“Life is one fool thing after another whereas love is two fool things after each other.” ~ Oscar Wilde



“Yhello,” Buffy said into her cell phone as she sped down her road, on her way home.

“Hey, pet.”

She smiled at the sound of William “Spike” Giles’s voice, her much older best guy friend. In her mind’s eye, she could see him: His white blond hair, stunning blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and patented smirk in place. “Hello there, Casanova. How you doin’?”

He chuckled, “Oh, just peachy.”

“Nothing ever good comes out of you saying that. What happened?”

“You don’t need to sound like that,” he mock grumbled.

“Like what? Like I know you?” she laughed, her green eyes sparkling in delight.

“You know, you’re getting too big for your britches.”

She laughed again, “Honestly, Spike. Who says that? Maybe we need to take a trip back to the 1800’s when they might have thrown that phrase around.”

“You trying to tell me I’m old? Was that a shot at my age?”

“Would I do that?” she said in mock innocence.

“Yeah, Summers, you would.”

“I think you’re just sensitive.”

“Well, you’d be sensitive too if your best friend was twelve years younger than you.”

“You best be talking about me,” she warned him.

“Naturally, pet.”

“Well, my best friend has gaggles of women after him –“

“Cause I’m famous, no other reason than that, luv.”

“Are we feeling a quart low on our self-esteem today?” she scolded him.

“No, not really. . . Well, Harmony’s right pissed at me.”

Buffy refrained from saying ‘Thank God’ to that because really, she couldn’t stand the blond twit.

“I hear you’re mind workin’ over there Summers, I know what you’re thinking.”

“And that is. . . ?”

“That you never liked Harmony?”

“Well, okay, yes. She’s a . . . dumbass, William.”

“Ah, but a hot dumbass.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Spike, honestly, what do you see in her?”

“I see her adoring me, and I see me getting laid on a regular basis.”

“You’re disgusting,” Buffy told him, only half kidding.

“Well, when you get to be my age—“

“When I get to be your age I can only hope that I’m as successful as you and I really hope I’m –“she stopped abruptly. “Never mind.”

“What? Say it, pet. You’re nothing but honest with me, so say it.”

“No,” she said stubbornly. “Listen, I gotta go. I’m home now and I’ve got shit to do.”

“Oh? Got a date tonight?”

“Something like that,” she said on a sigh and parked her car in the parking lot in front of her apartment building.

“Who is he? Is he –“

“Goodbye, Spike.”

“Buffy—“

Clicking her phone shut, Buffy sighed heavily and slid her phone in her purse. He irked her sometimes, he really did. The man was famous – a Television star, having made it big playing a futuristic role as a vampire-made-cop. He was the lead, and he got much press for it, alongside his lovely female co-star who was rumored to be the ‘next big thing’. The show, ‘Vampire Chronicles’ was a cult classic and as such, Spike would sometimes travel all over the world making appearances at conventions.

It was at such a convention that Buffy had met him. She’d been dragged to a convention by her younger sister who begged and begged for her to go. It was really the only way Dawn would have been able to go since their parents flat out refused to take her. So, sixteen year old Dawn got to go with twenty – six year old Buffy as her escort.

How it happened, she was still not clear on to this day, only that she had the distinct impression that Spike’s initial reasoning for engaging her so thoroughly in conversation with him, was that he wanted to sleep with her. She made it loud and clear that wasn’t going to happen, and he backed off, but in turn made it clear he wanted to keep in touch. She thought he was full of crap, for what thirty-eight year old would want to pursue a friendship with someone twelve years younger -- and someone famous no less? She balked at him, but gave him her phone number – only the cell – and was incredibly surprised when he actually called.

Thus began the, so far, one and a half year friendship between the pair. Spike confided in her, told her she was the only one he could really talk to and called her his best friend. She, feeling the freedom of never actually having to see him very often, and therefore feeling quite free to express herself to him, considered him to be her best friend as well. Her best guy friend.

It worked because of the distance, she often thought, but then again, with someone as charismatic as Spike was, who knew. The man oozed charm; mostly using that charm to bed many fans (all female, mind you) and women just casually met on the street.

If only he’d use his powers for good.

And Buffy hated hearing about it. In the beginning she was shocked to hear his exploits and stunned when he’d say things like “I love women. I love every bone in their body. Especially mine.” Then she’d heard Steven Tyler from Aerosmith say the same line and called him not only a pervert, but a plagiarist. She’d reached some kind of plateau for a while where she’d listen to him go on about his harem and it hadn’t bothered her too much, but as of late it’d gotten to the point where she just didn’t want to hear about it anymore. It irked her on many levels.

She thought his behavior ill fitted to a man of his age; a man that at thirty-nine should be settling down and busying himself with family. A man that shouldn’t be skirt chasing, basically, children, who couldn’t remember a time when there were no cell phones and internet, and who thought the Care Bears were a new cartoon just released for kids.

She also thought it ill of his behavior to be dating women closer in age to his ten year old daughter than him. What kind of message was he sending her? And for all those that did not accept Alicia, Buffy’s heart ached for the girl. The girl she’d met on a few occasions and felt a bond with, for no particular reason aside from the fact that they just inexplicably clicked.

Having to hear about Harmony was pretty much it for Buffy on her tolerance meter. The blond twit was a pop singer, close to the likes of Britney Spears, however, Harmony was so bad, Buffy found herself actually defending Miss Spears against Harmony when the press seemed keen on comparing the two. When she found herself defending Britney Spears, Buffy knew that things had to change; she just didn’t know how, or to even what exactly.

*****************

“So, you’re on vacation soon, huh Buffy?” Willow Rosenberg, Buffy’s best friend asked, rather perkily, later that evening as they sat in a booth having dinner and drinks.

Buffy gave her a funny look, “Yeah, starting Friday. For two whole weeks.”

“You must be excited!” Willow’s green eyes were alight in fake joy.

“What’s going on? Not that I don’t mind you being perky and all, but you’re being weird, and it’s kind of freaking me out.”

Willow’s shoulders sagged and she gave Buffy a look as she stabbed her chicken breast. “I’m being perky because you’re being grumpy girl.”

“I am not being grumpy girl!” Buffy exclaimed indignantly. “How am I being grumpy girl?”

“You’ve barely listened to a word I’ve said, you’re poking at your pasta and have this sullen ‘oh woe is me’ look on your face.”

Buffy sighed and sat back, putting her fork down. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize I was doing it, I’m just . . . frustrated.”

“Spike?”

Buffy looked at her, “Why do you think it’s him?”

“Because lately it usually is him. He call you to tell you the many ways he did Harmony?”

“They broke up.”

“Then you should be happy! Rejoicing. I know I am,” Willow commented, flipping her red hair over shoulder.

“Yeah, because you’re just as tired of hearing about her as I am.”

“Well, I’m not going to lie, but yes. Though I think my happiness is for different reasons.”

Buffy’s brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean,” and she stuffed a forkful of chicken in her mouth. “Why aren’t you more happy?”

Buffy quirked a brow, “That your clever way of sidetracking me?”

“Yep, though it didn’t work.”

“Not in the least.”

“Oh well. But, not telling, so why don’t you answer me instead?”

“I am happy that they’re not together anymore, but I’m…I think I’m bracing myself.”

Willow looked at her funny, “For?”

Buffy sighed, forlorn, “For the next ‘relationship’.”

****“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.” ~ Oscar Wilde ****

William “Spike” Giles sat on his balcony overlooking the rising sun. Bringing his cigarette to his mouth, he took a drag and sat back in the lounger.

Ah, the quiet. These were the best moments. Though, it was strange, not to mention contradictory, for him to feel that way. He thrived in crowds, loved being the center of attention.

Loved being adored and wanted, essentially. All eyes on him, basking in him. He chuckled as he remembered Buffy saying to him once, “There’s no conceit in your family, you have it all.”

He supposed he did. He knew the truth though; he knew that underneath that Leo-like exterior that thrived on being in the spotlight, he knew there was the heart of a poet underneath it all. The heart of a poet that did yearn for something more than one-night-stands and flings with girls who could be heard asking “Wow, so what were the seventies like? I wasn’t even born yet!”

Buffy was born in 1979; she was twenty-seven now and had a head on her shoulders befitting a man of his age. He had a head on his shoulder befitting a man of her age. Mostly because he thought with the head between his legs.

She’d been upset with him the night before, he knew it. He heard exasperation in her voice and it irked him. It also irked him that she had a date and he knew nothing about it. Then, she’d practically hung up on him. She was bothered by something and while he’d been tempted to call her back, he knew that when she was in a mood it was best to give her, her space.

Looking at his clock and calculating what time it was on the east coast, Spike figured it might not be best to wake her up on a Saturday morning. Waking Buffy was akin to rousing a bear. Not a good idea.

