1:

The Dream

"I've never done this before," she admitted tiredly as Spike rolled them to their sides. She lay comfortably against him, her head pillowed on his chest.

"Which part?" He asked, smiling down at the girl-woman in his arms.

"Sex with a stranger," she giggled.

He couldn't help the smug smile that crept on his face. "Well, I'm not a
stranger anymore."

"That's one way of looking at it."

He kissed the top of her head as his hand found hers and entwined her
fingers with his. Perfect fit. They seemed to fit in everything. He held her
tighter against him. "We've known each other for five days now; almost a
week. How long does it usually take for you to…?"

"At least a month."

He grinned broadly.

"You're grinning like a Cheshire cat right about now aren't you?" She
accused him teasingly.

"I won't deny that I am."

She looked up at him and he mentally noted for the thousandth time how
beautiful she was. Even more so now with her lips swollen from kissing him,
her blond hair mussed from their bouts of love making and her face glowing
from passion and exertion. Her green eyes seemed to shine and he smugly
knew it was because of him. He'd been with many women before, but none
had captivated him as this one had. He felt himself stir to life again as he
beheld her. He leaned over and captured her lips with his, bringing her
closer to him and tasting her sweet mouth.

Spike lay back against the pillows, spent. He watched as she made her way
to the bathroom, looking over her shoulder and blowing him a kiss. He
smiled as he took in her slender, toned form and looked up at the ceiling as
she closed the door. He was going to have to move to Boston. He wanted to
leave his stint as an attorney and pursue teaching instead. It was what he
wanted, and Buffy made him feel as if he could do anything, even move
mountains. And for her, he would.

He would have to make a lot of changes and arrangements, but it wasn't
even a sacrifice. He found his future; he found his life. It was all her. He was
going to have to tell her first, of course. But how could she say no? She had
to feel the same way. Didn't she?

"Idiot. You haven't even told her you love her yet, how could she possibly
know? Once you say it, she will too." He told himself. He looked toward the
bathroom. What was taking her so long?

"Buffy?" He called out. No answer. "Love?" Nothing.

He rolled out of bed and started for the bathroom. Was she okay? Did he
hurt her and she didn't tell him? His overactive imagination started going
into over drive and he knocked on the door. "Buffy? Are you all right?"
Nothing still.

"I'm coming in," he opened the door tentatively and found the light off. He
furrowed his brow and flicked on the light.

"Buffy? Where are you? Buffy?" He shoved aside the shower curtain and
found it empty. He stormed back in the hotel room and found her clothes
off the floor—all traces of her were missing. Throwing on his jeans, he
stormed out the door. There wasn't a single soul in the hallway.

"Buffy!" Spike called out before waking up.

His blue eyes shot open he groaned. The same dream again. He sat up and
turned on the lamp on his nightstand. He grabbed his cigarettes and lit one
up. He inhaled deeply and stared across the room. How was it that one
woman could turn his entire world upside down in just five days? How is it
that said woman could just disappear? Well, no, she hadn't disappeared like
she did in his dream every night, but when he had reached for her in the
morning; she had vanished.

He had to get over it. He told himself that at least a hundred times a day.
All right, so he met someone while visiting Rhode Island. All right, so he
spent five of the best days in his entire existence with that someone. And
yes, he'd fallen completely and hard for her as well. He ran a hand through
his blond locksand shook his head. How long had it been now? Two months. He hadn't even mooned over his ex-wife like this. Actually, he'd been happy of the reprieve. Now he was haunted by the elusive Buffy Summers.

The plain and simple fact was he had to find the woman who turned his life
upside down. He had to find the woman who stole his heart and possessed
his soul. He had to find the woman who brought him to ecstasy time and again on that fateful night he kept dreaming about. He had to find the owner of the beautiful green eyes he couldn't erase from his dreams; the smile that was etched in his brain.

It had been a whirlwind week. William "Spike" Knightly had gone to Newport, Rhode Island to get away. Living the fast life in L.A., he wanted to go someplace where it was quiet, peaceful and people were kind and real, rather than rude and fake. The small New England town seemed the
perfect place. And it had been. He'd gotten away from the cutthroats and
the bimbo's who preyed upon the successful rich men in business suits.

He was burnt out with the job that had once brought him so much pleasure
and found himself at a crossroads.. His girlfriend at the time had split and
he suddenly found himself single. He went away to think, rest and plan.

Then he met Buffy. The vivacious, precocious woman who was, for all
intents and purposes, still a little girl. He was ten years older, she being 26.

It wouldn't seem they would hit it off. He was older, worldlier and definitely
not naïve. It was hard not to be jaded when you lived in L.A. He'd seen
things and done things that the normal person probably never had. She was
naïve, yes, but wise too. The mix was intoxicating. She was jaded and
innocent all at the same time. He had been drawn to her complexity. She
had wormed her way inside, broken down his defenses and just when he'd
thought he'd found the missing link to his life, she'd disappeared.

They'd met on a tour of one of Newport's famous mansions. Both were
alone. The first thing he'd noticed about her was how beautiful she was. He
was used to being surrounded by beautiful women, but she was different.
She was real. Nothing about her was plastic or fake. After spending the tour
watching her instead of paying attention, he decided to talk to her. What
did he have to lose?

At first, she was hesitant about starting any kind of camaraderie with him.
For one thing, he was a stranger. For another, he was from the west coast;
she was from the east coast, what could be gained from a friendship with
that kind of distance? Somehow, he'd convinced her to spend time with
him. She was funny, a touch cynical and yet idealistic. Idealistic…a trait he
thought he had lost with his youth. Somehow she had managed to make
him believe in the ideal yet again.

He still remembered their first kiss. She'd taken him to her favorite
restaurant and there had been dancing. The first time he held her in his
arms, he couldn't stop himself. He'd kissed her tenderly, whilst putting all
that he felt for her in that kiss. Then when she'd molded herself around
him, he knew that she had to feel the same way. They spent the next few
days together, a kiss here a kiss there. Then, they'd made love and
everything was the same as he dreamt it: Until the point where she'd
vanished in the bathroom. In real life he had told her he loved her as they
had lain there in post-orgasmic bliss and she had been gone the next
morning.

He remembered the awful feeling he had as he went to her hotel to find
that she'd gone. He'd searched everywhere for her. He ripped Newport
apart and she was nowhere. Then, his time was up and he'd gone back to
L.A. He searched Boston directories for a Buffy Summers. She was nowhere
to be found. In that time, he'd quit his job and started looking up teaching
positions in Boston. For all he knew, she wasn't even from there. The idea
that she could have lied to him sat like lead in his gut. It gave way to
bitterness. Try as he might though, he wasn't able to forget her.

Though he told himself to get over her and move on. Though he was angry
with her for running out on him, for disappearing, for making him fall in
love with her, for obviously lying to him—he had to know why. He felt as if
he were cracking up, for one thing. He had nothing to trace back to her
aside from his memories. It was as if he spent a moment outside of time
with her and was slammed back into reality where she didn't exist. Part of
him wanted to find her if only to ensure he wasn't going out of his mind. He
snorted. Out of his mind was very much where he was headed. Which was
why he hired the private detective to find his Buffy. What he would do with
the information after, he wasn't sure, but at least he would know where she
was should he want to pursue it.

