Chapter 11:

The truth is rarely pure and never simple.~Oscar Wilde

Spike lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep was pretty much not going to happen anytime soon. His mind wouldn’t shut off. He thought about everything from marrying Sam up to the present moment.

Glancing over at the clock, he groaned. Three a.m. He needed to get some rest, needed to see about a girl in the morning.

His gut clenched – had Buffy taken that oaf up to her room? Had she . . . slept with him? Was she sleeping with him right now? Reaching in the dark for his phone he quickly pushed redial and prayed she’d answer.

Voice mail. Her sweet voice came across with some generic message about leaving a number and all that rot, and Spike’s throat tightened. What if she never spoke to him again? Would he be destined to listen to her voice mail in years to come until she got tired of seeing his name pop up and then she’d change her phone number and – God. What if she did end up with Angel and he told her she was never to speak to him again? What if she ended up marrying the stupid sod and Spike spent years trying to talk to his sweet Buffy only to be told by Angel – “Do you know who Iam?”

He shut his eyes, “This is ridiculous,” he said to his empty room, “Buffy’s my best friend – or rather, was my best friend. She can go out with and date whomever she wants. This shouldn’t be bothering me so much.”

An image of her on Angel’s arm popped in his mind and he grabbed the pillow beside him and growled, flinging it across the room. There was no getting around it.

He was jealous.

The thought of another man touching Buffy sent his blood boiling. The thought of Buffy with another – laughing with them, hugging them…loving them -- made his heart ache.

“Don’t even think about it, mate,” he muttered and rolled over, willing himself to sleep.

**********

Buffy rolled over in bed, still awake. Her body was exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t shut off. After she’d thanked Angel for dinner and apologized for Spike’s behavior, she’d bid him good night. Graciously, he bid her good night as well and asked if she would have breakfast with him in the hotel dining room the next morning before his convention. She’d agreed.

Now of course, her mind turned to Spike—and didn’t it always? Something had been different tonight with him. Something had shifted between them. Oh there was the fact that he came after her – hunted her down really, though that hadn’t surprised her too much. Then there was the possessiveness he displayed with her in regards to Angel. He’d always been protective of her, which she found funny considering the kind of man he needed to protect her from was playboys like himself, but it hadn’t been that either.

He didn’t turn on his manipulative charm to get her to go with him. Instead, he let her go. Not that she wanted him to manipulate her into staying – au contraire – she was glad he hadn’t. She was sure with one more plead; she would have gone with him for no other reason than the fact that she hated to see him in pain.

And, it hadn’t just been between them that the shift had taken place, it had been in him. There wasn’t the swagger and confidence he usually had about him, there was a sadness in him, a resignation . . . desperation and a determination for something other than where his fun was coming next.

Glancing at the clock, she noticed it was 3:30 a.m. Picking up her phone, she flipped it open and realized she hadn’t turned it back on. Pressing on the ‘on’ button, it was brought to life and immediately “Two Missed Calls” came up. She knew without checking that it was Spike. Curious though, she wanted to check the times. The first one had been around the time she’d checked in to the hotel. The second one had just been a half an hour before.

She was tempted to call, to see what he had to say, but she couldn’t. She had to be strong.

Rolling over and clear to the other side of the bed, she shut her eyes and prayed for sleep.

**************************
“So, you didn’t want to talk about it last night, but can I ask about it this morning?” Angel asked as he handed Buffy a blueberry muffin after she’d reached for it.

She made a face, “I guess.”

“Okay, well, I’ve got to ask—who is he? He acted like I should know and—“

“’Vampire Chronicles’, ever see that show?”

Angel chewed thoughtfully. She knew the moment he figured it out because his face lit up and then he screwed his brows together, “That was William Giles?”

“The one and only,” Buffy said dryly. “Thank God,” she added.

“I’ve only seen the show a few times. My niece has a crush on him.”

“How old is your niece?”

“Seventeen.”

“You can let her know that there’s hope.”

Angel stared at her, “What do you mean?”

Buffy shook her head, “Nothing, nevermind.”

“So, can you still tell me what’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing is going on with us two.”

Angel rose a brow, “Is that what the problem is? Do you want there to be a going on with you two?”

Buffy stared at Angel, pondering that question. It was a loaded question filled with implications she was not ready for should she choose to venture on an answer. She knew there were things there, she knew she had feelings for him, but did she want to necessarily explore what said feelings were exactly? Was she ready to put a name to any of them? Could she put a name to any of them and have them not be in vain?

The answer to those questions was a resounding no, with a ‘way’. So, no way.

“Okay, I can see you don’t want to answer that,” Angel said, “I’m sorry I asked,” he finished on a mutter.

“I’m sorry. It’s just complicated.”

“I’ll say.”

“I led you on, didn’t I?” she asked guiltily.

He shook his head, “No, not really, Buffy. I knew last night when you and William Giles were going at it that I didn’t have a shot in hell. And, well, let’s be real. I live in Chicago, you live in Boston. If anything, it would have been a fling and well . . . what’s the point. I mean aside from some fun with no strings, but – and why am I saying no to this again?”

She laughed, “Because you’re a good guy, that’s why. And trust me, meeting a man that doesn’t just want a mindless fling is refreshing.”

“You know, I’ve learned a lot about William Giles by all that you’re not saying. I love my niece and honestly, I don’t want to burst her bubble that the man she believes herself in love with, is actually an ass. I kind of want to keep her in the dark about all that and let her have her fantasies.”

“Is that healthy though? If someone clings to only fantasies, how do they handle the truth when it’s forced in front of them?”

“Ah, but if reality can never touch them – if they can remain blissfully ignorant because the truth is so far from their doorstep, then why not let them indulge in that fantasy. Right now, she’s got the perfect model in her head of what she thinks is the perfect guy.”

“So, it’s a lovely model she’s got her mind. A model that she can impose on any ‘real’ man that comes around.”

Angel nodded, “Right. So if say, in her mind, William Giles is romantic, then the ultimate ‘mate’ she’s looking for is romantic.”

“Okay, I see what you’re saying but, what if some great guy comes along that is lacking romance. What if he possesses all the other stuff she’s looking for, but that one, or, or there are a few other ideals he’s lacking – could she be in danger of letting something potentially great go because she was lost in her fantasy and clinging to that one ideal that can never be?”

“Or maybe that one great guy was just great for a while, but the one she’s meant to be with embodies all that she desires.”

“No one can embody all that you desire, it’s just not possible.”

“I’ll give you that. Buffy . . . what has he done to you?”

Buffy shook her head slowly and sighed, “Nothing and everything.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“I know.”

“Do you . . . have feelings for him?”

She said nothing.

“That answered that,” Angel said on a sigh. “Is that what it’s all about? Is that why you’re so upset with him?”

She had the sudden urge to cry.

“Buffy?”

She looked up at him, still saying nothing.

“I can’t imagine you having a bad boy fetish for some reason. There must be something redeemable about him.”

She nodded, “There is. More than I think he realizes right now. More than I’ve made him think at this point.”

“So. . . it wouldn’t be too far off to tell my niece he’s really a good guy?”

Buffy smiled wearily, “Not, not too far off at all.”

Chapter 12:

In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it. ~ Oscar Wilde

Settling down on her bed, she stared at her phone. Spike hadn’t called yet. Should she call him? Or wait? She just didn’t know anymore.

Her thoughts were in turmoil. Had she gone too far? Had she put her own jealousy too far ahead of the big picture? Was she just as guilty of narrowly looking at things?

However, then there was the way she felt in regards to Spike’s behavior. Jealousy due to undiscovered feelings aside, he had made her feel as if she was just not that important. He told her they were best friends, told her how much she meant to him, but then his actions had been disrespectful and uncaring. He hadn’t acted like a friend to her at all. She felt…disposable. As if she were interchangeable with all the women he came in contact with. And she had expressed to him that she didn’t want to come out to visit and be privy to his party/whoring lifestyle, and, she had told him she didn’t want him to feel the need to change it for her; which then prompted him to promise her that it would be just them spending time together. This was her vacation after all. Man, this was not relaxing in the least.

And, she was thinking that right about now, he thought of her as just another Sam. And that was a whole other thing. There was a big story she was missing there. She had a feeling she was missing chunks of their story. Neither one really discussed what had all transpired between them. They seemed to be unable to get past the bitterness they had toward each other to be able to speak honestly about it.

Not that it was any of her business to begin with anyway.

Her phone went off and she jumped a mile. Flipping it open, she saw that it was Spike. “Hi.”

“Hi, Buffy. How are you, luv?”

“I’m okay, how are you?”

He let out a long sigh. “I’m . . . not that great.”

“Spike?”

“Yeah, kitten?”

“Will you come over so we can talk?”

He let out a sigh of relief now, “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“Spike. . . “

“Yeah, baby?”

“I don’t hate you, I never have. I never would have stayed friends with you if I thought you were a bad person.”

“I know, Buffy. I thought I. . . I thought I’d lost you last night. Buffy…I know actions speak louder than words and my actions haven’t been the best as of late, but, God, the thought of losing you—“

“Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you . . . last night…?”

“No, I didn’t. Had no intention of it when I left, and I understand Buffy. You’ve been around long enough to hear the stories and know what it is I have done in similar situations. Do you believe me?”

“Can I say kind of?”

“You can,” he let out a small chuckle. “I understand.”

“I know I have no rights over you in that respect—“

“Buffy, did you . . . with Angel?”

“No.”

“I have no rights over you in that respect either, I just . . . needed to know.”

She nodded.

“You just nodded, didn’t you?” he asked, chuckling.

She laughed, and God, it felt so good to laugh, “Yes, I did. Will you come over now?”

“Try and stop me, kitten.”

*********

He made it to her within fifteen minutes. He was out the door as soon as they’d hung up. He had finally fallen into a restless sleep the night before and had done nothing but have dreams of Buffy and Angel pawing at each other.

