hands over the length of her back. Buffy moaned, her hands running through his hair.
Spike put himself back in time, to one of the many nights that they had shared a bed and made love all night long. A time when there had been nothing holding them back; no lies, no secrets or bad feelings. He craved her touch. His lips pressed kisses to the side of her face, moving down to her throat.
Buffy kept her eyes closed, feeling her blood pumping in her veins. Her pulse pounded against his mouth. He made her feel so good. He could excite her with the most fleeting touches; her skin tingled and heated wherever he touched her. Spike's lips...No. Not Spike. She couldn't deal with Spike doing these things to her, making her feel this way. Caleb. It was Caleb, not Spike. Caleb is...safe. She pictured Caleb in her mind's eye: kissing her neck, those were his hands sliding down into her panties to cup her ass. Buffy threw herself fully into the fiction, making herself believe it was Caleb.
"Ohhhh--Oh Caleb," Buffy moaned quietly in his ear. It was barely a whisper, but he'd heard it.
Spike froze with his lips on her neck and his hands pushing her panties down. White-hot pain shot through his heart--ripping, tearing, destroying. That was in the top 5 things that she could say that could hurt him the most after all of the fears he'd had about Caleb in the past.
"Mmmm, don't stop, baby," she said, rubbing herself against him.
Spike broke away from her and looked at Warren. "Can you cut, please?"
"What's the problem?" Warren asked, sighing heavily.
"I--I don't feel well. I can't--I can't do this today." Spike made an effort to keep from shaking and crying. 'Or any day.' Spike added silently.
"We're shooting here, Spike. Just do it. I've got another movie to do today," Warren said un-sympathetically.
"What's wrong, Spike?" Lilah asked.
"I just don't feel well. Nauseous. I'm not able to do...this today."
Buffy was looking at him curiously. Then she realized that she'd actually called him 'Caleb'--and it had wounded him. There was a sharp pang of guilt and remorse; he had been so insecure that first night after Caleb left their bedroom, the night they eventually confessed their 'love' to each other. Spike had seemed so torn up inside that he might lose her to the hot southern man. Buffy pushed away her guilt. He deserved to have his ego stomped on, she wished she could do a Mexican Hat Dance on it. It couldn't be anything compared to what she'd felt when he'd informed her that he was breaking up with her just because Lilah told him to.
Lilah knew that Spike was having difficulties that didn't have anything to do with a simple upset stomach. Working with Buffy was too hard for him right now. That was fine with Lilah, she didn't want them screwing on or off screen.
"Okay, Spike. Why don't you call it a day then, sweetie," Lilah said.
"What?" Warren whirled on her. "We're wasting time and money!"
"Warren, if Spike doesn't feel up to it, then he doesn't feel up to it."
"This is a great reason why the actors shouldn't get involved," Warren swept his hand towards Buffy and Spike, "They break up and their performances turn to shit! Suck it up, Spike! If you can't get it up with her, we'll get Amanda or Vi to pump you up."
"No, I'm not working today," Spike said roughly, picking up his robe and walking away.
Before a vein could burst in Warren's head, Lilah said, "We'll just get a replacement for Spike on this one."
Harmony had been standing by, trying not to giggle and jump up and down the whole time. She was closer to getting some Blondie Bear lovin' back. He'd been a big meanie, what with tricking her that horrible night, but she had no doubt that it was that bitch Buffy that made him do it. Harmony knew
that Spikey really liked her.
She was quick to help out with a suggestion to Lilah, "How about Caleb? I saw him just a little while ago. I'm sure he'll be up happy to step in."
Spike's stride faltered momentarily, but he kept moving.
"Good idea, Harmony," Lilah said, taking a moment to digest that unusual sentence. "Jonathan, Andrew, could you two go find Caleb and tell him that I need to see him right away about doing this film?"
"Sure, Ms. Morgan," Jonathan said.
Buffy offered, "He's probably visiting with Tara and Willow in their dressing room." She took her robe back from Andrew before he scampered off to get Caleb.
Buffy covered herself up and watched with sorrowful eyes as Spike exited the soundstage. She still felt bad for hurting him like that. If he ever called her 'Lilah' in a moment of passion, she would have ripped his throat out--His gorgeous, smooth, hot throat...But he deserved to hurt, Buffy reminded herself. Still...She felt hollow inside.
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Spike got dressed and laid on the couch in his dressing room. He stared up at the ceiling, counting little black spots scattered amongst the white. It was like a negative of the night sky. He tried quieting his mind.
