Title: Blue Eyed Devil
Author:
Pattyanne
[email protected]
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters
belong to me.
Feedback: Love some, thanks!
Rating: Up to NC-17
Summary:
AU. Spike Devlin is the
lead singer for the band 'Blue Eyed
Devil'. Buffy
Summers is the local
preschool teacher he falls in love with
shortly
before leaving for a nationwide
tour.
Part
thirty-five...
Although she'd reached the age of twenty-five without
ever
setting foot on an aircraft of any kind, Buffy was bound
and
determined not to let her fear stop her from boarding
the one that would take
her to San Francisco, and to Spike.
Even so, on Friday, she spent half
the day worrying about
it and the other half giving herself silent,
inspirational pep
talks about how silly she was being.
Sensible,
practical Miss Buffy knew that the odds of her
plane going down were a
million to one. But the other part of
her...the chicken-hearted part...knew
that once was all it
took. Airplane crashes rarely gave you a second
chance.
However, being with Spike was worth the risk.
* * * *
* * * * * * * * * * *
After returning all of her students into their
parent's care
for the weekend, she brought her suitcase in from the trunk
of her car, then went looking for Willow.
She found her in the main
office, going through a stack of
resumes in a search for a new teacher to
replace one who
was leaving at the end of the month.
"You all set to
go?" Willow, who had learned about Buffy's
flying phobia after an
unsuccessful attempt to talk her into
a trip to Acapulco three years earlier,
wore an expression
halfway between ' I know how scared you must be'
and
'let's have no more of THIS nonsense, shall we'?
Buffy set down
her suitcase and dropped into the leather
armchair. "More or less," she
replied, smiling ruefully.
"More or less?"
"Well...technically I'm
packed and ready to go," Buffy ex-
plained. "Psychologically, it's a whole
other story."
Her friend smiled. "Ever considered seeing a
psychiatrist
about that problem? I hear they've made big advances in
the
field."
Buffy just shrugged. "I'll think about it."
Willow
regarded her for a moment, then leaned over and
unlocked the bottom drawer of
her desk to take out her
handbag. "In the meantime," she said, rooting
through the
bag, "this might help."
She was holding a small
prescription bottle, with some sort
of pills rattling inside
it.
"What is it?"
"They're for motion sickness. You know how
sometimes I
get carsick? These work great at mellowing you out. Take
one
right before you get on the plane."
"Drugs?" At this point, Buffy was
willing to agree to just
about anything. "Hand 'em over."
Willow
looked past Buffy and out the window. "I think you're
ride is
here."
Twisting around in the chair, Buffy's jaw sagged when she
saw a
long, black limousine pull into the driveway.
"That's MY ride?" she
squeaked, jumping to her feet. "It can't
be!"
"Well, it's not MINE,"
Willow replied. "I rarely hire limousines
to take me home."
"Yeah, but
I always thought airport limousines were those
buses you see on the freeway
with ten or twelve people in
them."
Buffy peeked through the blinds,
watching the driver climb
out of the limo and head towards her
classroom.
Apparently, he WAS looking for her.
"Obviously he
wants you to be comfortable," Willow said
briskly. "Now, scat, and I'll see
you on Monday, AT which
time I will expect all the yummy details. Hurry up,
before
he thinks you're not here and leaves."
* * * * * * * * * *
* * * * *
The driver not only got Buffy to the airport on time, but
he
also escorted her inside to pick up her boarding pass
and check her suitcase,
then ushered her to the right
gate.
Supremely grateful for his help,
she rummaged around in
her purse for some cash, only to be told that it was
already
taken care of. Wishing her a pleasant flight, he disappeared
into
the crowd, leaving her to face the next step all by her-
self.
She
used the facilities, not wanting her nervousness to have
an adverse affect on
her bladder, then shook two of Willow's
pills into her clammy hand and
swallowed them, washing
them down with water from the sink.
After
patting her face dry on a paper towel, she took a
deep breath and returned to
the waiting area. Her heart took
a sudden plunge when she saw that her flight
had been
called and was now boarding. People with small children
were
instructed to board first, then people with disabilities.
Buffy was
pretty sure that being a nervous coward didn't
qualify as a disability that
would earn her any special
privileges.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
*
She found her seat easily. There were only about ten
other
passengers in the first class section, so she had the
entire row to
herself.
The first thing she did before settling into the aisle
seat
was to lean over and yank down the window covering,
figuring that if the
ground suddenly came rushing up to
meet her, she didn't want to see it
coming.
The longer she sat and waited, the more relaxed she
became...which surprised her since she'd figured it would
be the other
way round.
Apparently, the little yellow pills were beginning to do
their job.
