Chapter 1: The Deal
“So who made the decision?” Xander asked, leaning against the railing to admire her.

God, she was beautiful.

“We both did,” Buffy said, looking away. “Both of us. Together.”

She looked out over the balcony, unable to help herself from admiring the breathtaking view. Underneath them, an exotic island city, filled with lights and fires. Buffy wondered where she was. She hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t told her.
Xander couldn’t help but chuckle. Like hell he did. Like hell.

“You don’t know him,” Buffy said fiercely. “And you don’t know me.”

“In the end he didn’t refuse,” Xander pointed out, coming closer. “I’d never share you.”

“You’re judging him?” she said, glaring at him incredulously. “You buy women.”

“I don’t,” he said off-handedly. “Ever.”

“So what’s this then?” she asked pointedly.

“You said I couldn’t buy you,” he replied, gently touching her bare shoulder with a finger.

“You can’t,” Buffy said, making him raise his brow. “We’re just gonna fuck. That’s all.”

“We certainly are,” Xander said, gently rolling the shoulder strap down her shoulder. “I have you all to myself all weekend. Best deal I ever made.”

“Point proved,” Buffy said.

“You might like it,” Xander quipped.

“Don’t bet on it,” she said coldly.

“I think I will,” Xander said, bending down to kiss her bared flesh. He smirked when he noted the slightest shiver that went through her body.

“Do you think he’d enjoy it?” Xander whispered, kissing her shoulder.

“Enjoy what?” Buffy said distantly, ignoring the feel of his warm lips on her skin.

“Watching us,” Xander said conspiratorally.

Buffy stared at him. She opened her mouth to argue, but for one of the few times in her life, she couldn’t just find the words.

“Watching me take you to my bedroom,” Xander said, looking her up and down. “Slowly removing this very expensive dress. Savouring every moment. Laying you down and worshipping you like the goddess you are.”
Buffy just stared at him, dumbstruck.

“My lips everywhere,” Xander mumbled, planting small soft kisses up her shoulder. Her moved behind her, kissing her bare back, congratulating himself on having selected the perfect outfit.

Buffy bit her lip. She felt nothing. Nothing at all.

Xander’s mouth moved up to whisper in her ear, slowly turning her around. “My tongue inside you. Reaching deeper than you could have ever imagined. Making you moan my name. Over. And over. And over again. Until you give yourself to me completely. Until you forget he even exists. Until you tell me you need me inside you.”

“You’re disgusting,” Buffy said, with every ounce of disdain she felt for him.

“And you’re quivering,” Xander said simply.

It was then Buffy realized that she was trembling. With anger or disgust, she had no idea. Maybe both. Or maybe something else. Something she couldn’t fathom.
When he put his hand around her waist, she put a hand on his chest, as if to stop him. But then she remembered. They had made a deal. A deal with the devil. And it was time to pay.

Buffy looked into his eyes. Xander’s eyes looked smug with satisfaction. She saw lust and avarice and want. Buffy said nothing, she just dropped her hand in silent acceptance. Slowly, he pulled her flush against him, enjoying the warmth and the feel of her lithe body against him. But as much as he enjoyed her submissiveness, what he really wanted was her passion.

“Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to,” Xander said. “I promise.”

And with that vow, he leant his face in for a kiss. Buffy watched his face come closer and closer, until their lips were merely a feather’s breath apart. Xander awaited expectantly. She refused, silently.

A challenge, Xander smirked. Good.

And then he began walking backwards, pulling her in the direction of the bedroom.

“Undress me,” he said, guiding her hands to his Shirt. Buffy forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Anything to not think about what she knew was going to happen. Slowly, she undid button after button, ignoring the feel of his hands on her. His hands everywhere, massaging her legs, her waist, her lower back, moving to undo the barely there silver dress. Buffy took in a quick breath when she felt the dress slip of her body and fall to the floor, leaving her in only her hot pink panties.

God, she thought. What am I doing?

Xander hissed in delight and celebrating by tossing off his shirt. Buffy looked away. She knew already that he was well-defined. In fact, she was sure of it. She knew that someone with that much money and free time would be in great shape. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she found him kneeling before her.

“What are you…”

“Shhh,” he said, his hand massaging her calf.
“Lift up,” he said, grinning. Reluctantly she obeyed, and he guided her heel ouf of the dress, then did the same for the other.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he said, just sitting there. When he got no response, he stood, seemingly pissed off. Then, as if something struck him, he took her hand which was dangling by her side.

“You know what I want,” he said, placing it on the fly of his pants. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you,” he said.

“My body,” she said disdainfully. But then she remembered why she was here. What she was doing. For us, she thought. And slowly, she reached down and began to unbuckle his pants.

“That’s all it is,” she said, pulling out his belt and dropping it to the floor. “You know that, don’t you?”

But to Xander’s ears, her harsh words were the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Quickly he pushed his pants down, stepping out of them and coming forward. Buffy backed up up until she felt the back of her feet hit the bed. There was nowhere else to go.

“It’s not my heart,” she said defiantly, as his hand his eyes running all over her body.

“It’s not my soul,” Buffy said even as she felt his hand curl around her to touch her bra.

“You’ll never have those,” she said firmly. Xander stopped what he was doing, then looked at her. Buffy felt elated for a moment as for the first time, indecision flickered across his smug confident face. But then it was gone.

“I’ll get over it,” he smirked, then continued to undo her bra. “Question is…..will your husband?”

“Don’t talk about him,” Buffy said furiously, suddenly grabbing Xander by throat. “Ever again. Or I swear to god, I will end you.”

Xander felt her squeeze his windpipe with a strength he wouldn’t have imagined she possessed. God, it only made him want her more, knowing that she could probably kick his ass.

“Okay,” he said. After a moment, she let go and let her hands drop to her side once again. She saw Xander rubbing his throat and looked away.

And then she felt his hand on hers and he was guiding her hands around his neck. They exchanged one last look, as if to confirm what was going to happen.And then he picked her up by the waist and guided her legs around his waist. And then they were falling, falling, falling down onto the bed, tangled together.

Two years ago…..

“Do you Buffy Anne Summers take William Pratt to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” Buffy said, beaming, looking resplendent in a fine white gown.
“Do you William Pratt take Buffy Anne Summers to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do,” William said, winking at her.

Buffy couldn’t help the snort of laughter that emerged from her, even as she gave him a glare as if to say ‘not now.’

God she looks beautiful, William thought grinning. Damn but I’m a lucky son of a bitch.

“The rings,” the pastor said. Buffy and William half-turned so that their ringbearers could hand them off. Buffy took her ring from Dawn, and William from his cousin Wesley.

“With this ring I thee wed,” Buffy said, slipping it on William’s fingers. A moment later he had repeated her words. And even before the pastor could proclaim them married, William had pulled Buffy in for a long, passionate kiss.

“Woot Woot!” Faith screamed, as Buffy and William continued to kiss.

After the couple had cut the wedding cake and had their first dance as man and wife, everyone else joined in.

“Hands where I can see them,” William quipped, as Wesley and Dawn danced by.

“William,” Wesley said, his face red as a beet. “I was only just…..”

“He was talking to Dawnie,” Buffy laughed.

“Har har har,” Dawn said, scowling at Buffy.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” William said, pushing one of her stray hairs behind her ear.

“No,” she pouted. “Not today.”

“Well I do,” he said. “Love you. Madly.”

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” Buffy teased.

“Only the pretty ones pet,” William retorted cockily.

“How many pretty ones have you said that to?” Buffy said, her eyes darkening.

“Just you my love,” William said, a teasing lilt in his voice. Then he turned serious.

“Just you.”

A year and a half ago……

“God I love our house,” Buffy squealed. “I mean, I know it’s kinda old and the insides look like it was designed by the guy who does Lady Gaga’s outfits. But still…..”

“Oh don’t hold back luv,” William said wryly. “Tell me what you really think.”

“Shut up,” Buffy said. “I love it. Really”

“It’s a bloody steal,” Spike said, coming forward to touch the stoop of the porch. “And we own it. Not bad eh.”

“Not bad at all,” Buffy said, checking out her husband’s very firm ass, a huge smile on her face.

“My thoughts exactly,” William said, turning around.

Their eyes met. They both were thinking the same thing. Buffy set off, squealing as he gave chase, running all over the lawn in zig-zag patterns, finally ducking into the house. William followed, never bothering to lock the door after him.
“I love you,” she said finally, resting her head on his chest. They’d spent all day christening every room and now, after many hours, they were finally sated.

When William said nothing, Buffy looked up at him. His eyes were closed. Her jaw dropped.

Wait. Was he? He was? He’d fallen asleep on her. The son of a bitch.

Just then, he lifted his head and winked at her.

“Gotcha,” he said, grinning like the idiot he was.

Buffy responded by grabbing him in a very delicate area. Not so delicately.

“Easy,” he pleaded. “Easy.”

“Are you saying I’m easy?” she said, squeezing threateningly.

“Buffy,” he hissed. “I’m sorry allright. I was just….”

“Gotcha,” she said, winking at him.

“By the bloody balls,” he said in wonderment.

“God help me. I love it.”

Buffy smiled indulgently at him, beginning to stroke him gently. When he was the slightest bit aroused she lowered herself to take him into her mouth.

One year ago….

The couple laughed as they entered into the casino hand-in-hand.

“Atlantic city,” Buffy marveled, looking around at the splendid decor. “Wow.”

“I’m so glad we took some time off,” William said. “You really should get out more of that stuffy gallery.”

Buffy fixed him with a pointed looked that told him to change the subject.

“Oh look,” William said, “a water fountain. In the lobby.”

“Huh,” Buffy said, examining the texture, shaking her head. “I guess money can buy a lot, but it can’t buy taste.

Unbeknownst to her, her off-hand remark was overheard by a man sitting in the hotel lounge. The man who owned that very hotel. He looked like any other hotshot wall street broker in a fine suit, reading a crisp financial newspaper.

Xander Harris’s mouth turned up just a little as he surveyed the gorgeous blonde from behind his dark glasses. He took them off, dangling them at his side to get a better look.

God, he thought. She was stunning. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful specimen. He knew he just had to have her. With a subtle wave of his hand, he beckoned the on-duty floor manager.

“Mr Harris Sir,” he heard the employee say. “I’m at your service. I trust…..”
Xander gestured for him to come closer, then whispered his instructions into the man’s ear.

“Yes sir,” Xander heard, never once taking his eyes off the woman. “Very good sir.”

A few minutes later at the front desk, Buffy and William were being told that every room was full and that their reservations were lost.

“Oh you have to be kidding me,” Buffy said, glaring daggers at the hapless employee.

“We apologize again,” the manager said. “Please let us make it up to you.”

“Let me guess,” William said sarcastically. “A coupon right? No wait, a bagel maker.”

“We are prepared to offer you one of the empty suites,” the manager said, adopting a long suffering air. “Until a normal room becomes vacant, of course.”

Buffy and William exchanged an incredulous look.

“OK then,” William said, a little shocked at the turn of events.

“Lead the way skippy,” Buffy said perkily, mouthing wow at her husband.

Xander watched the couple being led away. Just then he received an e-mail on his Iphone. He smiled at the proficiency of his research staff that he employed to get the scoop on women that caught his eye. Many in his organization had dubbed the group ‘The Pussy Patrol.’

“Buffy Anne Summers,” Xander muttered, running his eyes over the words on the hastily assembled document detailing her life and containing some of her facebook pictures.

A smiling happy life, Xander thought. A fulfilled one, or so it seemed. But was it really? Xander was looking forward to finding out.

“I’ll be seeing you soon Buffy,” Xander said.

“I think I could get used to this,” Buffy said, examining the beautiful paintings and the exquisite furnishings of the room.
“Damn straight,” William said letting out a whistle as he tipped the porter who bowed obsequiously and left.

“I’m afraid to touch anything,” Buffy confided as she sat down on the sprawling white sofa.

“Anything?” William said, his tone leaving no doubt as to what he was thinking.

“Well,” Buffy said, patting the sofa. “Maybe not just anything.”

“Come here then,” Wiliam said quickly stripping off his shirt.

“Babe I’m dirty,” Buffy said, faux-whining.

“Right,” William said as he quickly stripped her down to her
bra and panties. “Shower then. Good idea.”

And with that he slung her over his shoulder. Buffy pretended to carry on her protest for just a little while longer, slapping William’s back with her hands and calling him a pig. They made love in the spacious shower twice. Once quickly, and once slow. Finally, they stumbled into the bedroom, where they slept and made love intermittently throughout the day.

“Babe,” William heard his wife shriek, many hours later. “Oh my god. Look at this.”

He raised his head. Buffy was standing in front of an open closet, filled with a variety of outfits of all shapes and sizes. She looked like she’d died and gone to heaven. She held up an elegant red dress against her, then a tiny silver one.

“Do hotels just give out clothes with their suites?” Buffy asked, biting her lip.

“No idea,” William said. “Not exactly richie rich here.”

“Couldn’t help but notice,” Buffy snorted.

“Ouch,” William said, and Buffy gave him a winning smile to soften the quip.

“Why did I marry you anyway?” Buffy said. “Remind me.”

“Because I’m sexy and great in bed,” William smirked. “That and I have a huge….”

“Is that what I told you?” Buffy teased. “Must have slipped my mind.”

Buffy chuckled as her husband muttered something under his breath about ‘women and source of all evil.’

“What are you doing?” William asked, when she picked up the phone.

“Dialling reception. There has to be some mistake.”

“Gifts and horses,” William muttered. “Isn’t that how it goes?”

Buffy shushed him and began talking to the receptionist.

“Huh,” she said, hanging up the phone. “They said it was complementary. To make up for their mistake. Oh and we have the room for the entire trip here. And a thousand dollars credit in the casino.”

“Quite the little scam we have going here,” William chuckled. “We should show up at hotels more often and pretend to have reservations.”

“Shyeah,” Buffy chuckled. “Or someone up there really likes me.”

“Oh and it’s all about you is it?” William retorted raising his eyebrow. “It couldn’t possibly be me Irish good luck?”

“First of all you’re british,” Buffy said. “Ireland is like different. Kinda.”

“So you’re not really a blonde are you,” William sighed.

“And second,” Buffy continued, as if she hadn’t heard him.

“It’s always about me.”

“I’ll try and remember that pet,” William said dryly.

“See that you do,” Buffy warned, then perked up. “So you up for some gambling?”

“Only with my dignity luv,” William said, turning away. “I think I’ll sleep it off.”

“I wanna gamble,” Buffy said outraged, tugging at his shoulder whining just a little. “Spike. Come on.”

“Sleepy,” William said, putting on a show of snoring, ignoring the fact that she called him Spike. She only ever
did that when he pissed her off. “So….sleepy.”

“Fine,” Buffy said, pouting. Then an idea struck her.

“How about one for the road,” Buffy said, lowering her voice until it was low and intimate. “For luck.”

In a flash William had spun around and taken her into his arms.

“For the record,” he said, “I’m only doing this for you.”

“Such a humanitarian,” Buffy said.

“I give,” William said. “I’m a giver. It’s my curse.”

Suddenly Buffy pushed him away, in a not so delicate manner.

“Hey!” William protested. “You get that fantastic arse right back here Summers or so help me god….”

“In your dreams,” Buffy said. “I’m off to play the ponies.”

“You just gonna leave me like this?” William asked, pointing down.

“I thought you were sleepy,” Buffy said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Sleep-ish,” William said. “You misheard.”

“Obviously,” Buffy said disbelievingly. “Are you coming or what?”

“Depends,” William smirked.

“On?” Buffy said.

“On that very talented mouth of yours,” William said. “Or in. Whichever you prefer. I’m a gentleman.”

“Are you coming gambling?” Buffy specified, rolling her eyes. “Perv,” she mumbled.

“Oh,” William said, considering it. “Nah. Night Summers.”

“Argh,” Buffy said. “Men.”

She grabbing the elegant black dress that she had laid out in a huff and stomped away into the bathroom.

“I’m going gambling.” She yelled. “Don’t wait up.”

Under the covers William smirked. The game, Mrs Summers-Pratt is on, he thought.

Twenty minutes later, in the hotel penthouse Xander Harris’s phone buzzed. Only one other person in the world had that number. His private assistant Willow.

“Why the hell am I getting an urgent message from hotel security about some bimbo?” he heard a cheesed off voice say.

Xander chuckled. Only one person in the world could talk to him like that. Sometimes he wondered if he was working for her instead. He probably needed her more than she needed him. She was like a sister, friend and mother all rolled up into one.

“I don’t know why,” Xander said. “I was supposed to get the call about some bimbo.”

“I’ll tell you why Xander Lavelle Harris the Fourth,” Willow said. “Because only I have your number. I had to hang up on someone. For some bimbo.”

“Hang up on someone eh?” Xander said. “You sly dog you.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Willow warned. “So what’s the deal?”

“Oh just some girl staying at the hotel,” Xander said off-handedly. “Nothing much. And that bimbo could be the next ex Mrs Summers. Show some respect.”

“Not bloody likely,” Willow said. “She’s married. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

Xander could sense the judgement in her voice.

“I had no idea,” Xander said. “Relax will. Nothing’s going to happen that she doesn’t want to.”

“God,” Willow said. “I hate it when you say that.”

“So what did security say?” Xander asked, trying not to sound too eager.

Willow hesitated. God, she didn’t want to lie to Xander. She was the one person he counted on to be honest with her. Everyone else just wanted a piece of his money.

Willow looked down at the black and white security photo she’d been given by hotel security. She had to admit that the girl was gorgeous. But still. She was married. And she hated to judge a book by its cover, but come on. A girl like that? She was always looking to hit the lotto. The BBD. The bigger, better deal.

“Will,” Xander said. “What did security say?”

Willow said nothing.

“Will?”

Xander heard his friend sigh deeply.

“She’s on the casino floor,” Willow said.

“Is she?” Xander said, carefully weighing Willow’s words.
“Alone? asked carefully.

Willow could just see the cat who got the canary smile on Xander’s face.

“Alone,” Willow confirmed.

“Not for long,” Xander said, jumping out of bed, holding the phone to his ear.

“Xander,” Willow said in warning. “Stay away from her. She’s trouble. I can sense it.”

“Someone needs to be there for her in her time of need,” Xander said, already picking out his suit. “Might as well be me.”

“Wish me luck,” Willow heard him say, before he unceremoniously hung up the phone.

“Good luck,” Willow said, shaking her head. “Ya dumbass.”

For ten minutes, Buffy just walked around, watching all the beautiful people drinking and squandering thousands and thousands of dollars. She held onto her meagre chips so tightly, she could feel the blood draining from her hand.
Two thousand dollars, Buffy thought. If I had any sense I would just cash it and invest it in low-risk government bonds.

Oh god, Buffy winced. I think I just turned into my mother. I need a drink.

She beckoned to one server, who glided down to her and poured her some champagne.

“Thank you,” Buffy said, brandishing a chip

“No charge,” he said, waiving her away.

“Oh,” Buffy said, feeling foolish. “Wow. No wonder Trump can’t keep a casino open. You guys are just giving stuff
away.”

“More?” he offered, flashing a look at the Casino manager, who gave him the slightest nod.

“No,” Buffy said. “I’m good. Thank you.”

Relieved at having taken care of the lady properly, the server scooted away. He really needed this job. And he wasn’t about to half-ass it. Not for a guest of Mr Harris.

“Don’t go too far,” Buffy ribbed good naturedly, pointing to him, then pointed to her eyes, imitating De Niro in ‘Meet the Parents.’

“I sure won’t Ms Summers,” he called after her.

Buffy frowned. Wait, he knew her name? Then she shook away that thought. Of course he knew. She bet he knew the name of every customer in the bar. That’s probably how they got most of their tips. By keeping tabs on the guests.

Buffy walked over to the roulette table, crowded with mostly trophy wives, and fat men in Armanis who were puffing on cigars.

“Finally,” she muttered. “A game I can understand.”

Buffy turned to an elegantly dressed elderly woman by her side.

“I can’t believe some of those other games. I mean, you have to be like rainman or something. But roulette. Any idiot can play this game.”

“I’m playing this game,” the lady said, sniffling.

“Oh…..I didn’t mean,” Buffy trailed off at the haughty, icy look she was receiving.

“And I’m going to shut up now,” Buffy mumbled, turning away.

“Place your bets please,” the croupier said. A flurry of activity took place. Buffy hesitantly placed one chip onto the
table.

“Sorry ma’am,” the croupier said, shaking his head. “This is a five hundred dollar table.”

“I’m sorry?” Buffy said. “A what now?”

“The minimum bet is five hundred dollars little lady,” she heard a fat gentleman with a southern drawl say.

“Oh,” Buffy said, reaching for her little black ten dollar chip. “Sorry….too rich for my blood.”

“Not if you marry right honey,” she heard someone say. The gaggle of plastic looking trophy wives emitted a shrill noise that Buffy could have sworn resembled something like laughter.

“Excuse me,” Buffy said, grasping the little chip. Suddenly a hand was on hers.

“Leave it,” she heard him say. “Please.”

Buffy turned to look at him. He was very well dressed. Smiling too. Not too bad on the eyes either. Buffy looked down at the table. His hand was still on hers.

“Sorry,” Xander said, withdrawing his hand, giving he a polite smile. “Leave it. Please.”

“Harold,” he instructed the croupier. “You should know better than to be rude to a lady. That’s not the type of
establishment we are.”

“Yes Mr Harris,” the chastened man said. “I do beg your apology madam.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Buffy told the croupier. “Really.”

She missed the angry look Xander shot the casino manager who covered his face with his hands.

“Are we going to place some bets or not?” someone in the crowd said and a chorus of hoots and hollers followed.

“Place your bets folks,” the croupier repeated.

“Please,” Xander told Buffy, “place your bet.”

“Okay,” Buffy said. She ran her chip over the numbers, then stopped at Red 17.”

“Why red?” Xander asked.

“I like red,” Buffy said, watching the wheel spin.

“Black 23,” the croupier announced, amidst a few groans and one yippee.

“And 17?” Xander enquired.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said. “Are you the manager or something?”

Buffy saw his face tighten just a little, and then he was looking embarrassed.

“Actually….” Xander said, trying not to sound like a braggart. “I kinda…..own this hotel.”

“Oh,” Buffy said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh no,” Xander said. “I love to just come here and mingle.
Nothing like a good crowd.”

“A real man of the people huh?” Buffy teased.

“Only here actually,” Xander said. “This was my first hotel.”

“You never forget your first do you?” Buffy said, with a small smile.

“So why 17?” Xander asked.

“It’s kinda personal,” Buffy said delicately. God, she must
sound like a bitch.

Xander threw up his hands, as if to show he was backing off the subject.

“I’ve noticed that,” Xander said, distantly.

“Hmmmmm?” Buffy said, after placing another bet on red 17. “What?”

“People often play the numbers that are very special to them,” Xander said. “Win or lose. They just love the number.”

“Third time’s the charm,” Buffy said. “Red 17. Hundred bucks.”

“Me too,” Xander said. “Red 17.”

“And how much for you Mr Harris?” the croupier asked.

“I don’t know,” Xander shrugged. “Five grand.”

Buffy blinked. Did he just bet Five grand? On her lucky number? A small alarm bell began ringing in her head, even as a voice told her he was just being friendly. Or he was just plain hitting on her. Buffy was flattered, but wary. Better not lead him on or anything, she resolved. Be firm, but polite. God, I wish Will were here, Buffy thought.

“Red 17,” the croupier announced, to a few howls of protest and derision.

“Oh my god,” Buffy said, looking wide eyed, then laughing. “I won. I won. I won!”

“Seventeen hundred dollars madam for you madam,” the croupier said. “Congratulations.”

“I’ve never won anything before,” Buffy said in awe.

“Me neither,” Xander said before receiving a disbelieving look from Buffy. “Okay fine. I win all the time. Are you happy?”

Buffy laughed as the croupier shot Xander a pleading, apologetic look that he only half-acknowledged.

“Wait just a cotton picking minute,” the Texan said. “Do you mean to tell me that the owner of this god dang hotel just so happened to place his bet on Red 17? What type of scam are you people running?”

“Are you calling me a hustler?” Xander said, shooting the Texan a menacing look. Buffy could feel the air change. A tension that wasn’t there before suddenly permated the air. She needed to think quickly.

“Hey!” Buffy said, shoving over to get in the Texan’s face. “It was my number! Are you calling me a liar buddy?”

“No Ma’am,” the Texan said, doffing his hat. “I’d never impugne the reputation of a lady. Her virtue on the other
hand…”

Buffy scoffed as everyone devolved into laughter, then made her way back.

“Oh honey,” the rich Texan said, wiping his eyes. “The pair of balls on you. If I was twenty years younger…”

“You’d be a hundred,” Buffy mumbled, and Xander let out a snort.

“Place your bets,” the croupier said.

“We should stop,” Buffy said, biting her lip.

“Why?” Xander said. “You never stop when you’re on a hot streak.”

“Said the owner of the hotel,” Buffy said distrustfully. “How do I know you’re not just trying to get your money back?”

“Maybe I am,” Xander said, the slightest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She has no idea who I am.

Buffy heard muffled laughter from the gaggle of second and third wives huddled together.

