Always You by bloodymiry

Summary: “Elizabeth Summers and William Bartlett met on their first day of college when they chose side-by-side seats in English 101. She’d been enamored from the moment he opened his mouth to speak... He’d thought she was the prettiest, most delicate little thing he had ever seen…” Now they’re career-minded best friends who work together and share almost everything in life. Including their bad luck in love. Will a trip back to her hometown bring them closer together? Or will a promise she made 10 years ago tear things apart? This is totally AU-no slayer, no vamps, all humans (and my first completely AU fic) so expect a few character and relationship differences with a few original characters thrown in for filler .

Disclaimer: All characters are property of Joss Whedon, ME, and FOX. I’m simply borrowing them for my storyline, without permission, of course… because, well, being bad is half the fun, right?

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PROLOGUE

Elizabeth Summers sat alone at the small table in the quaint restaurant, quietly tapping her well-manicured fingertips on the linen tablecloth. The small candle flickering from the center of the table threw splashes of light across her face, illuminating her delicate features and masking the annoyance that was beginning to show. As she sipped her wine, she casually looked around the room once more, purposefully letting her gaze end at the front door. Then she noticed it: the maitre d’ was leading a large vase of red roses, with a very familiar blonde head behind them, straight toward her table.

“Enjoy your evening, Sir,” the maitre d’ said, before hastily making his way out of the dining room.

The gentleman sat the roses on the table and reached out for Elizabeth’s hand, pulling her up in front of him. He leaned in to whisper, “Buffy, you look amazing, pet.”

She leaned her head back to look into his eyes, and replied, “Cut the crap, Spike. You’re late,” her tone brooking no further jesting.

“I know, pet, but I had a last minute meeting with the publishers and then traffic getting out here was horrendous. Tell you what… I’ll make it up to you anyway I can. Whatever you want, you just name it, and it’s yours.” He flashed her one of his trademark smirks, knowing that it melted her anger every time. Neither one really realized that they were still standing a breath away from each other, still holding hands, and still almost gazing into the other’s eyes.

“You might live to regret that statement.”

“I doubt it,” he told her, before leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Happy Birthday, luv.”

The two sat down at the little table, making light conversation while they decided on dinner and picked a wine to compliment.

“So, which publishers were you meeting with… mine or yours?” She asked after they’d ordered.

“Mine, of course. You seem to keep forgetting that you’re the “chosen one” of your publishing house. I think you could give them nonsensical drivel and they’d think it was Pulitzer Prize-worthy.”

“That is so not true Spike.”

“Yeah, ok,” he grinned. “Anyway, they’re demanding my next chapter by the middle of next week, so it looks like I’ll be writing all weekend. Are you up for a little informal editing?”

“Of course. Finding your faults has always been one of my favorite pastimes,” she told him, letting the mischief shine in her eyes. Their conversation was cut short when an elderly gentleman stopped at their table and spoke to them. “You two make the most beautiful couple,” he stated.

Buffy’s heart tripped in her chest at the man’s words. “Thank you, sir, but we’re not…” Spike started, only to be cut off by the older gentleman.

“You two remind me so much of me and my Ginny, God rest her soul... I just couldn’t help but watch you,” he continued, not even acknowledging Spike’s denial.

They both smiled up at the man, not really sure what to say to him. Buffy’s smile was genuine, but a little of the light was gone from it, replaced by the sting in her heart at Spike’s quick denial of their couple status. Truth be told, Spike would like nothing better than for them to be a couple, but he knew that if he even said such thing around Buffy she’d declare him mentally unstable.

The older gentleman placed his hand on Spike’s shoulder, and squeezed gently when he said, “Don’t let this one get away from you.” He turned to Buffy and smiled. “Happy Birthday, Miss.”

“Thank you,” Buffy replied, watching him as he carefully walked out of the restaurant.

“That was strange, don’t you think, pet?”

“Hmm?” She questioned, as she sipped more of her wine.

“He was like the third person in a month who has thought we were a couple.” His tone was dry, and came out far more harshly than he intended.

There was that stinging feeling again. “Well, I guess people just assume that we’re a couple because we’re so comfortable together,” she covered, thinking she’d never in her life been so glad to see a Caesar salad when the waiter brought their first course out.