Grounding out his cigarette he found himself looking longingly at the empty
side of his bed. He would just enjoy not reaching for her every time he woke up.
¨¨¨

"Mr. Knightly? I have the information you've requested. If you could—"
Spike snatched the phone up, out of breath. "I'm here."

"Ah, Mr. Knightly. Were you running?" Detective Schreb asked.

"To the phone, yes."

"Did I interrupt you?"

"You have some information?" Spike rolled his eyes. He had sprinted across
his penthouse once he heard the familiar voice of the detective he'd hired.
He'd stubbed his toe in the process. His heart was racing for a whole
different reason now.

"Based on the descriptions you gave me and the, uh, drawing you gave
me…I'm faxing some photo's of what I think might be your disappearing
girl."

"All right, hold on." Spike was off sprinting to his office now. The fax was
just starting to come through. He could see paper start to come through
and he stared at it as if it were his lifeline. It felt very much as if it were.

"Mr. Knightly? Are you there?"

"I am."

"If this is your girl, then her name is Elizabeth Summers. She's not directly
from Boston, but rather a small town outside of Boston. She just moved to
Cambridge, Massachusetts three years ago. She isn't listed in any
directory—"

Spike inhaled sharply as the photo came through and the detective
stopped. "It's her. That's my—that's Buffy." He stared at the photo until he
had to blink and he gripped the edges of it as if he were afraid that too
would vanish.

"I'm glad, Mr. Knightly. May I call you Spike?"

"Yeah, sure, that's fine. So, her name is Elizabeth, you say?"

"Yes. She lives with her brother in Cambridge, a city just outside Boston."

"She told me she had a brother," Spike whispered as he remembered the
fond gaze that passed across her features as she told him about her
brother.

"She was fairly easy to find. Well, for a professional anyway. It seems she's
spent a lot of time over the past couple months in the hospital."

Spike furrowed his brow. She never told him she was sick. "She sick?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I didn't delve in too deep. You said you wanted a
girl found, I found her." He sounded offended.

"Right, right. Thank you. Do you have her address? Phone number?"

"Yes, I am faxing that as well right now. I also have her job address and
phone number."

Spike stared at the fax machine, willing the information through. His
hands were shaking he noticed.

"What do you plan to do now that you've found her, Mr., uh, Spike?"

"I'm going to get her," Spike replied simply. "I found my girl and I'm going
to get her."

"Suppose she doesn't want to be ‘gotten'?"

Spike glared into the phone. "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Seems
to me she has a lot of explaining to do, running out on me like that—and
why am I justifying myself to you?"

"Just curious as to what you would do now. You seemed unsure when you
first asked me to find her."

"Now that I've seen her face and know she's real and I'm not just cracking
up—I want some answers."

"Are you in love with this girl Spike?"

"I feel very many things for her at this moment in time, Schreb. I suppose
until I see her in the flesh, I won't be sure what any of them are."

"Seems it must be something for you to travel across the U.S. for her. To
hire me to find her—"

"Yes, well, thank you for finding her." Spike rushed on. He didn't want to
hear any analyzing from another person about how he felt about this girl-
woman. It was bad enough his friends were concerned about the depth of
his obsession for her. He was already concerned for himself over it, he'd
already done more than enough analyzing—and dreaming—of her to
warrant worry about his own sanity, he didn't need assistance. But now,
now he held the information he sought in his hands. Now that he had a
picture of her lovely face, he found he couldn't stop here. No, he had to get
the girl who haunted him and make her explain to him why she'd left him.
After that, he wasn't sure what his plan would be anymore. Hopefully, his
obsession would be cured by then. He hoped, but something inside him
doubted that highly. Especially if the way his heart was aching in his chest
was any indication to how he felt just gazing at her picture.



¨¨¨


Leaving L.A. wasn't a problem. After many lectures—many concerned lectures on his rash decision to travel to the east coast for a woman who'd jilted him no less, he managed to convince one of his good friends to keep an eye on his penthouse for him. He was gone exactly one week after receiving information on Buffy.

He hadn't spent much time in Boston and the first thing he noticed was the
chill in the air. It was October in Beantown. The weather was crisp and
refreshing. He smiled to himself. He remembered Buffy had been
flabbergasted that he'd never experienced fall. She had gone on and on
about the beauty of changing seasons. So, he looked at the temperature
through her eyes. Summer giving way to fall. Hot to cold. It would be nice
to experience something other than hot days and nights. He rolled his eyes
at himself. Great, now he was extolling virtue on the weather. Thank you
Buffy for turning me into a sentimental fool.

Now that he had arrived, and was fairly settled into his hotel room, he had
no clue how to go about ‘getting' Buffy. He was beginning to think he should
have listened to his friends when they told him not to bother. What kind of
person travels across the country after someone? A stalker, that's what
kind of person. The stalked don't exactly shower their stalkers with
encouragement and talk of how romantic they are. No, that's why things
like restraining orders existed. He sighed heavily and took out the pictures
he had of her. He smiled then. No, he had to find her. He had to know why
she just up and left him like that. His smile vanished. What is was just a
game? Just something she did for fun? She never seemed like the type.
Yeah, Spike, because you knew her oh so well. Five days does not
constitute knowing what kind of person she was. Yet, he truly thought he
did know. How could anyone act that much passion and sincerity? He
snorted, a really good actor, that's who.

Pulling out the file of both her home and work address, Spike decided it
was time to do what he came to Boston to do. Find the girl; get the answers,
close the chapter, and go back home.

 

2:

The Reality

"You're late," Buffy scolded her brother as he settled himself in the booth across from her. "I said to meet for lunch at noon. I've been waiting for fifteen minutes." Her tone was stern, but the smile on her face indicated that she wasn't all that bothered.

"Did you see your boss?" Angel Summers asked, ignoring her scolding.

"Nice to see you too, brother."

He smirked. "You know me. Right to the point."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I know."

"So?"

"I start back Monday," she answered him, nervousness laced in her tone.

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "You're going to do
fine, Buffy."

"Thanks. I know. Just first day back after . . . everything."

He eyed her, concerned. "How you feeling?"

She smiled. "I'm all right. You don't have to keep asking me that, Angel."

"You're my sister and I worry about you. Is that a crime?"

"I suppose not. But you just saw me this morning," she pointed out.

Angel's chocolate brown eyes glinted with amusement. "If you can call that
‘seeing'. You're a bear in the morning."

She shrugged. "Not all of us can be morning people."

He shook his head and Buffy noted how the gel he put in his dark brown
hair made it stiff as a board. "I wonder if the wind would jostle that hair,"
she mused.

He pointed at her. "Watch it, young lady."

"What are you going to do? Hit me over the head?"

Angel's handsome face darkened. "Not funny Buffy."

"Sorry," she whispered, glancing down at the opened menu in front of her.
"Shall we decide?"

Angel nodded grimly and grabbed a menu from behind the napkin holder.
He opened it and then snapped it shut. "You don't remember anything at
all about what happened?"

"For the millionth time, Angel. No." She was trying not to get angry, but
she was so tired of people asking her—namely her family—what happened
to her. All she remembered was waking up in the hospital bed with Angel
hovering beside her, his eyes tired, his usual tall and postured gait,
slouched with worry. She'd had no recollection of how she'd ended up there.
Lindsey McDonald, her boyfriend, said he'd come home from errands to
find her at the bottom of the stairs in a heap. She had no recollection of
falling down those stairs. It seemed pretty cut and dry to her aside from
the fact that she hadn't broken anything; just a few bruises here and there.
He'd said she must have fallen on her way down and not clear from the top.
It was a good thing those stairs were carpeted with extra padding or she'd
probably be in real trouble. If Lindsey had found her there, then obviously
she'd fallen down them, thus the head injury. So then why did Angel insist
upon asking her day in and day out if she remembered? He knew she didn't
remember anything at all.

