CHAPTER 13 -- Back to Reality

Buffy sat in the passenger seat of the van next to her newest date -- a guy who looked suspiciously like Spike, although she was pretty sure her date’s hair was naturally that color.

He sighed behind the wheel, “Yeah, Spike is really cool. Do you think he could, like, go out with us sometime?” His eyes lit up at the prospect.

Buffy rolled hers, all through lunch and the car ride home, no matter what she tried to suggest, the conversation always turned back to her date’s two favorite subjects: Star Wars and Spike. “Um . . . Sure Andrew . . . I’ll ask him,” she replied, with no intention to do anything of the sort.

The van rolled to a stop outside Fairytale and Buffy slid out of her seat. She turned back to her date, “Goodnight, Andrew.”

“Oh, goodbye!” he waved awkwardly. Buffy had gotten halfway down the sidewalk when he called out her name, “Buffy!” She turned around. “. . . Tell Spike I said hi!”

“Ooookay. Goodbye Andrew.” Buffy shook her head and headed inside her store.

She winced as a bright flashbulb went off in her face. “What . . .” she attempted to dodge Spike’s camera, “What are you doing?” She dropped her purse and jacket on the floor and went to join Xander at the desk. It was after hours and the two men were helping put the finishing touches on the new window displays.

“Taking pictures of the store for the layout. You do remember the rest of our deal, don’t you? I get the lowdown on Ms Summers’ psyche.” He smirked and snapped another picture of her for good measure.

Buffy rolled her eyes, “How could I forget?” She sighed and picked up a stack of papers, flipping through them.

Spike followed her to the desk, “So, how’d the date go?”

Buffy looked up from her papers, “I think he’s trying to vicariously date you through me.”

Spike looked thoughtful, “I always wandered about that guy.” He shrugged. Buffy smiled. “So, one last date then?”

Buffy looked at him seriously, “No, Spike. You’ve had your fun, your little experiment didn’t work. Let it go. I‘m done.”

Spike blocked her way as she tried to walk towards the back, “Listen, he’s an old friend of mine from grade school. I just called him the other day and he’s currently between girlfriends.”

Buffy considered him warily. If he really was an honest to God friend of Spike’s, he had to be better than the last couple guys he’d set her up with -- guys she could never imagine being in the same room as her bleach-haired friend. “Who is he?” she asked suspiciously.

“His name’s Ben. He’s a med-student at Sunnydale Hospital.” He rolled his eyes at her impressed look, “Every girl and their mother’s dream guy, I’m sure.”

“And if this one doesn’t work out.”

Spike put his hands in the air, “I’ll leave you alone, not more dates.”

“Promise?”

Spike crossed his heart.

“Even if I only go on one date with the guy?”

Spike sighed, “Yes, even if you don’t hiccup, I’ll never set you up with anyone ever again.”

Buffy furrowed her brow, “If I don’t what?”

“Hiccup,” Spike replied. At her confusion, he continued, “Red tells me you hiccup when you fancy someone.”

Buffy looked appalled, “I do not!”

Xander, who had until then amused himself listening to their exchange, smiled at her shock, “Yeah, you do. Remember Riley?”

Buffy looked pained, “Oh, please don’t bring that up.”

Spike smiled, “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. You really liked him. Who’d he end up asking out instead? Melody?”

“Harmony,” Buffy corrected. “Wait . . . didn’t you go out with her?”

Spike racked his brain, “Might of.”

“And you couldn’t remember her name?”

“We met a couple times. Alcohol was involved. I didn’t know any better.” Spike looked regretful.

Buffy turned to Xander, “You going to be okay here while we go to the park?”

“No sweat, I can figure this wedding stuff out. You figure I gotta be smarter than the two of you.”

Buffy and Spike looked doubtful, “And why’s that?”

“Because I’m the only one in the room with the hair color he was born with.”

Both blondes smiled at their friend’s logic. Loud ringing interrupted the conversation, Buffy turned toward the noise, then looked up at Spike, “Your ass is ringing.”

Spike gave her a look, fishing his cell phone out of his back pocket, “I can hear that.” He flipped open the phone, “Hey babe . . .”

Spike spoke on the phone while Buffy continued to talk to Xander, “Where’s Willow? I thought she was going to show.”

“Her and Tara are at the Magic Box. Willow still gets the discount even though Spike’s dad doesn’t own it anymore. They found out they both were all into the witchcraft. They had a moment. It was kinda creepy.” Buffy smiled, pleased that Willow had found someone that shared her enthusiasm in magic. Spike ended his phone call.

“Who was that?” Buffy asked.

“My boss.”

“You call your boss ‘babe’?”