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch, and Buffy noted that she definitely liked small, quiet birthday celebrations much more than the huge parties her friends from home had always insisted on. They settled into a comfortable silence on the drive back to Buffy’s house, and with one final kiss on her cheek, Spike left Buffy in her kitchen and retreated to “his” room at her house, grabbing an extra blanket on the way to guard against the February chill in the air. The words of the gentleman from dinner picked at the edge of both of their brains as they drifted off into sleep.

CHAPTER 1

Elizabeth Summers and William Bartlett met on their first day of college when they chose side-by-side seats in English 101. She’d been enamored from the moment he opened his mouth to speak, having never heard such a sexy smooth British accent before. He’d thought she was the prettiest, most delicate little thing he had ever seen… the epitome of what he thought “California girls” were like. They were friendly to each other in class, until it came time for the first group project. Working together brought out their defensive sides, and they butted heads over every minute detail of the paper. While other students were putting their papers off until the last minute and throwing together mediocre work, Elizabeth and William slaved away. Their hard work paid off- they got the only A’s in the class that semester. The friendship bloomed from there, each counting on the other’s help in their English 102 and subsequent Literature classes.

Elizabeth thought college would be the perfect chance to shed her high school nickname and become someone new. After all, what’s the point of moving all the way across the country if you couldn’t reinvent yourself? She’d even toyed with coming up with a new nickname. Lizzie, Beth, Betsy, but none of them really felt right, so when her professors called out the roll, she just answered to Elizabeth and didn’t correct them. The name thing lasted until around midterms of her second semester when she made the mistake of asking William to bring up her mail on his way to a study session. He came into her room carrying a stack of magazines and cards, balanced on a huge box.

“Someone must really love you, Buffy” he chided as he unceremoniously dumped the stuff on her bed.

“What did you just call me?” she asked, wondering what had possessed him to come up with that name.

“Buffy. I called you Buffy. After all, almost every bit of this mail is addressed to Miss Buffy Summers. Even the big box there. You must have quite the fan club going on.”

A blush began to stain her cheeks, and she looked away when she said “It’s my birthday this week. It’s probably a gift from my mom.”

“Wait. It’s your birthday this week?” She nodded her answer. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Everyone always made such a big deal out of birthdays at home, and something inevitably went wrong. I just thought this year I’d ignore it and hope it went unnoticed.”

William shook his head in disbelief. “Well, Buffy, it hardly looks like your friends and family are going to let it go unnoticed. And neither will I. We’re going out to celebrate, Buffy.” He chuckled when he saw her turn her nose up at his use of her nickname.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what, Buffy?”

“That. Quit it.”

“Quit what, Buffy?”

“No…” she pleaded, burying her head in her pillow. “I’ve waited 18 years to get rid of that nickname. Why did you of all people have to find out about it?”

“I think it’s a cute name. Much less stuffy than Elizabeth. So, Buffy it is. From now on.”

So there it was, William made sure that Buffy did not loose her nickname, and thoroughly enjoyed teasing her about it every chance he got. His enjoyment lasted until later that Spring, when Buffy answered his phone one sunny afternoon.

“Hello? I’m sorry who?” she asked, giving the phone a strange look. “I think you must have the wrong… wait a minute.” She covered the phone and looked over at her study partner, a mischievous grin tugging at her mouth. “Spike, it’s for you,” she said, holding the phone out to him.

“Oh thanks, luv,” he replied with out thinking twice. Her eyes narrowed as he took the phone from her, and he paled when he realized his mistake. His conversation was quick, and as soon as he hung up the phone Buffy jumped up and started dancing around the room.

“Ha! ‘Ha, bloody ha’ is all I have to say to you, Spike!” she said triumphantly, in her pitiful attempt at his accent.

“Luv, what in the bleeding hell are you going on about?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Spike. Just the fact that you’ve been tormenting me over being called Buffy for the past two months, when it seems that you had a nickname in the closet you were trying to get rid of.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he said indignantly, but knowing that she’d called his bluff.

“Yeah, right. I saw the look on your face when you realized that I knew.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “I was trying to get rid of it. It’s just a stupid nickname from when I was a kid anyway.”

“Well, if you get to call me Buffy then I get to call you Spike.” She grinned at him, knowing that she had him.

