TWO DAYS, A THOUSAND DOLLARS AND TWO DEMONS
by perletwo
"You can't be serious." Paige Davis looked up with her big doe eyes at her Trading Spaces castmate. "You want me to redecorate *what*?" Hildy Santo-Tomas deadpanned.
"I'm told it's very liveable," Paige replied, waving her hands over the snapshots. "I mean, look how much the guy's already done with it!"
"Guy? Lemme guess. Gotta be a bachelor, right?"
Paige sighed.
Later, in the afternoon planning meeting, Paige took one look at another castmate's face and surreptitiously dug in her handbag for some aspirin.
"I think I'd rather have the crypt," Genevieve Gorder said, wrinkling her nose. "Y'know, a thousand may not be anywhere near enough to fix this mess..."
Ty Pennington went pale under his winter tan. He stared, slack-jawed, at Hildy.
"Whady'a mean, he doesn't want me to make anything out of wood?!"
"That's what their letter said," she replied in her husky drawl. "No natural wood at all."
"What, is he one'a these New-Agey tree-hugging leave-nothin'-but-footprints types?" Ty rubbed the back of his neck.
"No, when I talked to the girls on the phone the other day they said he dresses like a 70s punk but when you get to know him he's really an old-fashioned Romantic at heart," she said. "That is, the capital-R, Victorian-era kind of romantic."
"H'mmm." Ty stopped rubbing, and Hildy could see the wheels turning. "Soooo...what've you got in mind?"
She smiled and passed him a sketchbook.
Gen hummed a snippet of melody as she wandered the aisles of the Textile Mart, eyeing colors and testing fabrics between her fingers. She felt much better about her assignment since talking to her team via phone.
"Her room 'asn't changed in all the time I've known 'er," the British one said. "She was sixteen when I met 'er. She just turned 21. In that time she's gone to college, moved out, found boyfriends, lost boyfriends, moved back 'ome, grieved 'er mother's death an' become responsible for her li'l sister."
"I haven't known her for very long, but I got to see her room at her birthday party and it just really isn't the grown woman I met a few months ago," the other one said.
They thought they weren't being very helpful in providing guidance, but several things the British one said had sparked some ideas.
"Just no orange," Clem had said, and Spike had growled in the background before explaining about her Doublemeat Palace uniform.
"The room now is very fluffy an' spun-sugar," he'd said. "After 'er mum died, 'er taste in clothes got very dark an' hard-edged - not quite Goth, but close sometimes. For awhile she was wearin' a lotta leather, but I don't know how comfortable she'd find it t'sit on. An' lately she's been wearin' some brighter colors - dark reds, dark greens, blue denim with a lotta indigo in it."
Fingering a bolt of iridescent rayon, Gen suddenly recognized the song she'd been humming: "Wonder," by Natalie Merchant. "Perfect," she thought, remembering how awed the two boys had seemed by the room's owner.
"Um, is the escort really necessary?" Paige asked the large, shaggy-haired man and elfin red-haired girl who seemed to have appointed themselves her bodyguards.
"Ah, yeah, I really don't think it's a good idea for you guys to go wandering around the cemetery unattended," the man said.
"Especially after dark," the redhead chimed in.
"Trust us. We haven't lived in Sunnydale our whole lives without learning a thing or two about caution."
Paige just looked at him strangely, then continued on to the crypt.
"Okay, so first we've got to get this area cleared out, ladies," Hildy said. "Let me just get Ty and some of the other guys to help move -" she stopped, staring.
The blonde had shifted the marble sarcophagus off to the side with one push.
"Well, that'll save us some time later, at least," Hildy mumbled, shaking her head.
"So, here's our paint color," Gen said, pulling open a paint can. "The idea I've got in mind is a Gothic, antique theme, only softer and brighter." Spike nodded, and Clem dabbed a little taupe paint on the wall with his index finger.
"That's the base color, and then we're going to rag in some of this melon on top of it," she explained. "You'll see what I mean in a few hours. Any other particulars you'd like to mention before we get started?"
"She needs a cross on a wall," Spike said. "Superstitious. An' maybe something organic. What does garlic look like when it sprouts? Can't stand the stuff, m'self."
"H'mmm..." Gen's eyes lit up as she mentally modified her scheme.
"Like this?" Dawn called over the roar of the band saw.
"Yup yup. Exactly like that. WHOA!" Ty took the saw from her and helped her shut the power safely off. "So, ahh, what's up with this guy and the no-wood rule, huh?"