“Spike,” came a sleepy female voice from his bedroom. “Where are you?”

Spike stood and crushed his cigarette in the nearby ashtray. “Be there in a minute, luv.”

Taking a deep breath, Spike made his way into his bedroom, set on pleasing the woman he’d chosen to warm his bed the night before.

Was it sad that he couldn’t even remember her name? All he’d been interested in at the time was that the beauty wanted him, in fact, flirted openly with him, and knew who he was. She claimed she was his biggest fan.

“So,” Spike purred, slipping into bed, and inside the brunette lying wantonly on his bed,

“Still my biggest fan?”

She giggled, “Oh yes, baby, the biggest.”

Chapter Two

“Between men and woman there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.” ~ Oscar Wilde



The phone ringing jarred Buffy from her intense studying of real estate for sale in the greater Boston area, and she leaned back in her computer chair, stretching. She was intent on making another sale before vacation. If not for anything than to be able to stick it to her competitor, Riley Finn. The guy thought he was God’s gift to real estate. Sure, their numbers were close and almost comparable, but not quite. And yes, they were both quite young to have succeeded as well as they have, but Buffy knew she not only had the drive, but the talent. People loved her, which was why they bought from her. Riley was just a fake, saccharine sweet, annoying pain in the ass.

Scowling at the direction her thoughts were taking, Buffy snatched up the phone on the fourth ring, “Hello?”

“Whoa, there kitten. Retract those claws.” Spike.

Buffy sighed, “Sorry. What’s up? It’s like . . . nine, your time. You’re never up at this hour.”

“Can’t call my favorite girl?” he purred.

“I’m not your girl,” she said automatically, and stood, reaching a hand over her head and stretching some more.

“That hurts, kitten.”

“Not your kitten either.”

“Buffy—“

“I refuse to be lumped into the same group as all your . . . groupies,” she told him.

“Buffy, you know you’re not.”

Yeah, she thought bitterly, only because I’ve never slept with you. The fact that the idea had appeal was what did not sit well with Buffy. Did the fact that she kind of wanted to sleep with him make her no better than the floozies he took up with?

“So, what’s up?”

“You were upset with me last night.”

“I wasn’t,” she lied.

“You’re lying.”

“Can’t prove anything.”

She could almost see the grin on his face by the smile in his voice when he asked, “Are you pouting?”

She immediately sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, “Nope.”

“Liar.”

“Again, can’t prove anything.”

“Can you tell me what upset you? Was it something I did? Said?”

“Spike, I was just . . . busy. Work and all. . . “ she trailed off, hoping he stopped questioning her about something she had no real answers to.

“That wanker Finn giving my—you a hard time?”

She decided to skip over his near mistake on calling her ‘his’ and shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. Why was it that people did that anyway?

“Do what, luv?”

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” she said on a sigh and sat down in her recliner.

He chuckled warmly, “Sure did. You know that’s my favorite part. Love it when you speak your thoughts like that. It’s cute.”

She tried not to let her heart flutter at the ‘cute’ remark and snorted instead.

“So why do people do what?” he pressed.

“I shook my head after you asked me about Riley. It’s not like you can see me do it, but everyone does it.”

Now she could see him shrug in her mind’s eye. “We all do it I suppose. So, he’s not bothering you then?”

“Well, not anymore than usual. It’s okay, though. I can take him.”

He laughed and she smiled at the sound, adjusting herself so her legs were curled under her.

“What did you do last night?” they asked at the same time and then laughed together.

“You first,” she told him.

“I’m afraid to tell you.”

She let out big sigh and said “Spike,” on a whine.

“She was nice! She was a fan.”

“A fan? You slept with a fan? Are you crazy? You’re nucking futs you know that?”

He laughed again, “Oh, Buffy, no one makes me laugh like you do.”

“What was her name?”

“I – I think it was Mindy.”

“Mindy? Was she missing Mork?”

“I was her Mork for the night.”

Buffy groaned, “Bad. That was bad.”

He chuckled, “Come on.”

“She probably doesn’t even know who Mork and Mindy are,” she muttered.

“I never bothered to ask. What about you? What did you do?”

“I went out to dinner.”

“With?”

She smirked into the phone, “Someone.”

“Someone have a name?”

“Will.”

“As in Willow?”

“Maybe.”

“Buffy . . . just tell me.”

“Are you seeing Alicia today?”

“I am, in a couple hours I’m picking her up.”

“Mindy going with you?”

“Of course not, she was just a – a—“

“One night stand? Come on Spike, you usually don’t trip over that too often. Why now?”

“Because I sense you don’t like it.”

Now she shrugged, “What are you and Alicia doing?”

“You’re not going to tell me if it was Willow, or some guy named Will are you?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Are you pouting now?”

“Yes.”

She laughed, “Too bad.”

“Anyone ever tell you how stubborn you are?”

“You do, all the time.”

“Alicia and I are going to the zoo.”

“Awww, that sounds like fun, Spikey.”

“I’m pretty fond of it myself.”

“She’s so cute when she gets to feed the animals, the look on her face is a picture,” Buffy mused happily.

“Buffy . . . “

“Yeah?”

“When can you come out?”

“What do you mean?” she asked hesitantly.

“I mean, when can you come out here to visit? I miss you.”

“You don’t miss me Spike. You just miss have another female around all the time now that Harmony’s gone,” she told him dryly, a slightly bitter tone to her voice.

“You know that’s not true, Buffy,” he said, sounding angry, “Why would you say something like that?”

She sighed and rubbed her head with the heel of one hand, “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Are you, really?”

“Yes, I am. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You need a vacation, pet. You work too hard and too much.”

“Not all of us can have the summer off like you and besides, I have a vacation coming up next –“ her eyes widened with that slip and she thought fast on how to cover it up, “Hey, can you take a picture of Alicia feeding the animals for me?”

“Buffy,” he said sternly, “You have a vacation coming up next week?”

She sucked at lying, so, squeezing her eyes shut, she squeaked out, “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before? You wound me, Buffy, you really do.”

“Because I . . . “

“What?”

“I don’t . . .”

“Spit it out, Buffy.”

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to ask me to go out there. I knew you’d turn on the charm and no matter how much I try to resist that devilish charm, somehow you always end up getting me to do your will, and then I’d go out there and be the third wheel while some dopey college cheerleader draped themselves on your arm for my entire visit and –“

“Buffy, stop.”

She clamped her mouth shut, and pouted.

“If you come out here to visit me, I promise not to have some dopey college cheerleader on my arm.”

“I don’t think that’s a promise you can keep. Let’s be real here, Spike. I used to think you were in danger of having your penis fall off from too much sex, and now I think you’d be in danger of it falling off with no sex.”

“You’re just so funny, you know that? Come see me.”

“Spike . . . no,” she was starting to whine now.

“Why not?”

“Because I now I feel guilty.”

“For?”

“For not wanting to go out there, for basically telling you how you’d have to stop living your life if I visited. That’s not fair to you. If you want to go out with some dopey college cheerleader, then you should go out with some dopey college cheerleader. I have no right to tell you not to do it. Which is why it’s better that I stay here, I don’t want you feeling obligated to entertain me –“

“Buffy, the whole reason I’m asking you to come out here to see me is for me. I mean, yeah, it’s your vacation and you should be doing vacation type things, but if you came out here, you’d really be doing me a favor.”

“Really?” she asked in a small voice.

“Pet, I miss you. I want to spend some time with you. If you came out here, my attention would be focused on you and you alone. I wouldn’t make you the third wheel and I wouldn’t put you in any situation that would make you uncomfortable. I promise.”

“You see? There’s that charm.” She sighed. “I hate you.”

He chuckled, “No, you don’t. You love me.”

She said nothing.

“So? Will you come?”

Taking a deep breath, Buffy finally conceded. “Yes. I’ll come.”

“Excellent! How long is your vacation?”

She scrunched up her face, really wishing she could lie, and well. “Two weeks.”

“Perfect! I’m calling my assistant now and you should have tickets in just a few days—“

“Spike, you don’t have to do that, I can get my own—“

“Hush your lip, I’m doing it. I can’t wait to see you, kitten.”

He hung up before she could tell him she was not his kitten.

Chapter Three

“Women represent the triumph of matter over mind, just as men represent the triumph of mind over morals.” ~Oscar Wilde


“So, you’re really going huh?” Willow asked later that week when Buffy showed her the tickets she’d gotten in the mail.

Flopping down dejectedly in her sofa, Buffy nodded and moaned, covering her eyes with an arm. “Yeah, I’m really going.”

“Why don’t you sound happier about it? I remember a time when you couldn’t wait to see him.”

“I know, I don’t get it.”

“Hmm…don’t get it, or don’t want to get it?”