Angel held up his hands in surrender. "All right. I see the resolve face. I
know what it means. This discussion is over."

"For today," she muttered.

Tight lipped, Angel said noting and instead opened up the menu, holding
it up so that she couldn't see his face.

Sighing with frustration, Buffy did the same.



A few blocks from the Al's, the greasy diner in which Buffy and Angel were
sharing lunch at, Spike found himself in front of the Museum of Fine Arts,
frustrated beyond belief. He'd gotten lost three times in almost two hours.
Boston was not an easy city to find your way around in. In fact, he
remembered Buffy telling him that streets seemed to magically disappear. He
thought she was exaggerating, but after he'd tried to retrace his steps twice
and ‘lost' the street he had come down on, he realized she was right. And
really, how many "One Ways' could one city have?

However, as he looked up at the grandeur that was the MFA of Boston, he
saw the charm instantly. Manicured lawn, and an impressively large brick
building greeted him. The Newport mansions had nothing on the vastness
of this building. However, he supposed since she worked for the museum as
events coordinator all things old impressed her. He wasn't sure if that was a
narrow way of looking at it or not, but he didn't care at that moment.

What he did care about however was the fact that his palms were beginning
to sweat and his heart rate was accelerating with every step to the
entrance. His breath hitched as soon as the door opened as if he expected
Buffy to jump out and greet him, or walk idly past him at any moment.

Instead, a ticket booth and a gift show lay in his wake and the attendants
behind the desk smiled at approaching attendees. All right, he told himself,
good place to start. They could get her to come down, hopefully, and then
they'd have themselves a chat.

He hesitated, feeling suddenly guilty. Was it right to do this at her work?
Probably not. He took a deep breath, noting how every museum seemed to
have that ‘old' smell. The scent of fried food wafted to him and his stomach
rumbled. Must have a cafeteria here. Maybe if he stuck around long
enough, he'd see her and wouldn't have to ask. He checked his watch.
Twelve-thirty. Lunchtime. Girl had to eat, right? And so did the boy.

Realizing he had to purchase a ticket in order to get to the cafeteria, he
forged forward anyway. He could stroll around; take a look at the museum.
See the place where his Buffy worked. See the place she talked about so
lovingly. No one he knew ever talked about their job like that. He wanted to
feel closer to her, felt as if he would somehow know her even better, and
understand her. He snorted. His friends were right. He was obsessed. Well,
the only way to cure his obsession was to face it head on and purge it out of
his system. Or was the best way to move on and forget about it? Like he
could do that.

Purchasing a ticket – in which he now understood how it was kept so lovely
by the price – he sauntered into the cafeteria trying to appear calm, but
instead taking in everyone around him, looking for Buffy. He ordered a ham
sandwich, waited for it to arrive, then sat down in the back where he had a
clear view of the entrance. He shook his head. He was definitely a stalker
now.

After finishing his sandwich, he decided it was time to walk around. Finding
where the Greek artifacts were, he made his way there, all the while
keeping his eyes and ears open for Buffy. After walking around for an hour,
he was getting antsy. So when a tall, leggy brunette strolled past him with
the badge "STAFF" on her white lab coat, Spike stopped her.

"Excuse me."

The woman stopped and looked around her.

Spike smiled. "I am talking to you."

The woman smiled shyly and let out a little giggle, pushing her glasses up
her nose and turning her shoulders inwards. Definitely shy.

"I was wondering if you could help me," Spike started.

Her head cocked to the side. "With?"

"I'm looking for someone that I believe works here. In fact, I know she
does. See, she used to be an old friend of mine and I'm wanting to surprise
her."

"How nice," she gushed. "Who is she?"

"Buffy Summers."

The girls smile faded. "Oh dear."

Spike felt sick all of a sudden. "What is it?"

"Just that Buffy isn't here . . . she's been out for quite a while. She'll be back
though. On Monday."

"Is she all right?" Spike asked, remembering Schreb had told him of her
stay at the hospital. Was she sick? Is that why she'd left him? Because she
was dying and didn't want to hurt him. His heart ached and his stomach
churned at the prospect. He'd stay with her. He'd stay with her until . . . No,
he'd hire the best doctors around and take care of her, make her well again.


"She had an accident. I'm not really at liberty to say . . . how long ago did
you know her?"

"Uh, high school."

The woman smiled then. "Oh then you should—I mean, she'll probably be
really happy to hear from you."

"I want to surprise her though, please don't tell her uh—"

"Fred. Fred Burkel and I won't tell--?"

"William. Nice to meet you Fred," and he held out his hand.

Blushing profusely, she shook his hand lightly. "If you'll excuse me," she
said looking down and smiling.

"Thank you," and he moved out of the way so she could get by. He sighed.
Monday. He wasn't sure if he could wait a whole weekend to find her. Next
stop: Her home.



Tenacity was his middle name, however, he felt he had to regroup and plan.
Look at the facts the way any good attorney would do and make a plan
based on those facts. Fact number one: Buffy had a brief stint in the
hospital due to an accident. Fact number two: The brief stint in the hospital
had been bad enough that she had missed work. Fact number three: Fred
had acted funny when he asked about her. What was he walking into and
did it have anything to do with why she had left?

Making his way through downtown Cambridge, he did the first law of
driving in Boston: He parked at the first parking spot he saw. He didn't care
if it took him an hour to find Buffy; he wasn't willing to risk taking two just
backtracking. On foot seemed a safer bet. Besides, the walking would
maybe clear the cobwebs from his muddled brain and he could plan what
he was going to say to her when he saw her. First, he knew he wanted to
make sure she was all right. Then he wanted her to know that he came in
peace. He chuckled to himself. What was he? An alien? He grimaced, he
sure felt like one. Taking out the address, he headed into the first
convenient store he found to buy a pack of smokes, get something to drink
and ask directions. Strolling down the aisle to the coolers, he was perusing
his options when his heart stopped.

Buffy.

She was standing in front of the one of the long coolers, just staring at it.
God, she was beautiful. Was it possible that she had grown even more
beautiful than when he'd last seen her? He always thought that your
dreams had a tendency to embellish and exaggerate even more than what
had actually happened, than what you had in reality seen. Not the case
when it came to Buffy. Sure, he could see just her profile, but it was the
smoothness of her skin he remembered, but did not do her justice in his
dreams and memories, the way her cheeks were naturally pink without the
aid of makeup, the way her nose was oddly shaped and so adorable, and her
hair, how it shone. It had gotten longer, he noted, passed her shoulder and
grazing her shoulder blades. He noted how the ends naturally curled. She'd
also gotten thinner. He frowned. While her clothes weren't hanging off her,
there was noticeable room in them.

Realizing he couldn't cheat himself of the chance to talk to her, he sidled up
next to her. "Know what you want?"

"No," she sighed. "Sorry, I was zoning. Am I in your way? I'll move," and
without even looking at him, she started to walk away.

He grabbed her arm. "Buffy."