“Excuse me?” she said. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re talking to one of the richest men in the country,” the leader of the plastic barbies said caustically. “He probably wipes his…..”

“Ladies,” Xander said, going over and interrupting them. “To the bar! For the next ten minutes drinks are on me.”

The herd sped off at a speed which Buffy couldn’t have believed.

“Good riddance,” the Texan drawled. “Wives and guns. Two things a man should never bring into a Casina.”

“Didn’t I see you on the Simpsons?” Buffy said, pointing her hands into the air and mock firing them as guns. “Do me a favour. Say Yee-Haw.”

“I like you little lady,” the Texan said, with a grin. “You remind me of my first three wives. The nose of the first. The butt of the first. And the third…”

“I think that’s quite enough,” Xander said.

“Sorry pardner,” the Texan said, hooking his thumb into his belt. “Just being friendly. Didn’t mean to upset your woman.”

“I am not his woman,” Buffy seethed.

Xander turned to look at her. “How is that an insult?”

“I mean I’m not anyone’s woman,” Buffy said. “I’m a person.”

“Feminazi,” the Texan said, throwing up his hands. “I’m done here. You’re welcome to her buddy.”

“What a shame,” he said, shaking his head. “We could have had something you and me. Something special.”

“I’ll live,” Buffy said dryly.

“Place your bets,” the croupier said.

“I’m out,” Buffy said.

“Are you sure?” Xander said. “You can play anything. I’m sorry if he was rude to you.”

“No really,” Buffy said. “I should be getting back to…..”

“Me,” she heard her husband say, then felt his lips on the back of her neck and his arm around her waist.

“Hey baby,” Spike said, his voice deeper than usual. “Miss me?”

Buffy glanced at him. Oh my god. She couldn’t believe it. He looked exactly like the day they’d first met. His brown curly hair was gone, and in it’s place the straight bleached blonde. His usual soft smile was curled up into a sneer that made her pussy tingle. She loved seeing this side of him outside the bedroom.

“Mmmm,” Buffy said, as he kissed her neck. “I thought you were sleepy.”

“Wide-awake,” Spike said, his hand moving down to cup her ass. Buffy turned her face to his and Spike swallowed her mouth in a passionate kiss. Xander politely turned his face away, but inside he was seething with jealousy. He knew he shouldn’t be of course. She belonged to another. But still. To him? This guy? And the way she was making out with him in public. They were kissing each other like they were drowning and needed air.

After a moment, Buffy turned her face away, then rested it on his shoulder.

“Xander,” Buffy said. “This is my husband Will.”

Xander gave the couple a tight smile and extended his hand. “My best friend is called Will.”

“William,” Spike clarified, shaking his head slowly. “Friend call me Spike though.”

“I see,” Xander said, thumping the roulette table gently.

“Well...William, would you like to have a go?”

“Would you?” Spike asked, meeting Xander’s eyes, tightening his grip on Xander’s hand.

As the men met each other’s eyes, and squeezed each other’s hand harder and harder it was clear as day to both of them what the other was thinking.

You little shit, Spike thought. You want to fuck my wife. I see it in your eyes motherfucker.

That’s right, Xander thought. I do. I want to fuck that gorgeous wife of yours. Make her scream my name until she loses her mind and forgets you even exist.

Xander already regretted that he hadn’t thought of arranging for ‘Spike’ to be delayed somehow. A girl bumping into him at the elevator and propositioning him back to her room maybe. Or an an unfortunate ‘accident’ on the way. Nothing serious, just enough to keep him sedated and out of the way for a few hours. Nothing he hadn’t pulled before, a million times.

A million, Xander thought, his smile spreading wide. Now that gives me an idea.

Xander knew Buffy wasn’t going to be in his bed. Not tonight anyway. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun. Give give her something to remember him by. And piss off her smug, son of a bitch husband in the process too. Who knows what the possibilities were.

Win, win Xander thought. I always fucking win.

“Uh guys,” Buffy said. “Could you stop shaking hands now? It’s getting kinda gay.”

The men let go of each others hand, frozen smiles still in place.

“Please,” Xander said. “You’re my guests. Let me entertain you tonight.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Buffy said.

Spike was disinclined to let this snake anywhere near Buffy, but the happy look on her face gave him pause.

Fuck it, Spike thought. He doesn’t have the balls to try anything. Not with me around anyhow.

“You’re on Harris,” Spike said. “Lead the way.”

A couple of hours later, the three of them arrived back at the hotel, slightly tipsy and quite exhausted. Despite Spike’s reservations the entire evening had turned out to be quite a blast. They’d visited all the hottest clubs, hobnobbed with celebrities and feasted on sumptuous food. When Xander suggested coming up to his suite for one last drink, Spike’s inhibitions had been lowered enough by the booze that he hadn’t refused when Buffy had insisted she needed one more drink.

“I could so get used to this,” Buffy said, collapsing on the couch.

“Me too,” Spike sighed, stretching out.

“Used to what?” Xander said innocuously. Xander felt his body tingle. He had really turned on the charm all evening, gotten them good and lubricated. He was almost ready to move in for the kill. Just the possibility that it could happen, crazy as it was, was giving him a raging hard-on. Xander felt his mouth go dry. His wicked mind had all evening to formulate the plan. It was go time.

“This,” Spike said, slurring his words slightly. “The good life.”
“Anyone can,” Xander said. “It’s just a matter of doing what’s necessary.”

“What’s necessary?” Buffy asked.

“Doing what’s necessary,” Xander elaborated. “To get ahead. To come out on top. Law of the jungle.”

Spike snorted.

“So where do you see yourself in ten years Spike?” Xander asked.

“Wouldn’t mind being a billionaire like yourself,” Spike chuckled.

“I hear that,” Buffy laughed.

“I mean,” Xander said. “Beyond money.”

“What would satisfy you completely? Let you sleep well at night?”

“You’re saying you’re not satisfied?” Spike said incredulously.

“Who is?” Xander said.

“I am,” Buff said, raising her hand. “Hello. Third wheel here.”

“She mean it?” Xander asked Spike.

“God I hope so,” Spike said.

“I’m right here,” Buffy said. “Am I invisi-girl or something?”

“Well you’re a lucky man William,” Xander said, emphasizing the name slightly. Buzzed as Spike was, the use of his name William raised his hackles slightly.

“I have money, security, businesses…but you have something that I just don’t have,” Xander said, gesturing to Buffy.

Spike’s mouth tightened as he read the meaning in Xander’s eyes.

Don’t have yet, they seemed to say. But I will. That’s a promise.

“I guess there’s limits to what money can buy,” Buffy said, shaking her head, still oblivious to the subtext.

“Not many,” Xander said, casually.

“Some things aren’t for sale,” Spike said.

Like my wife motherfucker, Spike thought. You can’t have her. Ever.

“Such as?” Xander asked.

“People,” Buffy said. “You can’t buy people.”

“That’s naïve Buffy,” Xander chuckled. “I’m a businessman. I buy people everyday.”

“In business maybe,” Buffy said. “But not when there’s real emotions involved.”

“You’re saying you can’t buy love?” Xander said. “That’s a bit of a cliché. Look at all those rich men and their hot young wives.”

“It’s absolutely true,” Spike said, backing up his wife.

“Is it?” Xander asked Spike, then turned to Buffy.

“What do you think Buffy? Really?”

For the first time, Buffy felt a twinge of unease.

“I agree with my husband,” Buffy said, making a point of pronouncing the final word.

A moment of silence held sway.

“I’d like to test that theory,” Xander said. God, he was so horny. His entire body felt like it was on fire.

“What does that mean?” Spike asked, his voice hinting at the slightest hint of threat.

“Suppose,” Xander said. “And I’m only being hypothetical here.”

Buffy looked from Spike to Xander, a knot forming in her stomach. “Suppose I give you both a million dollars,” Xander said, looking straight at Spike.

“For what?” Buffy said, her voice barely a whisper. Oh god. She had a bad feeling about this. A bad, bad feeling.

Xander turned to look at Buffy, giving her his gentlest smile. Buffy knew what he was going to say before he said it. She just knew it. Still, that he could say the words shocked her.

“For one night with you,” Xander said. “A million dollars.”

Oh my god, Buffy thought. The look he was giving her. Like he wanted to take her. Right here, right now. In front of her husband. Buffy was appalled. The silence went on and on and on. Until it didn’t.

“I’d assume you were kidding,” Spike said, his fist tightening by his side, the grin on his face frozen. “Naturally.”

“Of course I am,” Xander said, sitting back, and chuckling. “I’m only kidding. I’m a kidder.”

But that somehow only increased the tension in the air.

“But let’s pretend I’m not,” Xander said, his voice serious once again. “What would you say William? Would you give me your wife tonight for a million dollars?”

“He’d tell you to go to hell,” Buffy said, finding her voice at last. Now that the shock had worn off, Buffy felt nothing but outrage. Oh god. How could he even suggest such a thing? What type of woman did he think she was?

“I’d like to hear him say it,” Xander said, never taking his eyes off Spike.

“I’d tell you to go to hell,” Spike said, through gritted teeth.

“That’s a reflex answer because you view it as a hypothetical,” Xander said, smiling widely.

“Is that right?” Spike challenged.

Go on mate. Show me your cards. I’m calling ya.

“Let’s say there was real money behind it,” Xander said. “Shall we?”

Xander clapped his hands and a man emerged from one of the many rooms in the back. Buffy saw him place two black briefcases on the table. Xander popped each of them open wide and pushed it towards Buffy and Spike.

“A million dollars,” Xander said. “Cash. No questions asked.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Buffy whispered to herself, still in shock. She couldn’t even bring herself to come to terms with it, much less, examine the briefcase. Her head spun. What was going on?

“How about two million?” Xander asked, clapping his hands again.

Another two briefcases were brought and popped open, overflowing with cash. Buffy covered her mouth with her hand. Buffy opened her mouth to scream, but she couldn’t speak. She’d lost her voice. Buffy looked at Spike and saw murder in his eyes.

Keep digging pal, Spike thought. You just keep digging. You have no idea what kind of girl Buffy is. Saves me the trouble of telling her what a no good son of a bitch you are.

“William,” Xander said. “I’m feeling kinda crowded here. Think you could give us some space pal?”

“"Us?” Spike intoned, his voice gruff with anger.

“Xander,” Buffy said, breathlessly, afraid at what her husband would do. “Please.”

“It’s okay Buffy,” Xander said, cutting her off, giving Spike a warm smile. “There’s no need to be afraid.”


Xander looked back at Spike, a sympathetic smile coating his face. The poor shmuck. Xander almost felt sorry for William. It was only a matter of time before he lost her to a better man. It was inevitable. Still, he'd have a few million reasons to help ease the pain.

“I think,” Xander said, choosing his words with care. “Buffy and I are going to have some alone time right now. Get to know each other a little better.”

Time froze. No-one moved. Buffy couldn't breathe. She could see Spike’s jaw twitch.

More than just a little better, Xander thought smirking as he latched the briefcases and pushed them towards Spike.

“What?” Buffy croaked horrified. "Xander what are you saying?"

“It's okay Buffy," Xander said reassuringly. She was shy. That was all. He’d be sure to ease her into it . “We're all grown ups here. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about here. No shame in what happens between consenting adults.”

“Take these downstairs,” Xander said to Spike, tapping the cases. “Don't worry about a thing. Your beautiful wife is in good hands. Nothing will happen that Buffy doesn’t want to. I promise.”

Spike began to rise and Buffy just knew he was going to kill Xander. For real. Straight up murder him. William had left his demons in his teenage years in the past. She wasn’t about to let her husband go to jail. Besides, she wanted to be the one who hit Xander. On the other hand, Xander was already midway to celebrating his victory.

“William you're a lucky....”

Xander didn’t finish his despicable thought. Buffy reared up, slapping him hard enough to draw blood from his lip and knocking him back to the floor.

Probably saved his life, Buffy thought furiously. Bastard.

“I guess you got your answer,” Spike smirked, still wound up tight. Buffy still feared he would rush Xander and beat him to death. “There are limits to what money can buy.”

But Xander only laughed. Uproariously. He wiped the blood from his lips and nose.

“Guys,” he said, still laughing. “I was joking. I told you. I’m a kidder. I kid.”

Buffy and Spike exchanged a look, as if to say ‘Yeah right’

“We should be going,” Spike said, pulling Buffy close, who refused to look at Xander. “It’s late.”

“And I have a meeting in the morning,” Xander said, looking at his watch. “With your permission though? One dance?”

“I think you better got on to that meeting,” Buffy said, giving him a cold look. “Wouldn’t want to miss out on your next million.”

“Goodnight,” Xander said.

“Goodbye,” Buffy said.

Spike said nothing. The couple left the room hand in hand.

“Will?” Buffy asked, sitting up in bed, the next morning. “Last night?”

William nodded, looking out the window.

Buffy shook her head silently. She still couldn’t believe it. The shell shocked couple hadn’t spoken about it last night. In fact, they hadn’t said a word. Not when they were walking back back to the room. Not when they latched the room door behind them or when they were getting ready for bed. Or after they had crawled under the covers, falling asleep instantly in each others arms.

Son of a bitch, she thought. How could he think she would just. That they would just. Son of a bitch.

“I wanna go home,” Buffy said simply, her voice hoarse.

William nodded. An hour later, Xander Harris was informed in the middle of a business meeting that Buffy Summers and her husband had checked out of the hotel suite and were headed to the airport and catching a flight to Sunnydale.

Three months later….

“So what’s the big secret B?” Faith said, peering at her friend from across the table

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buffy said, a look of intense concentration on her face as she surveyed the dessert menu.

Faith sighed. She wasn’t going to make this easy, was she?

“Oh come on,” Faith said. “You call me out of nowhere.”

“So?” Buffy said, a little too self consciously. “I can call.”

“It’s been ages,” Faith said, shaking her head. “And then….”

“And then?” Buffy challenged.

“You just sit there,” Faith exclaimed.

“Sitting’s a crime now?” Buffy asked dryly.

“The way you’re sitting,” Faith said acidly, her eyes
spelling out the B word loud and clear.

“And how am I sitting?” Buffy enquired.

“Like,” Faith said exasperated. “Like you’ve got a secret or something. Something you’re dying to tell someone about. And you just can’t.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Buffy mumbled.

“Hey!” the blonde protested as Faith snatched away her menu. “I was reading that….”

“No cake for you,” Faith waggled an accusing finger at her friend. “Until you spill.”

“It’s nothing,” Buffy sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Faith said. “Now spill.”

“Well,” Buffy began. “Will and I….we went to Atlantic city a while ago…and….something happened….”

Ten minutes later, Faith sat back, slumping in her chair.

“I need a piece of cake,” Faith confessed to Buffy, fanning herself, then signaling to the waiter. “Garcon?”

“Yes madame?” a handsome young waiter said.
“Chocolate cake,” Faith said. “For two. Chop-chop.”

Faith looked at Buffy. Her friend looked pretty deflated too.

“So I guess congratulations are in order?” Faith said.

“Hmmmm?” Buffy said, distractedly looking up. “What now?”

“Congratulations B,” Faith grinned. “Two million dollars. You hit the jackpot.”

Faith smirked when Buffy glared at her with that death of a thousand suns fury as the waiter brought them two scrumptious pieces of chocolate cake.

“I. Didn’t. Do. It,” Buffy growled through gritted teeth.
“Why not?” Faith said impishly, taking a bite. “Oh my god, this is so good. You’re totally paying for this right?”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed and Faith held up her hand to acknowledge she’d overstepped a boundary.

“Of course you didn’t do it,” Faith said assuringly. “I’m only kidding.”

“Shyeah,” Buffy said, shaking her head.

“I would have,” Faith confessed, off-handedly.

“You would not!” Buffy said heatedly.

“I totally would have,” Faith said, quickly typing on her phone. “This is the guy?”

Faith held up her screen for Buffy to see. It was a picture of Xander Harris, somewhere on vacation.

“I’m telling you B,” Faith whistled. “I totally would have. He’s rich and hot.”

“He’s a creep,” Buffy said. “It was disgusting. The way he thought he could just buy me.”

“What if you were single?” Faith challenged.

“I’m not single,” Buffy said pointedly, holding up her ring finger.

“What if,” Faith said rolling her eyes.

“No,” Buffy said. “Not a chance.”

“What if he never made the offer?” Faith pondered.

“But he did,” Buffy said indignantly.

“You’re telling me that if you were single and you just happened to run into Mr Good-looking moneybags, nothing would happen?”

Faith saw the tiniest flicker of indecision on Buffy’s face, before the blonde put on a firm, unyielding
expression.

“Nothing would happen,” Buffy said playing with her
chocolate cake. “Ever.”

“If you say so,” Faith said.


Three months later…..

William looked up from his tiny workdesk on hearing his name called.

“Will,” a brunette with a Texan accent beckoned frantically. “We’re all wanted in the conference room.”

William struggled to put a name to the button cute woman. He’d seen her around sure. Sheila? Sara? Susan?

“Be right there,” he waved back, quickly organizing his papers into various stacks. William adjusted his shirt and tie, then walked at a steady pace to conference room 1, by far the largest and most spacious one in the offices of Mcann-Stevenson. He opened the door to find the conference room nearly bursting with bodies.

“Is everybody here?” he heard one of the Senior partners say. Another one chimed in, “Well near enough. Get on with it Philip”

Philip Mcann, the founder of Mcann-Stevenson had a pensive look on his face.

“As you all know,” he began. “There have been rumours of a merger with the lawfirm GCP.”

William frowned. A merger with GCP? This was news to him. William looked around to see the same confusion on most, if not all the faces around him.

“An offer has been made,” Philip continued. “A generous offer. One….one the senior partners have since approved.”

A deathly hush came over the crowd.

“What does that mean?” a woman in the crowd asked.

“It means that GCP will acquire all our clients….and some of our talent,” Philip Mcann said, a pained look on his face.

“I don’t understand,” the brunette that had beckoned William to the office confided.

“It means,” William said softly. “We’re all fired.”

And with that, he turned and walked out of the conference room. William undid his tie, threw it near the nearest trash can, collected his papers and walked out.

Three months later……….

“The money’s gone,” William said quietly.

Buffy said nothing. They were sitting at the kitchen table, sparsely picking at their dinner. She didn’t need to ask how. She knew. The last three months had been unlike any other of her young life. First, William’s lawfirm had ‘merged’ with a much bigger one. Most of the staff had been laid off, including Will.

Then, the stock market had completely tanked, wiping out all their investments in one fair swoop. And their savings? That had been ravaged by the money pit that was her mother’s museum. Once it had seemed like a frivolous expense, something to keep her mother’s precious memories alive, but now it was the mill around their necks, dragging them down to debt and ruin.

“How much time do we have?” Buffy asked, finally.

“A month,” William replied. “Maybe two.”

God, I can’t even look at her. I’m such a failure.

“It’s okay,” Buffy said, reaching out to touch his hand. “We’ll get through this. Together. Like we always have.”

“We have to sell everything,” William said. “The house. The car. All of it.”

“For richer and poorer eh,” Buffy smiled weakly. “Can I get a mulligan on that one?”

The lame joke failed to get even a hint of a smile out of William.

“The museum too,” William said.

The words sent a knife straight through Buffy’s heart. Her mom’s art museum. The one she’d spent countless hours at growing up. The one that had given Buffy her love of art. The one her mother had promised her to take good care of on her deathbed. Buffy knew William would never have brought it up unless he had to, but Buffy’s emotions got the better of her.

“How can you say that?” Buffy said, angrily, furiously wiping a tear from her eye. Buffy picked up her dinner and threw the plate in the sink, wincing at the crash. Still she leaned over the sink, looking out at her garden.

“We don’t have a choice Buffy,” William said, his voice deathly calm.

“It’ll turn around,” Buffy said. “I swear.”

One good month, Buffy thought despairingly. That’s enough to buy us some time. Just one.

Two months later…..

Buffy sat in her tiny office in her mom’s museum, trying not to despair. She’d been calling her contacts in the art world all day, trying to get rid of her stock. William was meeting a bankruptcy lawyer, hoping to try to extricate them from this situation. Buffy felt a spasm of guilt run through her.

It’s my fault too, Buffy thought, looking around. Things were bad, but we could have made it. If it wasn’t for this place. If I wasn’t so stubborn.

Buffy, desperate from some distraction turned on the Tv. She glanced at her cellphone from time to time, hoping her husband would call her with some good news. But he didn’t. Buffy stared at the flickering screen with vacant eyes until she reached MTV. Buffy sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, and just listened to some songs. Buffy didn’t know when she passed out or for how long, but when she awoke the sky was dark outside and the a commercial was playing.

“Welcome back to Cribs,” the host said. “Today we’re at the 20 million dollar beach side home of Casino billionaire Xander Harris.”

The name only half registered with Buffy. It was his voice that froze her.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Xander said, smiling at the camera.

And then Buffy could hear his voice in her head again. Two million dollars. For one night with you.
Buffy’s hands trembled as she picked up the remote. She stared at the screen for an instant before she turned it off, throwing the remote away in disgust.

Disgust as she remembered what the billionaire had proposed, but also at the revolting thought that had come to her, unwanted and unbidden.

It would solve everything.

That night, as they lay in bed together, Buffy found herself turning the channel to MTV. That thought had haunted her all evening. While she’d driven home, parked the car, done the dishes and made dinner. Buffy knew it was partly her fault that they were in this mess. The guilt was eating her up. She’d burdened them when they were most vulnerable. Now part of her yearned to help get them out of it, as the other part told her how disgusting she was for even considering it.

It would solve everything.

Buffy curled up. She knew Cribs would be back from commercial in a minute.

What am I doing? she thought. This is crazy. It would solve everything. You’re disgusting. It would solve everything. We could keep everything, the museum, the house, the car. We’d never have to worry about money again. You’re disgusting.

“Welcome back to Cribs,” she heard the host say “Today we’re at the 20 million dollar beach side home of Casino billionaire Xander Harris.”

Buffy glanced at William. He never looked up from his book.

“Will,” Buffy whispered.

God, what am I doing?

“Hmmm?” he replied distractedly, looking up at her.

Her eyes were fixed on the telly. William looked at the Tv, confused. They were taking a tour of some rich bloke’s mansion. So what?

“Luv?” he said softly. Buffy never replied, her eyes transfixed to the Tv. Her eyes looked sad. Haunted.

William glanced back at the Tv again. Xander
Harris’s smiling face flashed across the screen. William froze.

Him. All these months later, he’d been the conversation they’d avoided having. It had been their silent pact. And now here he was, showing up at their most vulnerable time?

William picked up the remote and turned the TV off, leaving them mostly in darkness. The memory of that day was seared into both their brains. Not even once. William felt dirty suddenly, as if he needed a shower. Quickly he got up, tossing the book aside, then took two steps towards the bathroom.

“Will,” she said, her use of his name stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly.

“Can,” Buffy swallowed heavily, trying to breathe. God, she couldn’t believe she was doing this. Saying this. This was the hardest thing she’d ever have to say.

“Can we at least talk about it?”

She heard the breath go out of him, felt as if she’d slipped a knife between his ribs and stabbed upwards. She could feel his brain work out that this was no coincidence. He knew that she’d planned this somehow. He knew. And now Buffy felt the searing pain herself.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said gruffly. Buffy winced when she heard the door slam with a fury, heard the shower turn on. Buffy curled up to one side, listening to the water running, felt hot salty tears run down her face.

She didn’t know how late it was when he finally came back to bed. It had been hours, for sure. He faced away from her, denying her the warmth and comfort of his arms. Buffy knew he was beyond angry with her.

“It wouldn’t mean anything,” Buffy said hesitantly.

William said nothing, but she could feel his body tense, his breathing get heavy with rage. Rage at her, for even daring to suggest such a thing. Anger at himself for, in his mind, failing them.

“It’s not my heart,” Buffy said, touching his shoulder.
“Not my soul.”

He refused to respond. Buffy waited, looking at him for a long time before her drowsy eyes closed and she fell asleep. When she awoke he was gone and she was alone.

Buffy waited for William all day. The sun rose high in the sky and then fell beyond the horizon. The streets darkened and the kids in the neighbourhood abandoned their games for the comfort of home, but he didn’t return. Buffy knew better than to call him.

She knew he’d want to be alone. Finally, she went upstairs, lay on their bed and stared at the ceiling.
When she awoke it was pitch black. She glanced at the alarm clock. It was 4am. She heard the door open, the footsteps heavy on their steps. Buffy steeled herself as the door opened.

“Hi,” she whispered. Her husband just stared at her.

“Will,” she began.

“Still here are you?” William interrupted. Buffy winced at the hurt in his voice, the bitterness and anger. Buffy noticed how his eloquent tongue was stumbling over his words. He was blind stinking drunk.

“Where else would I be?” she whispered, standing up and coming closer to him.

“Thought you might have run off,” he said bitterly.
“Cashing in that two million dollar lottery ticket you have between your legs.”

Suddenly furious, Buffy hauled off and slapped him across the cheek. Hard enough for her hand to sting.

“How dare you say that,” she raged. “I would never…..”

“No?” William taunted. “Wouldn’t you? Never?”

“That,” Buffy said, trying to hold back her tears. “That’s different.”