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll let you call me Spike but only because it’s so much fun to see you cringe when I call you Buffy.”

“Touché my friend,” she replied.

From that day on, Buffy and Spike shared almost every experience that college life had to offer. Every drama from the first hangover to the first breakup, to choosing a major and changing said major. They bonded with each other, and with their roommates, Wes and Tara. The group became inseparable, and by the beginning of their junior year they’d all found a house to share and were permanent roommates.

Writing came naturally to both Buffy and Spike, but while Spike knew he wanted to one day be a fiction author, Buffy floundered quite a bit with her career choice. She first wanted to be a fashion editor for a large magazine. Then she thought she’d be an international news reporter, then a food critic, then a sports writer. It wasn’t until the school newspaper featured one of her short stories that she gave any serious thought to writing them for a living. Eventually she started writing short stories more seriously and knew that she’d one day have them published, and maybe even expand her writing and do a novel.

After graduation, the four friends went their separate ways. Tara went on to graduate school, Wes moved to Washington DC for law school. Spike went home to England, taking an internship writing for a London newspaper, and Buffy moved to New York to begin her dream of becoming a serious writer.

Her first year in the city passed somewhat slowly. She wrote a column for several local entertainment magazines, but like most struggling artists she found that she had to take another part time job to make rent. So she waited tables at one of the more touristy restaurants, and used every moment of free time she could find writing and trying to get her stories published.

She was getting ready to give up on writing her book when it happened. One night, she answered her door and found the sweetest surprise.

“Spike! What are you doing here?” she asked as she flung her arms around him in a desperate hug.

“Pet, let go… I can’t breathe,” he wheezed. “Can’t I just come see my best friend as a surprise?”

“Of course you can,” she said, helping him bring his bag in. “But something tells me this isn’t just a friendly visit. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming and I would’ve met you at the airport.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal, Buffy. And I am sort of here on business,” he told her, as they moved to sit on the couch. “ I have an interview with the Times in a few days.”

Her mouth fell open. “Be kind, rewind. Did you say you have an interview with the Times?”

“Sure did, luv.” He smirked as his news sunk in.

“As in, the New York Times?” she questioned.

“The very same.”

“So, you may be moving here?” He nodded. “Oh, God Spike… you’re amazing. You don’t know how thrilled that makes me. I needed someone like you around. Things were just getting to be too much,” she said, looking away from his intense gaze when she realized she was on the verge of rambling.

He reached out and crooked one finger under her chin, forcing her to look back at him. The tears that had been welling up in her eyes fell at the motion, and he pulled her into his arms without thinking twice. “There, now, Buffy. What’s wrong?”

She sniffled and hiccupped a few times before reaching over to the coffee table and shoving a well-worn letter at him. “This is what’s wrong, Spike. I suck, apparently.”

He read the letter, and made a disgusted face at the document. “So you got a rejection letter. That’s not totally uncommon, pet. You’ll try again and be right back on track.”

She shook her head and looked away again. “It’s the fifth one, Spike. I’m sick of trying. I just don’t think it’s worth it.”

“Let me see them,” he asked, getting up to pace around the small room.

“Let you see what?”

“The other letters, and the stories you’re trying to publish. All of it. You’ve got a new editor.”

“Spike, you have an interview in a few days,” she started to argue. “The last thing you need to be doing is…”

“Get them, Buffy. I’m not seeing you give up on your dream when I know damn well I can help you achieve it.”

Eight months later, Buffy and Spike had quite a celebration. He had just been promoted from staff writer to daily columnist at the Times, and Buffy’s first collection of short stories was being published. Soon after, she was able to quit waiting tables and write full time. Spike was still writing in his free time, keeping the idea of one day being published himself in the back of his mind while using the time at the newspaper to network with publishers and bring in enough money to pay the rent.

They worked diligently, both pursuing their dream of writing and seeing it come true. It took both of them another three years to become well established in the literary community, and they were both cranking out books for their publishers like clockwork. They had eventually struck a deal so that they were each other’s editors, and their critics were amazed at the ease with which they worked together.

Buffy soon grew tired of the fast pace of life in the big city, but Spike loved every minute of it. Buffy knew that she needed to be close to the city to continue working, but she longed for a quieter, more simple life… the big house with the picket fence that television made seem so normal. Eventually she bought a house in the country, about 2 hours outside of the city. Spike kept his two-bedroom loft in the city, but divided his time between his place and Buffy’s, finding the environment very inspirational and easy to write in.