She froze and turned to him. Her eyes were wide with apprehension. Fear.
What was this? He'd expected shock, but not this. He suddenly felt like a
git.

"How are you?" he asked, releasing his grasp on her arm.

"Fine. How are you?" she asked cautiously.

"I've missed you," he told her honestly and then wanted to kick himself for
it. Way to scare her off, Spike.

"Oh? How long has it been?"

"About two months, give or take the time it took me to come down here for
a visit."

Now she looked downright despondent. "Two months huh?"

"Yeah, Buffy, can we go somewhere and talk? I don't want to yell at your
anything. I just need to know what happened."

"I'm afraid I couldn't tell you that."

"Why not?" now he was getting a little angry. First she'd acted afraid of him, then sad that she'd seen him and now she was just going to be no help at all?

"Look, whatever happened with us—"

"'Whatever' happened with us?" his voice rose.

"I'm sorry, but—"

"You're SORRY?"

"Listen," she said forcefully, her voice rising now. "I don't know who you
are."

"What?"

Her bottom lip trembled. "I don't have any memory of the past three
years of my life."

Now that, he didn't expect. "What?" he whispered.

"I had an accident a couple months ago-- which I must have just met you before that – and I suffered a head injury. I have a condition . . . "

"Amnesia?"

"That'd be it. So if I met you in the timeframe of the past three years, I
don't remember you."

 

3:

The Story

Spike was in complete shock. He stood there staring at Buffy, motionless, in the middle of a convenience store unable to wrap his mind around the bomb she’d just dropped.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, whatever I did or didn’t do –what did I do?” she asked him.

He sighed. He couldn’t lie to her, on the other hand, how
could he tell her? She was obviously distressed by the fact
that she couldn’t remember him, how would she react to the
truth of what had happened between them? It would
definitely upset her.

“Buffy,” he started hesitantly.

“Don’t lie to me please. No matter what it is, you have to tell
me the truth or I’ll never be able to rebuild my life and one day
remember.”

His eyes snapped to hers. “God Buffy that sounds so
awful,” he breathed.

She grinned warily. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Is there anything I can do—please, I want to help.”

“You can tell me your name,” she smiled.

“William Knightly. I go by Spike though.”

She raised her eyebrows. “If I had my memory, I doubt I’d
forget a name like that. How’d you get it?”

“I used to be an Attorney. In the court room, they referred
to me as ‘like a pit bull named Spike’.”

“Used to be an Attorney?”

“I quit.”

“Why?”

“Wasn’t happy. Decided to take a chance and make a
change.”

“To?”

“Teaching.”

Her eyes widened. “That is quite a change. Less money
too.”

“I don’t care about that part.”

“Less cut throat I imagine and less stress.”

“Exactly.”

“You could probably still bring your pit bull tendencies to
the classroom depending on what grade you teach.”

Spike chuckled. “Very good point. I was thinking college
level. I don’t feel at my age I’d have the patience for a
younger crowd.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty – six.”

She smiled, “You’re still young. You could do it.”


“I guess I like the idea of my students being more
responsible.”

“Just because they’re in college doesn’t mean they’re more
responsible,” she pointed out.

“True, but, most of them want to be since they’re paying
for it.”

“Or on a free ride from their parents and don’t care.”

“Gotta take the good with the bad I guess.”

“Don’t I know it,” she said wistfully.

“How did it happen?” he asked carefully, not wanting to
upset her.

“I fell down the stairs,” she replied, meeting his eyes.

“Do you remember at all?”

She shook her head. “No. And my brother asks me at least
twice a day if I do.”

“It must drive you crazy.”

“You have no idea.”

“I remember you mentioned a brother when we met,” Spike
said thoughtfully.

“Can you tell me how and when and where?” she asked
hopefully.

“Buffy, I don’t think I can,” and it pained him to say it.

“Why?” she asked, a hard edge to her voice.

“Because I don’t want to put any undue stress on you.”
“If you don’t tell me then I’ll just wonder and then stress
anyway. So you might as well tell me to give me peace of
mind. It might not look it, but I’m made of tough stuff here.”

He grinned, “I don’t doubt that.”

She looked up at him hopefully. “Then tell me?”

“We were close.”

“How close?”

His eyes met hers. “Close enough.”

“Were we – were we dating?”

“You could say that.”

She sighed heavily. “Impossible.”

His eyes narrowed. “How is it impossible?”

“Because I have a boyfriend.”

He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. “For how
long?” he asked incredulously, and a bit louder than intended.

She took a step back, frowning. “According to what I’ve
been told, for the past three years. According to my
timetable, one month.”

Spike sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “You
never told met that when we—you never told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just part of the mystery that is Buffy Summers.”

“Tell me about it,” she said dryly.

“Christ, I can’t say anything right!” he exclaimed in
frustration.

“It’s all right. I’m learning to roll with the punches. I didn’t
mean to be so skittish when you tried to talk to me, it’s just
that it gets hard when people know who you are, but you
have no recollection of them.” She sounded tired and weary
and it made him want to just gather her in his arms and
soothe her.

“It’s like you’re famous,” Spike tried to joke.

“Without any of the perks,” Buffy added wryly. “I just hate
disappointing so many people when they start talking to me
and bringing up things I don’t know anything about . . . its
hard to see the hurt expression on their face.”

“You care,” Spike said, almost in awe. It wasn’t just her
she worried about; it was others.

She nodded. “Look, I don’t really know what to tell you right
now . . . “

“Buffy, you’ve been through a lot and I’m not asking for
anything—“

“Which is good because I can’t give you anything.”

“What about your friendship? I’m thinking of relocating to
this area and I could use a friend.”

“Spike, I don’t know you at all and if what you said is true—
“

“It is.”

“I have a boyfriend,” she reminded him.

He ignored that comment. “You do know things about me. You know I used to be an Attorney, that my nickname is Spike, I’m 36 and I want to be a teacher.”

She started to laugh. “Okay, okay, stop.”

“So you’ll be my friend?”

“Can I think about it?”

“I don’t want to lose you again Buffy.”

“You’ll have to stop saying things like that.”

“What? The truth?”

She sighed. “All right then. Fine. I want to know more about
our relationship then.”
 

4:
The Start of a Beautiful Friendship

Following William out of the convenience store, Buffy wondered what the hell she was thinking. She had enough on her plate with missing the last three years of her life, the last thing she needed to do was add to it by asking William about their supposed
relationship.

She supposed it was the stark honesty in his blue eyes. The way they shone at her, and the tenderness written in his face as he beheld her. He'd never hurt her, that's what his face told her. Not to mention the fact that he was, well, gorgeous. Tall and lean with sharp cheekbones. He was a man, but at the same time resembled a boy, he appeared an angel, but his nickname suggested a devil. He was a mystery. As if she didn't have enough mystery in her life.

He stood before her, his bleached blond hair nearly white in the sun, nearly blinding her with its brilliance. With the sun behind him, it was as if he was surrounded by a golden light. Now he was the angel.

"Do you really want to know what happened with us?" he asked, cutting
right to the chase.

The million dollar question. Did she really want to know? Despite how he
seemed, how could she really trust him? The only person she felt
comfortable and safe with was Angel. So why was she following this
stranger out side, this stranger who said they'd had relations while she was
supposedly with Lindsey, this stranger who'd tracked her down?

"No," she blurted out, surprising them both. "In fact, I think it might be
best if I just walked away. I'm sorry for what I did –or rather didn't do, but
I just –can't." She started to walk away and the stopped in her tracks when
Spike jumped out in front of her.