He’d woken in a cold sweat each and every time.

Then, the last dream he had was of Buffy, holding him in her arms and telling him what a good man she thought he was. He felt such love radiating from her in that dream, felt it in his heart and it felt so real that he loathed waking up.

When he heard her voice on the phone, he wanted nothing more than to see her. And he was so afraid that she would say no, but when his angel had told him to come see her, he nearly wept with relief. He felt such a rush of emotion for her, emotions so strong they threatened to bring him to his knees.

Emotions he still was not ready to explore just yet.

So when she opened her door to him and threw her arms around him, he held on tight, squeezing her into him until he feared he’d break her.

“Spike,” she told him quietly, “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“I don’t either,” he replied.

“I just feel like . . . things have to change.”

“So do I, baby.”

“Do you, really?”

“Yes, I do, and I need you.”

“And I’m here. . . I just. . . I don’t know.”

“I know, baby, I know what you’re saying.”

“I’m glad you do because I don’t.”

He pulled back slightly and cupped her face in his hands. “You are my angel, Buffy. I mean that.”

Her eyes were filled with unshed tears as she gazed up at him, beginning to spill over, Spike wiped them away with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, Buffy, please.”

“I think I’m just overemotional.”

“I’m in touch with that emotion.”

She smiled warily and he hugged her again. “Let’s have that talk, okay?”

*********************
Settling down in a chair at the table in her room, Spike bid her to join him. She did, sitting across from him with her hands folded on the table. She looked like all business Buffy and he had to smile.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, “That there are some things you don’t know about Sam and I.”

Her eyes flew wide, “You’re going to tell me about that?”

He frowned slightly, “Yeah, I was. Why? Do you not want to hear about that? Do you think it’s inappropriate –“

“No, no not at all, I just . . . I just didn’t think you’d want to share. You’ve always just glossed over it before and I never asked too much because I didn’t want to pry –“

“Buffy, luv,” he said, and reached across the table to take her little hand in his, “You’re allowed to pry. You’re not . . . “

“Harmony? Or, ‘Ba ba black sheep’ girl?”

He nodded, “Right, you’re not them.”

She took a deep breath and pulled her hand out of his grasp, settling back. “Okay. I’m all ears.”

“Well, the history of Sam and I is complicated. Basically, you have two opposites that were too young and stupid and made poor choices.”

“Young and stupid seem to go hand-in-hand don’t they?”

He shrugged, “I suppose they do at that. But even when you’re young and stupid, you know that some things should not be done, and I knew back then that I never should have married Sam.”

She froze. “Really?”

“Really.”

“So, why did you?”

“I reckon that’s where the stupid part came in. Along with the insecure part.”

“You? Insecure?” she said, almost dryly. Spike wasn’t sure if she really meant that as a question or if she was being sarcastic. Probably, he decided, a little of both.

“Yeah, kitten, me insecure. You see, when I met Sam, I wasn’t much of anything. I was trying to make a name for myself, and at the time, making a name for myself in local theater.”

“I thought you guys met in college?”

“We did, but we were never anything then. Just acquaintances really. Some of her old mates were actors in college along with myself and that’s how we met. We never dated until a few years after school when I was doing local theater and getting bit parts – starving artist, let me tell you – and she was working as a receptionist for a marketing firm. Both of us out in the world not really doing what we wanted to be doing and feeling miserable because of it.”

“So, how did you meet up again?”

“Her firm had taken on the marketing for the theater at the time, trying to do a revival for the arts, and she got free tickets. She recognized me and came to see me after the show. Talking led to coffee which led to exchanging phone numbers and, before you knew it, we were dating.”

“Were you. . . happy with her then?”

“I was. . . content, I think. She looked after me, took care of me. We kind of relied on each other. Our careers were crap and we were unhappy, but we dreamt big. We’d sit and make plans and goals for ourselves, coming up with these plans and ideals for how our lives were going to be once we were doing what we both loved. Before long, those plans for our future included each other, but looking back on it now, I think that was a comfort thing, not necessarily a ‘love’ thing. But, as I said, young and stupid, neither of us really knew any better as we’d never had many relationships before that. Sam was my first.”

Now her eyes bugged, “Get out.”

Spike nodded, “She was. Buffy, I wasn’t much of anything back then. I was a nerd, I was in theater and I loved literature. Everyone assumed I was gay and so no one bothered. I had no confidence in myself really, and the only time I did was when I was on stage. Then I was someone else and not boring William Giles.”

“So, that’s why you hate that name so much.”

He smiled, “Yep, that’s why I hate that name so much.”

“Okay, so, then what? You got married?”

“Seemed like the natural next step, so yeah, we got married. Things were all right for a while. Kind of like . . . good friends with benefits? There wasn’t passion between us, but companionship, understanding and support. At least there was until I landed a part on a WB drama. Wasn’t a main character or anything, but it got me recognition. And Sam was the one that encouraged me try out for it. Though I think in her mind she didn’t think I would really get it.”

“So, you’re saying the support ended after that?”

“Yes. The part in this WB drama generated some nods and made me a couple of the ‘fresh’ and ‘up and coming’ stars as friends. They invited me out to their shin digs, and who was I to pass up the opportunity to get some more recognition? Maybe land another part? Of course I wanted to do it. This was what I had dreamt of, what Sam and I together had dreamt for me.”

“Only . . . “

“She wasn’t happy. She was jealous. I was moving ahead, on the cusp of something great and she had only managed to move up to secretary in her firm.”

“Oh.”

“So, she wasn’t as supportive anymore. She was cold, distant. Didn’t want to go out with me and I wanted her there. She was my wife, why wouldn’t I want her to share that part with me?”

“Did she evergo?”

“A few times, but then she just had excused to not go. First it was she didn’t like being on display—didn’t like having her picture taken and all that and I understood that, I really did, but then it got to be that she didn’t have anything to wear or that the parties were just stupid anyway. And yeah, for the most part, they were, but it was something I had to do. I had an in to doing what I love most, I had to take it. I was getting roles, I was getting noticed. I was getting recognition. Finally.”

Buffy nodded, “I get that. I would have went.”

His eyes lit up and he noted the blush that spread over her cheeks and the way she looked away from his gaze. “You would have?”

She nodded, shyly meeting his gaze. What was that all about then? “I would have supported you. I support your career, Spike.”

“I know you do, luv. That means a lot to me.”

“So, um, is that when things started to go downhill?”

Spike nodded, “Exactly then,” he said on a sigh. “She was jealous. Plain and simple. And it wasn’t that she was jealous of other women, she was jealous that I was succeeding. She became obsessed with it, though she denied she was. I tried to talk to her about it and I got the brush off, I was told I was being crazy and ridiculous. I knew our marriage was ending then, Buffy. It wasn’t that hard to figure out, but she was pregnant with Alicia at that point and I wanted to at least try to make it work for her.”

“Were you gone all the time? I mean, while Sam was pregnant?”

“No, not all the time. We’re talking a few nights during the week. I was home with her for the rest – at least when she wanted me there.”

“She had to have wanted you around to have conceived Alicia.”

“Oh well, Alicia was conceived during a moment when Sam wanted to convince me that she was not jealous of me and did want me there. The woman cannot admit she might be wrong about anything. She also can’t admit when something is not working and our marriage was not working. At all.”

“So when did you have the affair?”

He took a deep breath and stood, starting to pace. “I had done a job for another TV drama – this one on a CSI type show; it was on a major network – NBC, in a prime time slot too. I had been in a few episodes and we’d had a party after for it. I wanted Sam to come so I could show off Alicia. The cast had been tired of hearing me go on about my beautiful daughter and wanted to meet her already. Sam refused. She said she didn’t want them near Alicia – as if they would contaminate her or something. We started having a row about how I was a sell out and it just escalated with me saying a few choice words to her about being a failure in marketing and I left, angry. I had a few drinks, met a woman and she made me feel good. . . She paid attention to me. Flattered me.” He stopped and shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t getting any of that at home. Not anymore. It hit then. . . I never really loved Sam. I loved her as a person, but she’d made that too hard to do at that point.”

Silence fell and he gathered his thoughts, his mind going back to those days. He felt vulnerable and unsure of himself all over again. “Buffy, I don’t condone what I did to Sam. I don’t think ‘she was a bitch; ergo I had to have an affair.’ I regret what I did because I remember how it hurt her and I remember having to leave the house and Alicia behind.” He sighed heavily, “What happened after that, I don’t . . . I don’t know.”

He looked at her and found her watching him with an odd expression on her face. “Buffy?” he whispered.

She stood and crossed the room to him. Standing before him, she reached up and cupped the side of his face before wrapping her arms around him and hugging him.

“I think you needed that,” she told him softly.

His eyes welled up in tears and he held on to her tightly, allowing those tears to fall. He didn’t want her to see them, wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable in front of her, and if she knew the reason why he couldn’t let her go until he was done, she didn’t say.

Chapter 13:

Chapter Thirteen

We teach people how to remember, we never teach them how to grow. ~Oscar Wilde

“Spike?” she began, shifting in his arms.

“Mmmm?”

“I’m gonna say it again—“

“What?”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

He detangled himself from her arms, and smiled, “Thanks, pet.”

“That doesn’t mean, however, that I want this . . . path you’re on to continue.”

He nodded, and then looked down at the floor, resignation clear on his features. “I know.”

“I just don’t think it’s healthy – for you or your career and especially Alicia. I mean, sooner or later it’s gonna catch up with you and…I think of when you’re gone—“

“Geez, thanks, pet. You’ve already got me dead? I’m not that old am I?”