To the outside world, they each had the perfect life. They were surrounded by good friends, had jobs that they adored, and were living out their dreams. As far as they were each concerned, life was complete. The only area lacking was love, where each had found problems. But being the strong willed people they were, they pushed their problems aside and dove head first into work. Neither seemed to notice the feelings developing for the other, and neither dared to mention it when they did notice. So, life continued as normal, two best friends sharing everything but their true feelings.

TBC.....

“Do you think that there’s one perfect person out there that you’re destined to be with?” Buffy asked, looking up from the pages she was reading and editing.

Spike’s fingers stilled over the keys of his laptop, her question snapping him out of the flurry of words he was typing. “Well, yeah, actually I do. I figure that one day I’m going to find the perfect woman for me, and she’ll love me as much as I love her and we’ll live happily ever after. Very much unlike the angst-filled people I love to write about. What about you?”

“I guess. It just seems so futile sometimes, though. I mean, you go on date after date with the wrong person, and what if you miss out on the right one while you’re wasting time with Mr. Wrong?” she sighed, turning her gaze to the fire crackling in the fireplace.

“Thinking about your date this weekend?”

“A little.”

Spike grinned. She’d been seeing Angel O’Conner, New York City’s fastest up-and-coming stockbroker, since shortly after her birthday. They’d met at a publicity event for her new book and had been out several times. The next big date was this weekend, when he was planning to come out to the country and get to know Buffy outside of the big city scene. Buffy looked up at Spike, and he could swear he saw a tinge of nervousness in her eyes. “You’re still coming back out here Saturday night, aren’t you?”

“Well, pet, I don’t know. I mean, if the big date goes well I’d hate to interrupt your weekend of fun.”

“He’s not staying the whole weekend, Spike. I doubt he’ll even stay Friday night.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “He’d have to be crazy not to,” he muttered under his breath.

“Huh?” she questioned.

“Nothing, pet. I was just taking to myself, trying to suss out this new chapter. Of course I’ll be here.”

+ + + + +
Spike opened the door to Buffy’s house, thankful to be in out of the light rain that had peppered down during his entire drive, making the Saturday night traffic even heavier than usual. Shedding his wet coat and boots, he ventured into the foyer. “Buffy? Buffy are you here, luv?” he called out, knowing that she was home when he smelled the distinct whiff of firewood burning in the living room. He heard a muffled laugh, and walked slowly into the room, afraid that he would indeed be interrupting another date between Angel and Buffy. He swallowed the lump in his throat and refused to acknowledge the jealousy that flared at the thought. Turning the corner, he stopped short in the doorway to the living room, taking in the sight in front of him.

Buffy sat on the floor, leaning over the coffee table and propping her head up with her left hand. In her right hand she clutched a half empty bottle of tequila. Faint black lines of mascara were smudged on her cheeks, but her tears seemed forgotten in lieu of the comfort of the hot liquid she’d been pouring down her throat. A few lime slices were scattered on the floor, and her cordless phone lay near the hearth, the back popped off and the battery hanging from a wire. She turned her head a little too quickly when she heard Spike at the door, and caused her elbow to slip off the coffee table and she fell over with a huge laugh.

“Shpike!” she exclaimed with a huge grin on her face, after sitting up following her bobble. “Come ‘ere. Sit. ‘ave a drink wif me..”

Spike’s eyes widened when he realized that Buffy was drunk. In fact, she was beyond drunk; she was sloshed. He crossed the room and sat in the floor facing her. “Hey, pet. What’s happening?”

“Nothin,” she replied, reaching for her forgotten shot glass. She poured it full and nudged it closer to him. “Bottom’s up!”

He took the glass and swallowed the fiery liquid, watching in amazement as she ignored her usually proper decorum and drank from the bottle. “Pet, did something happen last night?”

“Nope,” she giggled, and scooted over closer to him, laying her head on his chest.

“Did Angel stay with you?”

“Nuh-uh. We had dinner and then we came back here and well… I’m sure you know what we did then, and then he left…”

Spike shuddered at the thought of her sleeping with that man, but chose not to comment. He was about to say something to her when he realized that she was still talking.