"I told you I lost you once and I wasn't going to do it again, princess."

"What do you want from me?"

"Just a little bit of your time."

"Like right now?"

Something passed over his face that she couldn't define. "Let me amend

that. A little bit of your time everyday."

Her breath hitched. "William, I don't think that's a good idea," she shook
her head and started to walk away.

"I know that Newport is your favorite place aside from Boston," he called
after her. She stopped, frozen, as he continued. "I know that it's your
favorite because you remember going there on family vacations with your
parents when you were young. You and your brother used to plan taking
one of them over and moving in together. I also know that as happy as it
makes you to visit, it also makes you sad."

She turned around. "Because my parents are dead now."

He started walking up to her and she kept her eyes trained on him. "Buffy,
I'm not asking for a lot here. Think of it this way: I'm rebuilding my life and
so are you. Why not do it together?"

"Because my boyfriend might have something to say about it."

"He might have something to say about us being friends?"

She smiled warily. "Do you want to be just friends?"


"If it's what I can get, then yes."

"I still don't know William. You claim we had something, but obviously I
don't remember it. And I'm pretty sure that I'm very loyal, so it doesn't
add up that I would cheat on Lindsey—"

"Lindsey is your BOY friend?"

She narrowed her eyes and tapped her foot, placing her hands on her hips.
"Yes. You have something to say about that SPIKE?"

He grinned. "Little tigress in there," he tucked his tongue behind his teeth
and grinned. Buffy tried not to notice how sexy it was, despite how
annoyingly cocky it was at the same time. "I like it."

"As I was saying," she said pointedly, "No one else in my life knows you. I
would have known by now, wouldn't I have?"

"We met in Newport, at one of the mansions. The Breakers—your favorite
mansion."

She looked down. He knew way too much about her to be making it all up.
"Did you hire a detective?" His eyes shifted away from her. "You did, didn't
you?"

"No. I did my own detecting."

His eye was twitching.

She crossed her arms across her chest. "Continue."

"You were alone, I was alone."

"And?"

"And the rest I will tell you in time."

"That so?"

"If you agree to meet with me at least once a day, I'll tell you a little bit
more about what happened. But you have to agree to meet me."

"I could just walk away right now."

"But you won't, will you?"

She studied him. "Where did you come from?"

"L.A."

Her eyes widened. "You came across the country for me?"

He reached out and caressed the side of her face with his knuckles, his face
taking on the tender look she'd seen earlier. "What can I say? You made me
want to come and see the city you love so much. I've only been here a day
and I think I already love it."

Her breath hitched at that and she grabbed his hand to take it off her face,
but he maneuvered his hand so that now he was grasping hers in his.
"Buffy. I'm asking for an hour—I'll even settle for a half hour—of your time.
What have you got to lose?"

"My sanity?"

"I'll help you regain it."

"How? You know something about me I don't remember."

"And I'll tell you about it all."

"Why should I do this?"

"Because despite how strange it is, you're curious. Because something
about me and the situation has piqued your curiosity. And, because you
can't be mean to the newbie in the city. I might get eaten alive."

"Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing at this point," she said dryly.

"Trust me."

"I only trust Angel."

"Brother?"

She nodded.

He smiled, "I'd like to meet the guy. You spoke so highly of him."

"He'd pummel you into next week if you ever hurt me."

"I wouldn't Buffy, I would never hurt you."

"I don't know you well enough to believe that."

"There's only way to find out."

She stared at him, at his earnest eyes, his hopeful face. His big warm hands
held hers tightly, yet gently enough that she could escape if she wanted to.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Do you have a car?"

He nodded.

"Nearby?"

"Yes."

"Well then. You can give me a ride."


 

5:
The Boyfriend

“So, this is how to get to Buffy’s,” Spike mused in a teasing tone as he pulled into the parking lot of a large, white Victorian style apartment building.

“I live with my brother,” Buffy told him. “I was told that I was living with Lindsey before in his home—a real big house, but after the accident my brother insisted I move in with him. I wasn’t exactly going to argue with him.”

“In your memory you’ve only known Lindsey a month.”

“Right, and since my brother is home to me . . .”

“You’ll find your way again, Buffy. Even if you have to create new
memories to do it.”

“Yeah,” she said wistfully, staring up at the house. “I lived here for a
while with him before I guess I moved in with Lindsey.”

“Do you think you’ll move in with Lindsey again?”

She looked panicked at the thought. “Oh God, it’s too soon to be able to
tell that. For me anyway. I know he’d love it if I would, but I have to get to
know him all over again.”

“And what you know so far?”

She smiled, “I’m not telling.”

“Why not?” he grinned.

“Gee, I don’t know,” she said in faux wonderment.

“Buffy, I want you to know that you can tell me anything.”

“Is that right?” she sounded as if she didn’t believe him.

He nodded. “Friendship won’t work if you start keeping things from
me.”

“Start?” she laughed at the terminology. “Seems as if a lot has been
kept from you by me already.”

“This way we can start fresh.”

“There is no we, William.”

He tried to hide his hurt at that. He also refrained from adding ‘yet’ in
his head. It hit him then that there might not ever be a ‘yet’. The truth was, if
this Lindsey bloke was what she wanted, then he had no place to deny her
that. He certainly had no claim on this Buffy. Not that he had much of a
claim on the old one either. Just his damn wishful thinking. The only thing
he knew with clarity was that he wanted to be here for her now. She seemed
so strong, and yet so lost. How could he walk away and leave the woman he
loved like that? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“What time will I see you tomorrow? And where? Go gentle on me, I’m
still learning my way around.”

She giggled and to him, it was the most endearing sound. Next, he
wanted to hear her full belly laugh. He’d also like to hear the sounds she
made while underneath him, but he wasn’t going to start making rash
wishes.

“How about you meet me in front of the store again? I’ll take you
around Cambridge a little bit. Maybe take the T into Boston.”

“Maybe help me find where I can hang my hat?”

“Oooh,” she rubbed her hands together. “That sounds like a project. I
need a—oh.” Her face fell.

“What?” he asked suddenly nervous.

“I have to go back to work on Monday.”

“We have the weekend. And nights.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “You never quit huh?”

“It’s in my blood.”

“I can see that. Spike.”

He grinned. “So, tomorrow—what time?”

“Um, make it noon.”

“All right then miss. I’ll see you at noon.”

“Thank you William.”

“No Buffy, thank you.”

She waved him off and climbed out of the car. Spike refrained from
following her and begging her to let him stay with her for just a little while
longer. He had this fear that if he drove away, she’d disappear again and that
was just not something he’d be able to handle again. He raked a hand
through his hair as he watched her bounce up to the door and let herself in.
He hoped that it was him that gave her that extra bounce in her step.

“You’re really under it, aren’t you?” he muttered to himself and drove
away, back to his very empty hotel room.



Buffy was smiling. Take note world, I’m smiling. Rounding the corner
to the apartment she found Lindsey standing outside her door in the all
season porch, grinning at her. His briefcase and coat were in a corner. He still
had his dark suit on and the blue of his shirt underneath brought out his
eyes. They weren’t like Spike’s though, she noted. Immediately she chastised
herself for the thought. She was supposed to be dating Lindsey and here she
was, grinning like an idiot because of Spike. A man she’d just met. A man she
didn’t know but was apparent she shared some kind of past with. Apparently
the person she was before cheated on Lindsey and here she was thinking
thoughts of Spike. Cheating on Lindsey with her mind. Oh God, then there
was tomorrow. Did Lindsey know of Spike at all? Did he know about him and
that’s why he never mentioned him? Something inside her told her to keep
Spike a secret. Maybe she’d tell Angel. One day. But for now, Spike was a
secret.