“Cut the crap, Willow. Just tell me what it is you’re thinking.”

“That you have a thing for Spike and that’s why this is bothering you so much.”

Buffy dropped her arm and peered over at her friend, “I thought when one had a crush on someone they wanted to see the object of their affection.”

“Not when said object of their affection is always putting his attention elsewhere. Like, oh, on meaningless bimbo’s.”

Buffy put her arm back over her eyes, “It’s his life.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t care about him. Or Alicia.”

“You’re absolutely right, it doesn’t mean I don’t care about him, but it doesn’t mean that I have a thing for him either. It just means that I . . . that I hate seeing such destructive behavior in someone that I consider a friend.”

“Right. And the fact that you basically told him you don’t want to go out there and witness him with other women doesn’t mean you’re jealous at all.”

“Exactly. Wills, I’ve never told Spike directly what I think of his man whore behavior. I’ve indirectly told him only; through jokes and brief comments or silence . . . it works for us that way. Why complicate things by telling him?”

“Because maybe he needs to hear it?”

“It’s not like he’ll change.”

“Why do you suppose he does it? Because he can? Because being famous as he is, and desired by women everywhere, he’s living out a youthful fantasy?”

“I suppose that’s part of it, and because he’s a man and any man faced with the prospect of having meaningless affairs and a string of one-night-stands would do it. I mean, it’s every man’s fantasy isn’t it? No strings attached, and if there are strings becoming attached, then they’re snipped away and it’s on to the next Mindy.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing; just the name of Spike’s latest conquest.”

“Stewardess or ice skater?”

Buffy giggled, “He didn’t stick around long enough to find out. She only, you know, slept in his bed for the night.” She let out a tremendous groan and flopped her arm over her head and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to go!”

“Then don’t.”

“I can’t not go. He’d be crushed and really, I mean, I do want to see him. I do. I just . . . I just. . .argh!”

“You just don’t want to have to witness him with other women while you’re there.”

“Yes.”

“Because….”

Buffy looked over at her friend warily.

Willow grinned, “That’s what I thought.”

*** “I can resist everything except temptation.” ~ Oscar Wilde***

“Well, luv, I’ll be free tonight if you want to stop by,” Spike purred at the attractive blond across from him. How good was he finding someone at the airport?

The leggy, blue eyed blond with the incredible rack fluttered her fake eyelashes and giggled, looking at him coyly as she took the piece of paper with his address and number on it. “I’d love to Mr. Giles.”

“Now, now, none of that formality. Call me Spike, I insist.”

She smiled broadly, “You’re so handsome in person!”

“What are you saying? I’m not handsome on TV?”

She looked dutifully horrified that she’d implied such a thing and rushed to explain herself. Spike chuckled and patted her arm, “It’s all right, luv. I’m just teasing.”

She looked up at him from under her lashes and bit her lip, “So I can come over after ten?”

“Yes, after ten. Come right up and I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Don’t forget me.”

He placed a hand over his chest. “You wound me, pet. I would never forget such a lovely woman as yourself.”

Giggling, she stood, grabbed her rolling suitcase and walked away, waving coquettishly and swaying her hips. Spike bit his lip, thinking about all the wonderful ways he was going to enjoy that pretty piece of flesh. He was just going to have to make sure that Buffy was tucked away in her bed by the time . . . shit! What was her name? Oh yeah, Laura. So, Buffy was going to have to be in bed by the time Laura came by. That shouldn’t be a problem though; Buffy never did deal well with jet lag.

Looking down at his watch, he guesstimated that Buffy should be arriving at any moment. He was more than a little excited to see her. The last time they’d seen each other in the flesh was a good six months ago. Talking to her on the phone, over email and through IM’s was all well and good, but it was nothing like having her there, right in front of him. The idea warmed him and made Laura flee his mind in an instant.

Sitting up straight, he stretched out his arms on either side of him and slouched slightly. He wanted to be the first thing Buffy saw when she came off the plane.

He watched anxiously, feeling his heart jump in anticipation as the throng of people started coming out. Passengers hugged families and friends, kissed lovers and genuinely looked thrilled to see each other. Watching the display made Spike yearn for someone to welcome him in such a manner. For someone to want him that much; miss him and need him that much.

And then he saw her. She was walking down, purse slung across her shoulder and a duffel bag in hand, chatting with some tall, oafish bloke dressed all in black. Honestly, what kind of wanker dressed all in black like that?

Looking down at himself, he groaned inwardly. Oh yeah, wankers like him, that’s who.

He smiled at the vision of her, opting to stand and greet her instead of waiting for her to see him sitting there. Her blond hair had grown longer, past her shoulders and was darker now, more honey blond than bleached blond like himself. She was dressed for the weather in green capri’s, sandals and a white cami. Her toes, he noted, were tainted pink. Her face was clear of heavy makeup, instead she kept it simple and her lips matched her pink toes.

It hit him with force that he could not wait to envelope her in his arms, and know that she was there, finally, with him.

The oafish man departed from her, but not before handing her a card of some sort. Buffy smiled at him and waved as he trekked off. Spike scowled, and that, unfortunately, was the sight Buffy got to see of him first.

She smiled first, caught the scowl, and halted. “What?”

“Who was that?”

“A guy I was talking to on the flight.”

“What did he give you there?” Spike asked, nodding towards her hand that held his card.

“Oh this?” she held up the card, and then slipped it into her purse with ease. “His card.”

“Why is he giving you his card?”

“To call him, I imagine.”

“For what?” he demanded.

“Can we try this over again? I haven’t seen you in six months, I just spent six hours on a plane, I’m hot, sweaty and gross and since I did travel all this way to see you—“

He cut her off by wrapping her up in his arms. “Hi, Buffy.”

“That’s better,” she said, beaming up at him. He felt something squeeze his heart at the sight. He was hit with the urge to reach up and caress the side of her face, and started to lift his hand to do just that when she pulled away from him. “Luggage, Spikey.”

He smiled at her, “Of course, luv.”

“So, I expected to see a gaggle of girls around you. What happened? You laying low?”

He grinned, “I made a promise to a lady to behave while she’s visiting me.”

“Be still my heart,” she said, placing a hand over said heart and laughing.

He beamed at her, “You know, luv, nothing beats seeing your smile up close like this. I missed it.”

She swatted him playfully, “Charmer.”

He held out his arm, “Mi’lady?”

“Ah, a lady,” she said on a wistful sigh and took his offered arm. “That must be a change for you.”

He bumped her with his hip and they both laughed as they set off for her luggage.

Chapter Four

“The Book of Life begins with a man and a woman in a garden…It ends with Revelations.” ~ Oscar Wilde

“So, when can I see Alicia?” Buffy asked as soon as they’d arrived at his penthouse. His incredible, bachelor pad, penthouse. Well, now, that wasn’t fair. He had decorated it quite well, there was a definite gothic theme to the place – lots of blacks, reds and silver. There were even a few gargoyles adorning the place. Buffy had never been sure if it was the influence of his character on his show, if it was his taste, or if it was just for ‘effect’, to create that air of mystery and the forbidden about him that he chose to decorate in such a manner.

She kind of liked it though. In a weird way.

The only room in the place that was ‘normal’ was the guest room. In fact, it was obvious that it hadn’t been touched at all. The plain cream walls had no pictures adorning them; and nothing on the dresser and nightstand except for two lamps and an alarm clock, respectively. And then there was the lack of curtains; just shades. It made sense though, considering the overnight guests he usually had stayed in his bed. She shook that thought off, and the images it produced.

He grinned, “I think you’re more excited to see her than me.”

Buffy shrugged, “I love you daughter. She’s just so . . . cute.”

He pouted, “And I’m not?”

She grinned, “I know what you mean now about seeing things up close and personal. Look at that pout,” she giggled and reached out, brushing her fingers across his bottom lip. The action stunned her, and him. He could tell by the look on her face that she hadn’t thought before she acted. He wondered, by the way she jerked her had away so quickly, if she felt the same electrical sparks rush through her as they did him. They locked eyes for a half a second and then she went about her business of unzipping her suitcase and fishing for some clothes. “Mind if I take a shower?”

He shook his head, staring at her, dazed, “Not at all.”

She bounced past him to the shower and he caught the whiff of vanilla. It was the scent he associated to Buffy. Just Buffy. If another female he was with wore it, he still attributed that scent as uniquely Buffy’s and felt almost . . . guilty for it.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Best to call the ex-wife and find out when he could take Alicia so Buffy could have her fill.

*** “Dammit, sir, it is your duty to get married. You can't be always living for pleasure.” ~Oscar Wilde***

Buffy awoke abruptly, followed by the disorientating feeling of knowing you’re not in your bed, but not sure of where you are at first.

Spike. California. Guest room.