“… and in all this time he never even thought to mention her to me until today. Just called up and said he didn’t want to see me anymore, and he was really sorry if he hurt my feelings. The bastard!” she finished, poking her finger so hard into Spike’s chest that he felt sure he’d have a bruise in the morning.

“Wait. What’s that, pet? He didn’t mention who until today?”

“Were you not lissenin to me when I tol’ you what he say when he called?” she slurred out. “He’s been dating some woman he works with since like… forever, and didn’t tell me about her. This affernoon he calls and said he loves her and can’t see me anymore. So I threw the phone at the fireplace and decided to have myself a drink or 10.”

Spike was glad that her head was resting firmly on his chest, because he really didn’t want her to see the seething rage that was brewing in his eyes for this man. How could he use Buffy like that when he had another woman in the city? Couldn’t he see what an exceptional woman Buffy was? He felt Buffy move, and saw her reach up and brush her fingers over her cheek. When he felt her tiny form barely start to shake, he realized that she was crying. He put his arm around her and sat her up, so she was facing him, and brushed her tears away with his thumbs.

She looked up at him with more tears leaking from her eyes and asked, “Why didn’t he love me?”

“I don’t know, pet. Maybe because he’s not the right one, and fate wanted you to be free to find the right one.” He marveled at the sudden clarity he saw swimming in her green eyes, and was even more shocked at the swiftness with which it left them.

“Maybe. Now drink with me.” She said, attempting to pour another shot for him, but missing and pouring tequila on the floor.

“I think you’ve had quite enough for tonight, luv.” Spike stood up and before she had a chance to protest, swept Buffy up in his arms and carried her toward the stairs.

“Where’re we goin?” she asked as her head flopped over on his shoulder.

“I’m putting you to bed so you can sleep off the effects of our good friend Mr. Cuervo.” He took her into her room and attempted to lay her easily on her bed. But when he put her down she refused to let go of him, and knocked him off balance, pulling him down onto the bed.

She laughed when he fell on top of her. “Buffy, let me go.” He told her. She just shook her head and continued to hold on, moving her arms up his back so her fingers could play in his hair. “Buffy, what are you…”

“Spike. I love you.” She told him as one hand found it’s way to his face and her fingers gently traced the sharp outlines of his cheekbones and the scar in his eyebrow.

Her grasp on him was finally loosened enough that he could stand, and he looked at her with sheer confusion, but chalked it up to her drunkenness. “I love you too, Buffy. Now get some sleep,” he told her, pulling her covers up over her and tucking her in like a child.

“No. I mean, I really loooove you,” she replied, flashing him a silly grin and getting a dangerous twinkle in her eyes.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face. “I think that you’d be feeling a lot less love without the enhancements of the tequila. I’ll see you in the morning, pet.” He stood up and was about to walk away, when her hand shot out and grabbed his. He turned around and saw the tears streaming down her cheeks once more.

“Please stay with me. Just tonight. Stay here and hold me until I fall asleep, so the loneliness won’t hurt so much.”

There was no way he could deny her when she looked so heartbroken. He grabbed a quilt from the chair next to her bed, and lay down beside her, keeping her wrapped snugly in her comforter. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, whispering comforting reassurances to her until they both fell asleep, neither wondering why it felt so right to be in the other’s arms.

CHAPTER 3
Buffy’s mind slowly swam toward consciousness, and while on the journey she desperately tried to avoid the little gnomes hammering in her head and the gymnasts flipping around in her stomach. As she cracked one eye open and tried to stretch, she found that she couldn’t really move due to the strong arms that were holding her. Feeling more than confused, she turned her head only to look into the very peacefully sleeping face of Spike.

Her eyes flew wide at the realization that it was morning, and Spike was in her bed, holding her like she was his most precious possession. The more she worried about what could’ve happened the night before, the more confusing things became. She looked at him a moment longer and realized a few more things. She was still fully dressed in her clothes from the previous night. So was he (at least she thought she remembered those being the clothes he had on…). She was snugly wrapped up under the covers of her bed. He was on top of the comforter, covered only by the quilt that she kept beside the bed. She managed to turn over a little bit and nudge him with her elbow.

“Spike, Spike wake up,” she whispered dramatically, trying not to make the pounding in her head any worse.