“No, I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I just mean that one day it will happen. So, you’re gone and Alicia is going to be known as William “Spike” Giles’s daughter. And one day someone is interviewing her for whatever reason and they ask her what you were like. What you were really like. What her relationship with you was. You know, kind of like they do with Lisa Marie Presley? What do you want her to say? Do you want her to say how you were a great dad that she saw once in a while? That you took her out and showed her a good time, but aside from that, you weren’t really there and she never knew how to communicate with you? Or, do you want her to say that you were a great father that she had a great relationship with, and that she could talk to you about anything?
Spike, your career will always be noted and remembered. They’ll make biographies, they’ll have reruns of your show long after you’re dead and gone, but it’s not . . . tangible. Alicia will be here long after you’re gone. She’s your daughter. She’s your legacy that you will leave behind. She’s your blood. That is more real and more sacred than anything else. She is something to be nurtured and looked after—more than the ‘legacy’ you’ll leave behind as the wild man and actor. And that has nothing to with fame; it has to do with carrying on your memory, your name. You want Alicia to look back and think of you as this wonderful man, that I know you are, that did more than just provide what was essential. Someone that she loved and admired; someone that she could go to and talk to. Right now, she has Ryan. And while I think Ryan is a great man and a great step father, you’re her father, Spike. I don’t want her to gloss over you to get to Ryan.”

He stared at her, letting out a shuddering breath, “Jesus, you know where to hit where it hurts.”

“I’m sorry—“

“No, Buffy, don’t – Please don’t apologize.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say and, being so dramatic in saying, is that the Harmony’s and the Laura’s of the world will come and go, but Alicia, will always be your daughter and that’s not something to take lightly.”

Sitting on the bed, he nodded dumbly and sat, hands folded on his lap, contemplative. “I hated the look on her face yesterday when I called her down to say goodbye to me,” he finally said.

“Yeah, that was kind of bad. If you and Sam have done well thus far of keeping her in the semi-dark with your problems regarding each other, I imagine it was hard to hear.”

“Sam isn’t that great with keeping her issues with me quiet, Buffy,” Spike snorted. “Her veiled comments will start to have impact as Alicia gets older. What was Alicia telling you in the car?”

“Do you want me to tell you or do you want to ask her yourself?”

“I want you to tell me and then I want to ask her later.”

Buffy chuckled lightly, “Okay, well, brace yourself.”

“More blows to my character? What did she tell you?”

“She told me that she has a boyfriend—“

Spike jumped up, “A boyfriend? What!?”

Buffy looked up at him, amused. “Calm down, there, killer.”

“So, does the boy who I’m going to threaten have a name?”

“Josh.”

“Josh? What the hell kind of a name is that?”

“You want to go there with the names Spike.”

He grinned cheekily, “Smart bird.”

“Thank you.”

“So, what’s the deal with this guy huh? What’s he like? How is he her boyfriend?” He paled, “God, they’re not going on dates are they?”

Buffy laughed, “No. I think Sam would have told you that at least. I don’t think Alicia knows enough about the guy. They just play together—“

“Play what?” Spike asked, his eyes narrowing.

“House. Hopscotch. And, they go on the monkey bars together. Nothing too serious. Though, she could be breaking him in early with playing house.”

“Ha bloody ha.”

“She doesn’t know too much about him except that he said ‘you’re my girlfriend’ and she said ‘okay.’ And, well, he likes Pokemon, and Harry Potter…oh, and has a Gameboy and she said he’s ‘cute’. Okay, so maybe she does know some stuff about him.”

Spike shook his head slowly, “She knows more about this snot- nosed punk at ten years of age than I knew about Harmony and I’m thirty-nine.”

“Well, I think Harmony was into Pokemon.”

Spike started to laugh, “See? That’s what I love about you, Buffy. You are the only one I know that can tear me down and then bring me up again.”

She frowned, “I don’t think I like the idea of tearing you down. That’s not what I—“

He stepped forward and placed a finger on her lips. “I didn’t mean it like that. That came out wrong. I just meant that you keep me real. You don’t let my head get too big to get out the door. You ground me.” He sighed and dropped his finger. “You know me well. You know me almost too well and I have to be honest Buffy. It scares me.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know that anyone really knows me.”

“Sam?”

Sitting back down beside her, he let out a heavy sigh, “Sam knew me then -- William, the ponce. The desperate guy who was looking to succeed, looking for an ‘in’. She knew a side of me, but not all of me. I’m not that same guy anymore. There’s a different me in there and it’s got some of William and more of ‘Spike’. Spike is the confidence man. It’s like Spike was always in there just clawing to get out, but William was too afraid to let that happen. So yeah, she knew William and started to see Spike. She hated Spike. Still does. The only ones that like Spike are . . . Well, you know. But, there’s still William in me, Buffy. He’s still in there, and he’s the one that takes Alicia out and the one you talk to all night –“

“No, I don’t think so.”

He looked at her, “Excuse me?”

“The man I know – you – I don’t get just one part of you. I don’t just get William and I don’t just get Spike. I get both. I don’t think you realize that, and I think, or I’d like to think, that’s because you feel safe with me? And because I, as you said, keep you grounded? So, you can give me them together. But the world gets Spike and Spike . . . he’s part of you, but he needs to be tamed a little bit I think.” She looked at him, “Do you think?”

Nodding, he reached over and took her hand in his. “Yeah, Buffy,” he said, letting out a breath of air, “I do. I really do.” He looked at her imploringly, “Will you help me?”

She smiled, “What do you think?”
 

Chapter 14:

It’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you place the blame. ~ Oscar Wilde

A knock on the door interrupted there little pow-wow, and Spike was thankful for the reprieve. It wasn’t easy talking about things that he’d basically worked hard to repress. And, it wasn’t easy hearing things that he’d let his mind drift over on those moments of self –consciousness, but always attributed to his insecurities, and therefore dismissed. He’d done a lot of blaming for his actions – namely Sam in the conception of his fame, but he’d never taken any responsibility for those actions.

And really, why would one want to take responsibility for their actions when it was so easy to just place the blame elsewhere?

“Hi, Angel, I didn’t – what happened to the convention?”

Spike’s head snapped to the door where Buffy was currently greeting Angel. He stood, swaggering over, scar brow raised in a silent challenge as he came up behind Buffy.

“We broke for lunch and I really can’t stand any of the psycho’s there so I was wondering if you’d have lunch with me – “ his gaze fell on Spike and he straightened. “Oh, hey.”

“Hi,” Spike said, his tone anything but welcoming and inviting.

Angel looked down at Buffy, “So, uh, how are things going?”

Curious. Had Buffy been talking? He looked at her, “Yeah, Buffy how are things going?”

She gave him a look and then exited the room, shutting the door behind her, effectively shutting Spike out. He scowled at the door and planted himself in the middle of the room so the first thing she saw when she came back was him.

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

Angel’s eyes widened when Buffy shut the door behind her, and on Spike. “You think that’s wise?” he asked. “He might start asking you if you know who he is.”

Buffy started to giggle, “You have a wicked sense of humor, Angel.”

He shrugged and grinned, looking proud, “Thanks. I try. So, is it okay? I mean, was it hot and heavy in there?”

Now her eyes widened. “We weren’t—we were just talking – there wasn’t—“

“Buffy,” he said gently, his eyes lit with humor. “I meant were you engaged in a hot and heavy conversation? All complete with somberness and lots of nodding and saying ‘You’re right, you’re right, I know you’re right.”

She laughed, “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

“Only the person saying ‘You’re right’ really ends up doing nothing.”

“Oh God, I hope that doesn’t happen.”

Angel shrugged, “It’s a process I hear. Hey, can I ask a question?”

“Lunch?”

He looked at her sheepishly, “Actually I was hoping to ask him if I could get an autograph for my niece.”

Buffy smiled, “Ask him. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Angel gave her a funny look. “You sure about that? Buffy, whatever it is you’re feeling for him, I think I can pretty much say from his behavior towards me, that he’s feeling the same way.”

She shook her head, “No, no, he doesn’t.”

“Buffy, in the short time I’ve known you, I’ve pegged you as a smart girl. Don’t make me take it back.”

She smiled, nervously. Grabbing his sleeve, she tugged on it, “Come on, let’s go ask him. And, maybe we could all do lunch?”

“Ah, Buffy, I don’t know about that—“

“I think it’d be fun. Spike and you will like each other once he’s done … doing whatever it is he’s doing.”

“I think that might entail peeing on you.”

She barked out a laugh and tugged on him again, opening the door.

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

Spike heard her laughter as she talked with the Great Forehead, and now he watched as she tugged him in her room by the sleeve. He narrowed his eyes at them, softening only slightly when Buffy smiled brilliantly at him. He always had been a sucker for her smile.

“Spike, Angel wants to ask you a favor.”

“Oh? This should be good.”

Angel looked at Buffy warily before directing his attention to Spike. “I was wondering if you’d sign something for me for my niece. Seems I got a clue and know who you are now.”

Spike’s tense gait relaxed. “Your niece you say? How old is she?”

“Seventeen. She’s a huge fan of the show. You’re all over her room.”

Spike couldn’t help but grin, “I am?”

Angel nodded and Spike caught Buffy giving him an ‘I know what you’re thinking’ look.

He held up his hands in surrender at her. “Not even going there, pet.”

“Right,” she balked.

He looked at her sternly, “Buffy, I was just thinking how nice it is to be ‘all over’ someone’s room.”

“This is where Buffy doesn’t say a word,” she told him and then implored Angel, “Do you have paper? If not, I think I have hotel paper in the desk.”

“Uh, yeah, hotel paper would be good,” Angel agreed.

Buffy went to grab the paper and Spike and Angel squared off. They stared at each other, sizing each other up. For Spike’s part it was taking a closer gander at the man that he believed was after Buffy’s affections – which somehow, made him his competitor. Was he good enough for Buffy? Did he measure up or was he . . . his shoulders sagged, or was he him?