William laughed then. An empty hollow laugh.

“Right,” he said. “Keep telling yourself that Summers. You just keep telling yourself that and maybe someday you’ll believe it.”

“You know it is,” Buffy pleaded. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Let me tell you what it looks like,” William said, hysteria creeping into his voice. “Girl meets bloke. Bloke takes care of girl. The world is sunshine and flowers and puppies.”

“Stop,” Buffy whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Please.”

“Then the girl meets a much much much richer bloke. And when the sunshine is gone, the flowers are wilted and the puppies are dead, the girl chooses a much richer bloke,” William finished. “Am I close?”

“Don’t say that,” Buffy said, her voice breaking. “I’m not choosing him over you.”

“But you are,” William said, his eyes filled with tears. “You’re choosing him. Aren’t you?”

“For one night,” Buffy said, trying to make him understand. “A night that’ll come and go, but the money will last us a lifetime.”

“Sod the money,” William said stubbornly. “You’re not bloody well whoring yourself out.”

“We’re drowning Will,” Buffy begged. “Our house. Mom’s museum. We’re drowning. And I can save us.”

“It’s only things,” William said, grabbing a lamp. He threw it against the wall, and Buffy ducked as shards scattered everwhere. “It’s only bloody things Buffy. It’s not us.”

“It’s not only things,” Buffy screamed. “This is us. Mom’s museum is all I have left of her. Our house. We've built a life here. This is our life. I don’t want to lose our life.”

“And I don’t want to lose you,” William seethed. “Don’t you bloody understand? It’ll be the end of us.”

“Is my body the only thing you care about?” she added, bitterly. “The only thing you love?”

“How can you even say that?” he said, looking for all the world as if she’d hit him again. Exhausted now,
William slumped down into the corner of the bed.

Buffy approached him as she would a hand grenade.

“It wouldn’t mean anything,” she said softly, touching his shoulder. William turned his head away from her.

She knew he was crying. That he blamed himself.

“It’s not my heart Will,” Buffy whispered, touching his cheek, making him face her. “It’s not my soul. You’ll always have those.”

“Promise me,” William said, his voice heavy from drink, his eyes nearly closing. “That you’ll always be mine.”

God, Buffy thought. He sounded exhausted.

“I promise,” she soothed, as she brought his face down to her neck, then lay his body down.

“Will?” she said softly.

“I’ll always be yours,” she promised his sleeping form. “Always.”

When William awoke, he had a splitting headache.

“Hey,” he heard his wife say.

“Hey,’ he rasped. William looked around. The bedroom was askew, the covers thrown off, the paintings tilted, the remains of their night lamp scatterd on the floor.

And then last night came flooding back to him. The fight. The words he’d said. The way he’d behaved.

“Buffy,” he began.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, touching his chest, then resting her head against him. “It’s all okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

“I’m sorry too,” Buffy said as he stroked her back with his fingers. Finally she looked up at him, cupping his chin in her hands.

“And thank you,” she said. Buffy planted a gentle kiss on his mouth, then turned away to begin cleaning up
the mess.

“For what?” William frowned.

“For last night,” Buffy said, looking back at him. He saw her search herself for the words. “For….for understanding.”

“Understanding?” William said.

“For understanding what I have to do,” Buffy said. “For saying….yes.”

William felt his heart stop. Yes? I said yes? No, that’s impossible. I would never say yes to that. Never. His eyes widened. He tried to rack his memory of last night. God, everything was so hazy.

William opened his mouth to argue, but then froze.
Did I say yes? God, could I have said yes? I was so drunk. No, I couldn’t have. William looked into Buffy’s eyes. She wouldn’t lie to him about this, would she? Not about this?

“I said yes?” William whispered. Buffy gave him just the hint of a nod, then turned around and bit her lip.

Guilt flooded her about the lie she’d just told. Buffy knew William would never agree to this. Not a million years. But she had to do this. For them.

He didn’t say no, Buffy reasoned with herself. That’s kind of a yes.

“We both agreed,” Buffy continued, keeping her voice carefully steady, as if she were discussing the weather. “We’ve slept with other people. We’d just
have to think of it that way.”

Finally, she turned back to look at him, having gained control of her emotions.

“Are we okay Will?” she asked. She could see the confusion and hurt writ large on his face, but also a desperation to get things back to normal.

“Yeah,” he rasped finally. “We’re okay.”

“I love you,” she said.

I’m sorry William. I’m so sorry.

“Yeah,” he said, looking away and sliding his legs over the side of the bed. Buffy waited for him to say it, but then accepted her fate. She got to her feet and lingered at the door, looking back. His shoulders were slumped and defeated. He was staring out the window with glazed eyes.

It’s just one night, Buffy reasoned with herself. We’ll move past it. And then we never have to worry about anything again. But a small part of her worried she’d just made a fatal mistake.

Two weeks later…
Buffy sat in front of her laptop, her fingers poised over the keyboard. William was gone all day, applying to different law firms. Neither of them had spoken about it, eager to pretend it never happened, but there had been a strained aspect to their relationship. Buffy had been busy making calls, trying to offload most of her art collection and rent out the space, but she’d had no luck. She’d put it off as much as she could in the hopes that something would change, but things had only gotten more dire.
I have to do this, Buffy thought, taking a deep breath. For us. For our life.
And then she Googled the hotel she and William had stayed at in Atlantic City. Buffy picked up her cellphone and dialed the hotel. She tried to keep her breathing steady as the phone rang. And rang. And rang.
“Welcome to the Haven resort,” a pleasant voice said. “This is Thomas the concierge, how may I assist you?”
Buffy tried to speak. Only a croak emerged.
“Hello?” the voice said on the other end. “Hello?”
“Hi,” Buffy managed, her voice high and unnatural. “I uh…..uhm.”
“How may I assist you madam?”
Buffy didn’t know what to say. How could she even begin to explain.
“I…….I’d like to leave a message,” she managed. “My name is Buffy Summers.”
“Ah,” she heard him say. “Very good Ms Summers. For what room number?”
Buffy thought about it. The room number? What was it?
“The presidential suite,” she remembered suddenly.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Thomas said smoothly. “The presidential suite is empty. And when it is occupied, it is reserved for…..an exclusive party. No messages, in or out. No disturbances.”
Buffy tried not to panick.
“The message is for Xander,” Buffy managed to say.
Even over the phone, she could tell she had managed to shock the seemingly unflappable employee.
“Just,” Buffy began. “Just tell him….”
What? Tell him what? How could I possibly explain this to a stranger.
Buffy closed her eyes. Think Buffy, think.
“Ask him if he’d like to bet two million dollars,” Buffy said, her voice shaking a little. “On Red 17. Trust me. If you want to keep your job, you need to deliver this message.”
And before the man could question her further, Buffy disconnected the call.
Thomas looked at the phone in his hand. Two million dollars? On Red 17? Losing my job?
The concierge shook his head and swatted the thought away. Some crazy person, that’s all it is. But as he went through the day, Thomas’s mind kept returning to that phonecall.
Two million dollars? On Red 17?
It sounded like a message. Like some sort of code.
Thomas thought about it. He’d been at this hotel for five years and he’d only met Mr Harris a couple of times in passing. The man had been nothing but affable, if a little demanding, but that was to be expected. And on the off chance that he could lose his job? He had a wife and three kids to support. He couldn’t take that chance. And what was the harm if it was a joke or some crazy person anyway? Thomas knew there was no way he could ever get straight in touch with Mr Harris, but his assistant Willow on the other hand…..
“What’s Red 17?”
Xander looked up. His assistant cum best friend Willow was hovering over his desk in his office in NYC, looking as if she wanted to smack the crap out of him.
“Excuse me?” he said.
“Some crazy lady left a message with the concierge in Atlantic City,” Willow said, holding up a scrap of paper in her hands.
“Two million dollars on Red 17?” Willow said. “Ring any bells?”
Willow could see a flicker of recognition in Xander’s eyes.
“What have you done?” Willow said, glaring at him. “Please tell me you haven’t done anything dumb. I’m getting tired of paying TMZ.”
“What was her name?” Xander said, stretching out his hand for the paper.
“Answer me,” Willow said.
“Give it to me,” Xander said, annoyed.
“Or what?” Willow dared him.
“Or you’re fired,” Xander said.
“I’ll need that in writing,” Willow said gleefully, her eyes rolling in the back of her head. “I think I’ll do something a lot more relaxing. Maybe take a job assembling Iphones in China. Or maybe I’ll pick fruit in California.”
“Fine,” Xander grumbled. “I’d fall apart without you. You’re the best. Just give me the goddamn paper.”
Willow shook her head, then placed the tiny scrap in his hand. She saw Xander examine it.
“Red 17,” Xander whispered, a small smile spreading over his face.
What did you do Xander? Willow thought, shaking her head. What the hell did you do?
Buffy was getting antsy. It had been nearly a week since she’d left the message for Xander, but so far there had been no reply. She considered picking up the phone and trying again, but she didn’t want to come off as…..
Desperate, Buffy thought wretchedly. That’s exactly what I am.
Sometimes Buffy couldn’t believe she was actually considering doing this. Even to her it seemed crazy. She’d get angry with herself, before she remembered she was a bad month away from being destitute. Then she would feel sad, as she remembered the young naïve girl she was and what she imagined her life would be like.
And William would hardly ever look at her anymore, much less touch her. She knew he was still angry with her, even though his fury wasn’t burning hot. Maybe he hoped she’d changed her mind about going through with it. Whatever the case, they hadn’t even come close to broaching the subject. But Buffy had decided she’d broach that bridge when she came to it. Meanwhile, William had got several call backs. Nothing concrete, but hope was eternal.
Then Buffy was forced to consider the fact that Xander probably didn’t even remember her. Maybe he just went around making offers to buy women.
What a shock, Buffy thought. The creep.
Finally, in the middle of dinner, Buffy received a phonecall. William glanced at her only half interested, then got back to his meal.
“Hi Ms Summers,” a chirpy voice said. “I’m Fred, Mr Harris’s attorney. I got your number from our guest records. You left a message for Mr Harris?”
“Yes,” Buffy said, trying not to betray the anxiety in her voice.
“Mr Harris would like to discuss things,” Fred said. “I’ll be arriving in Sunnydale in the afternoon. Could you make it to the Hilton tomorrow at 4?”
“Sure,” Buffy said, glancing nervously at William.
“And Ms Summers?” Fred said gently. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but you should probably bring your own lawyer.”
“Okay,” Buffy swallowed. “Bye.”
Buffy hung up the phone and sat down, beginning her dinner.
“Who was it?” William asked, as he folded the paper.
“A buyer for some museum art,” Buffy said, shocked at how easily the lie slipped off the tongue. The slightest hint of a smile flashed across William’s face and Buffy felt another stab of searing pain pierce her heart.
The next day, Buffy found Fred in the hotel lobby. She took an instant liking to the cute as a button brunette and wondered why Xander had sent this sweet girl to be his henchman.
“Did you bring a lawyer?” Fred asked.
“She’ll be here,” Buffy nodded, looking around nervously as if she was afraid of being recognized.
“I’ve reserved the conference room,” Fred said, gently touching Buffy’s shoulder. “We’ll have the utmost privacy.”
Buffy nodded, her cheeks flushing with shame. But there was no judgement in Fred’s eyes, only the deepest sympathy and understanding. Buffy could sense that Fred was a good person, who was just doing her job.
Just then, Buffy spotted the only person she could trust with something like this.
“Hey B,” Faith grinned. “I’m so glad you called. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“Shall we?” Fred said, a little too chirpily for Buffy’s liking.
“Go ahead,” Buffy said. “We’ll catch up in a bit.”
“Take your time,” Fred said, giving Buffy a reassuring smile.
Faith watched Fred go, then frowned at Buffy.
“Okay,” Faith said. “Game’s over Buffy. Haha. You got me good.”
Buffy didn’t reply.
“Buffy,” Faith said. “This is a joke right? Please tell me this….”
“I,” Buffy said. “I need your help Faith. I have no one else to turn to.”
“Buffy,” Faith said. “You can’t do this. This isn’t you.”
“I need the money,” Buffy said sadly.
“Buffy,” Faith said shaking her head.
“Don’t judge me okay,” Buffy said, angrily swiping a tear away from her cheek. “You don’t understand. You have no idea.”
“Shhh,” Faith said, pulling her in for a hug. “Buffy….”
“Please Faith,” Buffy said. “I need your help.”
“Are you,” Faith began. “Sure about this?”
No, Buffy thought.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then I’m here for you,” Faith said. “No judgement okay.”
“Thank you,” Buffy said, as Faith wiped Buffy’s tears away.
“Wanna hear a secret?” Faith said. Buffy nodded.
“I’d do it for free,” Faith said. “That man is hot.”
“Shut up,” Buffy said, trying not to laugh.
“Let’s go,” Faith said, locking her arm with Buffy.
The women settled onto opposite sides of the ridiculously large conference table.
“So,” Buffy began. “How does this work?”
“Well,” Fred said. “We’d need to draw up a legal contract. I’ve established a framework.”
And with that Fred pushed a small binder across the table. Faith snapped it up and began reading it under her breath.
“May I have a moment with my client?” Faith said, taking Buffy by the elbow.
“Of course,” Fred said. “Take your time.”
“What is it?” Buffy said, as Faith led her to a corner.
“Two million dollars?” Faith said. “That’s kind of low.”
“Faith,” Buffy hissed. “I’m not haggling like…..”
Like some common whore, Buffy thought. But that’s exactly what you are, her brain hissed.
“B,” Faith said, “you’re a total fox. I’m your lawyer. I got this.”
Buffy shook her head in disbelief, exhaled heavily, then followed Faith back to the table. Fred looked at them inquisitively.
“Two million dollars is….” Faith said, as Buffy looked away, squirming uncomfortably. “Insulting.”
Oh god, Buffy thought. I could die.
“I see,” Fred said as he phone pinged. “Would you excuse me one second?”
Fred pulled out her phone and texted something. In a moment, her phone ‘pinged’ back instantly.
“Oh,” Fred said.
“What does that mean?” Faith raised an eyebrow.
The door opened behind them. And in walked Xander Harris with a smug, confident smile on his face.
“Hello Buffy,” he said.
Buffy’s eyes widened in shock, then hardened.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed.
“Xander,” Fred interrupted, looking angrily at him, then giving Buffy an apologetic look. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just in the neighbourhood,” Xander smirked, planting a chaste, affectionate kiss on Fred’s cheek.
Oh this is priceless.
“Yeah,” Buffy said, shooting a withering look at Xander. “Right. You just happened to be in the neighbourhood. Sunnydale, out in the middle of nowhere.”
Buffy looked at Faith as if to say, ‘Can you believe this guy?’ But Faith was a little distracted, giving Xander a flirtatious smile. Buffy incensed by her friend’s act, gave her a sharp elbow in the side, making Faith wince.
“Focus,” Buffy whispered, gritting her teeth.
“He’s fine B,” Faith whispered back. “I’d do him for a six pack and a hearty handshake.”
“I really was just passing by Buffy,” Xander said earnestly, trying to catch her eye. “I wasn’t trying to….”
“To rub it in?” Buffy said bitterly. “Of course not. You’re way too classy for that.”
“Would you like me to?” Xander said, dropping his voice a little. “Rub it in, I mean.”
Buffy saw the gleam in his eye and knew exactly what he was thinking. And then Buffy was thinking about it too, and he knew she was thinking about it. And it was sending a hateful shiver down her spine.
You’re disgusting, her eyes told him.
“Can we get back to the business at hand?” Fred interjected, giving Xander a look which said, get out please. A look that Xander pointedly ignored.
“So where were we?” Xander said.
“Two million is a bit low,” Faith said.
“Is it?” Xander smiled. “Did you have a number in mind?”
“Do you?” Faith proposed.
Xander stroked his chin.
“Six point nine million,” he said. Buffy and Fred furried their brows as Faith coughed to avoid laughing.
You’re a bad bad boy, Faith thought.
“How about an even 10?” Faith suggested.
“Done,” Xander said. “But for the entire weekend.”
Buffy blanched. The entire weekend? She didn’t know how to feel about that. But ten million dollars. It was more money than she could imagine. More money than they would know what to do with. Will, she thought again. Just the thought of what she was doing was driving a nail of guilt deep down inside her.
“Shall we move on to some other stuff?” Fred said, assuming the terms were agreed upon. “We have to define certain things.”
Faith looked at Buffy who lowered her eyes in assent.
“Like what?” Faith asked.
“For example,” Fred began delicately, addressing Buffy. “When would you consider intercourse to be had?”
“Anal,” Faith said, examining her nails. “Wait did I say that out loud?”
“I think you should leave Xander,” Fred said, as Buffy looked away uncomfortably. “I can reach you by phone if I need anything.”
Fred gave Xander a look which dared him to contradict her, after which he held up his hands and got up from the table.
“Excuse me ladies,” he said, adjusting his five thousand dollar tie.
Fred watched the door close, then sighed.
“Buffy?” Fred continued. “Are you okay to go on?”
Buffy nodded.
“So as I was saying,” Fred continued, in a small voice. “When do you consider intercourse to have taken place?”
“Why is that important?” Buffy said. “Everyone knows what…it means.”
“Just so both parties agree on what exactly they’re agreeing to,” Fred explained gently. Buffy opened her mouth to respond, then just gaped at Fred, looking lost.
“It’s okay B,” Faith said, rubbing her shoulder. “It’s just us here.”
“Sex,” Buffy said, dropping her voice, her cheeks burning with shame. “It’s like…..you know……”
“Sex,” she finished tamely.
Fred gave Buffy a nod, then picked up her phone, exchanging a few more texts with Xander.
“I think we can agree upon,” Fred said finally, looking back at them. It looked as if it was causing her pain to say the words. “Intercourse is only said to have taken place when both parties have…..engaged in the normal act of heterosexual intercourse, which by its very nature can potentially result in the contraception of a child.”
Buffy found herself aghast. She knew what she would be doing of course, but still. The bluntness of the words, coupled with the matter of fact tone of the voice shocked her. Faith saw Buffy’s discomfort and touched her arm.
“Maybe we should take a break,” Faith said, giving Fred a sideways look.
Fred and Faith shared an understanding look. Fred nodded, then left the conference room without making a sound.
When they reconvened a half hour later, Buffy had calmed down somewhat, though still a bit dazed. Faith looked grim and Fred was officially beginning to hate her life.
“So,” Fred began. “What I meant to say was….we would define intercourse as the act between a man and a woman that could….”
And Fred let the word hang in the air, for emphasis. Buffy looked wild eyed again, but Faith touched her hand and calmed her down.
“Could result in a child,” Fred finished. “It’s legally defined as such just to let both parties know we’re talking about the same act. The only act that could possibly conceive a child.”
Buffy’s breathing became faster again, as the possibility of that terrified her mind.
“But it won’t,” Faith said, determinedly, her eyes daring Fred to contradict her.
“Definitely not,” Fred said, nodding her head. “I assure you….”
“I’m going to need that in writing,” Faith said.
“It already is,” Fred said, marking a section in the contract and drawing Faith’s attention to it.
“What?” Buffy said, looking down at the legalese and feeling utterly lost.
“Condoms,” Faith explained quietly. “And birth control. It’s….a legal requirement.”
No love without the glove, Faith quipped mentally. God I’m such a bitch.
“Oh,” Buffy said, looking around, then retreating to within herself. “Okay.”
“But,” Fred began, prompting a warning look from Faith that said ‘tread lightly’. “If….something was……conceived as a result of…..”
“Relations,” Fred gulped.
Buffy found herself growing ill at the very thought.
Fred continued, her demeanour slightly uncomfortable. “There’s a clause within this document that would absolve my client of any legal or monetary…”
“Wait a goddamn minute,” Faith interjected heatedly. “She gets pregnant and he bears no responsibility?”
Faith voicing that thought seemed to rouse Buffy from her trance like status.
“I am not going to get pregnant,” Buffy hissed, shutting her eyes to block out the horror of the thought.
“Of course not,” Faith soothed. “I’m just saying B…..”
“It is not going to happen Faith,” Buffy said, through gritted teeth.
“Buffy,” Faith said, shaking her head. “Listen to me….”
“Look,” Fred said. “If you sign this….”
“In any….situation,” Fred said pointedly, making air-quotes to avoid using the A word. “You get to decide, of course. The advantage to you is that my client would have no legal rights to pursue you in the future. He is waiving his rights in perpetuity. In exchange for you waiving his fiduciary responsibility towards any offspring.”
“In English please,” Buffy said, rubbing her head to soothe the oncoming headache.
“If you have a kid,” Faith said. “He has no rights. At all. You never have to see him again. But you don’t get any money from him either.”
“Yeah,” Buffy gave a hollow, bitter laugh. “Because I’m just dying to have his kid.”
“And the money?” Faith asked quietly.
“The moment she signs the contract,” Fred said. “All she has to do is sign. The money will be deposited into an account of her choosing today.”
Fred got another message on her phone. And another. And another.
“One last thing,” Fred said nervously, as she pulled out her pad and began writing. And writing. And writing. Finally, she tossed the pad across the table and Faith snapped it up. Faith looked at the page sharply, then raised a brow at the brunette.
“These are the….ummm….activities,” Fred said, blushing profusely as Buffy looked confused.
“That you and my client would be…..engaging in…..during the course of the evening in question.”
What? Buffy blinked. Activities? What was she….
And then it hit Buffy with all the force of a ten ton truck. Activities Buffy thought. Oh god. Of course he would want to do…activities
He made a list, Buffy thought, screwing up her face. The sick son of a bitch. He made a list. What kind of man….
“Buffy,” Faith said, looking up and down the list. “You wanna...”
“No,” Buffy said, standing as if she was burnt, and then walking to the corner and turning her face away. “Just….handle it Faith. God.”
“Well,” Faith said, looking the list up and down. “Number two is out. Good luck hitting number 5. Six is a no fly area. Seven? Yeah, dream on. And number 9 is definitely…”
“Faith,” Buffy growled. “Do you mind.”
“Sorry B,” Faith said apologetically, then continued to read the list in her mind.
“I’m sorry,” Fred said, delicately. “I may have misstated my position.”
“Excuse me?” Faith said, her voice sharp now, as she glanced at Buffy, who had suddenly gone very still.
“My client,” Fred said, pointing to the notepad, trying to retain her composure. “Wasn’t asking……he was….”
“What?” Buffy whispered.
Buffy just knew things were about to get worse. Much much worse.
“He was…..informing,” Fred managed to say. “Informing you…that if you sign this document….you would be consenting to participating in these activities during the course of the evening.”
Faith’s jaw dropped. Buffy looked as if she’d been hit by a grenade. No-one spoke.
“Let’s go B,” Faith said finally, rising and then taking Buffy by the arm. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go through with….this.”
“Wait,” Fred said, her voice tiny and small. “You can still say no.”
“What?” Buffy croaked.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Faith challenged Fred.
“Paragraph eight. Clause seven. Before each….act….my client would need to obtain verbal consent.”
“You would have to say yes,” Fred explained to Buffy.
“And how the hell are we going to enforce that?” Faith said, her eyes full of fire.
“We would record the audio of the…..proceedings,” Fred said. “No video. Let me make that clear.”
“What?” Buffy said horrified. “No. Absolutely not.”
“No-one would ever hear it,” Fred promised. “It goes to a private arbiter who would sign a non-disclosure agreement. And it would only be heard in case of a legal action. Otherwise it never sees the light of day.”
“But what if….” Buffy said frantically, her mind racing with a million thoughts. “What if someone got their hands on this tape?”
“It would be in my client’s best interest to keep that from happening,” Fred said. “The damage to his reputation alone would costs millions of dollars. Plus he would open himself up from a ten figure lawsuit from you. Believe me, the tape stays with a private neutral arbiter.”
“Faith?” Buffy asked. Faith took her arm, then dragged her to the corner.
“Are you sure about this?” Faith asked.
“I don’t have a choice,” Buffy said miserably.
“It’s the best we can do,” Faith said, taking a deep breath. “At least this way you’re protected. And you get to stay in control.”
Sort of, Faith thought.
Buffy nodded, as if giving herself a mental talk. Faith saw a determined look cross her friend’s face. Buffy walked across the room, picked up the pen and with a shaky hand, began signing the papers. Fred turned away, giving Buffy some privacy noting Buffy’s heavy breath. Fred heard the papers rustle as Faith pointed out where Buffy needed to sign. And then Fred heard Buffy walk out of the room, never once looking back.
“I need a drink,” Faith said. “I hate my life sometimes.”
“Me too,” Fred replied quietly. “I’m buying.”
That evening...
Buffy shut the door to her house behind her. The lights were off. The house seemed empty.
“Will?” she whispered, looking around. He still wasn’t home. Buffy let out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. She felt relief for a moment, that she didn’t have to face him. Then the guilt hit her in spasms and waves. Crushing overwhelming guilt.
I lied to him, Buffy thought. I told him he said yes. And today…
“I had no choice,” she whispered to herself, trying to make herself believe it. Do I really believe that? Buffy didn’t know what she believed anymore. All she knew is that she couldn’t lose their house. Her mother’s museum. She didn’t want to lose the life they’d built together.
He’ll understand, Buffy thought. He knows it’s just….
The sound of her cellphone interrupted her thoughts.
“Hello,” Buffy said hesitantly.
“Ms Summers?” an elegantly clipped voice said. “Buffy Summers?”
“Mrs Summers,” Buffy corrected.
“My apologies,” she heard the man say. Buffy placed his accent as British.
“My name is Wesley Pryce,” the smooth, even voice said. “I’m Mr Harris’s private banker. I’m calling about the money.”
“The….the money?” Buffy said.
“Indeed,” Wesley said. “The 10 million dollars. I handle all the high value accounts.”
“Oh,” Buffy said simply.
“May I have the account number?” Wesley said, after a short silence.
“Uhm,” Buffy said, opening up her purse. “Sure. Could you hold on a minute?”
Buffy looked for the scrap of paper she’d stowed away. With unsteady hands she read out the 10 digits, an old joined account they’d opened when they’d first gotten married.
That’ll give me a few days, Buffy thought. To break the news to William. To make him understand. Buffy felt another spasm of guilt and shock, as the enormity of what she had done, no what she was about to do, began to dawn on her. But she knew it was too late. She’d already signed the papers and that posh British voice was telling her the money had been transferred and that she would be receiving a call from her bank to confirm the details very shortly.
“Congratulations Mrs Summers,” Wesley said.
“T…Thank you,” Buffy managed to say, before hanging up the phone.
A few minutes later, Buffy received a confirmation call from one very perplexed, but solicitious Bank manager in Sunnydale, confirming the deposit made in her account and congratulating her and her husband profusely. Buffy barely heard his voice, lost as she was in her own head. He was saying something about investment avenues and how to avoid paying taxes on her sudden windfall.
“I can’t do this right now,” Buffy said, sitting down on her sofa, rubbing her temples. “I….I’ll call you okay.”
“Very good Mrs Summers,” she heard as she disconnected the call.
That evening, Buffy logged on to her bank’s website and into her account. And there it was. 10,000,000 dollars. She stared at the screen blankly. She felt not an ounce of joy, just an empty heavy feeling.
“Lo?” she heard him say. “Buffy?”
Buffy quickly shut off her laptop and slammed the screen shut, trying to keep from looking too guilty. And then William was poking his head into the kitchen door.
“Hey,” he said simply.
“Hi,” she said, giving him a comforting smile.
“No luck,” William said.
“That’s okay,” Buffy said softly. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“Yeah,” William said, dropping his gaze, walking to their table and placing his briefcase on the chair, before removing his coat and hat. “Just a matter of time.”
God, Buffy thought. He sounded so….broken. Like it was killing him to let her down. To be less than what he could be. For in his mind, failing her. In a moment, Buffy flung herself to her feet and threw her arms around him. Buffy saw the surprise in his eyes and felt even worse than she did before. Since their big blowout fight, they hadn’t so much as touched. They’d shared the same bed and the same house, but not intimacy. Only then did Buffy realize how much she’d missed his touch.
“I love you,” she said, as she gently kissed him. “Tell me you love me.”
“You know I do,” he said, as she led him upstairs and into their bedroom.
Later, as they lay in bed, side by side, William kissed her forehead.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?” Buffy said, stroking his chest and rubbing her cheek against him.
“For believing in me,” William said. “For believing in us.”
And Buffy realized what he was trying to say.
Oh god, Buffy thought. I have to tell him.
Buffy opened her mouth, but didn’t recognize the words that left her mouth.
“You’re welcome,” she said, placing her head against his chest. William’s lips curved up into a soft smile as Buffy stared at a fixed point on the wall, wondering what in the world she was going to do.
A few days later….
Buffy was on a knife’s edge. Faith had called, telling Buffy she’d received a call from Fred, saying she needed to get herself ‘tested.’
“When?” Buffy said, glancing nervously at the upstairs bedroom. William was in his study, reading.
“I don’t know,” Faith said. “Soon. Fred said soon.”
And Buffy knew she was running out of time to break the news to William.
That evening….
“Would you hate me?” Buffy asked suddenly as she prepared dinner.
“Hmmm?” William said, looking up from his newspaper.
“If I took up the offer,” Buffy said, her voice trembling a little. “Would you hate me?”
“I….” William said, his voice suddenly weary, his body tense. “I don’t want to discuss it.”
“We’re just….talking,” Buffy said, looking away so he wouldn’t see the guilt in her eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then let’s not,” William said, his voice harsh.
“I’ve slept with other men,” Buffy said quietly. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
Buffy wasn’t looking, but she could tell her husband was gritting his teeth.
“That’s,” he breathed, trying to control his anger. “That’s different.”
“How?” Buffy said.
“You know how,” William said. He hadn’t raised his voice an inch, but Buffy could tell he was getting angry.
“I wouldn’t hate you,” Buffy said.
“What?” William frowned, taken off guard.
“If you were the one who….” Buffy began, then faltered. “I wouldn’t hate you William.”
“No?” he said, disbelievingly.
“I’d be furious,” Buffy admitted. “But I wouldn’t hate you.”
Her eyes asked him the question. He looked down at his plate.
“Be honest with me,” she said. “Please.”
“I don’t know Buffy,” he said, slamming his fist on the table. “Goddamnit, I don’t know.”
Her lips trembled.
“Then I guess you don’t really love me,” she said, turning away to hide the shame she felt at saying that. She knew she wasn’t being fair.
“Not the way I love you.”
And with that she marched up the stairs. He stayed down in the kitchen for a long time and when he finally came upstairs Buffy could see he was wretched with pain.
“Don’t say that,” he pleaded. “Don’t say I don’t love you like…. You know that’s not true.”
“I thought I did,” Buffy said, wiping away a tear, turning to her side. “I thought I was more than just a body to keep you warm at night. I guess I was wrong.”
“You know you are,” he said, coming up behind her and gently touching her shoulder. “You’re more than that Buffy. I love your heart. I love your soul.”
“Then prove it,” she said.
“How?” he asked.
Buffy steeled herself. “By letting me go.”
Buffy felt his hand recoil from her touch as if she’d burned him.
“Let you go?” he whispered.
“Only for one night,” she said, pleading. “And then we’ll be free. Of everything. Just you and me. For the rest of our lives.”
William looked at her for the longest time. Buffy could see he was being torn apart inside. Buffy saw the turmoil in his eyes and felt guilty that she was lying to him that it was for one night only. I’ll tell him the whole truth later, she reasoned.
“It’s not my heart,” Buffy said, touching his cheek. “Not my soul. You’ll always have those.”
Buffy knew William couldn’t say the words. He could never say the words. So with the slightest, most imperceptible of nods, William finally gave in.
For the next few days, Buffy found her nerves on a knife’s edge. Every ring of the doorbell, every call and message on her phone, every e-mail would jangle her nerves. Faith accompanied Buffy to the hospital for her battery of tests, then collected the reports and sent them across to Fred. Buffy waited, and waited, and waited some more. March, turned into mid-April which turned into May. Meanwhile, Buffy quietly took care of all of the bills. They barely made conversation anymore, slept in the same bed but never touched. The whole affair hanging over their heads like the sword of Damocles. William continued to look for a job without much success.
Finally, in the third week of May, on Monday, Buffy received the call she was dreading.
“Buffy,” Xander said simply. “How have you been?”
“Fine,” Buffy said, determined to keep this conversation as short and unpleasant as she could manage.
“Are you free this weekend?” Xander said.
She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. Smug bastard, she thought.
“It depends,” Buffy said coldly. “Am I contractually obligated to be?”
To her chagrin, Xander only chuckled.
“You certainly are,” he grinned. “Unless of course, you’ve changed your mind. In which case, you’re more than welcome to return the money. At fourteen percent interest? That’s a couple of hundred thousand dollars?”
Buffy said nothing. She wanted to tell him to go to hell and that she was going to return the money, but she knew it was a childish fantasy.