Xander knocked then stuck his head inside the room. "Hey, man. I heard you were sick or something," he said, looking worried.
"I couldn't do it," Spike said.
Xander came in and closed the door. He leaned against it, now looking more sad than concerned.
"Sorry, Spike. Are you going to be okay?"
Spike shrugged slightly. "I don't know. It's over."
"What's over?" Xander came over and sat on the end of the couch.
"Me and Buffy."
"Well...yeah. I know it's over," Xander furrowed his brow.
"No...I mean for good. I hoped that maybe...maybe she would come around. Or we could get out of our contracts and get the hell away from Lilah...Or Lilah would be killed in a bizarre boom mic accident."
Xander snorted, smiling weakly. "Yeah, that last one would be a real shame, God forbid. But why are you saying there's no hope now? What happened?"
Spike's jaw tensed, he blinked away tears. "She...said his name."
"Huh?"
"She said his name--Caleb's name--when I was kissing her and touching her."
"When? When you were doing the movie?"
"Yeah."
Xander blew out a breath. "Uh...It was...probably..."
"Don't try to make something up that won't make it as bad. There's nothing that could make that better. They must be together now...Bet they're shaggin' every night."
"You don't know that for sure."
"I don't need, or want, anymore proof. She wants Caleb? She can have him. I hope they're very, very happy together."
"Spike--"
"Even if we do figure a way out of this bloody situation, I don't want her back--Not now."
"You don't, huh?" Xander said, seeing right through Spike's glowering demeanor and tough talk.
Xander could tell--Spike still wanted her alright--He'd never stop wanting her. He was just fooling himself by saying otherwise. It was obvious that the poor guy was in enormous pain.
"Right. Don't want her. Callin' me 'Caleb'...I should be grateful that we weren't actually having sex when she said it, I suppose," he said, sounding completely devastated and hopeless.
Spike's temples throbbed. He was straddling the fence between crippling depression and anger. That tentative grasp on his sanity was slipping away.
Xander didn 't want to argue with his friend right now. He only put a hand on Spike's shoulder.
"This fucking sucks, Xan," Spike said pitifully.
"You said it, buddy," Xander agreed.
Spike sniffed, trying to keep the nancy boy tears from falling. "I'm going home. I don't even want to be in the same building as her right now."
Spike got up abruptly and went to fetch his duster coat. It made Spike even angrier that he couldn't blame Buffy for wanting to move on or seek comfort in the arms of someone else. After all, he'd hurt her; if she wanted to find solace with another man, she was entitled.
"I've got a scene to shoot, but I'll be home in a few hours," Xander said. "You want me to cut out too? I can get out of it."
"No, you stay and do your job. Think I'd rather be alone for a while anyway." Spike pulled on his coat and took out his cigarettes. He lit one up and inhaled deeply. "See you later," he said, leaving his dressing room.
Xander sighed, sinking back into the couch. He wanted Spike to tell Buffy the truth. This was crazy--The whole fucking thing was crazy. Because Spike was trying to spare Buffy some anxiety and pain, he was putting the four of them through hell. Cordelia would barely even look at him, and when she did, it was always accompanied with a 'Hmph!' and a flip of her hair. Perhaps he could get away with telling her the truth? If she promised not to say anything to Buffy? Cordy couldn't have meant the things she'd said--that Xander meant nothing to her, that he was just a good fuck. He hoped that she only said all the hurtful things because she was wounded too. If he told her the truth...Xander groaned and dropped his head back onto the couch. Spike would be really pissed if he found out though. Better to just wait a bit longer--see what happens.
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The movie had gone on with Caleb 'filling in' for Spike.
Buffy knew it wasn't her best work. She was too preoccupied with her feelings for Spike to get totally into it. But the alcohol did help for her to deliver a convincing performance.
Caleb asked Buffy if he could drive her home. She accepted.
He was a nice guy. And if she had to date someone (to make Spike maybe think twice about choosing Lilah), she wouldn't mind it being him.
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Spike sat in Warren's office, waiting for him to finish shooting the film. He had driven around town aimlessly for an hour before coming back to the studio. He'd been waiting for a few hours for Warren to finish filming, and was feeling restless.
He had arrived at a temporary solution--a stupid solution--for his problems. He knew it was a monumentally bad idea...But he couldn't handle it anymore. It was either this, or go out of his fucking skull.
Warren came in and stopped suddenly when he noticed Spike.