“Hi, darlin’,” he greeted her and she felt guilt flood her. That deep voice
and the slight southern twang to his voice sent her insides to mush.

“Hi. What are you doing?”

“Came by to see you. I left early today. Needed a Buffy fix. Where’ve
you been?”

“Oh, out and about.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw clenched and then he smiled. Did he see me
with Spike? she wondered.

“Did you see work today?”

“I did. I’m going back Monday.”

“Nervous?”

“Yeah, I don’t really want to talk about it right now. . . Want to come in
for a bit?”

“I was actually wondering if I could take my lovely lady out for
dinner?”

She smiled at him, thinking how sweet he looked with the puppy dog
eyes and sweet smile.

“Of course,” she agreed. “Don’t you want to change out of that suit
first?”

“Oh. Yeah,” he looked down at himself as if just noticing he was in a
suit. He ran a hand through his shaggy brown locks and shot her a flirtatious
grin. “How bout I pick you up in a couple hours? Give me enough time to look
presentable for you.”

She smiled, “I think you’ll do just fine.”

He sauntered over to her and placed his hands on her waist. “I love
you,” he whispered.

She averted her eyes from his tender and penetrating gaze.

“I’m sorry. I put pressure on you just then.” He dropped his hands. “It
just comes out of me – I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize and make me feel worse,” she told him softly.

He nodded. “So, I pick you up in a couple hours?”

She nodded in agreement. Grabbing his things, he pressed a kiss to her

forehead and left. Wondering what she was doing, she entered the apartment
and started to get ready for her date with Lindsey, while images of Spike
danced in her mind.


“What?” Buffy asked Angel later.

“Nothing,” he said and walked away from her.

“Don’t say ‘nothing’ when the stinky cheese face most certainly says its
something,” she told her brother, following him out of her peaches and cream
room and into the all hardwood kitchen where he was heating up his dinner:
Mac and Cheese.

“Just the idea of eating this doesn’t sound as appealing as where
Lindsey will probably take you,” Angel shrugged his non committal response.

Buffy studied him curiously. “That it?”

“Yep,” and he turned his back on her.

“All right then,” and she started for her bedroom again.

“Buffy.”

Here it is. He just had to warm up to it. “Yeah?”

He kept his face blank, “How are things going with Lindsey?”

“Fine, why?”

“He doesn’t pressure you or anything?”

She grinned, “You mean does he ask me to have sex with him Angel?”
she teased.

Now Angel grimaced. “Buffy, I think you’re a beautiful woman, but
you’re my SISTER all right? That was gross.”

“Sorry,” she giggled.

“I mean does he pressure you to move in with him or to remember?”

“No, he doesn’t. He told me he loved me today and then felt bad about it. Said he didn’t want to pressure me. Is that what bothers you?”
“Yes and no.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just want you to be careful.”

“Do you not like Lindsey, Angel?”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “It’s not that I
don’t like him, it’s just that. . . “

“You don’t like him,” she finished.

“No. I just don’t want anyone to be hurting you whether they mean to
or not. You’ve been through a lot over the past couple months and you have a
lot on your plate right now.”

“I know, Angel. And I’m fine. Everyone has been real patient with me.”
Her thoughts drifted to Spike and how persistent he’d been.

“You only remember having been with Lindsey a month. So if you don’t
feel he’s the right guy for you, you can kick him to the curb all right? And if
he doesn’t take no for an answer, I’ll do it for you.”

Buffy giggled and then started singing the Mighty Mouse tune “’Here I
come to save the day!”

“Oh I get it. Comedy.” Angel said dryly, causing Buffy to laugh. “You
know you can tell me anything that’s bothering you right?” he asked once
she’s calmed down.

“I know. You’re the only one I count on.”

Angel smiled. “I’m sure one day that’ll change, but it’s good to know
just the same.”
 

6:

Investigations

"Lindsey, can I ask you a question?" Buffy asked settling her hands in her napkin covered lap.

"Of course you can," he looked up from his plate and glanced at her half full
plate. "You're not going to eat anymore? You didn't eat that much, sweetheart."

She looked down at her plate and then back up at him. "I'm all set."

He frowned for a half a second and then nodded. "What is it you wanted to
ask me?"

"What was our relationship like?"

The fork that was en route to his mouth stopped. He put it down and met
her eyes. "Fun, loving, exciting—it was perfect. We were very happy." He
smiled. "And we will be again."

"Did you and Angel get along?"

"Well, he was always very protective of you. I don't think anyone is good
enough for you according to Angel. Not that that's a bad thing however. I
don't think anyone, including me, is good enough for you."

She grabbed her fork then and started pushing her food around on her
plate thoughtfully. "We had to have had problems. Did we argue a lot?"

He frowned, "We argued over stupid stuff like who was going to do the
dishes or who didn't put the towels in the hamper, but nothing serious,
why?"

"We never split up for a little bit or anything?"

"No. Buffy, where is this coming from?"

"Just wondering," she shrugged. Trying to figure out where William came
into all of this. If we had such a good relationship, then why did I stray? she
thought. If I did in fact stray. She placed her fork down again. "How long
before we moved in together?"

He smiled now. "Four months."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yep. We just knew it was right."

"How come you never proposed? Three years is a long time to be living
together and not getting hitched."

He looked stunned and just a touch uncomfortable by that question. "We
talked about it, but we also didn't want to ruin a good thing."

"Were you planning on asking me?"

"Buffy, where are all these questions coming from?" he sounded a tad
annoyed.

"I'm trying to understand our relationship is all. It's not like you tell me a
whole lot about it."

"You've never asked before."

"So now I am—Are you annoyed?"

"No, Buffy," he shook his head and reached across the table, grabbing her
hand. "I'm not annoyed. I guess just like its hard for you to talk about, it's
hard for me too. I'm sorry if I snapped at you. Sometimes it's hard to think
of what we had and how now—" he stopped. "I'm sorry."

Now she felt guilty. Of course it was hard for him too. Why wouldn't it be?
It wasn't only her that had lost things, he had too. He went from having her
with him in his house, to having her move out because she didn't know him
well enough at all to be living with him. It had to hurt him too. And he
probably didn't want to put undue stress on her by telling her about their
relationship. In fact, thinking about it did put pressure on her to hurry up
and remember when she didn't know if she ever would again.

"I'm sorry too," she whispered. "I know it must be hard for you too."

"Let's focus on making new memories. Let's not dwell on what happened or
didn't happen and just think about the present. It's like a clean slate that
we can remake our history on."

She nodded, "Yes, I like that. It's really all we can do right?" she asked
lightly, giving him a light smile.

"Right. How bout some dessert darlin'?"

"Oh, I don't really want any. I'm kind of full," she patted her tummy,
thinking how she probably shouldn't have helped herself to a bowl of mac
and cheese with Angel before Lindsey picked her up.

"Please? At least share with me?"

She took a deep breath and then agreed. "Sure."

He smiled. "Thanks."