“Buffy?” Xander repeated. “Are you free this weekend?”
Buffy knew Xander was enjoying his position of dominance over her. Savouring it.
“Yes,” she said, trying not to scream obscenities at him.
“Good,” Xander said. “I’ll send the car on Friday. Bring your passport.”
“Goodbye Xander,” Buffy said, her finger poised over the disconnect button.
“And Buffy?” he said, forcing her to wait just one more moment.
“Yes?” she said, harshly.
“It’s all I’ve been thinking about,” he said, dropping his voice low. “Tell me you haven’t.”
Buffy didn’t wait this time. She just hung up the phone, tossing it onto a the bed, then sat down on the side, wrapping her arms around herself. Only one thought kept going through her head. How was she going to tell her husband what he feared most was going to come to pass? How am I going to break the news to Will?

For the next few days, Buffy found her nerves on a knife’s edge. Every ring of the doorbell, every call and message on her phone, every e-mail would jangle her nerves. Faith accompanied Buffy to the hospital for her battery of tests, then collected the reports and sent them across to Fred. Buffy waited, and waited, and waited some more. March, turned into mid-April which turned into May. Meanwhile, Buffy quietly took care of all of the bills. They barely made conversation anymore, slept in the same bed but never touched. The whole affair hanging over their heads like the sword of Damocles. William continued to look for a job without much success.
Finally, in the third week of May, on Monday, Buffy received the call she was dreading.

“Buffy,” Xander said. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” Buffy said, determined to keep this conversation as short and unpleasant as she could manage.

“Are you free this weekend?” Xander said.

She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. Smug bastard, she thought.

“It depends,” Buffy said coldly. “Am I contractually obligated to be?”

To her chagrin, Xander only chuckled.

“You certainly are,” he grinned. “Unless of course, you’ve changed your mind. In which case, you’re more than welcome to return the money. At fourteen percent interest? That’s a couple of hundred thousand dollars?”

Buffy said nothing. She wanted to tell him to go to hell and that she was going to return the money, but she knew it was a childish fantasy.

“Buffy?” Xander repeated. “Are you free this weekend?”

Buffy knew Xander was enjoying his position of dominance over her. Savouring it.

“Yes,” she said, trying not to scream obscenities at him.

“Good,” Xander said. “I’ll send the car on Friday. Bring your passport.”

“Goodbye,” Buffy said coldly, her finger poised over the disconnect button.

“And Buffy?” he said, forcing her to wait just one more moment.

“Yes?” she said, harshly.

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about,” he said, dropping his voice low.
“Tell me you haven’t.”

Buffy didn’t wait this time. She just hung up the phone, tossing it onto a the bed, then sat down on the side, wrapping her arms around herself. Only one thought kept going through her head. How was she going to tell her husband what he feared most was going to come to pass? How am I going to break the news to Will?

Friday morning….

Buffy paced in the bathroom, trying to keep herself from hyperventilating. She’d spent the past few days trying to bring up the topic, but her nerves just kept failing her. She just couldn’t seem to get the words out. And now Will was getting ready to leave for a promising interview. This was almost certainly her last chance. It’s not like they’d been talking much anyway, other than a few perfunctory greetings.

Buffy took a deep breath and opened the door. He was gone. Buffy looked around and saw nothing. She heard his footsteps on the stairs.

“Will,” Buffy called out as she ran to the top of the staircase. She looked down. He was at the bottom of the staircase, looking up at her.

“Yes luv?”

Buffy swallowed. I have to tell him, Buffy told herself. I have to tell him right now.

“I…..” Buffy began.

He was looking at her. Softly. Hesitantly. Expectantly.

God, she thought. Tell him. Just tell him.

“I love you,” she said.

A sweet smile broke out on his face, something that made her heart shrivel up.

“I love you too,” he said.

Buffy tried to open her mouth, but found it impossible. And then he was walking to the door. The creak of the door shutting awoke her from her stupor. She bounded down the stairs and ran to the door, only to see him driving away.

Buffy grabbed her phone. Call him. Tell him to come home. But her finger refused to co-operate. It was then that Buffy realized that she’d never be able to tell him what she’d done. Never be able to say the words.

So how then? Buffy thought, miserably.

Buffy’s cellphone rang. It was Faith.

“Change of plans B,” Buffy heard. “The car is picking you up. Now.”

“Now?” Buffy said bewildered. “But that wasn’t….”

“It’s complicated,” Faith said. “But long story short. If you aren’t in that car you’re in violation of the contract.”

Buffy heard a knock on the door.

“I have to go,” she said, hanging up the phone.

It was an extremely well-built man, immaculately turned out.

“Buffy?” he asked. She nodded.

“I’m Adam. Mr Harris’s head of security. Are you ready to go?”

“I….”

“You don’t need anything,” Adam said, reassuringly. “Just your passport.”

Buffy took a deep breath.

“A few minute please,” she said.

Adam nodded, then turned around and shut the door. Buffy looked around. Her eyes fell on something on the drawing table. She snatched it up then went upstairs. A few minutes later, she returned, clutching just her passport. Buffy paused to examine her reflection in the mirror just near the door. Her beautiful hair looked dirty yellow and stringy, her eyes were red and her face was puffy. She looked awful.

Good, Buffy thought bitterly. I hope the bastard isn’t too disappointed with what he’s getting for his money.

Buffy walked out the door as Adam opened the limo door for her. Buffy took one last look at the house, then the cellphone in her hand, which displayed the name ‘William.’

“I’m sorry William,” Buffy whispered. Then she turned off the phone, placed it in the purse and got into the car.

Buffy was taken to the airport and chaperoned through until she reached a hangar. The door to the airplane was open. Buffy looked around. It was just her and Adam. She looked at him, questioningly.

“Mr Harris is abroad,” Adam said, delicately guiding her to the steps. “You’ll be flying to him.”

Buffy nodded, shrugging her shoulders, climbing into the plane. She looked around. Expensive looking leather seats surrounded by a home theatre and a bar that was stocked to the brim. A white velvet carpet covered every inch of the floor.

“Please,” Adam said, gesturing for her to sit. Buffy did, looking out the window as the plane taxied out and flew into the sky. She kept awake for as long as she could before, she let herself rest her eyes. Her last waking thought was of her husband.

Buffy awoke mid-descent, momentarily discombobulated. Daylight was fading. As soon as the plane landed, she was bundled into a luxurious car and taken to a hotel. Buffy couldn’t help but notice the beautiful surroundings—the lush fields, dense forests and a noticeable lack of pale faces—if she’d have to guess, she’d say she was on some sort of island.

At the hotel, she was escorted to a private elevator and taken up to the suite on the topmost floor, where a woman was waiting for her.

“Ms Buffy,” said the beautiful exotic looking woman. “I am Maya.”

“Hi,” Buffy said, for the first time, regretting the lack of effort she’d put into her appearance lately. Compared to this creature, Buffy felt she looked like a homeless person.

“I’m the valet for this private suite,” Maya said, smiling at her. “I’m at your service, always.”

“Thank you,” Buffy said. “It’s…..very nice.”

Buffy knew she was understating things. The suite was gorgeous. Like something out of one of her design books. Room after room after room with furniture that looked like it had been designed for
French royalty. But honestly, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“You have a salon appointment at 7,” Maya said. “That gives you a few hours to sleep of the jet lag. Then dinner at 9.”

“Salon appointment?” Buffy echoed, flopping down on the bed.

“Mr Harris was very specific for tonight’s schedule,” Maya nodded.

Buffy thought of refusing, but what would be gained by that?
Besides, she didn’t want to do anything that would violate the terms of the agreement. She was, despite Faith’s and Fred’s reassurances, fearful that Xander would somehow find a way to screw her out of her money.

No pun intended B, Buffy heard Faith’s husky voice quip.

Get out of my head Faith, Buffy thought, massaging her temples.
“Okay,” Buffy said.

“There’s a telephone here if you need anything,” Maya gestured. “I’m number 9.”

“Can I dial out?” Buffy asked.

“Just dial 10 and the number,” Maya said. “Is there anything you need?”

Buffy shook her head.

“I’ll see you at 7,” Maya said.

Buffy picked up the phone, then just stared at it hesitantly.

At 10 minutes to 7, Buffy was gently roused from her bed. Maya was waiting with a tray of fruit, black coffee and toasted bread. Buffy ate only sparingly before being directed to one of the smaller rooms in the suite and guided into a long hot bath, after which about half a dozen women were waiting for her. Buffy was guided into a bathrobe and a chair, various cold creams were applied to her face and cucumbers placed on her eyes. Her dirty yellow hair was washed again and again and again until it shone like spun gold. Her legs were waxed until they were smooth then rubbed and oiled until they shone with a healthy glow. Her face was scrubbed until it was raw and pink and clean. Buffy was hustled in front of a vanity mirror where her hair was carefully curled and styled and her face was painstakingly made up. Then, before she knew it, she was being made to slip into a dress.

Buffy looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting the uncomfortably tight silver dress. It showed an ungodly amount of golden leg and thigh, ending an inch below her panties. Not to mention it was backless, exposing her skin to the cool air-conditioned air and giving her goosebumps. And the shoes she’d been provided with were a pair of six-inch prada pumps. Something she’d have once loved to own, but that were putting a serious hurt on her legs and back.
You look beautiful luv, she could almost hear William whisper into her ear. His voice was tinged with sorrow. It sent a dagger through her heart, knowing that this was for someone else. Buffy knew she had never looked more gorgeous. Usually, she’d be proud, but for once, Buffy hated what she saw. Her beauty made her desirable to Xander. But he didn’t cherish her. Buffy made her face into an impassive mask. That’s how it’s going to be then, she vowed. Just a cold, impassive mask. No emotion. Just cold, unfeeling sex.

“Buffy,” she heard him say. Her skin crawled at the sound of his voice.

“Xander,” she said, draining her voice of any emotion.

She felt him walk up behind her. And then his reflection was next to hers.

“You look…” he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Sensational.”

“Thank you,” she said insincerely, glancing at him. He was in an immaculately tailored suit that showed off his muscular physique. Buffy knew he’d dressed up to try to impress her and she made a point of not returning the compliment, knowing it would sting his considerable ego. But he didn’t even seem to notice. Buffy saw his eyes languidly run down her back, enjoying the skin on display. Buffy took in a quick breath when she felt his fingers on the small of her lower back.

“Beautiful,” Xander whispered, his thumb and forefinger stroked the
butter soft, creamy skin then massaged it experimentally, glancing up at Buffy’s face. It was impassive. Not a spot of emotion.

“Should I go undress?” she asked monotonously.

Buffy saw Xander’s eyes flicker with anger as he understood her plan. She was giving him her body and nothing else. Not one ounce of what made her her. The next moment Xander was cool again, but Buffy took immense satisfaction from his anger.

“You’ve got to find a more creative way to think about this,” Xander smiled, gently running his hand down to her waist, then squeezing it possessively. “I know I have.”

I’m sure you have, Buffy thought savagely. Bastard.

“Shall we?” Xander asked, not waiting for her reply, just guiding her
into the private elevator.

When the door opened Buffy was in a beautifully decorated ballroom, filled with opulently dressed couples slowly waltzing to classical music. Ordinarily, Buffy would have loved to join in, but not today. Yet she couldn’t refuse when Xander escorted her to the floor. Nor could she chide him when he pulled her intimately close.

“They’re all watching you,” Xander said, his hands running down her back.

Buffy didn’t have to be told. She knew most if not all of the eyes in the room were trained on them. She could feel the adoring, lustful gazes of the men and the jealous, wistful glances from the women. Some wishing perhaps that they were in her place. Buffy had to keep in a bitter laugh. If they only knew.

“How does that make you feel?”

Buffy ignored his question and looked away.

“I love it,” Xander said blithely continuing their conversation. "
Watching their faces when they see something they can’t have. Their jealousy, envy and greed laid bare. Definitely some of the best sins.”

Buffy felt anger when she realized what Xander was doing. He was showing her off. Like some prize toy. What compounded her fury was her inability to do anything about it.

“Do you have a favourite sin Buffy?” Xander asked. Buffy was spared a reply by the song ending. The couples broke apart, politely applauding the band and returning to their tables. Xander followed suit, guiding Buffy to a private candle-lit booth. Buffy sat in silence as the waiters laid out several plates of exotic foods, then opened an expensive bottle of champagne, content to roll her fingers over her glass stem as Xander described the fine vintage.

“It’s not going to work,” Buffy said, after the waiter had poured her a glass. “All this. It’s not going to make me forget.”

“This?” Xander queried, sipping his drink.

“We both know what this is,” Buffy said.

“Foreplay?” Xander smirked. Buffy flinched.

“Pretending,” she said. “That this is something it isn’t.”

“You’re pretending too Buffy,” Xander said.

“What the hell does that mean?” Buffy narrowed her eyes at him.
Xander smiled. “And you never told me what your favourite sin is?”

“Pride,” Buffy said snarkily. “Because it goeth before the fall.”

“I’d bet,” Xander said. “I can change your mind.”

“Oh?” Buffy challenged. “Is that right?”

Xander took a moment to consider his answer.

“My lucky silver dollar,” Xander said, removing a large coin from his pants, then showed it to Buffy.

“Heads is Pride,” Xander said. “If you win, you go upstairs. Alone. I stay down here for the rest of the evening.”

Buffy blinked. Alone? Was this a trick?

“Deal?” he asked, not waiting for her answer by tossing the coin high in the air.

Buffy was hypnotized by the coin’s revolutions. She saw Xander pluck it out of thin air. Buffy knew she had nothing to lose. She nodded. Xander opened his hand and showed it to her. Buffy looked away, the hope squashed inside of her.

Buffy closed her eyes. She could still see the soft smile on William’s face when she told him she loved him.

No, she thought. I’m not going to go there. I’m not going to think about Will.

“We go upstairs then,” Xander said, sliding over to her side. Buffy felt his lips at her ear, and his fingers stroking her thigh. “And indulge in my favourite sin.”

Lust, Buffy thought despairingly, closing her eyes.

When William returned the house was dark. He turned on the kitchen light, then placed the take-out food he’d gotten on the counter.

“Buffy?” he called. “Luv?”

No reply.

William tried her cellphone. No luck.

Prolly just at the supermarket, he figured. Battery must have drained. William waited in front of the Tv downstairs, trying not to keep checking his phone for messages.

He couldn’t wait to share the good news. At long last, he’d done it. He’d landed a position. It didn’t pay as much as the last one, to be sure, and it wasn’t going to get them out of the hole, but it was a good start.

William glanced at the clock. It had been a half-hour since he’d gotten home. And still no Buffy.

“Where are you luv?” he whispered, touching his phone. Suddenly William felt sweaty, dirty. His shirt was sticking to his body. He needed a bath.

Feeling slightly antsy now, William bounded upstairs. He stripped off his clothes, tossing them on the bed with abandon and took a hot, short shower. When he emerged soaking wet, he saw the mess he’d made on the bed and chuckled. He could hear her voice in her ear.

God, you’re such a pig Spike, she was saying. Did you grow up on the farm?

He bent over to pick up his clothes and froze. Underneath the garments, there was an envelope with his name on it. It was Buffy’s handwriting. He knew. At that moment he knew. But he wouldn’t believe it. He couldn’t. She’d talked about it, but there was no way Buffy would ever…No, not his Buffy.

William’s hand shook slightly as he lifted it open and took out the
hand-written note. His eyes began to well up as he read the first lines, blurring out the rest of the words.

I have to go Will. Just for a little while. And then we’ll be free. For the rest of our lives. You’ll always have my heart and soul. I love you. Nothing will ever change that.
B

William felt tears flowing down his face and dropping onto the note, smudging the beautiful penmanship. He didn’t know when his tears turned to anger. Suddenly furious, he tore the note to shreds and threw it away.

“Fucking bitch,” he screamed at the bits of paper. “Fucking….”

And then his voice broke as a soft wind scattered the remnants of the paper to all four corners of the room. And then he was down on his knees, furiously trying to gather the tiny bits of paper and clutching them to his chest with both hands. He didn’t know when he curled up on the floor, suddenly exhausted. All he wanted to do was sleep. So he slept.

William dreamt. Of the darkness. A dark room. A dark bed. On it lay a woman. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew it was her. It could only be her. He hair was the colour of the sun. But her name. What was her name? He knew her name, but he didn’t know.

“Buffy,” another voice whispered. Possessively. A voice not his own. A sinister voice he knew. But he didn’t want to know. And then there were two figures in the darkness on the bed. Suddenly, the bed was lit up by a spotlight. The rest of the bedroom remained in the
darkness.

Buffy was lying on her side, draped in the sheets, her face stoic. Xander was behind her, kissing Buffy’s shoulders. Xander trailed kisses up her shoulders and her neck. Something flickered across Buffy’s face but it was just as quickly gone.

William wanted to move, but his feet were leaden. He wanted to scream but he had no voice. He wanted, no needed to stop them somehow, but they just couldn’t see him.

Xander stroked Buffy’s stomach with the other hand then dropped it under the sheets. A moment later Buffy gasped. She dropped her hand down to clamp over his. William saw the imprint of Xander’s hand under the sheets. It was between Buffy’s legs.

“Stop,” she said, stilling his hand. Her voice was harsh. Angry.

“No,” Xander said. He sounded amused.

“I said stop…” Buffy began angrily. Suddenly she froze. Her body stiffened momentarily then arched backwards. Like a tightly strung bow.

“I know you want this,” Xander whispered, pushing away the sheet
to bare one of Buffy's breasts, then plucking at her nipple as his hand moved rhythmically between her legs.