“You should hear some of the things she calls me.” Spike raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Buffy smiled and rolled her eyes, “No thanks. Ready to go skating?”

“Got my skates in the car.”

“Ok, let me get changed and we’ll go,” Buffy disappeared into a dressing room.

Xander watched her go, “Spike, man, what’s the deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“In the past week their has been not one single screaming match. And now you guys are skating together three times a week. What gives?”

Spike smiled, thinking back to their talk on the hood of his car, “We understand each other now.”

TBC
 

CHAPTER 14 -- What’s Cooking

“I don’t know about this, Spike. Isn’t . . .” Buffy studied the recipe in front of her, “asparagus-prosciutto rolls and individual strawberry mousses a little too ambitious of us?”

Spike tisked, “Maybe for you. I happen to be quite skilled in the kitchen.” He turned the oven burner on to medium heat, tossing chopped strawberries, sugar, and water into a pan and began to stir.

Buffy pouted, playing with an asparagus stalk on the counter in front of her, “The last time I used the toaster I caught the cabinets on fire.” She turned back to her duty of slicing the prosciutto.

Spike nudged at her chin with his thumb, “Cheer up, Summers. We’ll have you Martha Stewart-ing it in no time.” This earned him a grin. “Knew I could get a smile. Now go find me some measuring cups, yeah?”

Buffy nodded, “Measuring cups I can do.” Buffy ransacked her mother’s kitchen drawers, searching for the requested items. Dawn was at school and her mom was working extra at the gallery. Spike had agreed to help cook for Thursday night’s dinner, much to Joyce’s glee. She just didn’t have the time to get everything ready for the next day and was a nervous wreck at the idea of leaving her eldest alone in the kitchen, but felt perfectly comfortable with Spike there to supervise.

“Quit eating the chocolate!” Spike scolded, slapping her hand away from the bowl of semisweet morsels. He grabbed the measuring cups out of her hand, “Come over here and stir this,” he thrust the spoon at her in yet another attempt to keep her nebbish hands busy from picking at the sugar, chocolate, and strawberries.

Buffy peered clueless into the sauce pan in front of her as she stirred, “How do you know when it’s done?”

Spike placed the bowl of chocolate into the microwave, “When all the sugar dissolves,” he answered.

“Is this good?” Buffy asked, looking for Spike’s approval on her stirring job.

He glanced over her shoulder, “Perfect,” he replied. Buffy turned off the burner, her confidence level flaring at his praise.

“This isn’t so hard,” she commented as she sat down at the counter.

Spike placed the bowl of melted chocolate on the counter and turned around to search for the right cup.

“Summers!”

Buffy froze, index finger in her mouth, “What?” she mumbled around her chocolate covered digit.


No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep a straight face. He let a smile overtake him and shook his head, “Come over here and be helpful.”

He easily spread each slice of prosciutto with goat cheese and rolled around the asparagus. He held up the perfect job for her inspection. She nodded that she followed his lead, picked up an asparagus and completed an exact replica of his. She beamed at her job well done. He then picked up a bowl filled with the cream and sugar that was to be part of their desert. He beat the ingredients in the bowl until soft peaks began to form.

Buffy watched him for a moment before grabbing a bowl and attempting it herself. While Spike began to fold in the strawberry mixture, Buffy fought with her bowl -- her concoction looking more like thick goop than whipped cream.

She sat back in a huff, “I suck,” her face fell.

He looked over at her bowl, “Yes you do,” he agreed, taking a swipe of cream on his finger, unceremoniously dragging it down her cheek.

She blinked confusedly out of her self-pitying stupor, wiping her hand at her marked face, “Hey!” Buffy dipped her fingers into the bowl of flour, flicking them at Spike, the white landed contrastingly against his ever-present black t-shirt.

He studied his marred clothing, “Well, a food fight was inevitable wasn’t it?” He shrugged, took a hand full of flour, and blew it into her face.

Buffy screamed, running around the island, trying to duck away from Spike’s throws. Rounding the counter, she armed herself with leftover sugar.


She hid below the countertop and waited. She sat for a minute in buzzing anticipation, not hearing a peep from Spike. Figuring he also must be hiding, she cautiously peeked over the counter. Her exposed face was immediately sprayed with melted chocolate. She jumped up from her position on the floor and went to run out of the kitchen.

Spike grabbed her around her stomach with one arm, captured her ankles with the other, and effortlessly lifted her off the ground. He attacked her side and Buffy shrieked in laughter, squirming in his arms.

“You give up?” he yelled over her.

She was laughing to hard to speak. She fought to get the words out, “I give! I give! Ahhhhhh. Stop! I give!”

“Okay,” he set her back down on her feet. He swatted at her playfully, “Now help me decorate these things.”

