Chapter 40: His
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kitty3101 [ Read the whole story | Read the last installment | Chapter list ]
Lindsey Pratt wasn't stupid.
He knew exactly who his wife was fucking.
But Christ, did he feel stupid for not believing it 'til now.
Lilah had tried to convince him, hell, even his shrink had suggested it, but he couldn't even imagine. Buffy was a no-nonsense kind of girl; that was why he liked her so much in the first place. No dark side, no lies, no skeletons in the closet, it was 'what you see is what you get' with Buffy Summers.
Or so he'd believed.
He'd also believed that Buffy was too smart, too savvy, too practical; not reckless or impulsive enough to fall prey to temptation ...or to be a temptation. To him.
Yeah, Lindsey knew his father liked pretty blondes and respected people who weren't impressed with him, but that didn't mean he'd be interested enough -- or twisted enough -- to try to get Buffy into bed.
He had no idea why he'd given his mother's murderer the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe he had wished that his father was a good man, deep down. That he was sorry for the terrible things he'd done. That maybe it was an accident, maybe he did have a heart after all. But this just proved he didn't.
His mother... God rest her soul, but she was a mess toward the end. A mess that his father made and tidied up without shedding a single goddamn tear.
Spike Pratt was a monster, plain and simple. And now this monster had gone and stolen his wife.
The hell if Lindsey was gonna let Buffy become another one of his messes.
Sitting on the bedroom floor by the upended dresser and a half-empty bottle of Scotch, hands trembling as he held the golden key to a Pratt Hotel room, he made a phone call.
"Lilah, it's me."
"It's 4am."
"You were right. You were right about everything."
After a silent moment, she sighed. "Come over."
* * *
"Penthouse suite," Lilah said, turning the card key over. "It's got to be."
He stopped pacing her kitchen floor. "What makes you so sure?"
She smirked as she passed him the card. "It's cute, how you know so little about the evil that men do."
He hated how she patronized. "Are you gonna give it to me, or not?"
"I'll give it to you. On one condition." She raised a brow. "I get to come."
"Are you fucking crazy?" Fanning out a hand, he accidentally hit a row of pill bottles on her countertop, and tried to right them.
She threw one bottle into the trash can, and shrugged. "I am now."
"These aren't yours," he accused, reading one label that said TAKE 3 EVERY FOUR HOURS WITH MILK. "Who's 'E. Davies'?"
"Look, Pratt," Lilah said, swiping it out of his hand and tossing it in the trash. "Big Daddy's got a bodyguard, right? Who's gonna distract him?"
He frowned. "I didn't really think that far."
She fixed his shirt collar. "That's why you need me."
* * *
"He's sitting by the lobby elevator, napping," Lilah said, talking fast as she got back into her car. "Which means they're definitely here, so all we have to do is go up through the parking garage. There's gotta be penthouse access from there. I'm gonna park on the street, we'll walk it--"
"Lilah, you don't want to be a part of this, believe me. Just let me out--"
"I am a part of this!" He saw something in her eyes then, a flicker of mania he'd never seen before. She composed herself, and said calmly, "Believe me, I just want to help."
* * *
Lilah wasn't wrong. The golden key granted access to floor PH.
The evil that men do. He shook his head in disdain. I know so little.
Because Lindsey... Lindsey was a good man. Every day he triumphed over monster and machine. He wanted no trace of his father's evil inside of him. He didn't even want his money. He was happily giving his trust fund away to charity, until he had to use some of it to build a life with Buffy.
And look where that got him.
As the elevator car ascended to its peak, so did his delirious, sleep-deprived rage. Adding insult to injury, Lilah was rattling off instructions, as if he were an incompetent child. Do this, do that, don't back down, let him know you mean it, blah blah blah--
"Shut up," Lindsey spat, and she did.
The doors opened quietly to a huge, ritzy living area with wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows. Sunrise was reflected on the buildings outside. A man's leather jacket was draped over a chair.
As he entered the suite, Lilah showed him that she was holding her shoes in her hands.
He stepped out of his sneakers, and mouthed at her, "Stay back."
She made a face, but complied.
Lindsey crept toward an open door. A king-sized bed came into view, and even though he knew, even though he fully expected it, seeing it in living color made his eyes sting and his stomach turn.
His wife and his father, entwined.
They were fast asleep, nestled under the covers, facing one another. Buffy was cradling that monster's head to her neck.
Tenderly.
Heart pounding, palms sweating, Lindsey cocked Lilah's gun and said, "Wake up."
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A NOTE ABOUT PLAGIARISM: Don't do it. Call me crazy, but I don't like finding my hard work pasted into other people's stories. If I find out you've plagiarized me or any other author, I will make sure everyone knows it. If you're not clear on what 'plagiarism' means, the definition is here.
@темы: Сперто. Без суда и следствия., spuffy, Spike, Buffy&Angel, Art, Crave, NautiBitz, Buffy, fanfiction