"No," Buffy gasped, but William saw the tell-tale signs. Her cheeks flushed red. Her eyes darkened. Her nose flared prominently. Her jawline tightened as she gritted her teeth, then bit her lip.

“There’s no-one here,” Xander whispered in her ear, locking eyes with William, giving him a mocking smile. “It’s just us. No one will ever know.”

He can see me, William thought. The son of a bitch. I’ll kill him.

“Oh,” Buffy whimpered. “God.”

Then Xander's hand was moving faster and faster and Buffy was curving her body forward, leaning into his touch. William saw her hand guiding his, showing him exactly what she liked.

“God,” she moaned. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

When her voice broke in an ecstatic scream William awoke. His eyes stung, his tears were still fresh on his cheeks. His body hurt like a bitch, his throat was hoarse. He saw the remnants of the note and remembered the dream and felt nausea, and an intense wave of self-loathing that made him want to put his fist through everything.

“Get up you pussy,” he grunted, hauling himself back to his feet. “Get up Spike.”

The towel fell to the floor, leaving him naked. He pried open the liquor cabinet. He pulled out the first thing he found. He didn’t even care what it was. He drank it all. And then the next one. Then he felt nothing at all. He rolled over.

He didn’t know how much later a hand touched his shoulder.

“Hey,” a voice whispered in his ear.

Buffy, he thought hopefully through his drunken haze, but then he turned over.

“Faith,” Spike spat out. “It’s you.”

“Are you okay blondie?” Faith said. Her voice was tinged with pity. God, he hated pity.

“Peaches and cream,” he said, sitting up, noticing he was draped in the bedsheets. “All I need….”

Spike looked around to find his half-empty bottle of scotch on the bedside table, then reached out for it.

“Is my medicine.”

Spike chugged the bottle dry, then tossed it aside. The glass splintered with a heavy crash.

“Jesus Spike,” Faith said. “Get a hold of yourself.”

“Sod off,” Spike snarled, looking around. He spotted another bottle by the bedside table and reached for it. Faith grabbed his hand.

“That’s enough,” the brunette said.

“Yeah?” Spike said.

A beat passed. Faith saw a shadow pass over Spike’s eyes and his mouth contort into a wolfish leer.

“You’re right,” Spike said, maneuvering Faith’s hand until her palm was in his. “Enough booze. Let’s find something more fun to drown in.”

Uh-oh, Faith thought. This is not good.

“Stop it,” Faith said, when Spike used his strength to pull Faith against him.

“I’m serious,” Faith added, trying to squirm out of Spike’s grip as he manouvered her across his lap. “This isn't why I came here.”

“No?” Spike challenged, his hands moving to divest the brunette of her clothing.

“No,” Faith said, a little less forcefully than she should have, trying to thwart Spike's busy hands.

“Didn't cross your mind on the way over?” Spike queried, his hands pausing for a moment.

“No,” Faith said, lying through her perfect white teeth. Okay. It had. Faith couldn't exactly help herself. She was a human being, a woman in her sexual prime. And Spike was, well, a goddamn hottie. Faith's mind had strayed to those thoughts, before she'd firmly dismissed it. But Spike seemed to read her inner thoughts.

“See,” Spike said. “The thing is. I know all about your little college exploits.”

“Ancient history,” Faith said, rolling her eyes.

“I know where you live,” Spike sneered. “Wanting a taste of what you can't have. What you shouldn't have. What belongs to her.”

Faith couldn't stop herself from getting goosebumps. She'd always had a yen for what wasn't hers. And the thought of taking what belonged to Buffy. Oh my. That particular thought never failed to get her off. It was an itch she'd always wanted to scratch. She'd even come close once. But no cigar. Some itches never went away. And truth be told, she'd always wanted to jump the delicious Brit one of her best friends had married.

Faith sighed deeply, through her inner monologue.

Buffy's getting laid right now, Faith reasoned, glancing at the clock showing 2am. Doesn't seem fair for poor William to be left out.

“This is a bad idea,” Faith said, after thinking about it for a few moments.

Not exactly a no, Spike thought, cocking a brow.

“Yeah,” Spike smirked. “But you're a bad, bad girl. And I'm a bad, bad man.”

And with that, Spike lay back, pulling a slightly reluctant Faith down with him.

Sorry B, Faith thought, when Spike pulled her mouth down on his and captured her lips in a searing kiss. I'm a bad girl. But then again, tonight, so are you.

Monday.....
Buffy stood on her home's porch. She just stared at the door, her key in the latch, her hand on the doorknob. The moment was here. The one she'd been thinking about ever since she left her home on Friday. The one she'd been dreading. She'd wondered how William had reacted when he'd found her note. How he'd coped with her absence that weekend. And what he'd say when she got home.

It must have been absolute hell for him, Buffy thought, a wave of guilt eating away at her. Her heart felt heavy. Her stomach nauseous. Her hands trembled slightly.

You can't just stand here forever, Buffy thought. It's time to go home now. And forget....

Buffy took a deep breath, then opened the door. The house seemed deserted.

“Will?” she croaked, before clearing her throat.

“William?” she managed to say, her voice slightly strained.

No answer. Buffy sighed, partly relieved that he wasn't there. That she didn't have to come face to face with him. Yet. She climbed up the stairs, her footsteps heavy. She paused when she opened their bedroom. It looked like a disaster area. Things were flung everywhere, bottles were broken and furniture was shattered. It made Buffy wince.

Buffy took a hot bath, then spent the rest of the day cleaning up.

She figured William would be out job-hunting and that she could take her time. Buffy found the pieces of the note she'd written him strewn under the bed.

God, Buffy thought. He must have been in so much pain.
“I'm sorry I hurt you Will,” Buffy whispered, rubbing her fingers over the tattered notes. “But I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise.”

Buffy managed to make their room inhabitable by dinner time. Then she rushed down to cook William's favourite meal, although she doubted any of them would actually be in a mood to eat. More of a peace offering, she reckoned. Something to break the ice. She even changed into a long flowing dress that William liked and let her hair down. Buffy regarded herself in the small mirror in the kitchen.

She looked like one of those 'Mad Men' housewives. Much to her surprise, she didn't hate the way it looked, or made her feel. Buffy had always been a feminist, but for some reason, she felt the need to play the doting housewife she and her friends had always mocked.

She kept glancing at the kitchen clock. It was nearly midnight when she perked up, hearing William's unmistakeable footsteps on her porch. Buffy shook slightly, inhaled deeply to try to get a hold of herself, then swallowed.

And then he was in front of her. He seemed to freeze up at the sight of her, as if he never expected to see her again.

“Hi,” she said.

She saw his eyes reflect the turmoil he was feeling. Shock. Anger. Hatred. Remorse. Guilt. Shame. She could read his eyes so easily. He was always, in his eyes.

Buffy felt her heart shrivel. There was nothing for him to feel guilty or ashamed about. He blamed himself, she knew. For not being able to take care of them. For, putting in her the situation to...

Buffy chased those thoughts away, with a small shake of her head. He was just staring at her. Neither of them spoke for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“Hi,” he said, finally, his voice straining to reach normal.

“I uh,” Buffy stammered, putting on a weak smile. “I made dinner. Your favourite.”

God. This was a million times worse than she could have ever imagined. In her mind, he'd been raging. He'd been screaming at her, calling her all sorts of filthy names. But this? He looked just beaten. And haunted.

“I'm not hungry,” he said, then turned and walked up the stairs without waiting for her to respond. Buffy blinked, then chased after him.

“Will,” she said, as he paused on the top of the stairs. She remained on the bottom, hesitant, wondering if she should follow him. “Do you....”

“What?” he said, his voice harsh. Buffy winced at the hurt in his voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she said, so gently, she barely heard herself, taking one step at a time until she was almost behind him. She could almost hear him grinding his teeth together. She reached out to touch his shoulder.

“There's nothing to talk about,” Spike said gruffly. And with that, he walked into their room, leaving Buffy reaching for air. Buffy heard the room door click loudly and stood there, in a daze. He'd shut her out. Buffy came forward, preparing to knock on the door. Her fist dangled forward, then gently stroked the door, as if running her hand through his hair. Buffy walked back to the top of the stairs, looking back.

Time, Buffy thought. He just needs some time. And space. We both do. We just need to put this past us. Forget this weekend ever happened and move on with our lives. Buffy sat on the top stair of their home, trying to convince herself that everything would be allright. But William was sitting with his back to the other side of the door, drinking from a flask he'd hidden away under his coat. Tears streaming down his face and mixing with his drink, as he thought how much they'd betrayed each other that weekend.

The month that followed was much the same. Buffy found herself moving into the guest room. She figured she'd try and give him (and herself) some time and space. Despite her best efforts, William managed to leave before Buffy ever awakened. And he returned much, much after she'd given up waiting for him and had gone to bed. She'd always heard his footsteps passing the guest bedroom. He never ate, as far as she could tell. He never told her where his job was. Even his perfunctory greetings seemed ice cold.

Then, Buffy found herself getting angry at him. He's behaving like a child, she thought. We're adults. This is not how adults behave when there's a problem. We need to talk about it.

That was how she found herself sitting on his bed, late one night. Waiting for him. She glanced at the clock. It was well-past midnight. As if on cue, the front door opened. Buffy's resolve weakened, but then she firmed it up.

You can do this, she thought. You have to do this. It's like drawing poison from a wound.

And then he was opening the door. William paused, seeing her sitting on his bed. Buffy saw him flinch visibly at the sight of her.

“Will,” she said softly. “We need to talk about.....things.”

“Things,” he said. Buffy saw the change in his eyes, saw him move to 'Spike' in an instant. She heard the tinge of bitter amusement in his voice, heard the slightly slurred speech. He wasn't drunk, but he'd had a few drinks.

“Right,” he said, flippantly. “Let's talk about things, shall we?”

Spike rubbed his hands together, looking around.


“This lamp,” he said, pointing to their bedside table. “I've always hated it.”

“What?” Buffy said, bewildered.

“And I have to say pet,” Spike rubbed his chin. “Don't fancy these curtains either.”

Buffy found her temper rising, but managed to keep it under control. He's just hurting, Buffy heard her mother's voice say. Lashing out. That's good. He's letting loose his emotions. It's healthy.

“That's not what I mean,” Buffy said.

“No?” Spike said. “What then?”

Buffy tried to say something, but failed. She tried again. Couldn't get it out either.

“Right,” Spike said, turning around. “Good talk then.”

“Wait,” Buffy said, her voice breaking. “Will. Please.”

Spike shut his eyes. He knew she was crying softly.

“Don't shut me out,” she said. “I know it hurt you. What I did.”

She couldn't even say it, Spike thought hardened his heart. She couldn't even say what she did.

Neither can you, he heard William's voice. Ya bleeding wanker.

That's different, Spike argued. I was hurt. Drunk out of my mind.
She bloody drove me to it.

Buffy interruped Spike's conversation with himself.

“Will?” she said gently.

“Fine,” Spike turned around. “You want to talk?”

Buffy nodded.

“Then let's talk about it,” Spike said. Buffy looked pained, then squirmed. “What you did.”

“That's not what I....” she said, her heart hammering in her chest.

Oh god. What could she possibly say? She couldn't tell him what happened that weekend. She just couldn't.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Spike said. “So talk.”

The silence hung between them for a lifetime.

“What,” Buffy began hesitantly. “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me what happened,” Spike said.

“You know what happened,” Buffy said, softly.

“Don't do this to yourself Will,” she begged. “To us. Please.”

“I want to know Buffy,” he said, forming his face into a rigid ugly
grin. “I want to know everything. Every sordid detail.”

“Why?” Buffy pleaded. “Why does it matter Will. It happened. It's over. And now it's just us. You and me.”

“You and Me,” Spike said. He paused.

“And Him,” he added bitterly. “In this room. The three of us.”

“That's not fair,” Buffy said, wiping a tear from her eyes. “I've left that part of me in the past. Why can't you?”

“Because I can't,” Spike shouted, slamming his fist into the wall, beating it again and again and again. “Because I have to know. It's driving me crazy.”

“Why?” Buffy screamed, bewildered. “Why can't you just let it be?”

“Because I need to know,” Spike said, leaning on the wall heavily. “I need to know what you did. With him.”

At last, Buffy found her anger. Her rage. She grabbed his shoulder, then spun him around, grabbing his collar.

“All right,” she said, her cheeks glistening with tears. “You want to know so bad? Then I'll tell you.”

Buffy saw Spike flinch, but she was too far gone. She was nearly hysterical. If he wanted to know so badly, she was going to tell him. Draw out the poison.

“The man was a stallion,” Buffy said, cruelly. “We were up all night. Every single night. Does that do it for you?”

She saw Spike' face crumble. He was defenseless now. And yet she drove a stake clean through his heart, finishing him off.

“I've never been fucked like that,” Buffy said, using her bedroom voice now, leaning on Spike, rubbing her body against him enticingly. “That hard. That good. That long. I'm getting wet just thinking about it.”

Buffy tried to reign herself in, but it was no use. She was too far gone.

“And then I begged him,” Buffy said, her voice finally breaking. “Begged him to cum inside me.”

Spike snarled, rearing his hand back to hit Buffy.

“Do it,” she screamed. “Hit me. Hit me, goddamnit.”

Spike dropped his hand, then fell to the floor, curling up alongside a wall. Buffy wrapped her hands around herself, still weeping. No-one spoke for a long time.

“Is it true?” William said, taking deep breaths. “Is that the truth?”

“You don't want the truth,” Buffy said, sounding broken. “You want me to lie. To tell you he was awful. And then you won't believe me.”

“Just tell me the truth Buffy,” William said hoarsely.

Buffy took a deep, long, pained breath.

“It was sex William,” she said. “Just sex. Not love. Not what we have.”

“Was it good?” William persisted.

Buffy felt her nostrils flare, but then the fight left her entirely.

“Yes,” she said, finally, with a guilty look on her face. “It was good.”

William rolled away from her, standing up.

“Don't tell me it was just sex,” William said. “You were attracted to him all along.”

Buffy opened her mouth to refute her husband. Draw the poison, she heard her mother say, then remained silent. He took her silence to mean he was right.

“So it's true then,” William said mock-triumphantly. “You wanted him all along.”

“That's not why I did,” Buffy said, pleadingly. “I did it for us.”

“Don't tell me you did it for us,” William said. “You did it for yourself. You were dying to do it. Dying to sleep with a handsome billionaire. Like some bloody housewife in a romance novel. And me, the fool husband.”

“That's not fair,” Buffy said. “You know I did this for us. For the rest of our lives. Not because I've been dying to scratch some ridiculous Harlequin fantasy itch.”

“I guess you make a deal with the devil,” William said, as if he were alone. “And eventually you pay the price.”

“You're attracted to other women too,” Buffy exclaimed. “If the situation were reversed, I know you wouldn't do it for yourself.”

“You sure about that?” William said, his mouth trembling.

Tell her. Just tell her.

“Of course,” Buffy said. “I trust you Will.”

“Let's say I did,” William said. “Sleep with someone. When you were....gone. Hypothetically. You'd forgive me?”

Buffy hesitated, for an instant.

“Yes,” she said.

“You sure about that?” William asked.

“I promise,” Buffy said, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Can we get past this Will?”

“ I don;t know,” he said, pulling back and out of her reach. In his mind, Buffy had given him a one time get out of jail free card regarding Faith.

“Someday?” she said.

“I don't know Buffy,” he said. “Someday maybe. But not today.”

And with that, he left her sitting on the bedroom floor. Alone, again.

Things had gotten better after their big blowup fight. Just as Buffy thought, it had helped drain some of the poison from their relationship. They began to eat their meals together. Watch Tv together. Read the paper together. But still, there was this distance between them. They slept in seperate rooms. They hardly ever talked. They were never intimate. They barely even touched. They were like two strangers.

And most of all, neither of them ever mentioned the money. Buffy used it sparingly, quietly paying off the overdue bills, including the house. William was making only just about enough to cover their expenses.

Buffy looked at the calendar. It was August. It had been three months since 'the weekend.' She missed William's touch. His smell. Sleeping in his arms. And most of all, she missed making love with him. Sometimes, she caught him looking at her. He had the strangest look on his face. Like he was somewhere else entirely.

One night, Buffy decided to take matters into her own hands. They were watching a movie together on their couch. It started with her moving close to him. Then closer. Then she'd rested her head on his chest. She heard him inhale deeply, felt his chest rise and fall. She placed a soothing hand on his stomach, rubbing his chest.

“Buffy,” William said, his voice raw with emotion, his eyes a kaleidoscope of feeling.

“Shhhh,” she said, looking up at him, then stroking his cheek.

And before he could say anything else, Buffy had raised herself up and gently brushed her lips against his.

William was in heaven. Her lips were so soft. So sweet. She tasted exactly like he'd remembered. God, he'd missed her. He'd missed everything about her. Her smile, her touch, her laugh. But most of all, he'd missed her taste. Her touch. The way she felt against him, burning him wherever she moved. Like a living, breathing flame.

Their mouths opened to allow their tongues to meld together, becoming one again. The kiss that had begun slowly, turned frantic. Their mouths opened wide. Wider. Then wider still, as if to try to swallow each other whole.

Months of deprivation washed all self-control away. Buffy found herself trying to tear off her husband's clothes, desperate to feel his bare skin on hers. All the while wrapping her legs around his waist and vigorously pushing herself into his rock hard groin, whining into his mouth.

William wound one hand deep into Buffy's hair, holding her mouth to his, drinking from her lips and tongue like the lost, parched soul that he was. He didn't need to breathe anymore. This is all the oxygen he ever needed.
Delicious, he thought. Absolutely delicious.

Except it wasn't his voice in his head anymore. Just like it wasn't his lips on hers. His tongue tasting hers. His hands, in her hair. On her bum.

Your beautiful wife is in good hands, he heard a self-satisfied voice say. It was a malicious whisper in William's ear. Nothing will happen that Buffy doesn't want to. I promise.

Buffy felt her husband tense up, then go rigid. She stroked his hair, urging him on, but when that didn't work she dropped her hand onto the fly of his jeans. Suddenly, William's hands were on her wrist, stopping her. And then he was gently disentangling himself from her. Not once did he look at her. And Buffy just stood there, bewildered.

“Will?” Buffy asked, breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, still not looking at her, then seemed to shake his head as if he were clearing some cobwebs. “I just....can't.”

“You,” Buffy said, taking in a deep breath. “You can't?”

“No,” William said, running a hand through his hair and turning away. “I can't. Sorry.”

And he climbed the steps, just leaving here there. In shock. She didn't even know when the tears began to flow, or when it drenched the front of her dress.

The next week....

Buffy waited in the cafe, sipping her non-fat mocha latte. She knew she should have done this ages ago, but she kept putting it off. She needed to talk to Faith. She'd texted her that very morning, asking if they could do lunch. Faith hadn't replied for a while, but eventually she'd texted back, saying yes.

Buffy knew why she'd been avoiding Faith. She was ashamed. Ashamed of what Faith would think of her new found wealth. Despite the fact that Faith had helped broker the deal. That's why she'd been avoiding Faith like a plague. And she suspected why Faith hadn't gotten in touch either. Maybe Faith was, in Buffy's opinion, despite her tough talk about monogamy and her libertarian views on sex, ashamed for her. Embarrassed to be around her.

“Hey B,” she heard Faith say. Buffy looked up. Faith looked, well, kind of anxious about the whole thing. That made Buffy's nerves jangle too.

“Hi,” Buffy said.

“How have you been?” Faith said, sitting down, putting her purse
besides her, giving Buffy a strained smile.

“Good,” Buffy said, hesitantly. “I've been.....good” she finished weakly.

Faith could tell that things were far from good. Buffy's posture was closed. Defensive. Her face looked weary. Her eyes looked grim. Faith's stomach churned a little. She'd wanted to call Buffy so often. But what could she really say?

“Me too,” Faith said. “I've been good. And busy with work ya
know?”

“Still trying to save the world one case at a time?” Buffy asked. Faith looked relieved, happy to pursue a non-threatening topic.

“Always,” Faith said. “I wish you had joined me. We could have had quite the law firm you know. Lehane and Summers, Attorneys at Law.”

Buffy smiled a little at the memories of their time together in college.

“Mom always hated the law,” Buffy said, stroking the base of her coffee cup. “She hated that I followed Dad into it.”

“She'd have understood,” Faith said. “Eventually.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said quietly. “Eventually.”

The silence continued for a moment.

“I wanted to thank you,” Buffy began suddenly.

“What for B?” Faith blinked, unsure of what she meant.

“For helping me with.....” Buffy said. “Everything. For not judging me. For being a real friend.”

Faith's heart began to hammer in her chest. So loudly that she felt sure Buffy could hear it. She opened her mouth to reply, but found herself hoarse. Faith cleared her throat a little, then managed to find her voice.

“You're welcome,” Faith said, Faith's face coloured a little as she began remembering the vivid details of the night in question. In the aftermath of the incident, Faith had fled the scene and buried the entire incident with a weekend of heavy drinking and casual hook-ups. But now, it all came flooding back.

The night in question....

Faith looked down at her purse. It was buzzing. An unknown number from overseas.

Another nigerian prince, Faith thought, rolling her eyes and disconnecting the call, then turned the phone off. Later, when, Faith was a little tipsy and in a cab home, she turned her cellphone on. Instantly, she received a text message.

Hey. Could you please check on Will for me? B

Good old B, Faith chuckled, shaking her head. Off screwing a billionaire but she still can't keep her mind off her loser of a husband.

Instantly, Faith felt a pang of regret at the thought. She hated this cruel part of her, which the booze only seemed to exacerbate.
Moments later, the cab had pulled up to Revello drive. Faith had crept upstairs to find William sleeping. In the buff. She'd gone down and made them both some coffee. Then she'd gone upstairs and stumbled on a drunken, newly awoken William.

“I always knew you were trouble,” Spike said, his voice as rough as his eyes. Faith had made quick work of the towel that was haphazardly clinging to his waist, tossing it up. The brunette's eyes lit up and she grinned like she-demon when she saw the magnificent prick that awaited her. Her hands were on him instantly, gently stroking his shaft and cupping his balls.

“You have no idea blondie,” Faith quipped. Spike pulled Faith's barely there dress down from over her shoulders, allowing her large breasts to come spilling out. His hands were on them instantly, copping a good long feel and tweaking a nipple between a thumb,

“Oh I think I do,” Spike sneered. He dropped a hand down, running it under her skirt. He squeezed a succulent thigh, moved his hands upwards and hissed when his palm made contact with her bare pussy.

“No panties,” Spike whispered. He quipped her quim with his palm and Faith arched into his hand, exhaling loudly. “I bloody well knew it. Saw it. Looked like you'd been gagging for it.”

“You talk too much,” Faith sighed, her eyes rolling back in pleasure. She missed the fleeting tortured look on Spike's face.

Spike's eyes watered.

Could see it on her face. In her eyes. Spike looked into her eyes, which seemed to flash hazel green. Then he blinked again and they were dark. Fucking whore, he thought, his mind sodden with drink. Just a goddamn whore after all. Underneath it all. No matter the facade she put up. Wanting it. Needing it. To be shagged out of her mind.

Spike licked the swell of a breast, then dipped to lap at a nipple with his tongue.

“Yeah,” Faith sighed, stroking the nape of Spike's neck with her palm. “Suck my titties baby. I love it.”

Spike opened his mouth, taking in a whole heap of breast and leisurely sucking on it. Then he gave the same attention to its twin.

“Hey,” Faith protested, when she heard a rip. Spike had just torn off the back of the dress. “That was new. And expensive.”

“Do I look like give a damn?” Spike said, as he was sucking on one of her fat nipples.

“Oh that's right,” Faith mocked. “You can afford it now.”

Spike froze. His blue eyes turned as black as the darkest night. His jawline tightened. His handsome face transformed into something animal like as his lips twisted upwards and stuck. Faith felt just a twinge of danger at having overstepped the line and enraged him. She knew he would make her pay. It made her pussy tingle.

“Yeah,” he sneered. Faith found rough hands turning her around, then pushing her onto her stomach. She tried to push back back but Spike had climbed up her back slightly, pressing his weight down on hers. Then he began ripping the dress from her body, punctuating each tear by boldly thrusting his hips against hers.

“You bet your sweet arse on it princess,” he added, smacking her ass hard enough to make her howl from the combined pleasure and pain.

“It's not my arse that's paying for it, is it?” Faith snipped as Spike positioned himself at the cleft of her ass.

“What?” Spike whispered. Did she just say that? Did she just fucking....

“I hope you weren't saving it for an anniversary,” Faith continued,
thrusting her ass high in the air. “Because I bet that particular cherry gets popped tonight.”

Faith turned back to look at him, made a 'popping' sound with her lips, then ran her tongue over her mouth.

“And licked clean.”

Spike saw red. He roared, then slammed himself full-length inside Faith's pussy.

“Fuck,” Faith screamed, rearing back against him.

“Whore,” Spike sneered, almost pulling out entirely, before slamming in all the way yet again. “Bitch. Fucking bitch.”

Spike's voice broke and tears filled his eyes as he curses
tumbled from his lips. Every degrading curse he could call a woman. Cunt. Whore. Slut. Bitch. And with every name, he thrust harder and harder and faster and faster.