Spike stood outside the convenience store, checking his watch for the third time and trying not to have a coronary that she was only ten minutes late. Besides, if she didn't show, he knew where she lived. He supposed it would be difficult to rid himself of the fear of losing her – literally losing her – after having spent all that time having that infernal dream and not being able to find her. Now in the dream when he stepped out in the hall to look for her, she was down the hall rounding the corner. The symbolism wasn't lost on him, but it was better than not being able to find her at all.

So now, as he checked his watch for the fourth time and stuck his hands
deep in his jeans, he was ready to go hunting if he had to again. He sucked
his breath in and was about to start for his car when he saw her. He let the
breath out through his teeth with relief. She was walking with an old man
with white hair and a slouched gait. She was laughing at something he was
saying and he found himself grinning like an idiot at the sight. She looked so
much more relaxed than the day before. She looked as if she didn't have a
care in the world. The day before it was as if she had the weight of the
world on her shoulders. He wanted to see her like this all the time; glowing
in her happiness. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh and smile like
that.

She looked up to see him and waved; a bright smile on her beautiful face.
He smiled and waved back. The old man departed after Buffy gave him a
friendly and affectionate hug and she came up to Spike.

"Hi!" she greeted him cheerfully.

He smiled broadly, feeling the urge to hug her, but not wanting to scare her
if he did so. "Hi. Who was that?" he asked, pointing to the old man who was
crossing the street.

"Oh, that's Robert. Nice old man."

"How do you know him?"

"I met him at Boston Common one day. I was sitting on a park bench just
minding my own business when Robert came up to feed the ducks. Seems I
was in his spot. We started talking and since then we've been taking daily
walks together."

"Did you know him before--?"

She shook her head, "Nope. And that's the beauty of it. I met him after."

Spike nodded, "No pressure then."

"Right. He doesn't expect anything of me."

Taking his hands out of his pockets, he lightly grabbed her wrist, making
her look at him. "Buffy, I don't expect anything of you either."

She didn't look like she believed him. "Don't you?" she challenged.

"I just want to spend time with you."

"For what, William? You know I have a boyfriend—" she stopped abruptly
and twisted her hand away from his grasp.

"I don't want to make this hard on you Buffy. If I am, tell me and I'll walk
away." Please, don't make me walk away, he begged her in his mind, please.
"Are you hungry? I could take you to the diner Angel and I frequent," she said looking up at him.

He inwardly breathed a huge sigh of relief. "That sounds great."

She nodded, "All right. Let's go then."




"Where are you staying anyway?" Buffy asked, taking a huge bite of her burger.

He stared at her, amazed by her ability to take such a large bite. Not to
mention the amount of food she could pack away. "The uh, Boston Harbor
Hotel."

Her eyes widened. "Really? I've never actually been inside there. It's
absolutely gorgeous from the outside. Is it really gorgeous inside?"

"Maybe you can come up and—forget I said that."

She gave him a pointed look. "I think I will. I asked my boyfriend if we
ever had any problems last night."

"Why?"

"To find out what made me stray."

"Aside from tight, hot body?"

She shook her head, a slight grin on her face. "Yeah, aside from that."

"And?"

"According to him, we've never had any serious problems. Never even split
up."

Spike nodded slowly.

"What?"

He looked up at her. "What?"

"You're thinking something. Tell me."

"Well, do you really think he'd tell you if there were issues in your
relationship? It's not like he wants to tell you that you got annoyed when he
spent all day Sunday watching football or it drove him crazy that you
couldn't cook or that he was too controlling or that—what?" She looked
uncomfortable. "I talk too much sometimes about things I don't know
about—what is it?"

"Just what you said. Kind of hit the nail on the head."

"How do you mean?"

"After he said that about us not having any serious problems, he said that
it was a clean slate for us."

"And you didn't question him?"

"What was I supposed to say?" she demanded.

"What he meant. Saying ‘clean slate' kind of means as if you're starting
over—"

"Well, we are, William."

"Saying ‘clean slate' has the intention that you're starting over from
something bad."

"You don't know that it means that," she waved him off, popping a fry in
her mouth and shifting in her seat.

"A second ago I hit the nail on the head. Now you're back tracking."

She eyes him warily. "I can see why you're an attorney. You don't miss
anything do you?"

"Nope. What's going on inside your head Buffy?"

"So many things. Odd really since I'm missing such a huge chunk. Just
seems the more I learn everyday about someone or something, it gets just
a little bit harder."

"I want to understand. Explain to me what its like," and he leaned forward,
giving her his full attention.

"Okay, well, you ever play that game ‘Memory' when you were a kid?"

He furrowed his brow, "'Memory'. Explain it to me."

"You know, you have these cards that have shapes or fruit or whatever on
one side and the other side there's nothing. Well, there's duplicates of the
cards with the shapes on them and you place them face down so the blank
side is up. The object is to turn over a card and match it with its mate. The
trick is to keep inventory in your mind on where the cards are so you can
go back and find the mates to each card."

"Ah, yes, I think I do remember playing something like that. And that's
how you feel? Like you're playing memory?"

"Yeah, sort of. I was never really all that good with the game and it was
frustrating when I'd turn over cards and they didn't match because I was
always a row or two off on where the mate to a card was. The person I
played with inevitably always won because I did all the work for them and
they had a great memory to remember all the cards that I flipped over for
them. So, it's frustrating because all these people have all these memories
and they keep flipping over all these cards and I can't keep up with it. I can
only go by what I know and I feel as if I'm always a row or two off and they
have all the power because they know where the cards are. They can keep
flipping them over and making matches, but I don't know where they are.
So I guess I feel because everyone else knows where the cards are, they
can make matches and I can't."

"Except some of those matches could be mismatches Buffy. Say Lindsey
flips over oranges, and he picks up an apple and doesn't show you the card,
he just tucks it away and makes you think he picked up another orange. So
there's an orange out there missing its mate. It's up to you to figure it out
by uncovering all those cards."

"But if everyone knows where they are?"

"You ask questions. And follow your gut. Always follow your gut Buffy.
Didn't you know that a large part of being an attorney is following your
instincts? If something doesn't add up, then keep asking those questions –
even change them up, vary them—until you get the answer you're satisfied
with."

"The truth."

"Right."

"So then the reason his comment of a ‘clean slate' didn't sit well with me
was because my gut didn't think it jived."

"Right."

"So then the same could be said for why I keep questioning the so called
relationship we had?"

He sighed heavily and raked a hand through his hair. "Right. How do you
feel about it though?" he asked softly. "What does your gut tell you? Not
your head. Your gut."

She stared at him for a long time, assessing him, studying him. Then she
looked away toward the counter and then back at him. "You should really
try the apple pie. It's good."

Spike grinned and agreed.


 

7:
Brother

After lunch, Buffy took Spike to Harvard and Boston College so he could familiarize himself with the area—considering he was planning to move to the area permanently and to help him find out whom to contact for a teaching job.

"It's a new adventure for you too, huh?" she grinned up at him as she handed him some brochures.

"You know it," he grinned back. He didn't want to call attention to the fact
that she'd spent more than the asked hour with him. She'd spent at least
three so far. He wasn't going to ruin their time together by asking if she had
anywhere to be –namely anywhere to be with Lindsey.

He shouldn't have thought about it though because in the next instant she
was checking her watch and frowning. Frowning-that was a good thing!
Meant she didn't want to leave him as much as he didn't want her to leave
him.