I need to pee. Where was the bathroom again?

Getting her bearings once again, Buffy rose from her bed, and stumbled her way to the bathroom that was just off her bedroom, using the moonlight to guide her.

Quickly going about her business, she was on her way back to bed when she heard voices. Spike’s and . . . a female. She froze, trying to gauge who the voices were – was Alicia here? Did she miss that? No, this did not sound like a little girls voice and besides, that was ridiculous. Alicia was ten, she wasn’t going to be coming over at . . . Midnight. Okay…was it his ex-wife, Samantha? No. Sam had Alicia and was home with her new husband. Harmony? Oh god, the thought made Buffy want to puke.

Well, there was only one thing left to do. She was going to make like Nancy Drew and solve this mystery.

Creeping out her bedroom door, she paused to once again gather her bearings. Okay, stairs, there were stairs set in the middle of the hall that led down to the living room, kitchen, dining room and a bathroom. Spike’s bedroom was just down the hall from hers so he had to be downstairs. Plus, she could see light coming from downstairs, so that kind of tipped her off too.

As quiet as a mouse, she tiptoed down the stairs and peered over the stairs to see if she could see him or if she had to move down more. Nope. She had the perfect view.

Of him making out with some blond with big boobs.

The sight of him fondling some girl didn’t make her hot to witness his prowess, no, it made her sick. It punched her straight in the gut, nearly knocking the wind out of her. And her heart, oh god, her heart dropped to the floor and ached, literally ached.

Part of her wanted to run down the stairs and interrupt them, and the other part wanted to dry heave right there on the stairs and then . . . cry. Yes, she wanted to cry. In fact, the back of her eyes pricked with tears. He promised. He told her there would be no girls, he promised. What happened to his word? Oh yes, well, what did she expect? she thought bitterly as she tried to quietly make it up the stairs. This was of course Spike. Spike, who made a million promises to a million different women a day. Why should she be any different? She wasn’t. That was the thing. She wasn’t. She was just another girl in his life that he put on an act for, played a part for. She really didn’t mean anything to him, not at all. Being out here with him was just to stroke his ego that he got her to come out and see him. Being out here was him making sure that he wasn’t alone. Spike hated to be alone. He was never companionless. So that’s just what she was. His companion for the next two weeks. She was sure, whether he realized it or not, that being alone was the same as death to Spike.

She sat on her bed and the tears came, rolling down her cheeks and wetting her hands that were clenched on her lap. She wanted to scream at him.

She wanted to break up his little party.

No wonder he’d pressured her to go to bed when she’d started to yawn. It wasn’t because he was concerned about her getting enough rest for their day out with Alicia tomorrow, it was so he could fornicate with the flavor of the week!

She was shaking in anger and hurt. Hurt, hurt why? Why Buffy, why?

Jolting up, she wiped at her tears with a goal in mind. She was thirsty and she was going to get some water.

Striding with a purpose out of her room, she practically ran down the stairs, not wanting to give him any chance to hide his little tramp for the night.

Walking in, the living room, she took delight in the deer-in-the-headlights look Spike was wearing. She feigned surprise, “Oh, God, I’m sorry. Did I interrupt something?”

The blond bimbo looked up at Spike, biting her bottom lip, “Spike? Who is that?”

“Oh, uh, Buffy, hey! What are you doing up?” Spike stumbled on his words, standing up on shaky legs, plastering on a fake smile.

“I needed some water,” she nearly snapped at him and then turned to the girl, and held out her hand in false courtesy. “Hi, I’m Dr. Summers.”

“Doctor?” the girl said, confused. “Why is there a doctor staying over here, Spike?”

“I’m his psychologist. He has trouble getting to sleep at night. He has a blanky still, silly boy,” and she laughed for effect. “And he still needs to be tucked in and sung to. We’re working through it. I come over at night to try a different, more adult routine. I guess you’re part of his routine tonight. The little boy still needs to have his fun,” she laughed, a fake laugh once again, and reached out ruffling Spike’s curls, roughly. “Let me ask you,” she addressed the girl, “Do you know all the lyrics to ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb?’”

“Okay, Laura, I think it’s time for you to go now,” Spike said, reaching out and taking Laura by the arm, hauling her up from the couch.

Laura looked up at him wide-eyed, “I know the lyrics to ‘Ba Ba Black Sheep’, will that do?”

Buffy had to walk away before she blew her cover by laughing, and really, she wanted Spike to stew in the possibility that this floozy could spread some gossip about him. She was so angry and hurt by him at that moment, she didn’t care about his precious reputation. If anything, the consummate Ladies Man needed to be brought down a notch or two.

Or twenty.

Sauntering into the kitchen, Buffy hummed to herself as she got her glass of water. When she turned, she saw Spike standing there, glaring at her.

She set her glass down and pointed at him, “Don’t you even get mad at me for that.”

“How can I not, Buffy? Do you realize that she could blab to the tabloids—“

“Pay her off then. I don’t really care what you do with her!”

“When did you become such a bitch?”

“Probably about the time you started dating fucking twelve –year olds.”

“Such language,” he said sarcastically, tsking her.

“What can I say?” she smiled sardonically, “You bring out the best in me. I’m so mad at you, I could spit nails,” she said through clenched teeth. “You promised me!”

His anger seemed to melt to regret and with puppy dog eyes he came forward, reaching for her. “I’m so—“

“Don’t,” she said through clenched teeth. “Why bother apologizing Spike? Don’t tell me you’re sorry just to pacify me. Just to make yourself feel better. It’s not like I mean anything to you anyway, so really, it’s just an empty apology and you know it.”

His eyes widened, “Buffy Anne Summers, you are something to me, don’t you dare say that –“

“Save it. I want to see Alicia tomorrow, so I’m going to do that, whether you want to come or not. After, I’m going to make arrangements to visit my aunt in Santa Monica. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

“Buffy, luv, please—“

“Don’t. Call me that. I’m not your ‘love’. I’m just . . . I’m one of ‘them’. Just here to stroke your ego. But, turns out, you didn’t need me after Harmony. You’re doing just fine on your own. So, I’ll be out of your hair so you can continue being ‘fine’.”

She stalked by him, shaking in hurt and anger. The sight of him holding another girl in his arms was imprinted in her mind and she wasn’t sure if it would ever leave her long enough for her to get some much-needed rest.

Chapter 5:

Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who know love's tragedies.~ Oscar Wilde

She hadn’t gotten much sleep. She alternated being angry with him, and then feeling as if her heart had been ripped out.

Was she being unfair? Was she being unreasonable? It wasn’t as if he had to answer to her, it wasn’t as if they were together – she was just his friend. His visiting friend from the east coast. Did she really have a right to be so damn upset with him?

He had promised though. She’d told him she hadn’t wanted to come out here to be privy to his sexual exploits; hadn’t wanted to be the third wheel and ‘intrude’ on his lifestyle. It was for those reasons that he’d promised to not subject her to that. And yet, there he’d been, about to fuck another one of his groupies.

Though, she had been in bed . . .

But, God, that was worse! It would have been one thing if he’d told her ‘Look, Buffy, I met someone and I want to take them out, can we work something out?’ But no, instead he’d practically pushed her up to bed under the pretense of ‘resting up’ for Alicia and then he’d brought her in all covert op.

And then, then when the girl had actually been dumb enough to say she would sing him ‘Ba Ba Black Sheep’. Just a testament to the lack of judgment and taste Spike had in women. Girls like that were the reason blond jokes were invented. Girls like that were the reason some men – and apparently Spike included – had no respect for women and saw them as trophies, no better than a blow up doll.

Hmm. There was a thought. Maybe if she got him a blow up doll that would pacify him for at least a little while.

Growling in frustration, Buffy flung her pillow across the room.

“Buffy?” came Spike’s hesitant voice.

She froze. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

“It’s your house.” Sitting up in bed, she folded her arms across her chest and watched as he shuffled in, forlorn.

Raising a brow, she waited for him to start the act. The ‘I’m so sorry’ act. The ‘I know you love me, pet’ routine. All that acting to get what he wanted.

“Pet, I know you’re upset with me—“

“Oh, am I? What gave you that idea?”

He took a deep breath, “Buffy, please hear me out. I was up all night after what I did, thinking about what I did –“

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I disturb your sleep? Just think, if I hadn’t gotten up, I wouldn’t have disturbed your rest. My bad.”

“Buffy, shut up and listen to me.”

She climbed out of bed. “Now this is what I want. Some realism here. Don’t give me the candy-coated crap you dole out to everyone else, give it to me straight.”

“God, you know, you don’t make things easy, you know that?” his voice rose in exasperation.

“Good, I’m glad. You have it far too easy with all of them. There should be at least one female in your life that doesn’t make it easy for you.”