“Close baby,” Faith whined. “Keep going.”

She brought Spike's hand up to chest, filling his hands with her breasts. Spike squeezed them hard enough to draw a pain filled moan, then forcefully pushed down on Faith's shoulders, grabbed her hair and pressed her nose to the ground.

“You think you're going to cum?” Spike said. His voice sounded malicious. No, downright evil. Faith found herself more turned on than she'd ever been. Of all the wild things she'd done, the thought of doing this. Getting screwed by him. Buffy's husband. This somehow seemed the most decadent. The most taboo. God, this was wrong. Just wrong. And that made it delicious.

“No,” Spike growled, pumping his hips expertly with every word. “You... don't.... get..... to....cum.”

Faith tried to use her fingers to get herself off, but Spike was wise to her game. He grabbed Faith's hands then interlocked them with his, leaving her wanting.

“I....should.....have.....known....better,” Faith gasped. “Loser like you. Probably can't even get a woman off....”

Spike only laughed at Faith's feeble effort to manipulate him. Instead he focused on milking the brunette's quim for all it was worth.

“Pull out,” Faith gasped, when she felt him tense up inside her.

“Now where's the fun in that?” Spike asked, slapping Faith's ass as hard as he could and drawing a yelp from her.

“I'm not on the pill asshole,” Faith growled. “Pull.....hunh....out.”
“Not my problem,” Spike said, gritting his teeth and tugging on her hair with his hand. “Princess.”

“I'm....oh.....not.....aaah...... fucking around,” Faith managed to say. “Don't...... cum....inside me.”

“Whores don't get to make demands,” Spike said. And then with a groan, he thrust. Once. Twice. Thrice. Spike's body tensed up. His nerve endings were on fire. And then he uncoiled entirely and with a shout and a sob spilled himself inside her.

Faith whimpered. Motherfucker, she thought. Didn't even get me off. Spike's cock was continuing to milk her pussy, even as she absorbed wave after wave of sticky fluid. And she was still on the edge of orgasm. Spike simply pulled out, wiped himself off with the bedsheet, then sat back and reached for the bottle, drinking deep of it.

Faith made an exasperated sound as she gingerly sat up, then looked down.

“Asshole,” Faith cursed. “Son of a bitch.”

Faith turned around to glare at Spike.
“Look at this,” she said, spreading her legs. “Look at what you
did.”

Spike looked. Her pussy was glistening. Drenched with his cum. Her large milky breasts were red with his rough hand prints. The sight of her made his cock tingle.

You're a right bastard, Spike thought, taking another deep swig.

“I told you not to cum inside me,” Faith said, her voice angry. “Asshole....”

Faith reached for the bedside tissues to try to wipe herself clean, but it was far too much.

“Son of a bitch,” she said, trying to slap Spike but he simply caught her hand. Faith tried to slap him with the other hand, but he caught that as well. Faith tried to pull free, but Spike only chuckled, bending her arm backwards and behind her.

“You could have pulled out and cum on my ass,” Faith said, furiously as she tried to wrestle free. “Bastard.”

“Not as much fun,” Spike smirked.“Plus it did make for a right pretty picture.”

“Ow,” Spike swore as Faith bent her head down, biting his peck. “Crazy bint.”

Spike was about to push her off when Faith suddenly began lapping at his nipple with her tongue. Spike raised an eyebrow as Faith began kissing and licking her way down until she'd reached his hip bones.

“How's this for a pretty picture?” Faith said. And then her pouty red lips were sucking on the head of his cock.

“Faith,” she heard him groan. “Faith.”

“Faith?” Buffy said, snapping the brunette out of her reverie.

“Huh?” Faith blinked. And suddenly she was back to the coffee shop, the memories of that night with Spike melting away.

“You kinda drifted away for a second there,” Buffy said, a quizzical look on her face.

“Five-by-five B,” Faith said, hoping her face wasn't flushed red.

Faith thought she saw something flicker in Buffy's eyes.

“It was no trouble at all,” Faith said warmly, leaning forward to take Buffy's hands in hers.

A moment later, Faith saw Buffy's eyes clear. The blonde relaxed visibly. Faith, perhaps eager to change the topic, strayed where she shouldn't have.

“So how was it?” Faith asked. Buffy froze.

“How was what?” Buffy asked slowly, as if she had no idea what Faith was talking about.

“Oh come on B,” Faith rolled her eyes. “You spent a weekend with a hot billionaire. That's practically a romance novel waiting to be written.”

“I.....” Buffy began, then squirmed uncomfortably. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Argh,” Faith said. “Fine. Don't talk about it.”

Buffy exhaled, as Faith sulked for a moment.

“Just one thing,” Faith began.

“What?” Buffy asked, rubbing her temples.

“Was he good?” Faith asked, despite herself.

Buffy found herself lost for words. Faith pressed on her advantage.

“He was, wasn't he?” Faith said, with a grin.

“He...” Buffy trailed off as the memory of that night came flooding back. “He was...”

And Buffy couldn't help but remember...

Buffy and Xander stood at the edge of the bed. Buffy felt her knees tremble slightly from the anxiety. She could feel the back of her thighs hitting the bedpost. This was it. There was no turning back now. Her stomach was a roiling uncertainty of emotion.

I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought as Xander took her hands then guided them around his neck. Sleeping with someone, she thought. For money.

Buffy flinched when she felt his warm hands on her waist. He stroked them for a moment, then gently grasped her waist.
Buffy felt her cheeks flush slightly when she saw him cock his head to one side and appraise her. Like an object. A prize. His prize.

She felt a flash of anger and that made her cheeks red, which only seemed to inflame his ardour. Xander's eyes ran down her beautiful long hair, enjoying how it glowed gold in the bedroom light. Then he ran his eyes over her face. Her beautiful green eyes. Her gorgeous cheeks. Her perfect tiny nose.

Buffy saw his eyes drop to fixate on her glossy lips, saw his mouth part slightly as his tongue flickered against his lower lip.
And then he was looking into her eyes and now Buffy was sure her cheeks were red. She saw want. Just pure, unabashed want. Shining in his brown eyes.

Not just someone, she heard William's voice inside her head. Him. You're sleeping with him.

And how does that that makes it worse? she asked.

You know how, she heard William's voice hiss. You fucking whore.

Buffy didn't get a chance to argue with the voices in her head. All that had happened in just a moment. Suddenly she found herself off her feet...

Xander had been content to draw out the moment. Letting the tension build in Buffy's mind as he savoured his victory. She'd been so many things to him already. The stunning blonde he'd first seen in his hotel lobby. He'd been fascinated by her, wondered what type of woman she was.

A trophy wife, he'd been willing to bet. One of those women. A snooty, uptight blonde who was looking for the BBD. The bigger better deal. That would have been the easiest way into her pants. She'd have dropped her husband like a bad habit for a weekend in his bed. If she pleased him enough, he'd eventually keep her around for a few months. Until he'd tired of her.

But then Xander found out all about her. The girl next door. A good girl. Kind. Gentle. Moral. Sweet. Practically married her high school sweetheart before he broke her heart, then married her best friend. A devoted wife, by all accounts. Very much in love with her husband.

And that had intrigued Xander even more. The idea of getting that girl into his bed. Away from her husband. The idea had taken a hold of him. It haunted his dreams and waking thoughts and had led him down this path.

To here, Xander thought. To me and Buffy. Alone at last.
Xander never ceased to be amazed by the power of money. It had never let him down. Well, once. He'd been disappointed by their reaction to his more than generous offer. That defiant act had lit a fire under Xander and he'd vowed to bed the beautiful blonde. So he'd waited. And then, finally, an opportunity had presented itself. And Xander had been waiting.

And now here is, Xander crowed mentally. Buffy Summers. The good girl. The girl next door. In my arms. In my bed. And then he realized that she wasn't in his bed yet. And that he couldn't wait another second. So Xander picked Buffy up, guiding her legs around his waist.

Buffy and Xander tumbled onto the bed. Somehow, Buffy landed on top of him. Xander immensely enjoying the delicious friction of their bodies rubbing up against each other. He wanted to draw Buffy out of her shell, to make her a part of this. He was determined that she enjoy this as much as he was intended to. Nothing less would suffice than his complete victory over her. The girl in question's eyes were shut. Her knuckles were turning white as they clutched the bedsheet.

Buffy tried to clear her mind. Tried to control her unsteady breathing through her Yoga lessons. But it didn't seem to work. She could feel his breath on hers, his hands on her skin, his hard body underneath hers.

Xander cupped her chin, then raised it so that he could once again, look upon her face. He examined every inch of her countenance. That smooth forehead. Those flawless cheeks. A perfect little nose. And those lips. Forever glossy and kissable. A siren's song if he ever saw one.

He was a collector surveying an exquisite painting. Devouring it with his eyes. He'd been with tons of beautiful women. He was a rich billionaire. Beautiful women practically threw themselves at him. But there was something different about this one. Something he couldn't put into words.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, turning his mouth upwards for a kiss. Buffy's eyes opened at that declaration and seemed to flare. Just for an instant. Seeing that fiery look aroused Xander even further than he already was, but it was quickly gone, and her eyes were contemptous. Green pools of ice. Xander promised himself that he would see those icy hues melt into a puddle before the night
was out.

Xander ghosted Buffy's lips with his own as he stroked her shoulders with his fingers, running his hands down her smooth back, intending to remove the already slackened bra as he dropped his gaze to her cleavage.

Buffy's breath quickened and her nose flared as Xander licked his lips and admired the swell of her breasts. She reacted on instinct—scooting backwards and away from danger, leaving him grasping thin air.

“Don't,” she said, her lips quivering. Her cheeks flushed.

Buffy knew she had to. But she couldn't deal with it. With him. Looking at her. With his eyes. Not at this moment.

“Okay,” Xander said, surprising her, his hand dropping to his side.

Okay? Buffy thought bewildered momentarily. Then a slow grin formed on his lips.

“You take it off,” Xander said, moving back to rest his back against the heardboard. “Slowly.”

Buffy swallowed. Her eyes flickered to the bright bedside lights.
“The....the lights,” Buffy stammered, glancing at them.

Xander raised a brow.

“I can't,” Buffy said. “Not with the lights on.”

“That,” Xander said, languidly throwing his arms behind his head.
“Wasn't part of the deal.”

And then he looked at her expectantly. Buffy swallowed. This was a million times harder than she'd ever thought it could be. At least with the lights off she could pretend he was a college boyfriend or something. So she didn't have to look at him. Know it was him.

“Please,” she said, hating herself for saying the word. To him. A man she loathed.

Xander seemed to weigh her words for a moment.

“Fine,” he said finally, surprising her.

Buffy couldn't believe it. He was agreeing?

“But,” Xander added with a small smirk. “On one condition.”

Buffy's heart dropped. She knew it had been too good to be true.

“What?” she croaked, finding her throat incredibly dry.

“Kiss me,” Xander demanded.

Buffy's eyes narrowed. He wanted her to kiss him?

You wish, Buffy wanted to retort, but she wisely bit her tongue. Fine she thought. He'd get one closed mouth peck. Nothing more.

Xander took Buffy's silence as an acceptance of his terms. Buffy looked pointedly over at the bedside light, whose soft golden glow was illuminating the otherwise nearly pitch dark room.

Xander followed her gaze, then impatiently clucked his tongue. Buffy saw him reach behind the headboard, dimming the light way way down. He gave her one last longing look, then Buffy heard a click. And then there was only near pitch-darkness. And just the two of them.

“Take it off,” he said. Buffy hesitated a moment, then obeyed, sliding her bra down her arms and disposing of it, though she continued to cover herself with an arm.

A long, silent moment passed.

“Buffy,” she heard him say. Heard the impatience in his tone.

Buffy closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

You have to, she thought. For us. Otherwise we lose everything.

So Buffy began moving across the bed. She sensed Xander's hands reaching for her and let out a half sob-half shaky breath when she felt his fingers on her skin.

I'm sorry William, she couldn't help but think, as Xander pulled her down and onto his lap, guiding her hands around his shoulders. I'm so sorry.

Buffy tried to avoid brushing up against his chest, but Xander seemed wise to her ploy, running his hand up between her shoulder blades, then pushing down gently until her breasts were smushed up against his chest.

“You feel amazing,” Xander whispered, conspiratorially. As if to remind her of what she was doing. With whom.

Xander was in heaven. God, the feeling of her in his arms. Her breasts against his chest. He could feel her nipples rubbing up against his pecks, burning him wherever they touched. Jesus the things he wanted to do to her. With her. Have her do to him.

Wait, he reminded himself. Wait for it. Wait for the moment. Buffy gritted her teeth, trying desperately to block out all feeling and sensation.

“Kiss me,” she heard him say. She could see the outline of his face inches away from her. Buffy grimaced, in the darkness. Despite the fact he couldn't see her. The kiss.

You were hoping he'd forgotten? she heard a voice that seemed to perfectly mimic Faith's mocking tone. It's just a kiss B. No biggie.

Yes, Buffy thought. It's just a kiss. One measly kiss.
So Buffy leaned in slowly, closing her eyes and followed the sounds of his breathing.

But it's not, is it, she heard another voice say. A different, sorrowful voice. It's not just a bloody kiss. It's my....

But that distinctive sound in Buffy's ear was cut short by another sound. A short wet sound. Only moments later did Buffy realize what that sound was. It was the sound of her lips smacking against Xander's.

“Mmmmm,” Xander breathed, loving the feel of her petal soft mouth against his. He puckered his mouth, wanting to taste all of her sweetness, rejoicing at how delicious she was. She tasted better than he could have ever imagined.

And there's so much to taste, Xander thought, letting his imagination run wild for a moment, before he reigned himself back in.

Have fun rolling around in my money Willy, Xander thought. Because I'm sure as hell going to enjoy rolling around with your wife.

It took a short moment for Buffy to begin feeling his mouth against hers.

Soft, Buffy thought. It was the first thought that came to her mind. No, was the second thought. No, no, no

She reeled back, separating their mouths for a moment, gasping for air, but then Xander's hand was on the back of her head and pulling her lips back to his.

“Mphh,” Buffy protested into his mouth. But then she remembered. The deal. The money. So she simply stopped fighting.

Buffy didn't know how it had happened. Or when it happened. When one kiss ended and another began. And another. Soon, she lost count of the kisses he'd taken from her. Or had she given them to him? She didn't know anymore. All she knew is that there had been a thousand kisses in the darkness. Until she could have been kissing anyone. Anyone but him. That was when she'd begun losing herself.

“Buffy,” he slurred around her lips.

“Shhh,” Buffy mumbled, pressing her finger to his lips. The voice would take away the darkness. She needed the darkness. The darkness made things easier. Who was to say that things that happened in the dark had really even happened? It could all be a dream.

That's right, Buffy thought. Just a dream. Her hands became bolder. Running over his shoulders experimentally. Through his hair.

His hands became bolder too. Running down her back. Cupping her ass.

Then they began divesting each other of what little clothing remained, their breathing becoming heavier and heavier. His shorts were the first to be tossed overboard, followed by her panties. And then they were in each other's arms and he was laying her down in the middle of the bed.

“C....condom,” she whispered, a firm hand on his chest.

He grunted with impatience, then reached over to the nightstand, his hand grasping only air.

“Dammit,” he said, flicking on the light switch. Xander gritted his
teeth. There was not a single condom in sight. Someone was getting fired for this. Xander shot Buffy an apologetic look, then opened the drawer. Bingo he thought, picking one out between his thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck you're gorgeous,” Xander said, ripping the packet open
with his teeth, loving the dazed look on Buffy' face.

Buffy's eyes felt heavy. The light. It was bright. Too bright. Golden. Blinding. She blinked for a moment. Then another. Her eyes began to focus again.

Where am I? she thought, bewildered. The ripping sound brought Buffy back to her senses. The sight of Xander opening the condom and lowering it between his legs snapped her out of it.

“I've been thinking about this since I saw you,” Xander said. Two steps later he was climbing up her body. Buffy responded by pushing him off and scooting away from him.

“No,” she said, grabbing the bedsheet and covering herself with it. “Stop.”

The smile melted from Xander's face.

“No?” he said slowly.

“No,” she said quickly. “I can't.”

“You can't,” Xander repeated.

“No,” Buffy said. “I can't.”

A moment of silence held.

“Why?” Xander said incredulously.

“Because I love my husband,” Buffy said, half-stammering.
“Because I can't betray him. I thought I could do this. Without it meaning.....something.....everything....but I can't.”

Buffy didn't know what to expect next. Maybe that he would attack her. They were in a hotel room after all. His hotel room. And she'd come with him willingly. In a manner of speaking.

You whored yourself out, she heard Spike's bitter voice say. Who would believe you if you cried rape?

Buffy tightened the bedsheet around herself. She wasn't going to give in without a fight.

And then Xander began laughing. Hysterically. So much so that he rolled onto the floor.

“What?” Buffy said, bewildered. But he didn't stop. He laughed until there were tears coming out of his eyes.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” she said, shaking her head, trying not to look at him. “Have you completely lost your mind.”

Finally, Xander sat with his back against the bed, all laughed out. He wiped his eyes, then chuckled.

“You,” he said. “You wouldn't understand.”

“I don't want to understand,” Buffy said miserably. “I just want to go home. And forget this ever happened.”

Xander's shoulders tensed. Forget this ever happened? No, that wouldn't do. Not at all. Xander was silent after that, for so long that Buffy began to freak out.

“Okay,” Xander said, surprising Buffy. “If that's what you want....”
Buffy blinked. He was okay with that?

“But you know....all your money problems won't just melt away,” he said.

Buffy hated to admit it, but Xander was right. They were in deep.

“We'll figure it out,” she said, hoping she sounded a lot more convincing than she felt. “I just can't......do this.”

“What if you could keep the money?” Xander said.

“What?” Buffy said.
“The money,” Xander said. “Keep it. All of it. ”

“I don't want your money,” Buffy spat.

“I'm serious,” Xander said, turning around, still sitting on the floor. “You can keep the money. Without anything happening tonight.”

Buffy knew she shouldn't bite. But she was curious.

“How?” she said.

“Simple,” Xander said. “All you have to do is go home. And stay faithful to your husband for a whole year.”

This time, it was Buffy's turn to laugh. It was a hollow laugh, devoid of joy and feeling and at this moment it was all she could manage.

“You're out of your mind,” she said.

“Maybe,” Xander smiled. “Shall we bet?”

Buffy looked at him goggly-eyed.

“Fine,” she said. “It's a bet.”

“Oh,” Xander said. “There's just one small condition.”

“Which is?” Buffy.

“You can't tell him about what happened here....” Xander began.

“Nothing happened,” Buffy said hotly.

She knew that technically wasn't true. But she didn't care. As far as she was concerned, nothing had happened. They didn't even really do any....stuff. Not really.

“You can't tell him what didn't happen here,” Xander amended. “Until this day next year.”

Buffy looked at the calendar. It was June. A year? For ten million dollars? Buffy knew she ought to wipe her hands clean of the whole affair, but as Xander had said, she really needed the money. And then Buffy found herself rationalizing things.

I can tell Will in a year, she reasoned. We can deal with it. Our love is stronger than that. Than just...the thought of infidelity.
The word 'no' was on the tip of her tongue. Buffy managed to open her mouth. But the smug look on his face changed her mind.

“Fine,” she said.

“And just to make sure,” Xander said. “There'll be a polygraph test. Every month.”

“Fine,” Buffy said. “A year.”

“Goodnight Buffy,” Xander said, standing up. He chuckled when she averted her eyes.

“I'll see you soon,” Xander said. She heard the lights click out, then heard his footsteps walk away. Buffy sat there in the darkness for the longest time. Not moving a muscle. She didn't know if she was afraid he'd return. She locked the door behind her, then went back to bed. She didn't know when sleep claimed her.

“Buffy,” she heard Faith say. “Yo. B.”

“Where were you?” Faith said. “You looked dreamy eyed for a minute there.”

“I was.....right here,” Buffy said, staring down at her coffee.
“Mmm hmmmm,” Faith said. “That good huh?”

Buffy had to bite back the reply at the tip of her tongue. That she never found out. That she didn't want to. Buffy looked up at the Sunnydale firm owned, where she had an appointment to give a polygraph. And Buffy gave the only answer she could.

“Yes,” Buffy said, never looking up from her coffee. “He was good.”

“So,” Tara began, looking at her newest clients. “Someone should probably talk.” Tara noticed how Buffy and William were sitting on the sofa opposite her—and as far away from each other as possible. Clearly there was something deeply wrong in their relationship.
“I,” Buffy began. “I really don't know where to begin.”
“The beginning is a really good place to start,” Tara said, with a little smile, hoping to lighten the mood. But the joke sank without a trace. Not a flicker of a smile appeared on either Buffy or William's faces.
“We were on a trip to Vegas,” Buffy began. Tara noted how William's jaw tightened, how his body tensed up. Buffy had her arms crossed protectively in front of her, indicating a traditional defensive posture about the entire matter as she launched into the cliff notes version of her story.
Tara tried to keep a professional look on her face, taking notes from time to time, even as the fantastical story unfolded in front of her. William never said a word the entire time, and Tara kept glancing at him. He was staring off into a distance, trying to block out as much of the tale as he could.
“And that's how we got here,” Buffy finished, rather tamely.
If Tara had been at home, she would have grabbed a large tub of Hagendaaz from her freezer and absolutely devoured it. But she was in 'professional mode' and as such, was determined to analyze the situation as best as she could.
“I see,” Tara said, finishing her scribbling on the pad. She was gripping the pencil so hard she was afraid it would snap in her hand.
“Do you have anything to say William?” Tara asked him.
“No,” he said gruffly.
Buffy looked away, pained, then bit her lip as if trying to hold back a comment.
“How do you feel?” Tara asked William, who took in a heavy breath, then shook his head. Tara could see he couldn't trust himself to speak.
“Hurt?” Tara prompted. He nodded, ever so slightly. “Betrayed?” He nodded again.
“I didn't betray...” Buffy protested hotly. Tara stopped her with a hand.
“I didn't say you betrayed William Buffy. I'm asking William how he feels.”
Tara's voice was kind, yet Buffy couldn't help but feel hurt by the accusation.
“That's not fair,” Buffy said, her voice trembling a little. “We both agreed.”
“Feelings aren't fair Buffy,” Tara explained. “They're just....feelings.”
Silence....
“The difference is,” William said. “You wanted to do it. Didn't you?”
“Is that what you think?” Buffy asked. “That I was some bored housewife........”
“I did it for us,” Buffy said. “You have to know that.”
“Oh come on Buffy,”William let out a short sharp laugh. “You're not still on that bend are you? You know it wasn't all about the money.”
“Did you want to?” Tara interjected. “Because its okay if you did.”
Buffy and William both looked at their therapist, googly eyed.
“Partners have these......desires all the time,” Tara said. “There's nothing wrong with it.”
“I'm just tired of this,” Buffy said. “Tired of being judged. Tired of fighting.”
“You can't change the past,” Tara said, looking at William. Whatever happened....happened.”
“You have to make a choice,” she said, quietly, looking at Buffy. “You can either let this destroy your relationship. Or you can move on.”
Suddenly, William's phone rang.
“Excuse me,” he said gruffly, as he left the room.
“You didn't answer the question Buffy,” Tara said. “Did you want to ?”
Buffy opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by her husband poking his head through the door.
“Have to go,” he said. “Work.”
He didn't wait for Buffy to say goodbye, just turned on his heels and left.
William pulled up to the building in a cab. He took the elevator up to the fourth floor, apartment 3b. The door was slightly ajar.
“Come in,” he heard her say.
William shut his eyes, took a deep breath then walked in.
Faith was sitting on her couch, waiting for him.
“Hey baby,” Faith said. “Glad you could make it.”
“What do you want Faith?” William said.