Gradually, she began to get a handle on her fears,
mentally commending herself for her splendid fortitude,
forgetting that
it was drug-induced.
She would be just fine now. A model of calm and a
picture
of serenity who was forcing herself not to look around for the
emergency exits, or to check the overhead compartment for
parachutes.
By the time the plane taxied down the runway for take-
off, she was
almost in a stupor.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Miss?
We've landed, Miss. Excuse me?"
Buffy pried her eyelids open. Was someone
speaking to
her? "Hmm?"
"We've landed. You can get off the plane
now."
Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, Buffy regarded the
flight
attendant, a tall, nice looking blonde with the name
"Tracy" neatly printed
on a gold name badge.
"Right," she mumbled, shaking off the excess
cobwebs that
were obscuring her thought patterns. Taking a deep
breath,
she tried to stand up, then realized that her seat belt was
still
holding her in.
She'd never unbuckled it, even after being told
she was free
to do so.
It took her three attempts to work the
mechanism and
loosen the belt. After fishing her handbag out of the
overhead
compartment, she stumbled off down the aisle after the
attendant.
"You okay?" the woman asked, a concerned look in her
eyes.
"Yeah. I'm...juss fine." Buffy nodded, rubbing her
forehead.
"Is there someone here meeting you?"
"Tracy" was
persistent.
Was there someone here to meet her? She honestly
couldn't
remember what the arrangements had been. Had Spike
mentioned
coming himself...or sending someone else...or
was she supposed to take a cab
to his hotel...and what was
the name of the hotel again?
This wasn't
good. She grabbed Tracy's sleeve and tugged on
it. "How...how many hotels you
got here?"
"You mean...here in San Francisco? Too many to
count."
"Oh. Okay, thanks." She began to walk off, not paying
attention when Tracy called after her, something about
was she sure
she'd be all right....
"Yeah...be fine," she muttered, waving the woman
off. "Be
right as the rain...soon as...soon as...whass his name
gets here.
Bye."
Wandering through the terminal of San Francisco Inter-
national,
she spotted a sign for the ladies room and went in
to splash some cold water
on her face. It helped, but only
marginally, and she still felt groggy when
she was done.
She was standing beneath a sign, peering owlishly up at
it
as she attempted to decipher its code, wondering who the
hell BART was,
when she heard her name called.
"Buffy!" Someone spun her roughly around
and swept her
into a close embrace. "Sweetheart...why aren't you waiting
at
the gate?"
"Oh, hi!" she said, her voice muffled by the familiar
warmth
and hard muscle of a man's chest. Finally...something
she
recognized!
Pulling back to look at her, Spike frowned slightly.
"Honey,
are you okay?"
"Uh-huh."
He still looked doubtful, but
at least he pulled her close again.
"I can't believe how much I missed
you," he said against the
side of her neck. "You know I'm not going to let
you out of
my sight for the whole weekend, don't you?"
That was a plan
she could definitely get behind. "Thass
okay with me," she
slurred.
Much to her dismay, he moved back and stared down at
her
face. "Have you been drinking? Was the flight that
bad for
you?"
Buffy yawned. "No drinking. Fight was fline...fine!"
He
wasn't buying it. "Then why do you look so out of it?"
After thinking the
question over, she remembered. "Pills!"
"Sedatives?"
"Motion
sickness."
"You get motion sickness?"
"Ummm...no. Willow
does."
"And she gave you some pills?"
"Yup. Just so I could stay
calm."
Cupping her face in his hands, he nailed her gaze with his
own.
"How many did you take? I don't think your eyes are
focusing."
"Just
two," she informed him, striving to speak clearly. She
fished the bottle out
of her purse and he took it to study
the label.
"You're only supposed
to take one," he said, shoving the
bottle into the front pocket of his jeans.
"No wonder you
sound like you've been on a three day drunk."
Although
she protested strongly to that comment, she
followed after him when he took
her by the hand and headed
for the circular conveyor belt to pick up her
suitcase.
When he noticed that watching the luggage revolve in an
endless circle was making her dizzy, he forced her to sit
on a bench and
wait for him to retrieve her bag.
She was opening her mouth to tell him
about a newspaper
article she'd read, courtesy of her 'constantly on the
lookout
for potential disasters' mother, about thieves who hung
around
baggage carousels in order to steal suitcases filled with
camera
equipment and other expensive travel paraphernalia,
when the thought simply
disappeared from her brain without
a trace.
Clinging to his hand once
again as she trailed behind
him through the terminal, she could only hope it
wasn't
an indication as to how the remainder of the weekend
was going to
go.
TBC.....
(Don't worry. Once they get to the hotel, things
will
definitely be looking up for Buffy and Spike!)