For Angel, it was taking a gander at the celebrity that his niece loved, and checking for signs of the good Buffy saw in him. So far, aside from the apparent protectiveness he felt for Buffy, he wasn’t impressed. Anyone that had to resort to the ‘Do you know who I am?’ to get so-called respect, was apparently insecure.

Watching Angel as he took the paper from Buffy, he asked, “Your niece’s name?”

“Alicia.”

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

Buffy watched Spike closely over lunch, who had readily agreed to lunch with Angel and was now on the case of actually trying to convince Angel to have his niece take down the pictures she had of him ‘all over her room’.

Angel was looking at him as if he were crazy and didn’t seem to be buying – or was trying to reconcile the ‘confident’ Spike to the present uncomfortable Spike. She, herself, was trying to reconcile herself to it.

She wasn’t stupid; she knew the impact that was going to have as soon as Angel said his niece’s name. Spike had froze; in complete shock.

“Really?” she asked lightly, “That’s your niece’s name?” Buffy asked, thinking – he could just possibly looked up on any fan site what Spike’s daughter’s name was. It was crazy—probably not something Angel would do – but when your life becomes entangled with a celebrity you think of these things. So, Buffy’s first thought was if Angel had done just that to somehow get back at Spike for being so rude to him the night before, and for all that she had said at breakfast – or rather not said, but implied.

Angel had nodded slowly, the look on his face saying he thought that was a bizarre question. “Yeah, that’s her name, why? Is there something wrong with that name?”

“Not at all!” Buffy chirped, “It’s a pretty name. Maybe you want to spell it out for him?”

Spike had quietly snapped into action, adopting his ‘actor’ hat and signing the paper with a simple: To: Alicia Love: William “Spike” Giles.

Now, he was immersed in trying to win Angel over. “You don’t want your niece to have pictures up of me, not after I was so rude to you, do you?”

Angel sighed heavily, “Look, Spike or William, or whatever it is you go by—I’m not going to tell her anything about you except that you were a nice guy that signed a paper for her. That’s it. She has an image of you that I don’t want to burst for her. Kids these days don’t always have the best role models and she admires you.”

“She doesn’t admire me – not the way she should admire her mum or a Nobel Peace Prize winner—“ Spike balked.

“She does. She’s into acting, does a lot of plays and she thinks you’re a great actor. She admires your work and yeah, she thinks you’re ‘cute’ or ‘hot’, but she’s a teenage girl. She knows it’ll never happen, but it doesn’t stop her from wanting it to. We all need our fantasies to cling to. Reality can be a let down and I’m not going to let her down.”

Spike looked down at his plate, at the food he’d barely touched. “I’m sorry I was such a prick to you,” he said quietly.

Angel shrugged, “I’m over it. No skin off my back. Not anymore anyway. I like Buffy, and she seems to like you, so there’s got to be something decent in you.”

Spike smiled wryly, “Yeah, you’d think, wouldn’t you?”

Chapter 15:

No man is rich enough to buy back his past. ~ Oscar Wilde

As soon as Angel had left to get back to his convention, Buffy grabbed Spike’s arm and made him look at her. He could barely look at her.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I’m thinking I’m going to see Alicia,” he stated, dropping some bills on the table after insisting he pick up the tab for lunch.

“Are you okay?”

“Honestly, Buffy? No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to – talk?”

“Not right now. Now I want to see my daughter.”

Buffy nodded, “Okay.”

He stood, a man on a mission. He looked down at her, her eyes wide with concern. “Buffy, luv.”

“Yeah?”

“Will you come back? To my house, I mean?”

Her gaze softened and she nodded, “I will.”

“Do you need some help getting back?”

“No, I can manage. I’m just going to wait until Angel’s convention lets out and –“

“Buffy, if you need help getting back, I can do it. You don’t need Angel to do it,” he said, his tone tense.

“No, I want to tell him where I’m going, that’s all.”

He nodded, “Okay. See you at the house then.” And he fumbled with his keys, taking the house key off his set and handing it to her.

“Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you,” she said and smiled tentatively, almost as if she wasn’t sure if she should.

He looked at her sadly, “Thank you, pet. I love you, too.”

She stood quickly, giving him a quick hug and he squeezed her into him tightly. “See you later, “he whispered huskily and took off.

*********

Spike drove at almost breakneck speed to get to his daughter, the need to see her near overwhelming.

He couldn’t get Angel’s voice out of his head telling him how his niece had pictures of him all over her room and how her name was the same as his beloved daughter.

It had hit him with the force of not a punch, but a two by four, in the gut hearing that.

His mind had gone from thinking how some fresh-faced girl adored him to thinking of his daughter. Thinking of her liking some actor, some guy like him that was. . . that was that guy. That would seduce and charm her, fuck her, and then leave her. Or keep her around for a while to stroke his ego, and then get tired of her and move on to the next, leaving her wondering what she’d done wrong to make him leave her.

What if his daughter became some of those needy one’s he’d taken up with who clearly needed love and attention as much he did, only they thought love was given only in the form of sex. He’d dismissed those, thinking them annoyingly clingy and much too needy for him – but my God, he was the same as them. What if Alicia found it difficult to communicate with men because of him? What if he totally fucked her up to be one of those needy girls who was looking for love in all the wrong places because all she really wanted, was the love of and attention of her Daddy.

It made him want to throw up. Made him think of all the other fathers of all the girls he’d taken up with. Did they hate him? Or did they overlook his age and his behavior because of his celebrity status? And what about after when he’d hurt them? Did they hate him then? Or still excuse his behavior because of his celebrity status?

If someone like him came sniffing around Alicia, he’d cripple the wanker.

There were girls out there that loved him for the image he presented on TV. The guy that would go to bat for the girl he loved, the guy that was a stand-up loyal and romantic guy. Was he any of those things? No. But those girls wanted him because of that ideal and when he met some of them. . . he acted like a stupid sod that couldn’t keep it in his pants.

How many hearts had he broken? And how many times had he given them a second thought after? How many had given themselves to him, some of them all innocence and purity, and he’d just taken them, taken what they had to offer and then never gave anything back.

What if that happened to Alicia? He was the very same guy he couldn’t stomach the thought of Alicia ever coming home with.

He had to fix things with his daughter and what better time to start than the present?

Pulling into the driveway, Spike pulled up behind Ryan’s SUV, cut the engine and hopped out. He jogged up to the door and rapped on it, plastering a wide smile on his face.

The door opened after Alicia had peered through the screen door and spotted him. She looked up at him, confused. “Dad?”

“That’s right, I am your Dad. Can I come in?”

She looked at him skeptically and stood aside to let him in. Reaching out, he ruffled her hair with one hand and took off his sunglasses with the other.

“Dad,” she whined, “You’re messing up my hair.” Reaching up she tried to smooth her now tousled locks while she gave him a dirty look.

“Since when do you care about your hair?” he asked, frowning.

“Since she turned nine,” Sam said, coming into the kitchen, arms folded.

Alicia froze, “You guys aren’t gonna fight again, are you?”

Fuck, Spike thought. “No, baby, we’re not going to fight again.”

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked. “Something happen?”

“No, nothing’s happened.” Except that my life is a fucking mess. “I just came by to find out if I could take Alicia out for dinner.”

“On a week day?” Alicia asked, “You never come by on a week day.”

That hurt, and it hurt because it was true. “I know, baby. But I’m here now and I want to take you out. As long as it’s okay with your mom here.”

“I can’t go now, Daddy.”

“Why not?”

“Hey, Leesha, you ready, pumpkin?” Ryan came jogging in, looking freshly showered and relaxed in his jogging pants and t-shirt. He couldn’t be any more different from Spike in appearance if he tried. The guy was tall and bulky—mostly all muscle. Sam had once described him as a ‘teddy bear’. He was dark haired and had kind warm brown eyes and olive skin. He smiled welcomingly at Spike “Hey, buddy, how are you?”

“Good,” Spike said tightly. He turned his attention back to Alicia. “Why can’t we go to dinner?”

“Because Ryan is taking me to the store to get some stuff,” she told him, almost exasperated as if he should know.

Spike stared at her, “What stuff?”

Alicia looked over at Sam, uncomfortable.

“William, it’s not a good time right now,” Sam said calmly, which surprised Spike. She was even being . . . nice. “Ryan promised to take her out to get some things for summer camp tomorrow.”

“I can take her out to get ‘stuff’--,” Spike said, his smile and joviality completely forced. He was sinking, sinking fast.

“Daddy, I can’t do it!” Alicia exclaimed, obviously frustrated. “You can’t help me get the ‘stuff.’”

Buffy’s voice came back, unbidden in his mind: “I don’t want her to gloss over you to get to Ryan.”

His boat was filling with water and no one was throwing him a bucket or a life jacket to get out of it. He felt like a right arse standing there. What did he expect? That he could swoop in just like that and everything would be ‘okay’. That he could take his daughter out for dinner and somehow that would align the universe again, heal all wounds, and suddenly be closer to her than ever?

No, she had ‘stuff’ to get. With Ryan.

He nodded, “Okay, I see.”

“I just need to get my shoes on Dad—I mean, Ryan,” Alicia said and ran up to her room.

Spike stood there, reeling.

“Sometimes she calls him that, it just comes out,” Sam said softly and looked up at her husband.

Ryan cleared his throat, “Well, uh, I’ll leave you guys alone,” and he left the room.

Spike looked at Sam, expressionless. “What kind of ‘stuff’ is she getting?”

“A card for her friend Josh. It’s his birthday tomorrow. What’s going on?” Sam asked. “Buffy put you up to this impromptu visit?”

“No. . . well . . . No.”

“Right, anyway, if you want to see Alicia during the week, I think it’d be best if you called first.”

“She’s ten and she has a busy schedule already?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, she does. She has Brownies and dance class once a week and, since your daughter is popular like you, she has friends that ask her to come over throughout the week. Plus, she seems interested in playing some baseball for the summer. She has things to do. If you call first and arrange—“

“I get it Samantha,” he snapped, “Don’t patronize me.”