“You do remember Samantha, right? My ex-wife? She hasn’t made it easy for me at all. “

“You know, I’ll get on board with the fact that she did give you a hard time when it came to Alicia, but Spike. . . you cheated on the woman! How did you expect her to react?”

“Much like you are now, I reckon,” he drawled. “You’re acting like a woman scorned, there pet—“

“Not your pet,” she said automatically.

“So, then what is really going on here, pet? This really about how I went back on my word or the fact that I was getting my rocks off with someone that wasn’t you?”

She glared at him, balling her hands into fists and digging her nails in her palm to keep from slapping the smirk off his face. “You’ve never gotten your rocks off with me, Spike. And, you never will. Who knows? Maybe this is what it’s really about. Maybe your man whoring is all due to the fact that I was the unattainable one; the one that resisted your advances and charm. I set the bar and now you’re looking to just make me jealous because you know you can’t have me.” She was duly impressed with the ease in which that response was made. She knew it was all a bunch of bunk, but it was far better to pretend, to act as if she believed rather than let him think she wanted him.

He laughed, a chilling, derisive laugh that had her bracing for his next verbal attack.
This, arguing the way they were, had never happened before. Sure they’d had little spats, but this went beyond a ‘little spat’.

It killed her that she was a woman scorned and that Willow was right. There was something there for him, always had been on some level, and she sucked at trying to repress it. That was the thing about repressing, the more you shoved the thing down, the more it sought to emerge with a vengeance.

Wasn’t that just spit-in-your-face, kick-you-in-the-crotch, fantastic?

She never should have come; she should have followed her gut and stayed the hell home. There at least she could dodge phone calls, put off reading emails and block him from IMing her. This though, this was in-your-face. This was months – maybe even the year and half they’d been friends – of crap coming out: Her annoyance at his lack of responsibility as a father and as a man; his obvious lack of self control and self-respect for himself. She didn’t buy into the fact that it was a sign of his virility and that it was ‘okay’ because he was a man. Fuck that. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay when a woman did it, why should it be okay for him?

She stood there, bracing herself for some his verbal attack, and yet, it did not come. Instead, the derisive smile fell from his face and he straightened, meeting her eyes. “Buffy, I don’t want to argue with you. Whether you believe me or not, you are my best friend. I trust you more than anyone – even in spite of what you did last night. I know that you’re upset with me and you have every right to be. I lied to you and I went back on my word. I realize that I might have made you feel as though you’re not important to me and that’s just not true. You, aside from Alicia, mean everything to me. I never realized how you felt about the things I’ve shared with you; how . . . disgusted you were with me. It hurts to know that, Buffy, it really does. But, I can’t do anything about that now. I just. . . I want to get past this and I want get back to being friends. Please, Buffy, don’t leave today. Give me a chance to make it up to you,” he shook his head, “I can’t lose you. You’re the only constant I have, I need you.”

His plea and apology was so heartfelt, Buffy knew he wasn’t bullshitting her, wasn’t putting on an act. She knew him well enough to know he meant what he said. Before she could stop herself, she flew into his arms, hugging him tight. In the distant recesses of her mind she realized that she had been acting more like a jilted lover rather than a friend. There was a line somewhere she crossed – possibly only in her own mind -- when expressing her abhorrence for his behavior and she suddenly felt, well, kind of silly.

That didn’t mean, however, she was about to let him off the hook so easily though. She’d stay, she would, but she was going to find a way, a constructive way, to express to him what he was doing to himself by his behavior, and what he was doing to his daughter. What he did with it after was his decision, and she knew she would find it difficult to walk away from him – she did so thoroughly love him, for when he wasn’t ‘on the prowl’ he was wonderful to be around and she confided in him like no other. But her heart . . . her heart hurt.

She really needed to have a chat with Willow, and soon.

Chapter 6:

It is perfectly monstrous the way people go about nowadays saying things against one, behind one's back, that are absolutely and entirely true.~Oscar Wilde


Spike watched Buffy out of the corner of his eye as she applied some gloss to her pouty lips. He was glad she was there; doubly glad that they were no longer at each other's throats.

He felt bad. Real bad. He almost lost her, and that wouldn't do. Though he was shaky on how much he might have lost her. If she'd taken off to her aunt's would he have had a shot in hell of getting her back? Or, would that have been the end of everything? The end of their entire friendship. That thought did not sit well with him at all. It shook him up. He'd be on his best behavior from here on out.

He made a promise to a lady-even if he'd already pretty much broken it. God, what was wrong with him? This was Buffy. Buffy. This was not just some girl, as she was inclined to think she was. Though he'd treated her that way, hadn't he? She was . . . he didn't even have words. She transcended 'best friend'. She was in a realm all her own. She was. . . everything. He'd meant it when he said that he needed. Without her he'd be, well, lost.

Aside from his daughter, Buffy was the only real thing in his life. His life, as he was beginning to see, that was completely shallow. Looking at his life through his eyes, he saw everyday as an adventure to be had, where he was the hero and any female that came-a-callin' was his heroine. He was an independent man - somewhat - he had responsibility, yes, but he was not tied down. He was like . . . James Bond.

Looking at his life through Buffy's eyes, he saw himself as more a poor sod like Austin Powers rather than James Bond. And, truthfully, what heroic thing had he done lately? Sure, he paid his child support and spent time with his kid, but what notable thing had he ever done? Career success and parental responsibility aside . . . he'd done nothing.

Yet Buffy was there, right there by his side. And he didn't deserve her.

When he'd first met Buffy, he'd thought she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on. He remembered not being able to take his eyes off her. She was fresh and young and so full of life - he wanted to get closer to that life. He reacted to her as a man reacts to a woman he finds attractive: he wanted her. He also reacted to her as a man who is sure of himself reacts to a woman: he was going to get her. But. . .

She shot him down.

And by God, he admired her for it. She made it clear to him that he was not going to have his way with her and that she was not interested in him like that at all.

He thought maybe . . . she saw right through him? Saw through his tough-guy exterior and saw the little boy inside that craved attention and affection, and yet took it where he could get it in all the wrong places? For all those that gave him what he needed to easily and readily, Buffy did not. She kept him on his toes and in line. She was real with him. She didn't coddle him or tell him what he wanted to hear. She told him what he needed to hear; knocked him down a few notches when he got too big for his britches and his ego could no longer fit through the door. Though, that was mostly when he was with her. What was the saying? When the cat is away, the mice will play? In this scenario he was definitely the mouse, and she was most definitely the cat.

Course, he hadn't been too good when she was there, now had he?

Sometimes he wondered if the saying 'He who has the most toys wins' applied to him with only a slight variance on the theme: He who has had the most women wins.

So, yes, seeing himself through Buffy's eyes, he could see where he was a right bastard.

"Buffy."

She turned to him, flipping the visor up. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry, pet, I really am."

She smiled softly at him, "I know, Spike. You've only told me every half hour for the past three hours."

"I want to make it up to you. Will you let me?"

"You mentioned something about that," she said lightly.

"Tell me what I can do."

"Just. . . just promise me that it'll be just us while I'm here? Well, aside from when you have Alicia. Can you do that?"

"Yes, I can."

"And maybe we can talk later?"

"We can talk about anything you want," he told her sincerely. "You've never told me anything but the truth Buffy, and I want you to continue to do that."

"Trust me, I will."

"And part of me is afraid of that at the same time."

She laughed, "Yeah, you probably should be afraid."

***On an occasion of this kind it becomes more than a moral duty to speak one's mind. It becomes a pleasure.~Oscar Wilde***

Spike watched in amusement as Buffy excitedly bounced out of the car, and followed him to his ex-wife's new home with her husband to get Alicia.

"Get behind me, Buffy. I want it to be a surprise."

Nodding, she followed his direction and stood behind him. "Wow, Spike, you're broader than I realized."

"You calling me fat?"

"No, you dork, I'm saying you're broad. As in muscular."

"Oh," he smirked, "That's okay then." He knew she was rolling her eyes behind his back.

The door flew open and his daughter, his little Alicia, with honey brown curls nearly down to her waist and big blue eyes, the same color as his, greeted him with a big smile on her round face. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, nibblet. How’s my girl?”

She nodded emphatically, “Good. Where we going?”

“Well,” he said grinning, excited about the prospect of surprising his daughter, “I have a surprise for you first.”

Her blue eyes widened, “What?”

Stepping aside, he revealed Buffy who held her arms open with a wide smile on her face. His little girl squealed and jumped into Buffy’s arms, hugging her tight.

He laughed at how absolutely adorable his girls were wrapped up in each other’s arms like long lost friends.

“What the – oh. It’s you.”

Spike looked up to see Samantha, his ex-wife, standing in the doorway. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a pony tail, her brown eyes currently slanted at him, her angular face angling into an all over frown. Then, she saw Buffy. And brightened immediately.