He awoke the second time she nudged him, and jumped to sit up, looking very startled. “Huh?” he questioned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Please,” she whispered, “don’t move so fast. It makes the bed move and that makes me queasier.”

He grinned, but gently scooted back to lean against the headboard, and easily put his arm around Buffy again, allowing her to rest against his chest. “Not feeling so well, this morning, are we pet? See, I told you you’d love me a lot less without the happy brought on by Mr. Cuervo.”

“Spike, please don’t make fun of me,” she whined, before picking up on his last sentence. “What do you mean you told me I’d love you a lot less? What happened?” Her mind raced with the possibilities of the foolish things she could have done in her drunkenness the night before.

“Well, luv,” he started, only to be shushed by her.

“Not so loud,” she complained, moving slowly into a more comfortable position with her head on his shoulder and her arm draped lazily across his waist.

He chuckled, but brought his tone down to little more than a whisper. “Well, luv, I got here last night to find you quite sloshed. Seems you didn’t much like your conversation with Angel yesterday…” He watched as realization bloomed across her face, and a deep scowl set in when she remembered the incident. “You ordered me to drink with you, but after my first shot you were so unsteady that you poured the second on the floor. I cut you off and brought you to bed. Then you asked me to stay with you, so I did, and now here we are, you with a hangover and me having slept in all of my clothes, which is more than I’ve slept in in years.”

A blush found its way to her cheeks at the reference. She’d known for years that Spike never slept in anything. He only wore boxers to sleep in at her house some of the time because he knew that the idea of him sleeping naked freaked her out a little. “So, that’s all that happened?” she asked with a little trepidation.

“Of course that’s all that happened! Well, except for you declaring your love for me, but I guess tequila’s funny that way.”

She rose up to look at him. “I declared my love for you? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolled his eyes. “You really were more wasted than I thought, pet. Just after I brought you up here, you pulled me down on the bed with you and said ‘I love you, Spike’” he told her, trying to imitate her drunken slur from the night before. “When I told you that I loved you too and told you to sleep, you said ‘no, I really looove you, Spike.’”

“Oh, my God. Please say you’re lying.” She waited for him to laugh and tell her that the joke was over. When he didn’t, she started to worry. What do I do now? How do I explain myself? He’ll hate me and leave just like everyone else, before I even have the chance to scare him with all of my relationship phobias, she thought. “I cannot believe that I got that drunk all alone. I’m so sorry Spike.”

“S’okay pet. Besides, it’s probably good that you needed me to take care of you. Kept me from running out and strangling Angel for hurting you.”

“You’d do that for me?” She was so taken back by his statement that she didn’t even take the time to think about whether or not he was buying her avoidance of the love declaration.

“Course I would. You’re my best friend, and I love you, and I don’t take kindly to men who think they can hurt you like that.”

She smiled. “You take such good care of me, Spike. Thank you.” He shrugged and pulled her back against him. “Can we just stay here a little while longer, until the little men stop pounding in my head?”

“Sure, luv. Isn’t the first hangover I’ve helped you through, sure it won’t be the last,” he chided, while she slipped back into sleep, wishing her hangover away.

+ + + + +
Several weeks after the Angel incident, Buffy sat on the train, humming a happy tune as she made her way into the city. She couldn’t wait to see Spike squirm, and she just knew that he was going to when she sprung her news on him. She had plenty of time on her train ride to play out different scenarios in her head, each one being a little more delicious than the one before it. He had always made it very clear to her that he absolutely hated things like this. As the train neared her stop, she checked one more time to make sure the envelope was in her bag, and gathered her things.

It was a crisp spring day in New York City, and Buffy loved the feel of the cool air and the sunshine on her face as she stood waiting for a cab at Penn Station. After a relatively quick cab ride, she felt her glee mounting as she walked through Rockefeller Center to Spike’s office building. Her glee was effectively squashed, however, when she turned a corner and almost ran right into Angel and a woman that she could only assume was the one he’d broken up with her for.

“Oh, excuse me, Miss,” he half mumbled when he came up just short of bumping into Buffy.

Confusion creased her brow for a moment, until she realized that he apparently had never told this woman about her, and was thus avoiding an explanation by pretending not to know Buffy. *that bastard* Buffy thought, before flashing a grin and replying “No problem, please pardon me…” She breezed past them, not looking back to see the smug look on Angel’s face.