"What the hell are you doing in here!?" Warren yelled. "Thought you were sick?"
"Yeah, I'm sick alright. I need to talk to you."
Warren sighed, he'd been looking forward to having a little nose-candy in his office. He couldn't do that with someone else here. He crossed over to his desk and sat down on the edge.
"I don't like people in my office when I'm not here. Don't do it again. Understand?"
"Sorry...I wasn't thinking straight," Spike said miserably.
"So, talk." Warren crossed his arms over his chest.
Spike licked his lips and looked away. "I--uh--was wondering...if you had something...that...umm..."
"C'mon, Sparky! Spit it out! I'm a busy dude, I can't wait all night to finish your sentence."
Spike glared at him for a brief moment. "I was wondering if you knew of an y...drugs that might help deaden emotional pain. I'm going through...a tough time."
Spike had agonized over the possibility of asking Warren about drugs. It wasn't smart to get involved with that kind of stuff. Weed and a few beers were one thing, but they didn't quite do the job that he needed them to. Spike was so downtrodden and depressed after Buffy called him by another man's name--He needed something to help him deal with it. He just couldn't handle it on top of everything else that had happened.
Warren's eyebrows shot up over the tops of his dark sunglasses. "Drugs? Why would you think that I'd know about that?"
"Come on, Warren...I just figured that you might...have some connections."
"So...you're looking for a little mood elevator? A little 'pick-me-up'?"
"Yeah."
Warren thought about it. "I've got some good shit. Coke's really good.
Keeps you flying high for a long time if it's high quality. Pills too. Listen, I'll be happy to help you out, but if you freak out and start fucking up, don't come crying to me. Moderation is the word, my friend."
Spike nodded.
"And don't utter a fucking word about where you got it, capiche?"
"Capiche. I won't tell anyone."
"Okay. If you take a liking to anything, I can set you up with my guy, so you can obtain it yourself."
Spike nodded again.
"Right, let's see what I've got in my mini-pharmacy, shall we?" Warren said, going to sit at his desk.
Spike was wired as he drove through the streets of Hollywood. Warren had hooked him up real nice. He had a few prescription pill bottles filled with pills: Uppers, downers, red ones and blue ones, etc. He also had a capped vial full of what Warren had called 'Peruvian Marching Powder'--Warren's favorite. They sampled a bit of it before he left the office.
A cocaine high was like nothing Spike had experienced before. He felt powerful and dynamic. His brain was swirling with a million thoughts, Buffy and his sadness were just a few thoughts in the din.
Spike laughed, he felt like going home and giving the entire house a good cleaning, from top to bottom. He had tons of energy, like he'd had a full night's rest, and then some. Maybe he could start writing that screenplay he'd meant to get to as well.
Feeling happier? Check.
Pain over Buffy receding? Check.
Thinking of engaging in activities that don't involve curling into a ball and weeping? Check.
More contented and feeling a mental boost, Spike whistled, driving back home.
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Xander walked in the door to the booming of Spike's stereo.
"The fuck?" Xander said, going to Spike's bedroom to see what he was doing blasting the music so loud.
He pushed the door open to see Spike jumping on the bed in a pair of blue boxer-briefs, waving a red, white and blue feather duster in the air like a conductor's baton, and singing along with the song.
"But I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me-
He's just a poor boy from a poor family-
Spare him his life from this monstrosity-
Easy come easy go-,will you let me go-
Bismillah! NO, we will not let you go-let him goooo-
Bismillah! we will not let you go-let him go
Bismillah! we will not let you go-let me go
Will not let you go-let me go
Will not let you go let me go
No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!
Mama mia, mama mia, mama mia let me go!
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for MEEEEE!"
Spike jumped off the bed, miming playing guitar with the feather duster and bopping his head.
Xander kept watching with raised eyebrows.
"So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?!
So you think you can love me and leave me to diiiie-uh!?
Ohhh baaaaby-can't do this to me baby!
Just gotta get out-just gotta get right outta here!"
Spike looked up then to see Xander leaning against the door with a curious, but amused half-smile.
"Xan!" Spike rushed over to the stereo and turned the volume down. "When'd you get home, mate?"
Xander looked around the room. Spike had been doing heavy-duty cleaning. Spike's eyes and smile were big and bright--he seemed to have turned a corner in his depression. Xander envied him for that...but the last time he'd seen his friend, he'd looked downright suicidal. Something was up.
"You're in a good mood," Xander observed.