“Buffy!” Sam exclaimed and burst through the screen door to greet Buffy.

Spike shook his head. The Ice Queen was melted by Buffy. She hated the sight of him, got on his case about his younger girlfriends, but Buffy, Buffy she loved. Watching Sam rush over to the squealing, giggling girls, Spike stood back and watched Buffy.

The sun was hitting her at just the right angle behind her, causing an all over glow about her. She was luminous. Her smile was wide and bright, making her green eyes sparkle with unadulterated happiness.

Not at all like this morning and the night before when she’d been so angry and so hurt by him. That hit him, hit him right in his heart, and he felt it ache. The last two people on the Earth he ever wanted to hurt were Alicia and Buffy. He’d managed already to hurt Buffy and it made him wonder – had his behavior as of late hurt Alicia too? Sam seemed to think so and let him know at every turn. But, she was the ex-wife, wasn’t it in her job description to be nasty and bitter toward him?

“So, where are you going?” Sam asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“We’re going to the zoo,” Spike said after taking a minute to gather his thoughts. He smiled as Buffy beamed at him. Then frowned. “What is it, kitten?” he asked her.

“Didn’t you go last week to the zoo?” she asked.

Alicia furrowed her brow and shook her head, causing her curls to sway against her back. “No, Daddy took me to the fair.”

Buffy smiled down at her and then up at Spike, “That was nice of him.”

He felt himself start to blush. Him, William “Spike” Giles, was blushing. He said things that made her blush, not the other way around.

“Well, sweetheart, you’re in good hands here,” Sam told Alicia, directing that comment, Spike knew, to Buffy. He refrained from rolling his eyes. Love life aside, he did know how to take care of his daughter.

Sam and Alicia and hugged, and then Buffy and Sam hugged. Spike was beginning to feel like the odd man out when Alicia threw herself in his arms. “Thank you Daddy, for the surprise,” she said, beaming up at him.

He smiled and leaned down, pecking her nose. “You’re welcome, nibblet. Anything for my girl.”

Turning to Buffy who was chatting up Sam, Alicia tugged on Buffy’s hand. “Can we go now, Buffy?”

Buffy smiled down at her, and wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “Of course sweetness. Talk to you later, Sam.”

“You promise? You’ll come over for dinner with me and Ryan?”

Buffy nodded, “Promise.”

“Great. Talk to you later. Have fun, Leesha. Be good, okay?”

“I will,” Alicia called out as she drug Buffy away, “Bye, Mommy!”

“You know,” Sam’s voice stopped him from following Buffy and Alicia, “I like Buffy.”

He turned to her, “I like her too,” he said carefully.

“I think she’s a smart woman.”

“She is,” Spike said, nodding, wondering where this was heading.

“And I think the smartest thing she’s ever done is not give into you.”

And there it was -- the anvil.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “She’s a good person with a kind heart, William. You ever hurt her and I’ll kick your ass.”

She left before he could say a word. Dumbstruck, he started to his car.

Chapter 8:

One's real life is so often the life that one does not lead.~Oscar Wilde

"Spike, don't do something stupid," Buffy muttered as she tried desperately to keep up with a fuming Spike, who was currently storming to Sam's home with a deadly purpose.

Alicia was well ahead of them and running down her driveway, out of ear shot.

"Don't do something stupid?" he nearly barked at Buffy. "She says something like that in front of Alicia and thinks it's okay? I'm going to kill her!"

"Spike. Stop. You don't know that she did it on purpose. She could have been talking to herself and Alicia overheard or talking to Ryan and-"

Spike stopped and faced her. "Not the point. The point is my little girl thinks that I'm -"

"No. She asked you if it was you and you said it wasn't. End of story." She stepped back and studied him, wonderment passing over her features.

"What?" he snapped at her.

"You're feeling guilty."

He didn't say anything. Sure sign that it was true.

With a growl of frustration, he shook his head and started off, that was, until Buffy halted progress by grabbing his arm. She was not about to send him in there after a good day and ruin it for Alicia by him going into combat with Sam.

While she was all on board for not bad mouthing a child's parent to the child, she also knew that Sam, no matter how much she despised Spike, would not do that. Course, her barely veiled comment in front of her probably wasn't the best, either, but -- it was an accident; it had to be. Alicia loved her father, she truly did, and she just wished he spent more time with her. The little girl wanted to be able to talk to her father and tell him things - like the fact that she had a boyfriend; a testament to Buffy that kids today were growing up much too fast. But these were the things that were happening in Alicia's life and these were the things she wanted to be able to talk to her Dad about. And the only reason why Buffy knew all that was because Alicia had told her that in the car before the infamous song came on.

Buffy found it sad. Sad that she, whom Alicia barely saw, was the one other person besides her mother, that Alicia felt she could tell that too.

Spike needed that wake-up call, and, usually those wake up calls happened in a harsh and direct manner. It was just what he needed.

Thank you, Madonna.

"Don't go in there ready to go into battle with Sam. Take her aside, but don't-"

"Don't tell me how to treat Sam and handle my affairs, Buffy!"

Anger sparked within her, "That's your fucking problem, Spike. You don't know how to handle your affairs!" she hissed at him and stormed ahead of him this time.

******************

Spike's day, that had been going well when the three of them had been in their own little bubble down at the zoo, had been great. He'd had a great time and now, now he could definitely say his day had gone to shit.

There was nothing like the process of self - analysis, of having that Eureka moment of 'Wow, I've really fucked up, haven't I?' And it's different when you have that moment on your own, when you do something that you think later was not in your best interests to have done. It's quite another though, when others bring it to your attention, either directly or indirectly. When you're apparently so far gone that others feel the need to tell you you're a fuck up, there's obviously a problem. His ex-wife was one thing, but Buffy and his daughter were quite another.

And Buffy was absolutely right. He was feeling guilty. Guilty and angry about his own actions; two things he did not deal well with in accordance to his own behavior. He was also annoyed that Buffy saw right through him as she did.

Storming past her, he entered the house with Buffy hot on his heels. Sam was standing there as Alicia excitedly told her about her day and then rushed off, needing to relieve herself.

"Spike-" Buffy started.

"So, Sam, we're in the car and this song comes on," Spike started immediately, "And it's a Madonna song."

Sam stared at him, expressionless, though recognition flickered in her eyes.

"And it's basically about a loser guy that breaks his promises and lies constantly and you know what Alicia asks me? She says to me, that Mommy said Madonna must have known William and is 'William you, Daddy?'"

"She overheard me talking to Ryan-" Sam started.

"What happened to not bad mouthing me in front of our daughter?" Spike demanded.

Sam glared at him, "I just said she overheard me. I have never bad-mouthed you to her, and I wouldn't. For some bizarre reason, that little girl worships the ground you walk on."

"Gee, thanks, that's great, Sam," Spike said sarcastically.

"She thinks you can do no wrong, aside from the fact that she can't talk to you about things and barely sees you-"

"She can talk to me about anything!"

"But she doesn't, does she?" Sam snapped. "And you, you don't get temper tantrums and grades and notes home from school. You don't get parent-teacher conferences and staying up all night because she's sick, you don't get to be the heavy because you're too busy getting her whatever the hell she wants! You don't act like a parent, William; you act like a sitcom father from the 50's. You're in, you're out and the Mom gets to deal with it all."

"You never like to give her to me for more than a weekend-"

"Because you're too busy whoring around to have her more than that!"

"Don't you dare start with that shit, Sam, you just love to punish me and use anything you can as an excuse-"

"Shut up!" Buffy shouted at the top of her lungs. When she had their attention, she continued calmly, "There is a little girl that can probably hear every word you're saying right now. Now is not the time to be airing your dirty laundry."

"She's right," Sam said and turned away, flinging a dishrag in the sink. "I'm going to check on her. Buffy, call me soon, okay? William? Get out."

"I want to say goodbye to my daughter," Spike hissed. "Leesha!" he shouted through the house, "I'm leaving, baby, come say good bye to your father!"

They could hear her coming, ever so quietly. Buffy looked up at Spike to gauge his reaction to that, the knowledge that his daughter had heard them shouting. It made her glad that he and Sam had split before Leesha had been old enough to have that damage done to her.

Buffy knew what it was like having both her parents at each other's throats. Then counseling came and they were able to fix their problems. She'd grown up in a house where there had been problems, yes, but that problems could be solved. Growing up with friends whose parents had divorced, she learned that not all problems could be fixed and that saddened her. Especially now as she watched Leesha come toward Spike almost fearfully.

"Bye Daddy," she said a few feet from her father.

"Can I have a hug, baby?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse from shouting.

She nodded and flew into his arms.