“Then don’t just assume you can come over here and do whatever you want. The world does not bend to your will like you think it does.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to yell at her, to scream “I hate you, you nasty bitch”, but he didn’t. He said nothing. Instead, he spun on heel and pushed the door open, slamming it behind him.

He always prided himself on not being a crier. He was a man, a macho man that didn’t cry. Not even on TV, on TV, he was given eye drops to give that illusion of crying. However, this was the second time that day that William “Spike” Giles had cried.

A man's very highest moment is, I have no doubt at all, when he kneels in the dust, and beats his breast, and tells all the sins of his life. ~Oscar Wilde

Angel insisted on helping her, despite her protestations and assurances that she was thoroughly capable of lugging her things back to Spike’s. He told her that no one should have to ‘lug’ and therefore would help her.

It’d been a couple hours since Spike had left her to see Alicia, and Buffy was praying he was received well. She hoped Sam didn’t badger him too much and just accepted his spontaneous visit for what it was – at that moment—and let him spend some time with his daughter. Later, as Spike made more of a plan – and maybe it was just hopeful thinking on her part that there would be a plan – Sam, she hoped, would be accepting and understanding. The last thing Spike needed from her, especially now, was discouragement. That might make him turn tail and give up.

Buffy just hoped that she wasn’t hoping for more than Spike was ready to give at the moment. She hoped that this turnaround he wanted to do, stuck. She didn’t want it to be done just out of some guilt he felt the need to squelch for a week or two before he was back to his old ways. That wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved, but mostly, not fair to Alicia.

When she was unpacked – again—she had nothing to do but wait for Spike to return home. If he was out, she didn’t want to bother him by ‘checking up’ and seeing if he was indeed out with Alicia, though it was killing her to know. She supposed she could call Sam to find out, but knew that one simple question would snowball into several questions that were not her place to answer.

She decided to make herself a little dinner and watch some TV while she waited for Spike to return. Hopefully, he’d come back feeling renewed.

********

The phone ringing jarred Buffy awake. She blinked several times before reaching over onto the coffee table and hauling her cell phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“B-Buffy?” came a man’s voice over the phone.

“Hi, this is Rick. You know a Spike?”

She sat up, concern filling her, “Yeah, I do, what’s going on?”

“You might want to come and get him. I can’t let him leave like this.”

Buffy shut her eyes. Well, that gave her, her answer. Things had not gone well at all. “Your bar, you say?”

“Yes. It’s called Rick’s.”

She rolled her eyes, “And how long has he been there for, Rick?”

“Oh, maybe three or four hours now. I took his keys and told he had to give me a phone number or I’d call the cops to escort him home.”

Jesus. He had to be falling down drunk.

“Rick, can you just give me the address and I’ll be right over? Me and a taxi. Just don’t let him go anywhere.”

“I won’t. He’s nearly passed out anyway.”

Sighing heavily, she jotted down the address and called the ever faithful cab company. Her heart was breaking. Had it gone that bad? And what kind of trouble – aside from being drunk – had Spike gotten himself into?

Bursting through “Rick’s” she spied Spike at the bar, his forehead down on the bar, a forgotten shot of something in his hand. He was muttering to himself and every once in a while shouting.

Coming over, she placed a hand on his shoulder and he rolled his head to the side to see her standing there.

“Buffy! My Buffy!” he exclaimed and nearly fell off his stool to sloppily gather her in his arms.

He reeked of smoke and hard liquor combined with beer, and her instinct was to wrinkle her nose in disgust and keep him at arms length. So, she went with that instinct. Which, he did not take kindly to, since he then growled at her. He reached for her again, and she batted him away. “You reek of booze, Spike!”

He pouted, “My girl doesn’t want me.”

That was a loaded statement if she ever heard one. Ignoring that, she thanked Rick for calling – thankfully in his inebriated state, Spike had the presence of mind to remember her number. Taking him by the arm, she helped him walk steady, as steady as he could anyway, out the door and to the cab.

Once inside, he was slobbering his affection on her and she batted him away, once again, annoyed. “Spike! Back up off me.”

He looked at her, wounded, truly wounded. “You hate me too?”

Yeah, this was going to be fun. Reasoning with a drunk guy.

“Yes, I hate you so much I came to get you. I hate you so much I went back to the penthouse,” she said sarcastically, reaching across his lap to buckle him in.

He wove his fingers in her hair, and urged her up to face him. He gazed at her intently and her breath caught at the look on his face. Desire? Love? Both, maybe? She wasn’t sure, only that she’d never seen that look before.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Did you know that? Did you know that I love you, Buffy? I bet you didn’t know because I didn’t even know. I mean it, Buffy, I —“

She pulled back, taking his hands out of her hair. You have to be realistic here, Buffy, she told herself. “Mean that to the toothbrush when we get home, okay?” she said lightly and sat back, buckling herself in.

He looked away from her, staring out the dirty window, a light drizzle beginning to spew from the skies, and she felt at a loss as to what to do. There was no way she could have a rational discussion with him like this. Impossible.

“Spike?” she began carefully.

“Mmm?”

“Did you see Alicia?”

He nodded, still staring out the window. “She didn’t want me.”

“Did she say that?”

“She was going out with Ryan,” he said, disgusted.

“Did you talk to Sam?”

“She told me I had to call first in the future.”

Buffy sighed, she’d been afraid that would happen.

“I’m nothing but a bad, rude man, aren’t I?” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

“No, Spike –“

“I am,” he said sorrowfully, sounding much like a lost little boy.

Unbuckling her belt, she slid over to him and wrapped her arms around him. He moved swiftly to engulf her in his arms, burying his face in her neck and she felt his tears wet her neck. She sat there with him, stroking his hair, running her fingers through his curls and whispering soothing words of comfort until they reached his penthouse. And he clung to her, clung to her as if she was his port in a storm and, she realized, she might just be that.

********

He was quiet, not sullen, not sorrowful, but quiet and withdrawn by the time they’d reached ‘home’. He seemed in control of his faculties better, but did not want her out of his sight for very long it seemed. It dawned on her, as she handed him his toothbrush complete with cinnamon toothpaste, he wanted to be taken care of. He wanted to be tended to. Not just wanted; he needed it. No one cared about him this way; mostly they cared what they could get from him. The brutal truth was that it went the other way too: He only cared what he got from them, but not this kind of care. Not the giving up of himself to another; not the giving up of pretenses that he was a fully capable man that didn’t have times of vulnerability. He probably didn’t realize it, but she didn’t care, and she was probably wrong for reading into the actions of a drunk man, but she didn’t care about that either. She only knew that he needed her and she would stay by him for as long as he did, and hell, long after as well.

Her heart was in serious danger. She was plummeting fast, and while she was his life preserver for the moment, she had to selfishly wonder who was going to be her lifesaver.

Was it wrong, she pondered, to feel such a rush of affection for him while he was so vulnerable? Was it because he was vulnerable and therefore open to her; raw, exposed, needful? Was it her own selfish need to be needed that spurred and drove her own feelings? Were her feelings for him real, or was it all due to her drive to ‘fix’ and ‘repair’? She’d been friends with him for over a year, and she knew in the back of her mind that Spike somehow needed to be ‘fixed’, and that resonated with what she liked to call her ‘Wounded Bird Syndrome’. The desire to fix that which was broken, or rather, those that were broken.

Would he hate her if he knew that? Could she be accused of not accepting him as he was? His lifestyle was part of him, however, it’d been part of who he was since she’d known him, but, but, that was part of him, not who he was. Not the complete package. She saw beyond his confident swagger and leers, saw beyond his sexual exploits and conquests, saw beyond his acting career and his successes, and saw the man. And this vulnerability he was showing was the man exposed – open, cut, bleeding and raw. This, she felt, was beyond drunkenness.

“Buffy?” he called out in the dark to her when he was firmly ensconced in his bed, darkness covering them like a blanket.

She paused on her way to the door and turned. “Yeah?”

“Will you . . . stay? With me?”

“I am staying, Spike. In the guest room –“

“No, in here with me. Please.”

She said nothing, trying to ignore the desperation in his voice, the near begging quality to it.

“Please, Buffy. I need you.”

She hesitated still, feeling that word would come back to haunt her, and soon. When she heard him start his plea again, she agreed quickly saying, “Okay, I will.”

Crawling into bed beside him, he started to turn to gather her in his arms and she stopped him. “Stay there,” she whispered and instead wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her body up against his back.

“Thank you,” he whispered, clutching her hand and kissing her fingertips.

“You’re welcome.”

Now it seems to me that love of some kind is the only possible explanation of the extraordinary amount of suffering that there is in the world.~ Oscar Wilde

Spike woke slowly, not quite ready to be up yet, but needing to relieve himself. He wasn’t sure what time it was; only that it still had to be late considering it was still dark out. He could make Buffy out just slightly beside him, the creeping light from the hallway shedding just a smidge of illumination.

He’d turned since she’d crawled in with him, for now he was facing her and she was curled up on her side, a fist under the pillow, her head facing down. He smiled at her, feeling his heart swell inside him. Check that out, he thought sardonically, I’ve got a heart after all. And it belongs to Buffy said the voice in his head. Or was it his heart?

She let out a soft sigh and fidgeted a bit before settling down, this time her face pointing up at him. Leaning in, he softly, and quite quickly, kissed her lips and instantly wanted more. He held himself back though, he wouldn’t do that. He would not wake her up like some randy teenager wanting a poke. He didn’t want a poke. He just wanted Buffy. His mind started to drift, needing clarification on that and he quieted himself. Not now. Later. Later he’d figure it all out.

So, he got up, relieved himself and crawled back in bed with her, sliding his body closer so that he could feel her body heat. Not touching her, he watched her sleep, thinking this was the first time he’d been in bed with a woman in years and hadn’t touched them in some capacity. He watched her for a long time before sleep claimed him once more.