"Yeah! If you clean to music you can make it into a game! Just like Mary Poppins said!" Spike laughed and jumped back onto the bed.
"Everything...okay?" Xander asked. Seeing Spike smiling was great...but something was very off.
"Yeah! Everything's bloody fuckin' great! I was thinking, why don't we call Giles and have a boys' night out, eh? Go carousin' like the tomcats that we are." Spike waggled his eyebrows and curled his tongue up.
Xander still looked at him warily. "Giles is off with Anya, remember? He wouldn't want to step out on the town without her. And...I'm not ready for that, man."
"Oh." Spike frowned. "Yeah, you're right. It is soon."
"What put you in such a good mood?" Xander asked.
Spike sniffed and thought about what to say. The stuff he was taking might help Xander too, so he should offer him some. But Xander might get upset. Spike decided to go with a half-truth.
"Um, I got a little bit of a pick-me-up...some coke."
Xander's eyes bugged out. "Spike! What are you doing taking that shit!? Do you know what that can do to you?!"
"Take it easy, Xan! I just did a little bit. It really helped. But I take it you don't want any?"
"No! I don't want to get involved with that stuff. And you shouldn't either. Please, don't do it anymore."
Spike looked down. "Yeah...okay. I just...needed something. Wanted to feel good for a change. Especially after today..."
Xander went over and hugged him. "I know. I know what you mean. But that stuff is bad news. You're the smartest guy I know, Will. Too smart to get mixed up with that shit."
Spike sniffed again and broke the embrace, smiling subtly. "Don't worry 'bout me. I've got it covered. I‘ll steer clear of it from now on."
"Cool," Xander said, relieved. His friend had never lied to him before, so he was breathing easier with his promise. He looked around the room again. "What's with all the cleaning? We have a cleaning woman, you know?"
"Just felt like doin' something productive," Spike explained. "When's that hot, l'il number Maria comin' to clean next?" He curled his tongue up again, looking wolfish.
Xander's brow creased. "What's with the look? You plan on jumping her bones or something?"
Spike laughed and shrugged. "Maybe."
Xander didn't like coked-up Spike very much so far. Good thing Spike wasn't going to do it anymore.
"We had a talk about Maria when she first started working for us, remember? We agreed that she was off-limits."
Maria Ampata was a cleaning woman that they shared with a few of their fellow actors and Lilah. She did good work, was a friendly, very attractive woman, perhaps in her late 30's early 40's. She was also very married. Spike and Xander had agreed when they moved in that neither of them would ever hit on her. Messing up someone's marriage was just not cool.
"Oh yeah, I know. Just kiddin'!" Spike chuckled, moving past Xander to leave the bedroom. "Feel like a swim. How 'bout you?"
"I guess," Xander said.
Spike was even talking a little differently, more like the Spike 'character' instead of the real person. His manner of speaking was a little more working-class and staccato than normal. Xander hoped that the coke high would wear off soon. Spike was kinda spooky when he acted like this. He had a weird look in his eyes.
For his part, Spike was a little perturbed that Xander was harshing his buzz. Xander had to act like a git and talk about the ‘evils of drugs‘. Pah! Xander himself enjoyed smoking joints and drinking! That was
hypocritical. If the drugs made Spike feel good, shouldn't Xander be happy that he was happy? Good thing he didn’t tell him about the happy pills too. Captain Purity would probably have another fit about that.
'He's just worried about you. And rightly so!' the voice that he dubbed 'That Great Tit William', said in his mind.
Spike rolled his eyes at his own intrusive thought. In spite of what he'd told Xander, he didn't intend on stopping taking anything that made him feel this good. Things were so much nicer this way: colors were brighter, sounds were clearer, everything was so beautiful. He felt a part of the universe, happy and alive.
And Spike found that, with a little effort and the aid of the drugs, he could subdue the weepy, whiny, sad William part of himself that was pining for Buffy and what he had lost. He was 'Spike the Pornstar'! Fuck that sad, depressed sack o' shit he'd been since the breakup! In pornstar mode, everything was copasetic--No problems, no sadness. His decisions consisted of where to party, who to party with and what great movies he was going to do next.
Spike would just have to try to hide it from Xander from now on. Don’t want him lecturing him every time he bloody turns around.
A while after getting home, Spike's high had worn off. He'd spent 15 minutes crying as the depression crashed back down on him. But a few more lines of coke had him soaring again. He would just have to 'refuel' every hour or so to keep the badness away.
Everything was back to being cool again.
TBC...
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