“Actually,” Faith said, coming close to him. “You have something I want.”
Faith attempted to get close to William, but he stepped back.
“Oh come on,” Faith said. “Don't be like that. You might hurt my feelings.”
William heard something in her voice that he didn't like.
“Excuse me?” he said.
“I said you'll hurt my feelings. You don't want to hurt my feelings do you?” Faith said, leaning back on her dining table. “Because then I might cry. And then I'd have to call Buffy and who knows what I could blurt out...”
And then he was moving quicker than he'd ever thought possible. His hand was around Faith's throat.
“Shut up,” he snarled. “You don't say a fucking word to Buffy.”
“Or you'll do what?” Faith croaked “Kill me?”
Spike thought about it for a second, then let go.
“You're pathetic,” Spike said.
Faith rubbed her throat for a moment.
“I can't stop thinking about it,” Faith said, confessionally, beginning to discard her clothing. “All the things we did. Do you remember what we did Spike?”
Spike grit his teeth. He knew he couldn't afford to antagonize her. She had him over a barrel.
“Things nobody knows about,” Faith said, stripping down to her bra and panties. “Things no one will ever know about.”
“No,” Spike shook his head, even as Faith took his hand, then placed it on her ass.
“Nobody has to know,” Faith urged. “Nobody gets hurt.”
“I can't,” Spike said.
“I've never been fucked like that,” Faith whispered.
Spike blinked.
“What?” he said. Those words. They were so familiar. Where had he heard those words? It came to him like a blinding flash of lightning. They were her words. Words she'd said to him. After she'd returned. And then a thought struck him. Buffy and Faith, sitting at this very table. Those very words coming out of his wife's mouth.
“I've never been fucked like that,” she said. He could hear the malicious glee in her voice. Could see the smile on her face. “That hard. That good. That long. I'm getting wet just thinking about it.” And then he could hear her laughing. Like she'd never laughed before. A cruel mocking laugh.
Of course he remembered those words. He'd tried to bury them. Dismissed them. She'd only been trying to hurt him. She'd admitted as much after. But the words haunted him. How could they not?
“I've never been fucked like that,” Faith was saying again. And again. And again. Or was Buffy saying those words? He just didn't know.
And Spike snapped. He grabbed Faith, spinning her around, then roughly bent her over the table.
“Want to get fucked do you?” he snarled in her ear. “Is that what you want?”
“Yeah” Faith grinned, loving his roughness. “Come on. Do it.”
Spike shrugged off his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor. He kept Faith pinned to the table with one hand, even as he unzipped himself and let his pants fall to his ankles. Faith heard the fabric of her underwear rip as Spike tore it from her body.
“Oooh,” Faith purred. “You're such an animal. I fucking love it.”
“Shut up,” Spike snarled, smacking her ass hard enough to make her howl.
“Uh-huh,” Faith begged, when she felt his cock slide against the crack of her ass. “Come on. Put it in me baby.”
“Oooh,” Faith whimpered, when she felt his rough hand grab her breast. God, it was going to be sore tomorrow. “Unh. Come on. I need you inside me.”
God, Spike thought. What the fuck am I doing.
“Come on,” Faith whined. “Please.”
And then she felt him trying to move away. Faith held onto his hands, which were around her waist.
“I can't,” William said.
“Come on,” Faith said. “Stop teasing me okay. I'm fucking dying here.”
“No,” William said. “I'm sorry Faith. I can't do this.”
“Put it in,” Faith said. Her voice sounded deadly. It wasn't a request. It was an order.
“I told you,” William began.
“I don't fucking care what you said,” Faith snarled. “You don't get to treat me like shit whenever you feel like it.”
“I'm sorry Faith,” William said, trying to disengage with her.
“Fuck you,” Faith screamed. “You sure as hell didn't seem sorry when you were cumming in my mouth the other night.”
“That was a mistake,” William said, trying to pull back on his pants. “I was....upset. And drunk. It never should have happened.”
“Come back here and fuck me,” Faith said. “Or I swear to god, the next call I make......”
“You're right,” William said. “She should know. She deserves the truth at least.”
“You stupid son-of-a-bitch!” Faith said, her eyes narrowing. “You know the only difference between me and your precious Buffy?”
“Shut up Faith,” William said. He knew full well that Faith was just trying to rile him up, but he couldn't help but get angry.
“I'll swallow cum and love it. That makes me a slut,” Faith said icily. “But Buffy waited until the ten million dollar cheque cleared. Or was that your idea?”
“You're pathetic,” William said.
“Get out,” Faith said, shoving him backwards. She couldn't believe her final gambit had failed. “Just get the fuck out of here.”
Faith grabbed his jacket and flung it at him.
“Oh and FYI,” Faith said. “She told me it was the best fuck she'd ever had.”
And with that she slammed the door in his face. William called in sick at the office. And then he went to the nearest bar and drank until he was sure he was going to be sick. When he got home, he stumbled up to her room. He was in the guest room. Still. He turned the knob but the door was locked. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to confess. But he knew she deserved better than this. He resolved to speak to her tomorrow. It seemed easier. Tomorrow. So he stumbled into his room and fell asleep.
Buffy was curled up in her bed. Her cheeks wet. Her tongue salty. She kept replaying the memory. Over and over again.
She had walked upto Faith's apartment when she saw the door slightly open. She almost called out Faith's name when she heard her friend's voice.
“I can't stop thinking about it. All the things we did.”
Buffy could hear the tone in her friend's voice. She smiled to herself. Well, a little afternoon delight never hurt anyone. She took a half-step and turned, trying to be as silent as possible.
“Do you remember what we did Spike?”
That word froze her to the spot. No. Buffy hadn't heard that. She couldn't have. Could she?
“Things nobody knows about,” Faith said again. “Things no one will ever know about.”
She heard it then. Her husband's voice. It sounded like 'No'. But what was Faith talking about? What things? What had they done?
“Nobody has to know. Nobody gets hurt.”
Buffy's heart was pounding so hard she was afraid it would burst through her chest. She took a shaky step forward, braced herself and peeped.
They were standing by the table. Faith was in her bra and panties. His hand was on her ass.
Buffy's brain searched for a way to make sense of this. This couldn't be what it looked like. Could it? This was a mistake. All of it. Just a big mistake. She was about to step forward, but what Faith said knocked the wind out of her.
“I've never been fucked like that,” she heard Faith say.
Buffy didn't know how long she stood there. Dazed. His sudden movement broke the spell. She saw him grab Faith, spin her around and bend her over the table.
“Want to get fucked do you?” he snarled. “Is that what you want?”
“Yeah,” she heard the brunette say. “Come on. Do it.”
She saw her husband shrug off his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor, even as he kept Faith pinned to the table with one hand. Then he unzipped himself and let his pants fall to his ankles. Buffy wanted to look away. It was like watching a car accident. She couldn't look away. And suddenly he'd ripped the underwear from her body.
“Oooh,” Faith purred. “You're such an animal. I fucking love it.”
“Shut up,” Spike snarled, smacking Faith's ass. When Buffy saw her husband's place his cock against Faith's ass she let out a shaky sob. Buffy covered her mouth horrified.
The last things she heard was Faith say 'Come on. Put it in me baby. I need you inside me.'
And Buffy had heard enough. This time, she didn't care how loud her steps were. How hard she was crying. She fled. She sat in the stairwell, crying hysterically. She cried and she cried and she cried. And then when there were no tears left she walked home. Slowly. She didn't remember when she locked her room or crawled into bed, getting under the covers. The next thing she heard was the sound of her bedroom knob turning. She ignored it, praying it would go away. It did. And Buffy gave herself to sleep.

When William awoke she was gone. The house was empty. He had a splitting headache and downed an aspirin. He knew he would have to tell her. Tonight, he decided. He'd tell her tonight. And let the chips fall as they may. He at least owed her the truth. He went to work as usual, glancing at his phone from time to time. She remained incommunicado. It wasn't unusual. The only time they'd ever talked anymore was at home. Awkard half conversations. Stilted. It had never been this way.

Finally, at around 10 pm, he could take no more.

“Where are you?” he texted her.

“Out with the old college gang. Crash at Cordys.”

William scrunched up his nose. Cordelia Chase? He hated that bint, mainly because she was old money and had always thought Buffy was too good for him. William began texting Buffy back, but then changed his mind and decided to call her. The phone just rang and rang and rang. Just when he was about to give up, she answered the phone.

“Hey,” he heard Buffy say.

“Hey,” William said. “I just wanted to say.... Hi.”

She said nothing.

“I know things have been.....” William began. But words failed him.
“I'm sorry Buffy.”

“It's okay,” she said finally. But William knew there was a false ring to her tone.

“I'm going to try,” William said. “To get past.....things. To move on. To let go. I owe you.....the truth.”

“Truth?” Buffy said. He could hear a slight catch in her voice. “What truth?”

Face to face. William thought. Not over the phone.

“The truth is,” William said.

God. He wanted to tell her. So much. But not like this.

He could hear her on the other end of the line. Waiting. For
something.

“The truth is I love you,” he said. “More than anything.”

“I know,” Buffy said finally. “Me too. Bye”

And with that she hung up the phone. William just stared at the
cellphone in his hand.

Tomorrow, he thought. The truth. Tomorrow. Something faint prickled at the back of his neck, but before he could give it a thought, his office door had opened.

“Mr Wolfram wants to see you Mr Pratt,” a pimply-faced intern said. “And bring the Ledermen files please.”

William swore under his breath. He swept up the files with one hand and tucked them under his arm as he began revising the facts of the case, pushing everything else out his head, including Buffy.

Hours later, William arrived home, exhausted. The house was empty. He didn't even bother undressing, he just plonked down on his bed, resting his head on the pillow and shutting his eyes. William relaxed, even as he drifted off to sleep. His mind turned to Buffy and he began remembering the last conversation they had.

College gang....Cordy.....I love you.....Me too

Me too. William heard those words in his head. Again and again. Me too.

They sounded....wrong...and yet so familiar. And yet. He just couldn't place his finger on it. The words rang in his head again and again as he began losing the battle to sleep. Suddenly, William jolted upright.

“I love you,” he said, blinking. “Me too.”

And then he remembered a conversation they'd had. Years ago. Lying in bed. After they'd made love. Her head on his chest. Discussing their past.

“I love you,” Buffy said, rubbing his face against her cheek. “That's what I told him. After we had......you know....the first time.”

William had held her tight, making shushing sounds, soothing her.

“And do you know what he told me?” Buffy said. William knew it was a rhetorical question.

“He said 'me too.' ” Buffy said, with a strangled sob. “Like I wasn't worthy of his love. Like I was beneath him.”

“Hey,” William whispered, raising her chin. “You're bloody not beneath anyone.”

“I'm tired of being hurt Will,” she said, her eyes welled up with tears.

“I'd never hurt you,” William said, kissing her tears, then her cheeks, then her lips.

“Swear it,” Buffy mumbled, playing with his hair.

The lovers continued to exchange small soft kisses between their already swollen lips.

“Swear that you love me,” she said. “That you'll never hurt me.”

“I swear,” William slurred.

“Say it,” she demanded. Her eyebrows knitting. Her nose crinkling.

Petulantly. Like she was a little girl. Nibbling on his bottom lip for good measure. God he loved her more than life itself.

“I'll never hurt you,” he said, stroking her cheeks with his thumb. “I promise.”

“Good,” Buffy said. “Because if you do. I'll rip your heart out.”

That thought jerked William back to the present. Just a coincidence, he thought. It didn't mean anything. So she said 'me too.' She'd probably said that thousands of times over the years. But try as he might, William couldn't recall a single instance of that ever happening. Part of it was Buffy was such an emotional creature. Needy even. Always needing to be reassured of his love. Constantly reassuring William that she loved him.

It was the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach that made him reach for his cellphone. He dialled Buffy's number, but found it turned off. William felt his shoulders tense up a little. He searched his phone, but didn't have Cordelia's number. So he rolled out of bed and began rummaging through their drawer, swearing under his breath.

“You're overreacting mate,” William said, trying to reassure himself.

“It's prolly nothing. Gonna drive yourself crazy.”

He found Buffy's blue diary, where wrote down all the phone numbers the old fashioned way, then thumbed through it, frantically searching for Cordelia. When he found it he just stared at the number, hoping they would reveal something.

“You're being crazy,” William said, aloud. “Just.....go back to bed.”

He looked at the clock. It was 4am. He'd probably wake everyone up and Buffy would never let him hear the end of it.

Fuck it, William thought.

His fingers shook as he began dialling the numbers.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

“Hello,” he heard a tired voice say. An obnoxious tired voice.

“Cordelia,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Who is this?” he heard her whine. Shrill bitch, he thought.

“William,” he said.

“Who?” Cordelia said. “And do you know even what fucking time it is?”

“Buffy's husband,” William said.

“Okay,” Cordelia said.

“And?”

“Buffy....” William began, then caught himself. His mind whirred. If
Buffy staying over at Cordelia's, she would already have passed her the phone. Which meant that Buffy wasn't at Cordelia's. Which meant that Buffy had lied to him. William already knew this, but his mind wouldn't accept it. He knew how pathetic it would sound, but he couldn't stop the words from tumbling from his lips.

“She......she told me she was staying over at your place,” William said.

There was a moment of silence and then he heard a barely concealed derisive snort of laughter.

“Oh yeah,” Cordelia said, not even trying to pretend she was lying.
“She's in the guest bedroom, sleeping off a hangover. Should I go wake her up?”

“No,” William said. “I....I'll talk to her in the morning. Thanks.”

“I'm sure you two will have a lot to talk about tomorrow,” Cordelia said, unable to hide the mirth in her voice. “Night
night.”

And with that she hung up the phone. William sat down on the bed, shaking his head. Buffy lied. She'd lied to him. But why? And where was she? William looked at the clock. It was 4am. William just sat there, wondering what to do.

Earlier that evening...

“I love you,” William said.

“I know,” Buffy said, after a pause. “Me too.”

And with that she disconnected the call, turning her phone off on airplane mode, cutting off communication with the world. She took a deep breath, firing up some music on her Iphone as she placed the phone by the bedside. One of her favourite songs began blaring out of the tiny yet powerful speakers. Buffy shut her eyes, letting the lyrics wash over her. Slowly, subtly, Buffy felt her emotions shift. The heated anger she felt in the aftermath of Faith's confession had been replaced by a cold, calculating fury as she'd considered her options. In the end, she'd settled on the only one she knew would cut her husband. Right to the bone.

I'll be your light, your match, your burning sun
I'll be bright, in black, that's making you run
And we'll feel alright and we'll feel alright,
Cause we'll work it out, yeah we'll work it out
I'll be doing this, if you had a doubt
Till the love runs out

That was how Xander found her when he walked into his bedroom. The sight froze him in his tracks. Buffy was lying on his bed, strategically surrounded by comfortable pillows, in just a glossy black raincoat made of the finest silk.

“Alone at last,” Buffy said, her voice low and sultry, her eyes hooded and dark.

That was how Xander found her when he walked into his bedroom. The sight froze him in his tracks. Buffy was lying on his bed, strategically surrounded by comfortable pillows, in just a glossy black raincoat made of the finest silk.

“Alone at last,” Buffy said, her voice low and sultry, her eyes hooded and dark.

Xander feasted his eyes. Her golden hair was shiny and bouncy and styled perfectly. Not a strand out of place. Her face had been expertly made-up, drawing attention to her flawless cheeks, cute as a button nose and her glossy pink lips.

“Buffy,” Xander exhaled. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Oh I'll give you a lot more than that,” she promised, amusement dancing behind her green eyes at the look on his face. As if all his prayers had been answered.

Buffy raised up her right leg, rubbing it against her left calf to draw Xander's attention to her long smooth legs. They were glistening golden with oil and sweat and seemed to last forever. Xander noted the six-inch pumps at the end of her feet. They screamed 'fuck me' but don't you dare take these off.

Xander licked his lips as his erection swelled to full mast in record time. But even now, Xander couldn't turn off the calculating part of him. Buffy was a beautiful woman, but she had spent a hell of a lot of money to look this damn good. This was about more than just sex. This was something else entirely. But Xander didn't really care at that moment. Buffy had come to his bed of her own free will and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the sack. And judging by the hungry look on her face, Buffy wanted it bad. Needed it.

Correction Xander crowed. Wants me. Needs me. Only me.

And as much as Xander had thought about this moment, he knew it would be even better if he took his time to savour it.

“How did you get in here?” Xander said, conversationally, taking off his jacket and hanging it over a nearby chair.

“Come on,” Buffy pouted. “It's a party. Aren't you going to unwrap your present?”

That wasn't the reception she'd been expecting. She thought he'd trip all over himself as he tried to undress in record time and get into bed.

Buffy decided to turn the heat up, biting her lip and striking a come hither pose. She smoothened down the raincoat, letting the material bunch up tightly over her chest so Xander could see her nipples strain against the fabric.

“Tell me how,” Xander said, deliberately, undoing his tie, never taking his eyes off her nipples.

Buffy sighed.

“I slipped your doorman a thousand dollar note,” Buffy said impatiently. “You should fire him.”

“I'm giving him a raise,” Xander said, beginning to undo his sleeves.

Buffy couldn't help but give a tiny smile and Xander saw the facade fall for just a moment. The next moment it was back and Buffy was playing the part of the temptress.

“So what changed?” Xander asked, taking two steps forward until he was right by the bedside. Buffy sat up, beginning to undo the buttons on the front of his shirt.

“I heard you were in town,” Buffy said, as he wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her close. “And I guess I was surprised how glad I was.”

“Uh-huh” Xander said, sounding unconvinced. But at this moment, he was enjoying the feel of her body against his a little too much to ponder on that thought.

“It's funny,” Buffy said. Xander was close enough to see her beautiful green eyes cloud over for a moment. She bent her head, teasing his lips with hers, then pulling back slightly. “How you see someone.....but not really see them, you know?”

Xander saw something flicker in her eyes. Pain. Hurt. But then it was gone and her eyes were pools of darkness again.

“Yeah,” Xander said. “It's funny. And it's just getting funnier....”

“Shhhh,” Buffy said, pressing a finger to her lips.

“I guess I got tired of lying to myself,” Buffy said, undoing a shirt button. Then another. “About how much I want you.”

“I want you Xander,” she said again, her finger still on his lips. “And I know you want me.”

Buffy dropped her finger down to his chin as her mouth began moving towards his, forming her lips into a tantalizing 'O.' She ghosted his lips with hers. Xander began leaning in, but found himself suddenly pushed away.

Playfully this time. Buffy laughed, taking the sting out of her actions.

“Lose the shirt,” she ordered. Xander obeyed, slipping it off his shoulders in a deliberate motion to draw her attention to his muscular chest. Buffy reached out to touch him, then ran her hand across his chiselled upper body.

“Not bad,” she said dismissively, although she couldn't hide the spark of interest in her eyes. Nor the slightest tremble of inflection in
her tone.

“Your turn,” Xander said, grinning.

“What makes you think I'm wearing anything under this raincoat?”
Buffy said, pulling her hand back and toying with the hem of her outfit. She parted it slightly. Tantalizingly. Exposing a whole heap of beautiful golden cleavage. And then she snapped it shut, enjoying the tortured look on his face.

“Now the pants,” she said.

“Slowly,” she added, enjoying using the very word he used against her.

Xander undid just his belt buckle. Buffy watched him pull his bell out and drop it to the floor. He undid the button of his fly, then stepped out of his pants.

“Mmmm,” Buffy said appreciatively, her eyes lingering on the bulge in his boxer shorts.

“Say it,” Xander said. “Say the words.”

Buffy struggled with herself for a moment. With the words.

“Come to bed Xander,” Buffy said, scooting up against the
headboard.

“I won't stop this time,” Xander said, planting his knees in the middle of the bed and slowly stalking towards her.

“Is that a promise?” Buffy asked, letting the raincoat slide off her shoulders.

Cut to.......

William paced in his living room, glancing at the clock. It was now 4pm. He had been up all night. Going out of his mind with worry. Calling Buffy's phone. Leaving countless text messages. But there was no sign of her. He'd even tried calling the police, but they told him he needed to wait for 24 hours before he could file a missing person's report. William had left his home in the early hours of the morning, going from bar to bar. Questioning the customers, the staff, random passers-by. He'd been to the bus stop and the train station. Hell, he'd even been to the airport and the mall. Finally he'd come home, hoping that she'd already be there. Smiling at him. With an explanation that made sense of things. But the house was empty. Still. It was driving him crazy. He sat down on the sofa, intending to rest his eyes, just for a moment.

He awoke to the sound of the door opening. He switched on the light by the sofa to see her standing at the foot of the stairs. He wondered if it was really her or if he was still dreaming. She looked so beautiful, it made his heart hurt. And then she looked at him with eyes that were a kaleidoscope of emotions; anger, sadness, hurt. She looked tired. The circles under her eyes that betrayed her lack of sleep.

A million things raced through William's mind but there was only one question on his lips.

“Where were you?” he said, his voice quivering slightly

Buffy exhaled loudly at his words. “Where was I?” she repeated, as if asking herself the question.

“None of your business,” she said dismissively, making to move up the steps. She took one ginger step, then another, moving as if she were in pain. Her answer made William angry, as she knew it would. He took two steps after her, then another two up the stairs.

“I have a right to know Buffy,” William said, grabbing her arm.

“Do you?” Buffy challenged.

“I'm your husband,” William said.

“Yes,” Buffy said, a small bitter smile playing on the edge of her mouth. “You are. And I'm your wife.”

And with that she shook off his hand and took two steps away from him.

“Damnit Buffy,” William said, smashing his fist against their wall.

“Where were you last night?”

Buffy paused. Even though he was looking at the back of her head, William knew things had just gotten worse. Her whole body had tensed up. Like an uncoiled spring. He could practically hear her gritting her teeth. When Buffy looked back down at her husband, her face was a cool impassive mask.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Buffy said. William gave the slightest nod. Buffy took a deep breath.

“I was with Xander,” Buffy said. As if it were that simple. As if that explained everything.

William felt like he had been gut puched. The wind left his lungs entirely.

With Xander? Buffy had been with Xander? Again? A man she hated?

At that moment his brain couldn't even process it.

Buffy saw the confusion on his face. The bewilderment.

“Doing what?” William said. His voice was nearly a whisper. He knew, but he didn't believe. Not yet.

For a moment, he saw pity in her eyes. And then he knew. He could see it now. As clear as day. And on her face. The shame of it. The embarrassment of it. The regret. What she'd done. But he also saw defiance. The 'I dare you to call me on it spirit' that he so loved about her.

“Doing what?” Buffy repeated incredulously. “Doing what?”

She exhaled loudly, closed her eyes and shook her head. When her
eyes opened, they were hard and cruel.

“Use your imagination,” Buffy said coldly. “I know Xander sure as hell did.”

Buffy turned her back on her husband, who was still standing there, shell-shocked.

“Actually don't,” Buffy said, turning back to look at him. “I'll tell you exactly what we were doing.”

“Xander and I,” Buffy said, stepping down so that she was within arms reach of William, who took a step back. As if she had struck
him.

“Were up all night. Doing every nasty thing you can think off,” Buffy said.

“Twice,” Buffy said, with an acerbic smile, holding up her fingers in a victory sign. Even as the corner of her mouth trembled and her eyes welled up.

William felt as if he'd been shot. As if he was bleeding from the chest. He sank to the floor of the staircase, tears filling his eyes.

“Oh and today,” Buffy said, her voice cruel. “Today we did things you can't even imagine.”

“Why?” William said hoarsely, unable to look at her. He knew though.

“Faith,” Buffy spat out, like the name was poison. The poison in their marriage.

There was a long pause...

“I can explain that,” he said miserably. “I was....”

“I don't care,” Buffy said. “I don't want to hear anything you have to say. I only came to pick up my things.”

William looked up sharply.

“What?” William said. He hadn't even had a chance to get angry.

This took him entirely off guard.

“We,” Buffy said, her voice breaking for the first time. The implacable mask slipping. “We need to take some time. To think.”

And with that, she marched back up the stairs.

“Do,” William said, pausing to take in a breath that seemed to pierce his rib. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Buffy paused at the top of the stairs. She knew how much it had cost him to say that. To say those words. Her words. Words she'd said to him. A lifetime ago. She almost crumbled. But she was still furious with him. With his betrayal. And she didn't care.

“There's nothing to talk about,” Buffy said, walking into the bedroom
and shutting the door.

William sat on the steps, tears streaming down his face as. Buffy packed her things. Tears streaming down her face as she remembered how she'd betrayed her husband. She waited until she was sure he was gone, then walked out the door, with only a suitcase full of memories. She never looked back at their home.


When William awoke on the couch, he found the house in darkness. Just utter darkness. Just like his soul. He wanted to call out her name but he knew she was gone. She'd left. She'd just left. He could still taste the dry tears that had run down his cheeks.

Buffy, William thought.

Where was she? Where had she gone? She had no living family to speak off, and only a small circle of friends.

Probably ran back to Harris. Fucking whore.

The thought came unbidden. It enraged him. The thought that she could be with him, at this very moment. He stood there, shaking with rage. And the next thing William knew, he was in his car. He marched into the hotel he knew the son of a bitch owned in a fury. His eyes darted everywhere, looking for an elevator. He spotted it in the corner and made his way over, ignoring the frantic calls of 'Sir' and 'Excuse Me' from the front desk.

He practically smashed the button that was labelled 'Penthouse Suite'. A security guard came running up to stop him, but froze when William looked him dead in the eye. That moment was enough for the door to close. William flexed his fingers into a fist.

I'm gonna kill him, he thought. I'm going to bloody kill him

When the elevator reached the suite, William had the presence of mind to press the large red button that said 'Stop', leaving the elevator disabled. It was Spike who stepped off, stalking through the hallway. Silently. He moved from room to room, searching, searching searching. He found Xander in his private office, behind his desk.

Xander's legs were up and he was puffing on a large cigar. He looked the very picture of a man at ease with himself and his place in the universe.

“William,” Xander said, cheerfully. “I've been wondering when you'd show up.”

Spike said nothing. He curled his hand into a fist, staring a hole through the billionaire.

“Cigar?” Xander offered, holding up an expensive case.

Spike took two steps towards Xander, cocking his fist. Xander shook his head, as if he was personally disappointed in him.

“I know you want to hit me,” Xander said, standing up. “But that won't change anything. Other than making you feel better.”

“Wouldn't you rather know where Buffy is?” Xander said as Spike drew his fist back.

Her name broke through the haze of anger. His muscles coiled and flexed.