********

Buffy watched him sleep long after she’d awoken. The events and thoughts of the night before were forcing their way to the surface and she lay there, still, letting those ponderings flit through her mind.

He looked like a little boy when he slept. His features relaxed, his curls tousled, and his body calmed. Reaching out, she touched the side of his face gently and smiled softly when he seemed to sense her touch and moved his face as if to nuzzle her hand.

Slowly, she took her hand off his face and quietly, she climbed out of bed. She was on her way to the door when she stopped and turned. Creeping to the bed, she leaned over him and softly kissed the top of his head, freezing when he rolled over, again, as if sensing her.

Turning back, she crept out, closed his door behind her and went downstairs to call Willow.

“I need you,” she said as soon as Willow picked up.

********

“Wow,” was all Willow could say when Buffy finished telling her all that had happened since she arrived just a mere two days before. “You’re having one hell of a vacation aren’t you?”

“Not very relaxing to say the least, yeah,” Buffy replied. She’d come out on the deck attached to the living room, but kept the door open to listen for Spike.

“I’m not . . . I’m at a loss for words, here. I mean, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know what to do. I kind of feel that I should let Spike handle Sam and Alicia, but I also just want to talk to Sam because she might listen to me, yet I don’t want to make things worse—“

“How would you talking to Sam make things worse?”

“Because she’s going to think I put him up to all this. She’s going to think that it’s not really him, but me.”

“She’s going to think that you have feelings for him, maybe?” Willow supplied.

“My feelings for Spike have nothing to do with how I feel about his forging a better relationship with his daughter.”

“So, got you to admit that you have feelings for him.”

“Like that wasn’t painfully obvious,” Buffy muttered. “When did this happen, Wills?”

Willow sighed heavily, “Oh, God, Buffy, I don’t know. I think they’ve always been there on some level, but I think over the past few months they got stronger.”

“When he took up with Harmony.”

“Yeah, I think that’s about right. You hated her.”

“She can’t sing! She’s an idiot,” Buffy whispered loudly.

“That she is, but I think you were afraid that he was going to be with her for a while. She lasted longer than most didn’t she?”

“Wills, ‘lasting longer than most’ can mean anything from going past one night to a full month.”

“That’s what I mean. She lasted like two months.”

Buffy giggled, “How sad does that sound?”

Willow laughed in return, “Pretty sad.”

Buffy put her head in her hand and rubbed her temple. “I just don’t know what to say, what to feel.”

“You know what you feel.”

“I don’t even know. True testament to how fucked up I feel. One minute I’m sure I – I –“

“Love him?”

“And the next minute I’m thinking I don’t and it’s just . . . just. . . “

“Liking that he needs you?”

Buffy sat back in the chair and grumbled, “I hate you.”

Willow chuckled, “Yeah, because I know you so well. It’s so funny.”

“What is?”

“The both of you. You’ve got Spike who lives in the moment – moment to moment, always on the go, that’s what he does. Then there’s you who methodically plans everything and analyzes each and every situation thoroughly before doing anything.”

“So, are you saying that I need a little of him and he needs a little of me?”

“Yep, exactly. I think that’s what drew you two together in the first place.”

“No, what drew us together was Dawn and her obsession with him. Then, it was him wanting a piece and me not giving it to him.”

“And now look. Look where you are and look at what point you’re now in, in your relationship with him. Something kept you with him for this long.”

“My fear is it was that thing inside me that makes me want to help those in need. Which, is presumptuous of me, don’t you think? I mean, not everyone feels they need to be ‘saved’. Not everyone is a wounded bird.”

“Buffy, you didn’t stay friends with Spike for as long as you have because you felt he was nothing but a wounded bird. Do you really feel that way?”

“No, I don’t. It’s just the things I think about. You know those crazy things that pop up in my head. But I can say that in some way I knew that he was broken.”

“Yes, and he’s breaking right before your eyes now. Not then, but now. You can analyze this a thousand different ways Buffy, but the plain truth is, you and Spike became friends because you met, you talked, and you liked each other enough to keep in touch. Whatever you felt about Spike’s needs is not why you’ve stayed with him for as long as you have. You can try to convince yourself of that until you’re blue in the face, but it’s simply not the case and you know it. It’s just that now, when things have come to this drastic head, that thing inside you that told you he was somehow broken has come out with a vengeance. You love him Buffy, plain and simple. And he needs you right now and you are not one to deny him of that.”

“Buffy!”

Said man in question was shouting to her at the moment and Buffy jerked to a sitting position. “He’s awake and calling for me, I gotta go.”

“Just be careful, Buffy. I just worry what will happen when he’s ‘fixed’.”

Buffy laughed, “I could go so many places with that comment.”

Willow chuckled, “Oh, I’m sure you could. Just…”

“Be careful?”

“Yeah.”

“I think it might be too late for that. Call you later, bye.”

Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes. ~Oscar Wilde

Rushing up the stairs, after slipping her phone in her pocket, she burst through Spike’s room to find him still in bed, on his side, watching for her.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” she asked.

He pouted, “You left.”

She smiled softly, “Stop pouting.” Coming over, she sat down beside him on the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Like a marching band is inside my head. They’re really loud and they’re making my brain turn to mush.”

“Or. . . too much to drink,” she said lightly . “Water?”

Maneuvering himself to a sitting position, he grimaced, “Yeah, I think I need to hit the loo.”

She wrinkled her nose, “Are you gonna puke?”

“Let’s hope not.”

********

Meeting back in his room, she handed him Tylenol and water. “Do you want something to eat? Something greasy maybe?”

He turned green at the mere thought and Buffy had to giggle at the expression on his face.

“You trying to kill me?” he grumbled.

“No. Why don’t you lie down and get some—“

“Stay with me.”

“What?” she asked, blinking.

He set his glass down and looked up at her. “Will you stay with me? Please? I –I just want to talk. Or not. Just. . . whatever. Will you?”

Swallowing hard, she nodded, “Yeah, I will.”

Depositing her cell on his nightstand, she crawled back in bed and faced him. They lay there, staring at each other the mid-morning sun bursting through the shades at the corners, leaving the room dim, but not dark.

“Thank you for coming for me,” he whispered.

“You know I would do that for you,” she whispered back and reached out, pushing some errant curls back against his scalp.

Grasping her hand in his gently, he kept his eyes trained on her and kissed her fingertips. “Pet, I – I’m such a bloody fuck – up.”

“No, you’re—“

“Don’t say I’m not,” he groused. “You’ve been telling me that in all sorts of ways since you got here. You think it too.”

“I was angry with you,” she asserted.

“Yeah, you were angry with me because I’m such a bloody fuck – up!”

“No, Spike,” she said, starting to sit up.

Reaching out, he halted her movements. “Don’t. Look at me.”

Nodding, she lay back down, “You’re not a fuck up. You just . . . you’ve made poor choices that had some consequences you weren’t fully aware of until recently. I think you’ve always known your wild lifestyle had to catch up with you at some point, and I think you’ve always known that you weren’t exactly happy with your lifestyle. Maybe. . . Maybe Harmony hurt you more than you thought she would…it seems everything unraveled around that time.”

He shook his head slightly, as well as he could with his head on his pillow, “No. It wasn’t Harmony. I never cared for her that way. Not really anyway. She was. . . amusing at best. In an annoying kind of way. I don’t know what she was, really. She just was, if that makes any sense. She doted on me, I guess, and that’s what . . . that’s what I wanted. Thought I wanted. Thought I needed. But it wasn’t her that caused …this.” He met her eyes. “It was you.”

She made a face, “Gee, thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it to sound bad. It’s not bad. Well, I mean it’s not exactly pleasant, but if you didn’t come and basically put the bloody mirror up in front of my face, I never would have realized.” He shut his eyes and sighed, “I’ve made a lot of wrong bloody calls,” he murmured, and then opened his eyes, gazing at her intently. “How have you been able to stand me? How have you been able to be in my life and tolerate it?”

“Because I know the person you are inside. The real person you are inside,” she said simply.

He looked disbelieving. “How have you been able to see that?” he asked, incredulous.

“Because you show him to me. You’ve got a brain up there, William Giles,” she said, tapping his head lightly with her fingertips, “and a heart in there,” she said tapping his chest lightly. “You just hide them well at times. A lot of the time. You’ve never really let anyone in.”

“I let you in,” he whispered, his eyes ablaze with flooded emotion. “I let you in though.”

“Yeah, you have. Sometimes you still try to hide from me too.”

“Because it frightens me,” he said, averting his eyes from her, “frightens me how well you know me, see through me – and you’re still here. But I’m afraid to . . . . “ he was struggling to find the right words, “I’m afraid to show you all of me still because what if you hate what you see? What if you hate me and then leave me.” He shook his head, “I couldn’t stand that. I couldn’t—“

“Spike, stop. Look at me.”

He looked up at her, trembling—despite how he tried to hide it.

“I got a lot of you last night. I saw a lot of the things you needed and wanted without you even having to say a word. Just the fact that you wanted me by your side even if you were capable, though not perfectly, at getting yourself to bed. You felt alone last night, I know you did. You were upset by whatever happened over at Sam’s and you drank yourself into oblivion. Not the best way to cope with things, mind you, but you did it nonetheless. The fact that you wanted me to stay here with you—“

“I did need you,” he admitted hoarsely. “Buffy, I . . . I need you like I’ve never needed anyone. I’m a right wanker and I don’t deserve you. You’re so. . . good, an angel and I’m –“

“Spike no,” she cut him off, shaking her head, “I’m not an angel. I’m a human being that makes mistakes just like anyone else and I’m not always perfect at admitting when I’m wrong or doing anything about it when I know I am.”