"I'll be back, okay? We'll go out and do something this weekend. Maybe you want to stay with me for a couple days? How's that sound?" Spike told her, hugging her tightly.

"Good," Alicia said, voice muffled by his jacket that she was pressed up against.

"Okay, nibblet. Have a good night."

She nodded and released him, flew to Buffy, hugged her and then ran up the stairs. It was clear that she did not want to stick around in case the yelling started again.

"Now will you please get out?" Sam asked, her tone cold.

"Gladly," Spike replied and stormed out.

Buffy looked over at Sam sadly, "I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam shook her head, and Buffy could tell that the woman was battling tears that she didn't want Spike to know about. "It's not your fault. Call me about dinner okay?"

"Sam, I-"

Sam held up her hand, halting her. "I don't know how you do it, Buffy. I just don't know," and she walked away, no doubt up to comfort her daughter.

Buffy sighed heavily and braced herself to face the storm that was Spike. "I don't know how I do it either anymore," Buffy murmured on her way out.
 

Chapter 9:

Man is a rational animal who always loses his temper when he is called upon to act in accordance with the dictates of reason.~Oscar Wilde

The car ride had been silent. Buffy had tried to talk to him upon entering the car and he'd told her "Not now, Buffy."

Once they'd arrived at his place, he'd stormed up to his room, and emerged a few minutes later as she was poking through the fridge to find something to snack on.

"I'm going out," he announced.

She turned to him, "What do you mean you're going out?"

He met her eyes, "I mean, I'm going out."

"Where?"

"For a drink."

"Spike-"

"Don't start, Buffy."

"You're blowing me off already." She let out an utterance of disgust, at herself, not at him. "I can't believe I fucking believed you," she said, shaking her head.

"Buffy, I'm going out for one drink-"

"Yeah, that's the way it always starts though, isn't it Spike? 'I went out for one drink and met this chick and etc., etc., etc."

"Buffy, I'm not going to meet any chick! God, I'm just going out for a sodding drink!"

"No, you're not. You know it and I know it. You just don't like that I know it."

"Buffy, I don't need this right now. I've had a bad day-"

"Yeah, and it's all about you isn't it?" she shouted.

"Yes, it is, isn't it!" he shouted back. "In order to get you out here I had to change my whole life-"

"Like your life was so fucking perfect to begin with, Spike! You didn't change anything! You had some slut here the first night I was here. You know what your problem is William? You're a fucking coward. This is just typical Spike. 'I can't face anything so I go run and hide. Find some stupid slut to bang for the night or to hook up with for the next few weeks, because I feel so rotten about myself on a daily basis, and while they're there they make me feel good about myself.' You're not a confident man. You're a coward. So, go. Go have your fun, I don't fucking care anymore what you do!"

"Buffy-"

"Go!" she screamed at him.

Glaring at her, he turned on heel and walked out the door, slamming the door behind him and rattling the walls in his wake.

She was shaking right along with the walls. Tears of frustration trailed down her cheeks. She was so angry and hurt and fed up. Stomping up to 'her room', she packed her things, wiping away tears that blurred her vision.

Once her things were packed, she stomped back down the stairs and walked out the door, slamming the door with as much force as he had. Running down the stairs, she stood on the sidewalk, the dark sky fitting her mood perfectly.

Now what? She could go to her aunt's, yet, she didn't know how to get there and she had no car. Not to mention she didn't really want to disturb them now, or have to explain what was going on.

Reaching into her purse she grabbed her cell and dialed information. "Hi, taxi services?" She'd just find a hotel to stay in for the night and decide what to do the next morning. At this point, she was done with California.

****************
Spike sat at the bar, the seedy, dark bar where he could go incognito for the most part, and downed another shot of Jack.

What a day. Nothing like getting it from all ends; fiirst Buffy, then Sam and then . . . Alicia. That hurt, the look on her face when she'd come down the stairs to say good- bye to him had hurt. And, as per usual when he was hurt, he got angry.

Alicia had never had to deal with he and Sam arguing. He'd been moved out of the house when Alicia had just been two months old. He and Sam had been on the outs long before that, and when he'd cheated on her, that had been the end of it all.

Buffy didn't know the whole story. Didn't know that the Sam she knew was not the same Sam he knew. The woman could be cold. Sam had been jealous when he'd started getting recognition for his acting. He was starting to go places and she hadn't been able to handle his success. She had been trying at the time to get her own career-- in marketing-- off the ground and had been hitting brick walls. The woman was competitive and when Spike's career had started taking off, Sam had started getting more and more distant and cold.

He'd wanted his wife there to take to parties to meet the agents and fellow actors he was starting to hob knob with, and she'd gone with him a few times, but then stopped, claiming she hated being in the spotlight like that.

So, he went without her.

And had an affair.

Stupid one night stand that he felt immensely guilty for - half for hurting Sam and half because he knew in his heart that he was not in love with Sam anymore. In fact, he wasn't sure if he had ever really been in love with her.

It was a mess with he and Sam, and he refused to take all the blame for their marriage ending, and really, it had been over long before that one-night stand. Sam had just never been able to accept that because the woman could not accept that she could be wrong about something. These were the things that Buffy didn't know much about because he never liked to dwell on it. Never liked to remember those times and how unsure of himself he'd been back then.

Where had his life gone to after that, he wasn't sure. Somewhere he took a wrong turn and now his life seemed to be about the next big thrill.

Sam was right on some things: He never got all the things that bonded parent and child the way Sam did. He never got the colds, the parent-teacher conferences, and all those other little things that were really big things in the grand scheme of it all.

He felt tears prick his eyes. He'd really made a mess of everything hadn't he? What if one day his Alicia told him that he wasn't half the man he thought he was? He'd have to say, she was right.

Buffy was right.

And Sam was right --when it came to Alicia at least.

He'd always thought that Sam was just jealous that he and Alicia had this wonderful relationship - but what kind of relationship was it, really? It was superficial, shallow. It was him taking her out for a good time and then dropping her off at home and letting Sam deal with the belly aches from too much candy.

It was him wanting to feel like the God they told him he was, riding the wave of love and adoration that was heaped on him. It could blind a person; make you think you were more than just human. Make you think that everyone could love you even when they didn't know the little things about you that made you unique.

Buffy knew though. She saw right through him, always. It both annoyed him and encouraged him. It was the annoyed part that ran, and the part that was afraid if she knew too much, she'd run from him.

Looking up at himself in the mirror that was across from him, he felt a wave of disgust wash over him. He'd gone from never wanting to lose Buffy to sitting here, without her. All because he was just as she said he was - a coward.

"Christ," he muttered, "What am I doing? What have I done?"

He'd hurt her. He'd angered her. Again.

He was going to have to make it up to her now.

*****************

Buffy thanked the driver for helping her inside the Marriott that was a few miles, as far as she could tell anyway, from Spike's and placed her things around her as she waited for someone to help check her in.

If she'd planned better, she would have whipped out her handy dandy cell phone and made calls all over, but she wasn't thinking quite clearly and merely asked the cab driver to drop her off at the nearest hotel. From there, she'd see what she could do.

Tapping her fingers on the desk, waiting, she wondered what Spike was doing. If he'd already taken up with someone over a bottle of Jack Daniels. If he was fucking them, telling them how special they were, how they were angels, telling them that he needed them . . . fighting back tears, she pondered what upset her more: The fact that he failed the gumption to face his demons, beat them back and change for the better, or, the fact that he was out there fucking someone that in long run meant nothing to him, would only make him feel worse later, which in turn made him run more and that he was saying all those same sweet things to someone else, which negated everything he ever said to her.

It hurt to know he'd never meant them.

She saw so much potential in him, knew he could be such a good man. She'd seen him be one with her own two eyes. She knew he could be a wonderful father, knew that if he just gave up what he thought he needed and instead focused on what he did need, his life would change for the better.

"Buffy?"

Turning her head, she spied a familiar man staring at her in question. She blinked, where did she know him, where did she ---

"It's Angel, from the plane? I gave you my card."

Her thoughts cleared, "Oh! I'm sorry, I'm just. . . " she looked around her at her suitcases and bags, "Frazzled. Currently very frazzled."

"Oh," he managed to look even more crestfallen, his big brown eyes saddening. "I thought maybe you'd - but I didn't see all the bags." He cleared his throat, "Sorry."

"I'm sorry, I've just been with my friend and I was going to call-" Who was she kidding? She hadn't planned on calling the nice man who'd wanted to take her out to dinner while they were both in town. She'd been focused on Spike, thinking she'd give him the same courtesy as he was supposed to have been bestowing upon her.

"It's okay, Buffy, I understand. What uh, what happened with your friend?"

"The long and short of it? He's an ass." She bit her lip, thinking fast. "If I get a room, would you want to still get dinner unless you're on your way out-"

He beamed at her. "I'd love to. I was going out. Alone. So, I'll wait with you?"