"Um. Splinter phobia." The teen's eyes were wide and sincere under her safety goggles. "Crippling. Really. Don't tell him I told you."
"Oh-h-h." Ty pulled a comically thoughtful face and stroked his chin. Dawn giggled.
"So, whose idea was this?" Paige asked, beckoning Clem to look over his shoulder into the PaigeCam lens as he painted.
"Oh, it was Dawn's," he said, jowls wiggling with the nodding motion of his head. "She's such a sweetie, how could we refuse?"
Paige beamed. "Perfect. Just perfect," she assured him.
"I don't know. Are you sure this isn't too, well...stark?" Buffy asked.
"Don't worry, this is just the bare bones -" Hildy grimaced. "Geez. I can't believe I'm making over a crypt. Anyway, the fabrics we're layering on top of the stuff Ty's built are going to give it texture. I've been saving them, but..." She pulled out a stack of folded fabrics. "This here, and this here..."
Buffy nodded, smiling happily.
"Gee, you guys sure got a lot done!" Gen bounded in to the bedroom, where Spike and Clem were putting the last of the new furniture into place.
"Creatures of the night, don'cha know," Spike replied, flashing a brilliant grin her way. Clem gave a jowly nod of agreement.
"Well, I'm impressed. I don't think I've ever had a Trading Spaces project run this far ahead of schedule..."
"Hildy, I'm very impressed," Paige said. "What was your biggest challenge here?"
"The light," the designer replied solemnly. "My team insisted there be no natural light sources in the room at all, and power sources down here are pretty minimal."
"Well, the oil lamps set into the walls are a beautiful choice," Paige replied. "You couldn't have found a more romantic mood lighting if you'd tried."
"Yes, the girls said the room's owner is a cross between Punk minimalism and Victorian over-the-top, so we went for straight lines and solid shapes, and softened everything up with the rich fabrics and overstuffed upholstering."
"Well, it works. Can't wait to see what Spike thinks."
"Okay, ladies. Open your eyes!"
Buffy gaped at her new room, while Dawn beamed and made oohing and aahing sounds.
The wall treatment was textured to look like stone. Ty had built her a new storage unit covering an entire wall out of a dark, almost black, wood, with antique gold hardware and an inlaid mirror with beveled edges. An antique gold light fixture hung from the ceiling, looking like it had been imported from Ancient Rome.
Sheer white acetate with gold fleurs-de-lys stamped on it covered the window, with a heavy blue velvet liner providing blackout drapes. Gold hooks made to match the light fixture held them back.
The bed was a work of art. They'd anodized the white iron frame to match the gold fixtures, and built a dark platform to raise it higher. A thick maroon suede comforter stamped with the same gold motifs covered it, and throw pillows covered in bright Indian silks and gold-embroidered ribbons hid her bedpillows. Mr. Gordo sat on the foot of the bed atop a loosely stuffed bolster the length of the bed, sewn from what seemed to be a camel-colored boucle afghan. Dawn giggled and fondled the soft material.
"I can't believe I live here," Buffy whispered, choking up.
"She's gonna have painted it black, Hildy always does that," Clem mumbled nervously while Paige led them into the crypt. "Okay guys, take a look!"
"Oh - wowww - " Clem goggled. Spike moved into the center of the room, turning this way and that. "What *is* this black stuff?"
"Fiberglass," Paige explained. "Hildy wanted something solid but lightweight for the furniture that didn't feel like Tupperware."
"It's beautiful," Spike said, running his fingers along the cold surfaces. "An' my chair!" His favorite armchair was now overstuffed and covered in a stiff, shiny plum upholstery fabric with silver pinstripes. The sofa was reupholstered in dark gray velvet with pillows that matched the armchair.
Ty and Dawn had built him a shelving unit with fiberglass drawers set into a black wrought-iron frame; the structure formed a hutch standing over the sarcophagus. The soft light of the oil lamps mingled with dozens of candles in hurricane globes in every size possible, on every flat surface.
"This is perfect," Spike sighed.
"And that's another successful Trading Spaces!"
The camera pulled back on Paige, revealing the crowd behind her: a cute young girl with an arm around an older man whose skin appeared to be melting, each with a champagne flute in their free hands; a pert redhead restraining a rather lumpy dark-haired man in a fury; and two blondes locked in each other's arms for a steamy kiss.
"Fade to black, guys, that's a wrap...."