“But you never would have done the things I’ve done – you never would have been a weekend mother. You wouldn’t whore yourself out to anything that moves and smiles in your direction just for the thrill of it all –“

“It doesn’t matter what I would or wouldn’t do—“

“Yes it does,” he said forcefully. “Because I’m dirt.”

“No, you’re not dirt. You’re feeling quite sorry for yourself and nursing quite a hangover, but you’re not dirt. I wouldn’t be friends with you, if you were dirt. I’d have turned tail a long time ago if I thought you were dirt. Spike, you have it in you to be the man you want to be, I know it. I’ve seen him. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, it matters now what you do.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes, you do.”

“What do I do then?”

“I can’t give you all the answers. I will hold your hand, and I will stand by your side, but I won’t do the work for you. You have to do it.”

“I have to talk to Sam.”

“That’s a good first step.”

“And Alicia.”

“That’s another good step.”

“Can I tell you what happened yesterday now?”

She smiled, “Of course.”

Chapter 19:

If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life. ~Oscar Wilde

They’d fallen asleep again, Buffy, surprisingly, having nodded off first. Spike watched her, much like he had when he’d woken in the middle of the night. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but she was perfect in his eyes. It was her heart; her capacity for love and her extreme loyalty -- even when there were those undeserving of that loyalty and love.

Like say, him.

But she was right there, right by his side, taking care of him. Taking care of him. When had anyone taken care of him? And, when had he ever taken care of anyone? He and Sam hadn’t taken care of each other, that was for sure. When had he ever felt the urge to take care of someone—well someone that was not his daughter. And, well, he’d fucked that right up hadn’t he?

Christ. He was in love with Buffy.

The realization hit him not with the force and impact he thought it would; probably because he’d known all along, but had never wanted to admit it. Not for him, not because he was afraid of what he felt, but because of her. Because he was afraid that if she reciprocated those feelings, he’d somehow fuck up and lose her.

He needed her now. Needed her with him, to stay by his side and give that loving support she was so effortlessly giving him. And right now, she was literally by his side—but what happened when she left when her vacation was up? What would he do then? Who’d take care of him then? Who would keep him in check? Who would make sure he didn’t stray from the path he was making right now?

The answer was simple: The only one that was going to keep him on that path was himself. The only one that would make sure he didn’t stray was himself. He had to take care of himself; he’d have to keep himself in check.

And he could do it. He could. He had to. If he didn’t then. . . he’d never be worthy of her. But . . . could he ever have her? She lived on the east coast, he lived on the west. His heart though, his heart had known that all along and had never stopped. His heart knew what his head knew, but it kept right on going, kept right on beating, aching and striving for her.

What was a bloke to do? Surrender? Set her free? Indeed, what was a bloke to do?

********

Buffy was having an erotic dream. In her erotic dream, Spike was her lover and he was currently grinding himself against her center, her leg up over his hip, her center pressed against his hardness. He was hitting her cloth-covered pussy at just the right spot, right on her clit, so that everytime he undulated against her, electric shocks of pleasure coursed through her, bringing her closer and closer to completion.

His lips were on her neck, nibbling, sucking and kissing. His hands were under her shirt, cupping her breasts, flicking her nipples with the pads of his thumbs. He was moaning into her neck and trailing kisses up to her jaw and down to her mouth, which he claimed voraciously.

“Buffy, my love,” he breathed, his breath hot and creating goosebumps to form all over her body.

“Spike,” she murmured in response and ground herself harder against him, needing him, needing release. She didn’t want the pleasure to end and yet couldn’t stop herself from seeking the completion. She just wanted to make sure he was right there with her when she tumbled.

She claimed his lips, teasing his tongue with hers, reveling in his chase of it when she retreated it back into her mouth. She heard him growl, deep and low, and the sound sent shockwaves to her pussy.

God, that was hot.

Needing to breathe, she tore her mouth from his and moaned when his grinding came to a stop.

He was frozen and tense against her and God, she needed –

“Buffy.”

Her eyes snapped open and settled on cool, startled blue eyes. He was apologizing to her with his eyes. He was sorry. Why was he –

Because they’d been dreaming. It was a dream. All a dream.

Her body was aching, striving, reaching. . . she needed that release. She needed it badly, and she needed him to be the one that gave it to her.

Moving her hips so that her pussy brushed against his sweat-pant covered cock; he moaned and closed his eyes. He bit his bottom lip and his hands jutted out from underneath her shirt, and he stilled her, holding her firmly in his grasp. “What are you doing?” he manage to choke out.

“Spike, I . . . I need. . . “

“What, Buffy? What do you need?”

She moved her hips again, ignoring how tightly he was holding on to her, ignoring his signal for her to stop. She didn’t want to stop. She wasn’t fully awake; she was drunk on him, drunk on the feelings inside her swirling about, drunk on the need for release.

She swallowed hard, and searched his eyes, searched for his acceptance, his need and his desire.

He answered her by crashing his lips down on hers and toppling her. Her arms wrapped around him, her fingers diving into his hair, twining through his soft curls.

“I won’t take you,” he whispered into her mouth, “I won’t do it.”

She whimpered when his hand slipped inside her pajama bottoms and he started stroking her through her panties. “Spike,” she moaned, her head rolling back onto the pillow.

“I won’t,” he whispered again. “I’ll give you this, but I won’t take you.”

She was there. She arrived, shouting her pleasure to the heavens, bellowing his name. Bursts of color went off like fireworks behind her eyes and, just as soon as she’d gone up and off, she came down, crashing to Earth.

Crashing to reality.

Her eyes widened and she looked up at him in horror. “I’m sorry.”

Now his eyes widened, “Why? Why are you sorry?”

She shook her head, “I – I shouldn’t have done that. I was . . I came onto you!”

“Buffy,” he said gently, caressing her face with his non-sodden hand. “It’s okay, we came onto each other.”

Her eyes welled up in tears, “It’s not okay.”

She welled up even more at the apparent hurt in his eyes. “Why?” he asked softly, “Why was that bad?”

“Because I – I took advantage of you.”

He reared his head back slightly, looking at her as if he’d just realized she was there. “What? You’re saying you took advantage of me?”

“You’re upset and you have a hangover. You had a bad day yesterday and a bad night and—why are you laughing like that?”

Spike rolled off her, “Oh God, that’s . . . that’s irony. You’ve been helping me realize what a ‘man whore’ I’ve been and now you’re apologizing to the ‘man whore’ for doing what he does best—getting a woman off. Remember that I’m the one that takes advantage of the weak and needy?”

“You don’t have to make it sound so callous,” she bristled, sitting up and adjusting herself.

He looked over at her, “Didn’t like the ‘getting a woman off’ bit?”

She scowled at him and jumped off the bed, “No, I didn’t. But that’s fine. Because we can just pretend that that didn’t happen—“

“Oh, no Princess. It happened,” he told her firmly, rolling out of bed and still sporting an impressive erection. “It happened and there’s no going back. At least not for me there isn’t. That was. . . “he shook his head, “It was a bloody revelation, Buffy.”

“Of what?” she asked timidly, afraid of what he’d say. Afraid of what she felt, of what he felt, of the implications of it all.

He smiled, “You’ll see. I’m going to prove it to you, Buffy.”

“Prove what?”

“That I can be a good man. The man you deserve.”

“I know you’re a good man, I’ve been saying—“

He held up his hand, halting her. “No, I know you have been, but you haven’t seen me try. You’ve seen bits and pieces, snatches of the good man. I’m going to show you more of him. Make you see him all the time so there’s no doubt that I’d be good.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Good for what?”

“Good for you, Buffy. Good for you.” He sidled up to her, and she let him, she stood there and simply watched him, wondering what he was going to do.

He smiled tenderly at her and cupped the side of her face. “I’m going to make you love me.”

A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal. ~Oscar Wilde

Buffy stared at him, unmoving. "What?"

"I'm going to make you love me," he declared again, apparently proud of himself for making such a declaration.

She shook her head and moved away from him, "No, that's not going to work."

He frowned, shoulders sagging, "Why not?"

"Because for one, I already do love you--"

"As a friend! You love me as a friend," he clarified, saying it almost as if the concept disgusted him.

Buffy for her part, fell silent for a minute and then shook her head again. "I don't want you to change for me, Spike. If you're going to change, it should be for you, for Alicia, not for anyone else--"

"It is for Alicia! And me, but. . . can't I hope that you could learn to love the man that I need to be?"

"I love you now!" she exclaimed, frustrated. "Why are you saying this? Where is this coming from?" she threw up her hands. "God, we just. . . dry humped on the bed and now you're. . . and I'm not. . .and I just don't get. . . what the hell is going on?"

"Buffy, you're head is going to explode--"

"I'm well aware, thank you!"

"Calm down, luv. Why don't you sit down with me--"

"I want to take a shower. I want to get dressed. I want to get out of this room. Okay?"

He nodded, "Okay, pet, that sounds like a good idea."

"Yes, it is a good idea. So I'm gonna . . . go do that." She felt completely out of her body. She felt as if she'd went to bed in the world where she knew where things were, how they worked and what they meant, and that she'd woken up to a whole new world where she didn't know where things were, how they worked or what they meant. All she knew was that she didn't know what the hell was going on all of a sudden and her raging hormonoes and Spike seemed to be the conductors of this little trip.

"Oh God," she whimpered to the empty bathroom once the door was shut behind her.

********

"I think," Buffy started as soon as she sat down on the couch after the both of them had showered and met in the living room.

"No, wait," Spike said, sitting down across from her on the coffee table. "I want to tell you what I think. The stupid sod that's gotten his ass kicked over the past couple days, and has been feeling sorry for himself would like to have the floor, if you don't mind."

Pursing her lips together, she nodded her acquiescence and sat back, waiting.