She smiled, "Please." Reaching into her purse, she pressed the button that sent her phone off. Out of sight, out of mind, she thought.

Yeah, right.
 

Chapter 10:

He knew the precise psychological moment when to say nothing. ~Oscar Wilde

"Buffy!" Spike shouted, tossing his keys on the living room table. Silence. "Buffy! I'm back and I'm alone, luv. Can you come out so I can talk to you?"

Silence still.

"Buffy?" he said, meekly this time. He had a bad feeling . . .

Heart thudding in his chest, he ran up the stairs two at a time and ran down the hall to her room.

She'd left. All her things were gone. She'd left him. And really, he couldn't blame her at all. Not after the way he'd taken off, not after hearing the stories of him going out for "one drink" It wasn't as if his word meant anything to her, why should it? How many times had he lied to her in the past twenty-four hours?

"Fuck!" he shouted and punched the door. When he wasn't so angry, he was sure that was going to hurt later. Reaching into his pocket, he dug out his cell and pushed redial. Her voice mail picked up. She’d shut off her phone.

Running down the stairs, he grabbed his keys and ran out the door, slamming it shut. Jogging down the hall, he rapped on elderly Miss Wilson's door.

She threw it open, scowling, her wrinkles deepening even more, "You quite done slamming doors young man? I don't care who you-"

"I'm sorry, Miss Wilson."

"You should be!"

"I am. I really am." And he truly was sorry for disturbing the frail, hunchbacked old lady. God, what else could he do to ruin more lives today? "Miss Wilson, I had a visitor come in last night-"

"The blond? The blond that was crying her eyes out while she lugged her suitcases out of here? That visitor?" Miss Wilson asked accusingly.

He nodded, God, he'd made Buffy cry. "Yes, that's the one. Did you happen to see if she got picked up by a cab or someone-"

"Cab. The Yellow Cab. Need the number? It's the service I use all the time-"

"I do, thank you."

Waddling away from him, Spike stood in the hall, almost patiently. For all the injustice he'd given poor Miss Wilson tonight, he didn't need to be rushing her.

Finally, she came back and handed him the number on a canary yellow post it. "Whatever it is you've done, you better make it up to her. She looks like a sweet girl."

Spike smiled, "She is. And she doesn't deserve the likes of me at all. Thank you, Miss Wilson."

Running outside and heading for his car, he dialed the number for the cab company. "Hi, I was wondering if you could tell me about a girl you picked up at my residence and where you might have dropped her . . . "

*****************
"This is so good!" Buffy exclaimed as she speared a piece of prime rib with her fork and shoveled it into her mouth.

She'd been able to get a room, just a floor above Angel's, and after she'd dropped her things off and freshened up a bit, they'd left to find a restaurant in which to have dinner at. Craving meat, Buffy and Angel had found a Longhorn and settled in for a nice, quiet dinner in the dim restaurant.

Angel smiled at her, "I'm glad you like it."

"Do you like yours?"

"I do. Want to try some mashed potatoes?"

"Yes, please. Would you like to try the sweet potato fries?"

"Definitely."

Laughing together like kids, they traded some food and tucked in again. Buffy hadn't been sure what inspired her to ask Angel out. She hated to think it was in some way to get Spike back, but yet that thought was there just in the back of her mind.

Not that it mattered to Spike anyway. She was done with him. She'd keep in contact with Sam and Alicia, but she could not stand to see Spike continue down the path he was on. She was done.

And if she kept telling herself that, she'd eventually believe it.

"So what exactly made your friend so much of an ass, you left his home?" Angel asked.

Buffy sighed, placed her fork down and reached for her white wine. Taking a contemplative sip, she regarded Angel thoughtfully. "I don't really want to talk about him right now. I'm having fun and the food is to die for. I don't want him to ruin it."

Angel nodded, "All right then. So, tell me, you interested in coming to the real estate convention with me tomorrow then?"

She shook her head, "No, I can honestly say I'm not interested in that," and she laughed, the effects of the wine beginning to take its toll. She was such a lightweight and she'd had a glass before dinner on an empty stomach . . .

"Fair enough," Angel smiled, "I don't blame you. If I didn't have to go, I wouldn't."

"Skip. Take the day off," she waved her hand dismissively. "Come out with me. We'll take in the sights together."

"In your room you were talking about leaving tomorrow-have you changed your mind?"

She shrugged, "Maybe." She smiled flirtatiously, "Or at least I might be persuaded to."

"Are you flirting with me, Miss Summers?"

"Maybe, what if I am?"

"I say continue, please," and he grinned. "Could I have another fry?"

"Only if you promise to split that-" and she pointed to a huge cherry cheesecake being served across the room, "with me."

"I promise."

"Make sure you can commit to that promise, I have experience with promises being broken quite quickly."

"I promise," he said with a firm nod.

"I'll hold you to that," she said, pointing at him, trying to look stern.

He chuckled, "Oh, I'm sure you will."

*****************
He hated using the "Do you know who I am?" bit, but it was effective when he needed information and fast. It was amazing what people would do for you once they realized you were famous.

She was gone, he'd realized after five minutes of knocking. He'd even stood out of the way of the peep hole, sure if she saw him, she would pretend to not be there.

Fine, he'd just wait for her in the lobby. It perplexed him - Where had she gone? She didn't know her way around well at all . . . and she wasn't much of an adventurer when she didn't know the area well.

Please come back, Buffy, he thought.

****************

Spike was starting to fall asleep. His head lolled for a minute to the side when he heard it. The sound of her laughter. His eyes snapped open and focused on the scene before him.

Buffy was there and safe, laughing and - holding onto the big oaf's arm from the plane! Jumping up from his spot, Spike marched over and planted himself in their path.

Her smile dropped and she straightened, "How did you find me?"

He studied her closely, her cheeks were pink, her eyes slightly glassly. "Are you drunk?" he asked.

"How did you find me?" she repeated.

"This your friend?" Angel asked her.

Spike glared at him, his chest puffing out, "Do you know who I am, mate?"

Angel blinked and frowned, "No."

Buffy rolled her eyes and poked Spike in the chest. "I hate that line. It's so lame, William."

Spike scowled at her, "I don't rightly care at this particular moment. You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Not particularly, no," she said matter-of-factly. "I want," she took a deep breath, "I want you to go away and leave me alone."

Spike's heart broke and he shook his head, "I can't do that, Buffy."

"Yes, you can, you do it so well already!"

He met her eyes, "I'm not leaving until we talk."

"Well, then. I guess you better make yourself at home here in the lobby."

"Buffy, please-"

"Did you bring someone home? Or did you get rejected and came to me as an after thought?"

"Wrong on all accounts."

She snorted.

"Buffy-" he started.

“How did you find me?”

He looked at her, exasperated, “How many times you going to ask me that?”

“As many times as it takes until you answer me.”

“I talked to my next door neighbor, said she saw you leave. Saw the cab company—“

She waved her hand, “Okay, not that interested anymore.” She looked up at Angel. “Walk me to my room?”

“Over my dead body,” Spike growled.

She glared at him, “Who the hell do you think you are? Oh, wait, I know that answer already, but why don’t you tell Angel since he doesn’t seem to know.”

“Buffy, let’s go home,” Spike said, reaching for her.

“No,” she said and stepped away from him.

“Buffy,” he said through clenched teeth.

Angel stepped between them, “Sorry, man, the lady doesn’t want to go.”

Spike glared at him, “You’re not seriously thinking you’re going to step in between us are you?”

“Go home, Spike,” Buffy said over Angel’s shoulder. “You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not one of them, you can’t just tell me what to do and think I’ll do it. I’m done. Just go home.”

His heart constricted inside his chest. Did she really think – ? Fuck. Why wouldn’t she think she was just one of them? Hadn’t she been telling him she felt as though she were? Hadn’t he treated her like one of them? What had he done to make up what he did to her? Nothing. He’d run out on her. And even though he had made no plans when he’d gone out to hook up with anyone, how was she supposed to believe him? Trust in him?

“Buffy, please,” he begged softly, “Just talk to me.” He looked up at her and found her pixie face full of emotion. She was having an inner battle, he could tell. He could see she wanted to go to him and yet wanted to stand firm against him. He knew how to manipulate; knew how he could get her to cave.

But he wouldn’t do it.

“Will you talk to me tomorrow?” he asked softly.

She looked away from his gaze, “I don’t know.”

The idea that she was slipping through his fingers was threatening to suffocate him. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She said nothing, and wouldn’t look at him.

Taking a deep breath, he walked away on shaky legs. He’d call tomorrow. He’d give her, her space; he wouldn’t use charm to get her back. He’d leave it in her hands. He just prayed she would hear him out.
 

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