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05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
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10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
08/31/16 03:43 pm
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Authors Chapter Notes:
Before you read this:
WARNING: Contains Rape!!

This fic contains depiction of rape between two main characters. If you have a problem with the subject matter, please do not read. I do not want flames on the subject of rape... it is not acceptable in any instance... however, if you love Spuffy you do realize that their relationship was not honey and roses... Spike fully inteneded on raping, if not more... to Buffy during S6 Seeing Red. This fic was my attempt to move beyond the hatred into something more.

Can I make the warning any more obvious? I hope any one that does choose to read understands that I did not intend to explain away any deviant behavior between the two characters.

WARNING: Contains rape

Chapter 1

The ballroom was filled with joyful couples and businessmen trying to network with other attendants of the party. The black-tie affair was being held at the prestigious Beverly Hills Hotel. It was New Year’s Eve, a time for celebration, but Buffy Summers couldn’t be more frustrated and irate. Glaring at the dance floor, she watched as a couple danced passed her table once again. Grinding her teeth together, she tried to ignore the older man holding the younger woman in his arms. “Buf, sweetie, just ignore him,” Xander Harris tried to pry her attention away from the dance floor. Xander and Buffy met during their sophomore year in high school when Buffy transferred from a boarding school into the Sunnydale Public School System. Buffy’s father, Hank Summers, owned a brokerage firm that had fallen on hard times forcing her extravagant education to an end. Hank was forced to sell the business to a larger company but stayed on as a senior partner. Buffy and Xander became almost instant friends. After graduation, Xander enrolled himself in a business college and interned at Buffy’s father’s company. After he finished at the top of his class, the firm hired Xander on permanently.

Buffy swiveled her head back to her companion, “I’m sorry Xander, it’s just that I can’t believe he is so blatant about it.” Buffy totally turned her body away from the dance floor, deciding to totally ignore her father’s philandering with someone probably younger than herself. Paying attention to her friend and the occupants at her table, Buffy forgot about her father and started to enjoy the evening. Willow, another high school friend, and her husband, Daniel Osborne (Oz) sat across the table. Willow left Sunnydale to go to college on the east coast, earning a degree in psychology and woman’s studies. After she came back to Sunnydale, the firm was hiring human resource people and snatched the talented girl up. Oz and Willow were expecting their first child in seven months.

“Tell you what, Bufster. Once they leave the dance floor we’ll go out and cut a rug.” Xander knew Buffy loved to dance. It must be a by-product of her skating. Ever since they had known her, Buffy had been an avid ice skater. Recently, she started to move up in the ranks of the local ice skating competition.

Buffy’s eyes lit up with the promise of dancing but decided to tease her good friend, “Cut a rug? You are such a dork!” She slapped his shoulder and giggled.

“Hey, stop laughing, I’m a good dancer.” Xander puffed out his tuxedo-clad chest in hopes of intimidation. Buffy smiled and straightened his bow tie.

“By definition anyone that uses the phrase ‘cut a rug’ cannot dance.” Xander sat back in his chair, a little emasculated that Buffy didn’t think he was cool. “Hey, you’re still my cool Xander!” Buffy tried to smooth his feathers and patted his shoulder.


Behind the head table, a pair of cool ocean blue eyes watched the activities below him. His new employees seemed to be having fun with their spouses and dates. William “Spike” Winthrop sat back in his chair observing the partygoers. The past thirty days have been literally a living hell. Not only had his mistress, Drusilla, left him, but he also had gone into the final stages of taking over Mercenary and Associates, a brokerage firm. A few weeks ago, he’d uncovered money missing from the brokerage’s books. Finally, last night he tracked down the trail to one of the senior partners. Tugging at his infernal too-tight bowtie, he grabbed his whiskey and swallowed it down. He watched most of workers sitting at the tables discussing families and the local sports teams. He sighed, slightly jealous that he couldn’t sit down at the bar and discuss those trivial things. It’s been so long since Spike has been able to go to a local pub and watch football. Raking his eyes over the crowd, Spike noticed the beauty he’d been studying all night. Her eyes narrowed as she looked out on the dance floor, probably upset that her date wasn’t dancing with her. Smirking, he wondered if what Harris would do if he asked his date to dance. The junior executive impressed Spike from the very moment they met. Unlike most in the office, he was sharp as a whip and knew the company inside and out.

The blond’s eyes pivoted to the couple now exiting the dance floor. Her eyes met the old man’s and she looked away. Crestfallen, the man continued to direct his dancing partner back to her table. Hank Summers, one the previous owners of Mercenary, helped his secretary back to her seat. There was a rumor going around that Hank has had an affinity for his secretaries and had gotten the last one pregnant. Already married, Hank quickly got rid of the bastard child and secretary in hopes of saving his marriage. The young blond must be a jilted lover of his, gauging by the looks she was sending his way. Deciding not to go after sloppy seconds, Spike ordered another whiskey from a passing waitress and continued his perusal of the crowd. He noticed that Harris now escorted his date onto the dance floor. The awkward first few steps almost made Spike smile, this girl was not well suited to the young manager. He was clumsy while she was graceful. His two left feet stepped onto her perfect ones. Smiling, like nothing was wrong, the blond carefully assisted him into the right dance moves. The girl had class, Spike had to give her that. Maybe she was worth a go as she was very much unlike the women he had seen Hank woo.

Losing track of the twirling couple on the dance floor, Spike looked around the tables again. Hank was standing behind his secretary staring out on the dance floor, following the movements of Harris and his date. Hank didn’t look too happy as he watched the couple. Smirking, Spike got up from the head table and walked over the older man. “Hank, there you are mate!” Spike came up behind him and slapped him on his shoulder in a faux show of comradely. Spike’s English cockney accent slipped through. Even though Spike was raised by wealthy parents and had an excellent education at the finest Oxford schools, he made his accent rougher. He found that it disarmed his opponents in the boardroom and out.

“William! Great party, I must say.” Hank turned his eye from the dance floor and greeted his new boss with enthusiasm. “You remember my secretary, Shelly?” Hank motioned at the sitting woman. The woman could be considered anything but classy. Her makeup was overdone and her dress was to low cut. How ever did Hank find these girls?

“Good evening, Shelly.” Spike smiled down at the young woman, but he noticed Hanks attention went back to the dance floor. Looking up, Spike located the blond again. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“What?” Hank looked back at Spike. “Oh yes, very beautiful.” His attention went back to the dance floor.

“Who is she?”

“Uh, no one of importance.” Hank dismissed the inquiry. He turned completely around, blocking the dancers from his line of sight.

“Must be someone the way you keep looking at her and the way she looked at you while you were dancing.” Spike saw the color drain out of Hank’s face. Sputtering, Hank didn’t know how to introduce who Buffy was: a daughter or an enemy?

Shelly stood up and moved to the other side of Hank, “She’s Buffy.” Spike’s eyebrows rose in question. “Buffy Summers, Hank’s daughter.” Understanding filled Spike’s eyes as his gazed moved once more to the woman dancing around the room. The deadly glares she was sending Hank’s way weren’t those of a jealous lover, but of an irate daughter.

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