"What is it luv?" he asked softly, bracing himself.

"I should be getting home."

"Oh? Do you uh, have plans with Lindsey?"

She smiled knowingly at him and shook her head. "No. With my brother.
Well, not exactly plans. He just worries when I'm gone too long."

"He sounds protective of you."

"He is. He's the only family I have left so we only have each other to lean
on."

"That's not true luv. You have me to lean on," he told her and nudged her
with his elbow as they walked off the BC campus and towards the T.

She chuckled. "Be that as it may, Angel worries like a mother hen. More
so—well, from what I remember anyway—since my accident."

"I can understand that," Spike nodded in agreement. "Can I meet him?"

"Oh, I don't know…" she worried her bottom lip.

"Are you not willing to share me luv? Am I a secret?"

She spun to him, shaking her head emphatically. "No, it's nothing like
that—well, maybe a little like that. It's just I don't know what he'd think. . .
I don't know if I ever told him about you before and he's never mentioned
you—then there's Lindsey and I think Angel would be weirded out if I just
brought you home and introduced you and I don't even know HOW to
introduce you—"

Spike placed a finger on her full rosy lips, stopping her babbling. "Its easy
Buffy. You say ‘Angel, this is my new friend William. William, this is my
brother Angel.' Then I say how I've heard so much about him—because I
have—and then he'll ask how I know you."

"And you'll say?" she asked curiously.

"What would you want me to say?" he smiled.

"Nothing. I want to tell him when we're alone how I met you."

"Then I'll say nothing and let you take the lead."

"Why do you want to meet my brother so much?"

"Because from the moment I met you, you only spoke highly of him. You
say that you only have him to lean on and I want to meet this guy that
means so much to you. I'm willing to bet that anyone you hold in high
regard must be pretty damn special."

She smiled broadly and then cocked her head to the side and studied him.

"What?"

She smirked. "I'm just wondering where that puts you then."

He lunged at her and she darted away, laughing. "Minx!" he shouted after
her.

"You are very ‘special' William!" she yelled over her shoulder to him as he
ran after her.

The sound of her laughter rang in his ears and he would have gladly run all
the way back to her house, chasing her, just to hear her laugh all the way.
When he finally did catch up with her, he grabbed her around the waist,
sliding his hand across her stomach and bringing her up against him. She
went limp in his arms, laughing breathlessly. He could smell in her hair the
scent of vanilla. The scent he remembered from their time together in
Newport. He noticed again how tiny she felt and vowed to put some meat
on those bones. More burgers at Al's if he had his way. Definitely more of
that delicious apple pie.

He marveled at how easy it felt to be with her. How it was just like before.
She must have noticed his sudden pensiveness because she spun in his
arms and regarded him thoughtfully. "What is it?"

He smiled down at her. "You. Us. It's like before."

"It is?"

He nodded. "We were so comfortable with one another."

"William . . . Spike . . . It's true that I don't know you very well. I barely
know you at all, but what you said earlier about me following my gut?"


He nodded, his breath catching.

"I'm following my gut here. With you. I feel safe with you. You haven't told
me much about what happened with us, but if I asked again—would you tell
me?"

He nodded earnestly.

"But I don't want to know it all. Not yet. I'm not ready to flip over those
cards with you yet. I like it this way with you. I like just being able to talk
to you and laugh. Do you understand?"

He exhaled, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. "Yes," he breathed.

"Thank you, " and she slid out of his arms. He wanted to bring her back
into them, wanted to tell her to just dump Lindsey, but he knew he
couldn't. That would be pushing and she was in a fragile place right now.
They were in a fragile place still. He'd only re entered her life the day
before. Lindsey, she knew had been there for three years. He'd only been
part of her life for a week. He couldn't ask that of her. She'd already given
him more than he thought possible. So, for that, he wouldn't push. He would
respect her relationship with Lindsey and be her friend. Even if their
meeting was secret and she would probably never tell Lindsey—he would
be open to the idea if she were. So, he would wait. And hope.



Angel glanced at the clock on the VCR and tapped his foot impatiently.
Where the hell was she? She was usually home when he got there. He shook his head. He sounded like a possessive boyfriend rather than a brother.

He sounded like Lindsey.

Well, he sounded like he imagined Lindsey did. The part of Lindsey that
Buffy had hid so well from him. The part that she didn't let on to, but he'd
known. He had the instinct. He knew his sister well. He knew her moods, he
knew her many faces, and he knew her brave fronts and her silence. He
knew when to stop prying and that's what he'd done. And what had
happened because of it? He'd almost lost her. And for that he blamed one
Lindsey McDonald. Only he couldn't prove it. Not yet anyway. He had the
advantage that in Buffy's mind she'd only known him a month. He could
place seeds of doubt, hopefully one day they'd grow to where she'd dump
him and forget she ever knew a Lindsey McDonald. Before, it'd been full
steam ahead and she'd refused to hear him about his doubts and bad
feelings about Lindsey. She'd told him it was her life and she could take care
of herself.

It rattled him now to see her so . . . so fragile. She still put on that brave
face, but he could see apprehension in her eyes. Frustration. She was trying
to make her way on her own and not let on that she was scared and
confused and angry. . . but Angel could see it. He knew his sister. She'd
always had a good head on her shoulders—except when it came to Lindsey.
And, she'd always been a little cautious one minute, and then a ball of
impetuous fire the next. Now she was . . . calm. But it was the kind of calm
that indicated she didn't know which end was up and didn't know what to
do. He'd barely seen her laugh since she'd been released from the hospital.
So, he didn't push her away from Lindsey, just tried to sway her gently. If
he came on full force, he was afraid she'd shut him out again.

"Angel!"

He jumped from the couch and sprang into the kitchen to find Buffy coming
through the door with a guy behind her. He was tall, lean and he was
smiling at Buffy as if she were a Goddess. Being a high school guidance counselor, he felt he had a pretty good handle on people. He always followed his gut and first impressions were important to him. His first impression of watching his sister stroll in radiant and smiling and this man following her, watching his sister with such adoration told Angel that this man thought the world of Buffy – as he did—and meant her no harm. The fact that this man could have been the reason for the beaming smile on her face was reason enough for Angel to take an instant like to him.

Buffy flung herself in his arms. "Hi."

"Hi Buffy. Where were you?"

"Out with my new friend William." She stepped back. "William, this is my
brother Angel that you've heard so much about."

William stuck out his hand, smiling warmly at Angel. "I've been wanting to
meet you. Hi, Angel."

Angel took his hand. Firm hand. "Oh?"

"I've heard so many things about you from Buffy. She sings you praises, I
wanted to meet the brother she adores so immensely."

Angel grinned and looked down at Buffy. "Adores huh? You wouldn't know
it."

Buffy hit him playfully. "Oh shut up. William is moving to the area and wants
to get a job teaching. I was thinking maybe you could have the hook up and
help him out?"

"Possibility. Before I talk shop though, I gotta eat. Have you guys had
dinner?"

"Nope."

"Why don't we go out?" Angel suggested. He had every intention on getting to know this William better. He wanted to know more about the guy that had put the glow back on his sister's face. This way, he could be sure that he wouldn't have a repeat of Lindsey on his hands. And, if his instincts turned out to be right, maybe William would be the help he needed to get Buffy away from Lindsey McDonald once and for all.

 

Next