“Where?” he said, through gritted teeth.

“All in good time,” Xander smiled, moving back to his seat. “But first there's something you need to know.”

“No games Harris,” Spike growled. “Tell me where she is.”

“Nothing happened between Buffy and I that weekend,” Xander said.

He saw the confusion on Spike's face. The bewilderment.

“What?” he whispered. He didn't understand. Nothing happened that weekend? So why didn't Buffy just tell him that? Why did she keep letting him go out of his mind? Nothing made sense any more.

“She just couldn't do it,” Xander said, examining the cigar, then sighing. “Do you know how disappointed I was? The months I'd spent. Every little detail. And do you know what got in the way?”

Spike didn't respond. He couldn't respond.

“Love,” Xander spat out. He shook his head in disbelief. “She said she loved you.”

“But...” Spike began. “The....the money.”

“Aaah yes,” Xander said, smiling now. “The money. I told her she could keep it. All she had to do was not tell you what didn't happen.”

“Why?” Spike said.

“Because I knew it would drive you crazy,” Xander said, smiling at his own genius before closing his eyes and taking a deep drag. “The very thought of it. Your sweet, precious Buffy.”

“With me,” he said, opening his gleaming eyes.

“And I was right,” Xander crowed. “You pushed her away. And right into my bed.”

“You son of a bitch,” Spike swore.

Spike made to advance on Xander, but suddenly found himself unable to move. A large security guard had grabbed his arms and twisted them behind his back. Another was standing by his side, watching him closely. Spike thrashed helplessly, continuing to swear.

“I thought I could buy Buffy with money,” Xander said, shaking his head. “But a woman like that. No. Only one thing could deliver her to me.”

“You William,” Xander said, coming close to Spike, enough so he could see the triumphant look in his eyes. “Thank you. For an extremely.....”

Xander took a moment to search for the correct word. He closed his eyes, as if to rack his brain.

“Unforgettable,” Xander said. “An extremely 'unforgettable' evening.”

Spike roared. His hands were useless, so he reared his head back, then aimed it at the bridge of Xander's nose. He enjoyed the resounding crack of it breaking and the cry of pain that Xander let out as he fell back.

“Ooof,” Spike winced, when the second security guard lay a heavy punch into his stomach. Then another. The second shot took Spike's legs out from under him.

“Stop,” Xander commanded. The large man, looked at Spike apologetically, as if to say, just doing my job man. No hard feelings.

“Get me a handkerchief,” Xander ordered, trying to wipe away the blood and failing. A handkerchief was produced and Xander held it to his nose.

“Now hit him again,” Xander said. The security guard shrugged, then walked over to Spike. With one more apologetic look, he swung his large fist into Spike's stomach, who cried out with pain.

“Stop,” Xander said, after another two punches had been delivered and Spike's legs were limp/

“Put him down,” Xander ordered and Spike crumpled to the floor.

“I wish you had seen her,” Xander said. “How she looked when she
came to my bed. Her face when she was in my arms.”

Spike wanted to speak, but the pain had numbed his tongue. Xander seemed lost in the memory.

“She cried you know,” Xander confided. “After our first time."

Xander shook his head, almost wistfully.

"I'll never forget it. Buffy. Naked. Crying. Trying to find her clothes. Calling me an asshole. A bastard."

Xander sighed. “ She told me she'd betrayed her husband. Her marriage vows. That she wanted to go home.”

Spike tried to speak. His tongue lolled helplessly and he let out a pitiable groan.

“Didn't tell me to stop when I pulled her back into bed though,” Xander said, grinning. “No. She told me she wanted me to make her forget. Just for a little while.”

Xander let out a little chuckle.

“She said,” Xander began, searching his memory for right words.

“No one had ever made her cum like that. Not like that. She begged me to make her cum again. Just once more. And then she'd go."

Xander looked down at Spike, seeing tears running down his face.

“Oh come on Willy,” Xander said. “A woman like that? That needy?
There had to have been other men. Maybe you even knew about them.”

Xander took a moment. “But you know what?” Xander said slowly. “I bet I was her favourite. Because I was her revenge. Every orgasm I gave her paid you back.”

“Take him away,” Xander waved his hand dismissively.

The two heavies picked Spike up like a sack of potatoes, slinging him over their shoulders.

“Don't worry Willie,” Xander called after him. “Buffy will be the best cared for mistress in the world.”

That was the last thing Spike heard. When he awoke, it was dark and he was in an alley behind the hotel. He struggled to his feet, then sought out the closest bar.

“So,” Tara said, looking up at Buffy. Her eyes darted to the empty chair opposite hers. “Should we get started?”

Tara knew something was wrong the minute Buffy had walked in. She could see the emotions on Buffy's pale face. Her eyes looked red and puffy. Her nose was runny. It was as if she'd done little but spend the last few days crying. Tara knew this was going to be a one on one session.

“He's not coming,” Buffy said, a single tear rolling down her cheek, then
swatted at it angrily. “I knew he wouldn't. Not after....”

Tara wanted to ask what happened, but she bit her tongue. She would let Buffy speak her mind at her own pace.

“It was just sex,” Buffy said, staring at Tara. Her eyes were pleading, as if trying to make her understand. “Just sex. Not what we had. Not love.”

Tara knew Buffy was trying to justify it. To Tara. To her husband. To herself.

“I thought our love was stronger than that,” Buffy whispered. “That we
could survive....anything.”

Oh sweetie, Tara wanted to say. Love isn't the movies. Love is jealous. Love hurts. Love is messy. Love is real.

But Tara didn't say a word. It wasn't her job to judge Buffy, she reminded herself. Only to help her. Counsel her. Help put some pieces of her back again.

“So he hurt me,” Buffy said, clutching her stomach, as if she was in pain. “He hurt me so much. It's like I couldn't breathe.”

Tara didn't need three guesses to figure out what William had done. How he'd hurt her. The same way Buffy had hurt him, she figured.

“And with my friend,” Buffy said, spitting out the last two words as if they were poison. “Fucking whore.”

Although Tara was taken aback by the venom in Buffy's voice, she didn't even blink. She'd seen it all before. And worse. The human condition laid before her, in all its glory.

You always hurt the ones you love, Tara thought. We all do.

Tara just looked down and professionally scribbled on her notepad.

“I was just so angry,” Buffy said, shaking her head in bewilderment. “It's like I wasn't even myself anymore.”

“I hated him,” Buffy said. Her eyes widened, as if she was hearing those feelings out loud for the first time. “I hated him for what he did.”

Buffy paused for the longest time, looking off into the distance before she spoke.

“So I hurt him back,” Buffy said, her lips trembling.

“I hurt us,” she said, sounding as if she was miserable. Her eyes looked haunted. “And I think there's no coming back.”

This time Tara couldn't contain herself.

“Oh Buffy,” Tara whispered. Her eyes asked the question her mind had been wanting to.

What did you do?

Cut to.....

“That...” Xander said, pausing to let his lungs gasp in a deep breath.
“That was amazing.”

“That was.....” Buffy began, trailing off to catch a deep breath, then
letting out an exhale.

Good, Buffy thought. Better than good, she thought.

Xander turned on his side to look at the woman lying besides him. Her eyes were on the ceiling. Her hair still inconceivably perfect. Not a strand was out of place. Her cheeks were flushed. She was breathing heavily through her tiny nose. Her skin was sheeny with a mixture of his and her sweat. She'd never looked more beautiful. God, he wanted her again.

“Thirsty,” Buffy said, almost absentmindedly. Xander reached to his bedside table and grabbed a bottle of Evian, took a little sip, then handed it over, watching as she put her beautiful lips to the bottle and began drinking.

Xander didn't want to move but he was absolutely bursting to take a piss.

“Bathroom,” Xander said, apologetically.

Buffy shrugged as if to say, if you've gotta go, you gotta go.

Xander looked at her ruefully, hating that he had to leave. Then he decided he'd better make it quick.

“I'll be back,” Xander said. “Don't go anywhere.”

And with that he leaned over to plant a quick kiss on Buffy's lips.

Buffy hesitated. She'd gotten what she came here for. There was no
reason to stick around. But then she realised she had nowhere else to go. At least nowhere she wanted to. So she let Xander press his lips to hers. confirmed the continuation of their arrangement.

For now.

Buffy watched Xander go out of the corner of her eye, sipping the water. When Buffy was alone, she let herself search her feelings in the aftermath of what she'd done. She felt....nothing. Not anger. Not sorrow. Nor regret. Just numb. Comfortably numb.

“Hunh,” Buffy said, her voice sounding foreign to her ears. “I guess I am a real bitch.”

She screwed up her face and gave a wistful, bitter chuckle, then took a long sip of water. She reached over to put the bottle on the bedside table. That was when she spotted it. Her wedding ring.

Sitting on the table. Accusingly. Buffy looked at it. Stared at it. Then she looked at her hand. Stupidly. As if she expected to find it there. It wasn't. Obviously.

Buffy searched her memory. Searched through the haze of anger and the cold, calculated fury of a woman wronged. She remembered coming into the hotel room. Getting into the heels and raincoat. Sitting on the bed. Waiting for Xander. She couldn't remember taking it off. And yet she had. She looked at it again. There it was. Sitting on the bedside table. As it had the past half-hour. Silently. Accusingly.

And that was when it hit her. The shock of it. The magnitude of it. What she'd done. It felt like jumping into an ice-cold lake. And then all Buffy felt was a cold panic that wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed. Squeezed until she was literally gasping for air. And then Buffy's ears were filled with the sounds of a woman's sobs. It took a moment for her to realise she was the one that was crying.

When Xander returned, Buffy was hysterical, her face drenched with tears. She was on the floor, the bedsheets wrapped around her body. Searching for something under the bed. Frantically. Clutching something tight in one hand.

“Buffy?” Xander asked.

“Clothes,” she muttered repeatedly. “Clothes....I need my clothes....Need to.....God......”

“What?” Xander asked.

“My clothes!” Buffy screamed at him. “Don't you understand? I need my fucking clothes.”

Buffy turned away from him, leaving him perplexed.

“I have to.....go home,” Buffy whimpered, “Oh god. I can't go home. Not
after what I.......what we....”

And suddenly Buffy seemed to notice Xander.

“You,” she spit out. “Bastard. You took advantage of me. You used me.”

“We took advantage of each other,” Xander said, smirking. “Besides,
I'm not the one who showed up in your hotel room wearing nothing but a flimsy silk bathrobe.”

Buffy flinched at that statement. Because it hurt. Because she knew it was the truth.

“And why do you think that is?” Buffy asked bitterly. “Why did I come here instead of any of a thousand random bars in this goddamn city?”

Xander shrugged.

“Because I knew exactly what type of man you are,” Buffy said, walking over to him, still clutching the bedsheets tight around her body.

“And what type of man is that?” Xander asked.

“A bastard,” Buffy hissed, pushing him with a hand. God, she wanted to hit him. “An asshole.”

This time, she did punch him. In the stomach. Hard enough to make him take a step back and put some distance between them.

“A no good son of a bitch who would stop at nothing until he got exactly what he wanted,” Buffy finished. .“Regardless of who got hurt.”
Her face crumbled momentarily, but then she managed to hold herself together.

Xander shook his head.

“You chose to come here Buffy,” Xander said.

“But you knew,” Buffy said bitterly. “Didn't you? That's why you made the offer. Made it so that I couldn't tell him. You knew what it would do to him. To us. And you didn't care. Not as long as you got what you wanted.”

Xander sighed. For a moment, Buffy thought he looked like he was going to apologise.

“This is your fault,” Xander said. “And his. You know that don't you?”

Buffy's jaw dropped. She looked at him. Outraged. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. Her lips moved, but the words never came.

“All you had to do was say yes,” Xander said. “And none of this needed to have happened.”

“What?” Buffy finally managed to croak out.

“Think about it,” Xander said. “If you and William had accepted my offer....”

“Did you honestly expect us to just...” Buffy began.

“Yes,” Xander said, cutting her off.

“I don't even....” Buffy began, bewildered.

“Think about it,” Xander said. “We could have had a fun, guilt-free evening together while he counted the money and played the slot machines. And the next day, I could have just moved on. Like I always do. But you just had to do it, didn't you? You had to say no. You had to make me want the one thing I couldn't have. You had to make me...”

“Make you what?” Buffy asked.

Xander sighed. “Fall in love with you.”

Buffy's gaped at him. “You're insane,” she said finally. “This whole thing is just....insane”

Buffy turned away from him, visibly disgusted. With him. With herself.

With this whole sordid affair. Buffy wrapped her arms around herself, weeping softly.

Xander sighed deeply, plonking down on the bed.

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

“Because,” Buffy began. “I betrayed my vows. My marriage. My husband.”

Xander scoffed at that. Loudly.

“It may not mean anything to you,” Buffy said angrily wiping her tears away. “But some people actually believe in these things.”

Buffy took a few deep breaths until she'd controlled her sobs.

“I should go,” she said, standing up. Buffy held the sheet to herself tight, stepping over the mess they'd made earlier. Xander was up in a flash, standing in her way.

“I have a better idea,” he said, his hands on her waist, trying to peel the bedsheet from her body.

“No,” Buffy said, trying to push him off. “Stop.”

“I know why you came here Buffy,” Xander said, maneuvering her towards the direction of the bed.

Buffy's eyes widened. He knew about what William had done?

“Because he hurt you,” Xander said. “Didn't he?”

And then Buffy remembered. Why she'd come here. What he'd done.

“Yes,” Buffy said, her breath catching somewhere between a sigh and a sob.

“I just want to make you feel good,” Xander soothed. Buffy felt the back of her knees touch the bed.

Buffy knew Xander was lying. He didn't care about her. He was only in it for himself. But the truth hurt so much right now, she couldn't help but find herself wanting the soothing embrace of a lie. And right now, Buffy wanted to feel something. Anything other than the pain that gripped her heart. So she let go, letting the bedsheet fall from her body and on to the
floor.

Cut to....

“I just wanted to forget,” Buffy said, staring at Tara. Her eyes pleaded with her therapist. Trying to make her understand. “Just for a little while.”

And Tara forgot herself. Forgot that she was a therapist. Forgot that Buffy was a patient. Her patient. And in that moment, Tara crossed the room and hugged Buffy.

Buffy just sat on the hotel bed. For a long time. She looked around. The room was empty. It felt surreal. This was her life now. Working all day and checking in to an empty room. He hadn't called. Not even once. Not since...

Buffy pushed those memories aside. They made her stomach hurt. She wasn't ready to confront those. Not yet. Her phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. Idly, she answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“This is the concierge. I'm afraid to say there's been a problem with your room.”

“Oh,” Buffy said. “I hope it's nothing serious.”

“Not to worry miss. It'll be taken care of in a day or two. In the meanwhile, could we offer you a replacement room?”

The voice was breezy and full of self confidence. A trustworthy voice.

“Okay,” Buffy said.

“Very well,” the voice replied. “We'll send up a porter straightaway. And once again, we'd like to offer our apologies for
the inconvenience.”

“It's fine,” Buffy said. “Really.”

An hour later, the porter ushered Buffy and her luggage into the elevator, then pressed the button marked 'P'. Buffy barely noticed. However, she did a double take when the young man led her into a room that looked fit for royalty.

“Erm,” she began. “I think there's been some sort of mix up. This is way beyond my budget.”

“Compliments of the management,” the porter said, waving her worries away. “Enjoy your stay Ms Summers-Pratt.”

“But this isn't...” Buffy called. However, the porter simply chose to ignore her.

“Okay then....” she said.

Fine. Whatever. They just better not be pulling some complimentary upgrade only to gouge me at check-out crap. Buffy made a mental note not to use the mini bar. She decided she'd order room service. After she had a hot shower. When Buffy emerged from the bath almost an hour later, she almost felt like her old self. Almost. There were moments she could even forget. But those were few and far between. She sat on the bed, drying her hair with a hand towel. Her eyes shut.

I love this hair, she could hear him whisper in her ear. So shiny. The way it bounces around when I.....

“Hello Buffy,” she heard.

Her eyes opened. No. Not him. Please.

She wheeled around. Her eyes breathing fire.

“You,” she spat. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you too,” Xander smiled. “Lover.”

She flinched visibly at that word. Xander enjoyed the discomfited look on her face. Took pleasure in how her body tensed up.

“Don't call me that,” Buffy said. Harshly.

“Why not?” Xander asked. He seemed almost hurt by her words.
Suddenly, his tenor changed. At the drop of her hat.

“We're lovers Buffy,” Xander said, stepping closer. She didn't like the possessive tone in his voice. Or the look in his eyes. “You and I.”

“We are no such thing,” Buffy hissed.

“Fine,” Xander said, rolling his eyes. “We were lovers.”

“We made love Buffy,” he said. Imploringly. Then he smirked.
“More than once, if I recall. In fact, I counted at least....”

Buffy had had enough. Heard enough. She took a step forward, then punched him in the stomach. Hard. Enough to double him over.

“Get out,” Buffy said. “I never want to see you again.” She raised her fists again. Threateningly. She could see the surprise in his eyes. Guess his investigators missed out on her black belt in jiu-jitsu.

Xander took a step back, throwing his hands up. As if to say he'd had enough. But when he was at a safe distance, he seemed to reconsider.

“I can't stop thinking about it,” Xander said, still out of breath. “That night. The things we did......”

“Then I suggest you try harder,” Buffy said, gritting her teeth. “Because I haven't given it a second thought.”

“You're lying,” Xander said. “I know you Buffy. You're aren't the kind of girl who just jumps into bed with someone. That's not who you are...”

“You have no idea who I am,” Buffy said. Her voice shivering with rage. “None.”

“Okay,” Xander said. “You win. I have no idea who you are.
None.”

That seemed to take her aback. His next words shocked her.

“Would you let me find out?”

Buffy didn't understand.

“What?” she said. “Are you.....are you asking me out on a date?”

Xander was silent. For just a moment.

“No,” Xander said. Finally.

“Oh,” Buffy said. “Okay. Good.”

Thank god, Buffy thought. Whew.

“I'm asking you to be my mistress.” Xander said.

Buffy's face hardened.

Son of a bitch, she thought. Son of a motherfucking, cocksucking bitch.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“I'd like you to be my mistress Buffy. My only mistress,” Xander said, as if pointing out that tiny detail would make all the difference.

“Don't get me wrong. I'll still be sleeping with other women. But I'll always come home to you Buffy,” he said sincerely. As if he were reciting his wedding vows. “And that's a promise. You'll be my number one girl.”

Buffy had no words. The words had left her. She just shook her head.

“At least until you hit 30,” Xander said. “But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. That's still years away. But I'll take care of you.”

Buffy wanted to explode. She managed to take a deep breath.

“Get. Out.” she said, rubbing her temples. God, she had a headache.

“Don't answer right now now,” Xander said. “Take some time. Sleep on it. Or better yet, sleep with me. Then sleep on it."

“Why can't you just leave me alone?” Buffy asked. God, she felt miserable. She sounded even worse. “You got what you wanted. Why can't you just....god. Why can't you just accept that this......”

“Whatever this fucked up thing was......it's over Xander. It will never happen again.”

“Why not?” Xander asked. Buffy looked at him. He really didn't understand.

“Because I'm not in love with you,” Buffy said. She felt exhausted. As if she were dealing with a seven year old. “Because I don't trust you.”

This time, she saw him flinch. She saw anger flash across his face.

“Because that worked out so well with William?” Xander sneered.
The words were a knife in her stomach. Buffy felt like she'd been stabbed. Like she was bleeding out. Slowly,

“Loving you didn't stop your husband from screwing your best friend that weekend when he thought you were screwing me,” Xander said.

“And it sure as hell didn't stop you from screwing me seven ways from Sunday,” he added. Gleefully.

“So tell me.....how's that whole love and trust thing been working out for you lately,” Xander.

Buffy was silent. Xander seized on the opening.

“You've tried love. Why not try something different? Something honest? Something real. I'm looking for a 'partner' Buffy. My equal. In each and every way. I've been looking for someone my
whole life. And I think....”

Xander took a deep breath.

“I think I finally found you.”

Buffy didn't say a word.

“I've made dinner reservations,” Xander said. “Booked the entire restaurant downstairs. For just us. I'll be waiting Buffy.”

He turned to go, then paused at the door.

“But I won't wait forever,” he said. And then he left the room.

Xander looked at the clock. It was 10 pm. He examined the menu. Checked his phone. Conversed with the waiters. He checked his phone again. He folded his arms over his stomach. He looked at the clock. 11 pm. His jaw tightened. The anger built inside of him. He held it back. He looked at the clock. 11.30 pm. He forced himself to wait. He looked at the clock again. 11.59 pm. He shook his head. Threw down the napkin and stood. And found himself face to face with her.

“Buffy,” Xander said.

She was a vision, he thought. An absolute vision.

Her golden hair was bunched up over her head for once. Although a few honeyed strands framed her face on either side, drawing even more attention to her flawless complexion, razor sharp cheeks and tiny perfect nose. And those lips. Xander could write a sonnet to those lips. So full. So shiny. So perfect.

“Hello,” she said. A bit akwardly. Her hands bunched up in front of her. Xander could see a shiny, bejewelled bracelet around her right hand. Noticed the hoops through her earrings. It took him a moment to realise where he'd seen the silver dress she was wearing. It struck him like a bolt of lighting. It was the dress. The one he'd laid out for her. On the weekend that never was. Well, not quite the dress, he noted. For one thing, this wasn't backless. But close enough. Her slim shoulders were still bare. It still hugged her curves in all the right places and showed an ungodly amount of leg. But best of all, it wound behind her back in an exquisite little knot. She had made herself into a shiny little gift. For him.

Xander couldn't help but grin when he remembered the words she'd said as she was fiddling with the raincoat.

Aren't you going to unwrap your present?

Yes I am, Xander thought. Slowly.

“Hi,” he said. Finally. Took a deep breath.

“I'm glad you came.”

“I almost didn't,” Buffy said.

Xander detected a flicker in her tone. He dismissed it.
Probably just nervous, he thought. Finally admitting what she wants. Still, it would be a nice ego boost for him to hear her say the words.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, pulling out the chair for her to sit down and gesturing to it.

“I guess.....” she began. She had to pause to collect herself.

“I guess I was surprised at how glad I was,” Buffy finished. “To see you.”

“Could have fooled me,” Xander said, giving her a little smile.
Buffy smiled back. Just a little.

“It's funny,” she said, fiddling with the glass on the table. “How you see someone....”

“And not really see them...” Xander finished.

“Exactly,” Buffy said. Xander could see a hint of sadness in her eyes. He knew she was letting go of her old life. Of the old Buffy. He was glad she'd begun to accept it. Accept she belonged to him. By his side.

“Wine?” Xander asked, eager to change the topic.

“I'd love some,” Buffy said.

Xander clicked his fingers and the host scurried over.

“Your most expensive bottle,” Xander said, never taking his eyes
of Buffy.

“Oui monsieur,” the host said, bowing.

Buffy looked around. The restaurant was empty. Just as he'd promised.

“It's quiet,” Buffy said. “I like quiet.”

“I know,” Xander said. He enjoyed the surprised look on her face.

“I told you Buffy. I know you.”

“Are you sure about that?” Buffy asked.

Xander could have sworn she was flirting with him. He smirked.

“I'm pretty sure I have you down,” Xander said.

“Think so, do you?” Buffy said, as the maitre de filled their cups.

“I do,” Xander said. “Or I will. Soon enough.”

“Oh?” Buffy said, taking a dainty sip of her wine. “Got a timetable for that?”

“I was thinking by the end of the evening,” Xander said, mimicking her sip. “Unless you'd prefer to skip dinner and go upstairs right now. Because I'm just dying to get to desert”

Buffy fixed him with an inscrutable look.

“Dinner first,” she said.

“And then?” Xander asked. A little too eagerly.

“We'll see where the evening takes us,” Buffy said. Casually.

“To the evening,” Xander toasted. “And wherever it takes us.”

Right to my bed, Xander thought. Again.

Buffy brought her glass forward, letting it brush his and make a soft clink.

Later, Xander insisted on walking Buffy to her room. They'd both had more than a few sips of wine and he was determined to, as he put it, get her to bed safe and sound.

“Well,” Buffy said. “This is me.”

“I know,” Xander said. "Got the credit card bill to prove it."

“Yeah,” Buffy said. “I figured."

When Xander leant in for a kiss, he found Buffy's arm holding him back.

“Come on,” Xander said. “Don't I get to unwrap my present?”

“Who said anything about a present?” Buffy said.

Then she turned on her heels and walked inside, shutting the door in his face. She made sure to lock the door. Twice. And then she latched it.

“I won't wait forever Buffy,” Xander said. Loudly.

“Yes,” Buffy said softly. “You will.”

She waited until she heard his footsteps fade, then took a cleansing breath.

When Buffy sat down to brush her hair in front of the mirror, she let herself ponder the question again. The question that had been haunting her since she'd found herself face to face with him.

How did Xander know Spike was with Faith that weekend? I
never told him that.

And as Buffy examined the past year of her life, she couldn't help but wonder. Was she being paranoid? Or had someone been pulling their strings along the way? Buffy wanted, no she needed answers. At any cost.