When she reached Spike’s office, she stopped to speak to the receptionist, making sure that he wasn’t in a meeting. A significant amount of her bravado was shaken by the run-in with Angel, but she managed to get back a little bit of her boldness by the time she made it to his doorway.

She just stood there, not letting her expression give anything away. A wide grin bloomed across his face when he looked up and saw her standing there; a smile so bright that it took her breath away, and almost made her loose her poker face.

“Hey, pet… I wasn’t expecting to see you today. Much less in this busy-city you claim to hate so much,” he taunted with a wink, while pulling her into a hug.

She kissed him on the cheek, and moved to sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk. “Well,” she started, trying to keep a professional tone, “ I wasn’t really planning a trip into the city, but I found that I had a little business to address.”

“Really, now?” he questioned as he moved to sit behind his desk. “So whose head is on the chopping block today? Did some critic--”

“Yours.” She said, interrupting his train of thought.

“Mine? What did I do, Buffy?” The tiniest bit of worry snuck into his voice, and he mentally checked off anything that had happened over the past few weeks that she could possibly be angry with him about.

Buffy leaned forward in her seat, barely propping on the desk with her left elbow. “Do you remember a certain promise you made to me in February?” She watched as he thought back, and waited until remembrance clicked. “I told you that you might regret promising me anything to make up for being late to my birthday. It’s time to pay up.”

He was growing more confused by the second, and reached a wary hand out to take envelope Buffy was presenting him with. She sat back in her chair, and watched as he read the contents of the letter, letting her smile grow wider as his expression became more and more mortified.

He looked up at her, saw the Cheshire cat grin she was sporting, and knew that she wasn’t really angry with him. “So, you have a class reunion coming up, and you’re going to try to make me go with you.”

“I’m not going to try, Spike. A promise is a promise, and I’m not going to this thing alone.”

He smirked at her, deciding to play her little game. He could see that she was getting wound up, and wanted to see just how this would play out.

“I know that you hate stuff like this Spike, but really. You don’t expect me to go home and see all those people alone, do you? I mean, they’re all going to be married and engaged, and I just cannot show up there all alone. And you did promise me whatever I wanted, and this is what I want, and if you cared half as much as you claim to then,”

“I’ll go.”

“Don’t you try to weasel out, mister. This is what I- wait… You’ll go?”

Spike smiled at her. “That’s what I said. I’ll go. I’m thinking a trip to California might be nice. Haven’t been in a while, I’ll bet your Mum misses me.”

“So… just like that. You’ll go. I thought it would take a lot more convincing than that.” She said, rolling her eyes.

Before she realized it, Spike was in front of her, hauling her up into an embrace. He leaned in and whispered saucily “Well, you could still do the convincing part, pet, if you really feel the need…”

She pulled back and looked at him, narrowing her eyes when he laughed. “You’re a pig, Spike.”

“I know. Sing me a new one, luv.”

“I ran into Angel today,” she said, sitting back in her chair. She tried to ignore the tears stinging at the back of her eyes, and looked away from Spike’s piercing gaze.

“I’m so sorry, luv. What did he say?”

“Nothing. He acted like I was just another stranger on the street. He was with some blonde woman. I just assumed that it was *her* .”

“Buffy, I know that what he did to you still hurts, but I think it really is for the best. You don’t need someone like him around. You deserve someone who will love you completely and unconditionally. I know in my heart that he's out there, and you shouldn’t settle for less.”

There was so much conviction in his tone, and such promise in his eyes, Buffy found it very hard to think of reasons why she wouldn’t admit that she was in love with the man sitting in front of her. Spike’s heart broke thinking of how much she was hurting over a man who didn’t even deserve to be in the same room with her. He briefly wondered why she couldn’t just open up her eyes and see how much he would love her, if she’d let him.

But, both of them being the stubborn people that they were, refused to acknowledge that maybe what each of them were looking for was right in front of them.

~~~~~~~~
TBC!

A/N: Thanks for the support and reviews for this one! I'm glad that y'all are enjoying it. The next update, sadly, won't be for a few days... I'm out of town this weekend, and honestly don't know when I'll get the chance to write before Monday.