He met her eyes. "I love you, Buffy. I'm in love with you. I know that right now, I'm a pathetic excuse for a man, but I know that I can be that good man you talk so much of, so highly of. I know I have it in me to be one, despite the fact that I haven't felt like much of one. It's because of you, pet. Because you see it in me, because you want it for me that I know I can be that man. I want to be. For me, for Alicia, and yes, for you. I want to be worthy of Alicia calling me 'Daddy' and I want to be worthy to one day hear the words 'I love you' tumble from your lips. Can you say that maybe you'd one day want that too?"

She took a deep breath, "No."

He looked positively crestfallen, hurt and destroyed, "Why not?"

"Spike, I ... Okay, that sounded harsh and I apologize. It's the last thing you need to hear right now."

"On the contrary, I think I might absolutely have to hear this. Why stop being brutally honest with me now, Buffy?" he said, his tone bitter.

"Because I don't like being brutal," she snapped. "I don't like to hurt you though God knows you haven't much cared if you've hurt me."

He narrowed his eyes, "When?"

"Uh, how about the first night I was here?"

"I thought we'd moved on from that--"

"No, you hurt me!" she jumped up from the couch. "You accused me of acting like a jilted lover, remember? Of being jealous?"

His eyes widened with clarity as he looked up at her. "So you ..."

"Yes, I was jealous. I hated seeing that stupid bimbo in here and you ...touching her. I was jealous okay? That does not however, have anything to do with why I want you to change. And it should not have any bearing on why you should. It's just not healthy for you. Or Alicia. Or any possible relationship you could have in the future."

His expression fell to one of resolution, "You mean like now? Like us?"

"There is no us in regards to a relationship that is not friendship."

He stood, facing her, "Right. Because of what I've done."

She averted her eyes, looking down, "Yes." Looking back up at him, she took a deep breath. "Spike, I realize that it's maybe a little contradictory to say that I know you're a great man that has a lot to offer, but that I don't want it offered to me. And it's harsh of me to say that I love you, but I don't want to have a relationship with you, that I don't want to love you as more than a friend because I'm being selfish -- I'm afraid for my heart. You're not exactly known for being trustworthy in that respect and I . . . I just can't put my heart on the line like that Spike."

"Especially not since I haven't exactly been the best of friend to you since you got here."

Sighing heavily, she replied, "That is over. I can't keep throwing it in your face, but. . . yeah, it's an example. Spike, I feel things for you, I do. But I'm not . . . " she shook her head, frustrated. "I want to be here for you. I want to continue being your friend and I want to support you in the changes you want to make. You need me, I'm here. However. I don't want to be a crutch for you. I don't want you to put feelings on me that aren't really there because you're feeling vulnerable right now--"

"Buffy, stop," Spike implored her gently. Cupping the side of her face, he gazed at her tenderly, "I'm not 'putting' any feelings on you that haven't already been there. When I say I love you it's not because I want to get you in bed or because I need you to be here or I'll fall apart. When I say I love you, it's because I love everything about you. It has nothing to do with me, it's you. Yes, you do make me laugh and smile, you do ease my troubles and yes, you do take care of me and let me be vulnerable. You let me be me. You see something in me that no one has ever seen before. You're here despite what I've done. You've seen the best and the worst of me, and you're still here. That's ... God, Buffy, how could I not love you? You are my angel. You're so pure and--"

"Stop with the angel stuff, please," Buffy pleaded softly with a slight whine.

Clearing his throat, he nodded and dropped his hand. "Buffy, you mean everything to me and I haven't shown it well. I think partly because I was so afraid of what it meant. I've never been in love before, not like this. And I love you--"

She took a shuddering breath in, "Please, stop, Spike. Please. I just . . . I can't do this right now, okay? It's...so much right now. Too much and I can't wrap my mind around it--"

"Sssh," he murmured and pulled her into an embrace. "I'll stop. I'm sorry. I'm . . . a passionate guy, I guess. I'll stop. We'll just. . . "

"Just focus on what you're going to do regarding Alicia and Sam," she said firmly.

He nodded, "Yes, let's focus on that."

Breaking away, she moved back to the couch and sat down. "So, what did you have in mind for that?"

He smiled down at her, all business Buffy was back. God, he really did love her. And, he was going to find a way to make her trust him.

The man who says he has exhausted life generally means that life has exhausted him. ~Oscar Wilde

The plan was to talk to Sam. Tell her that he wanted to spend more time with Alicia and work out a schedule to do just that. Buffy, ever the optimist, believed that if he just presented it to Sam with a plan in mind, his ex-wife would comply.

That just reaffirmed to Spike that Buffy really did not know Sam well at all. He knew full well what was going to happen, and he was not looking forward to it. However, feeling Buffy’s presence by his side, her kind of Archangel Michael energy next to him, he felt he could tackle anything.

And he would.

He had a plan, too. He wanted Alicia on the weekends and he’d take charge of driving her to a friend’s home if she made such plans, taking her to any activity she had planned, and would even be willing to work around Sam and Ryan’s schedule – as long as they were willing to work around his as well. And, through the week, he wanted to be able to take her out at least twice a week -- schedule permitting for both of them. He knew that once work started up again, he’d be stressed for time, but that it wouldn’t be all work and no play, and he would make the arrangements he could to see her. Also, he was going to turn his guest room into her room. He’d make a day of it and take her out shopping to decorate it as she wanted. He figured if he went into being as pliant and willing to compromise as much as possible with Sam -- and Alicia-- it would make things easier.

"It'll be fine, Spike,” Buffy told him the next morning as they headed toward Sam’s.

The idea was that Buffy would keep Alicia distracted so that he could have time alone with Sam. He did not want a repeat of his daughter having to witness he and Sam having a row, and well, he knew that it was impossible to think it wouldn’t happen. He had a temper, Sam had a temper and putting them together in the same room to discuss Alicia and his parenting was bound to cause some raised voices.

“I ever tell you how your eternal optimism is at once refreshing and annoying?” he told her dryly.

She gave him a look and shrugged, “Oh well. Get used to it.”

Reaching out he took her hand in his, ignoring how she tensed and tried to pull away. He squeezed her hand gently and let it go, not wanting to make her uncomfortable or read into his actions. Not yet anyway. Getting her to trust him and love him in the way that he wanted her to would take time, and he wanted to make sure to give her that time. For now anyway. He was learning that he had to tackle one problem at a time and currently, that problem was Sam.

Not that Buffy was a problem he had to tackle, more like a woman he had to seduce. However, he was not seducing her in his usual employed methods. No, he had to seduce her mind and her heart, not her body. Her body, he knew from the previous morning, wanted him. And, he knew that her heart wanted him to an extent too, but he had to earn her trust in order to win her love and sway her mind that he wasn’t looking for a quick fix to his problems, wasn’t relying on her for support – though, truthfully, he was. To an extent.

It wasn’t all black and white, that was for sure. There were so many grays and it was messy and it was all over the place and . . . God, he was exhausted from it all. His body had yet to catch up with his mind. It was exhausting making changes in your life. It was exhausting just coming to the realization of it and then actually doing something about it took a lot out of a person.

“Thank you, pet,” he said calmly, belying the tension that was starting to unfurl in his stomach, causing him to feel slightly nauseous.

He felt her eyes on him, studying him closely and he looked at her blankly, waiting.

“Spike,” she began, “I know it’s going to be hard, I know that. I know that Sam will be resistant at first probably—“

“Probably?” he nearly squeaked out. “Try bloody likely.”

“Okay, but don’t let her deter you from what you want to do. You know what to expect, so don’t let her sway you or put doubt in your mind about your abilities as a father.”

“Buffy, you forget that Sam doesn’t have to put those doubts in my mind. They’re already there.”

“So then this is your challenge. Can you do it or will you throw in the towel when the going gets tough?”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “They teach you this stuff in real estate school or something?”

She smiled, “Yeah, they do. You know my competitor?”

“Finn,” Spike snarled.

“Right, Riley. So, there are days when he’s ahead of me and I feel . . . worthless. Like I suck at my job, even though I know I’m good at it. I think I want to give up and that I’ll never be as good as he is. And, it doesn’t help that he likes to rub it in my face. But you know what?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

She smacked him lightly on the arm, “He doesn’t realize it, but when he rubs it in my face like that, he throws the gauntlet down. I take up the challenge because I cannot let him win. It’s the same thing with you and Sam. You love Alicia and you know she loves you. You know that you can take care of her the way you want to care of her, that you can do all the things that Sam does. Along the way, you let Sam convince you that you couldn’t—“

“She’s not all guilty, Buffy. I had a hand in all that too.”

“Oh, yes, you did. I know you did. But as long as Sam was there to make digs about your parental abilities, you got it in your head that she was right, so you felt you didn’t have to try. It’s like the person that is told their whole life they’re a fuck up. If someone is told that enough, they believe it to be true and don’t try for anything anymore. They figure, what’s the point? They’re just going to fuck it up anyway.”

“You’re really good at this, pet.”

She shrugged, “Maybe you didn’t know it, but I study you closely.”

He looked at her, smirking, “That so?”

She nodded, looking away from him and out the window. “Yep.”

He let that lie and silence fell until they pulled into Sam’s driveway.

Putting the car in park and shutting off the engine, Spike took a deep breath to calm himself. Buffy placed her hand on his arm, and he looked at her, knowing she was imploring him to do so.

“You can do this. Think of Alicia and the relationship you want to have with her,” she told him.

“And remember to be an adult, right?”

“Right.”

Climbing out of the car, they made their way to the door to find Sam standing there, arms folded across her chest, staring at them. She was studying Spike closely, eyes narrowed suspiciously, her mouth turned down into a frown. “What’s going on?”

Spike took a deep breath, “I want to speak with you.”

“About?”

“Alicia.”

“What about her?”

“I want to spend more time with her. I want to work out a plan with you.”

She raised a brow and then did something he hadn’t expected. She laughed. Hard.

Oh yeah, this was going to go well.

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