They brought over the dozen white cups filled with strawberry mousse over to the table, each baring a pastry bag filled with melted chocolate. Spike divided them into six each and the couple went to work decorating the deserts with hearts, stars, and zigzags.

Spike sat back in his chair, looking at the girl across form him, “You used to cheerlead didn’t you?”

She looked at him, perplexed, “Yeah, why?” she asked, craning her neck across the table to see what he was doing.

“Hey!” he hastily covered his work with his arm, “No peeking.”

Buffy went back to her own decorating, occasionally glancing at Spike. He looked like a little boy, hunched over in his seat in concentration, his tongue stuck out from the side of his mouth. Buffy smiled and finished her drawing.

“I made one for you,” he pulled back his hand and turned the mousse around to face her. It was a rough chocolate drawing of a girl in a pleaded skirt, UC Sunnydale symbol on her sweater. She was holding pompoms.

Buffy smiled, “Is that me?”

“Uh-huh,” Spike nodded.

She smiled brightly at the drawing, considering him for a moment. She turned around the cup of mousse she was drawing on, showing Spike her design. It was a stick man playing guitar, music notes surrounded him.

“I remembered you played guitar. You used to play at The Bronze all the time.”

Spike was happy that she remembered. “Try,” Spike dipped a spoon into the mousse in front of him and held it out to Buffy.

She leaned forward and took the creamy confection into her mouth. Spike slid the spoon from her mouth. Buffy closed her eyes, “Mmmmmmm. Oh my god, that’s the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

Spike took the spoon and took a bite himself. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” He held out a asparagus roll, “Try one of these.”

Buffy shook her head, “I don’t like asparagus.”

Spike looked doubtful, “Have you ever had it?”

“Well . . . No.”

“Try it,” he insisted, pushing one at her, “You’ll like it.”

She took a bite, looking pensively at the ceiling while she chewed. After some thought, she gave him a wide smile, “I like it.”

“Told you.”

Spike glanced over at the clock. “I gotta go, I’m already late meeting Xander. He’ll be right pissed if they’re a player short.” He jogged over to the foyer, picking up his soccer ball he was to bring to the field. “I’ll see you tomorrow night,”

“Five o’clock sharp,” Buffy instructed, following him to the door.

“Okay,” he went down the sidewalk, “Finish those dishes for your mum!” he called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” she answered, her plans to place them all in the sink to sit under some water ruined. She shut the door and sighed. Tomorrow the aunts were coming. She was pretty sure how the night would go: they would grill her on her love life, treat Dawn like she was five years old, and Buffy was suspecting that in their trip down memory lane they’d forget they were no longer in their twenties and hit on Spike.

Sounds like fun.

TBC
 

CHAPTER 15 -- Meet the Family

Author’s Note: I have to give love to Carol, who’s idea this whole thing was. I hope I’m doing your story justice! There would be no Game of Love without her. She ranks with Joss on my genius scale.

Spike ascended the stairs to the Summers’ home, fifteen roses behind his back. He rapped on the door and heard loud cackling coming from the direction of the kitchen. Buffy answered the door, looking a little worse for the wear. “Hi,” she greeted dully.

Spike smirked, “Tough day, luv?”

“You have no idea,” she said, grabbing the sleeve of his dark blue button down and yanking him into the house, relieved there was now someone else in the house to suffer overhearing discussions of menopause and the dirty details of the three women’s past conquests.

He reached and separated three roses, “For a true trooper,” he presented them to Buffy.

She immediately perked up, “Ohhhh, pretty,”

“Buffy, is that Spike?” Joyce yelled from the kitchen.

“I better go say hi,” said Spike, turning the corner, peaking around the wall into the kitchen. “Ladies,” he greeted with a nod of his head.

Joyce, Aunt Linda, and Aunt Sue sat at the kitchen table around steaming cups of coffee. Joyce stood up and gave Spike a hug, “Hello, Spike. I’m so happy you could come. This is Linda and Sue,” she gestured to the women. He divided nine more roses between the three older women. He received a hug, a kiss, and fawning adoration from each of them.

“Spike . . .” Aunt Linda drew out the name thoughtfully as she sat back down in her chair. “Why do they call you that?” The woman looked poignantly at Spike’s pants. Spike’s eyes bulged slightly, an amused smile on his lips, pure shock at what was coming out of the otherwise harmless looking lady.

Buffy looked positively sick, “Oh God,” she uttered. “I think we should go say hi to Dawn,” she took his arm, leading him into the living room. Laughs and whispers of, “Oh, Linda, you’re so bad!” followed them.

Spike looked disbelievingly back towards the kitchen, not able to wrap his head around what he had heard. “Well that was new,” he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory.

“Spike!” Dawn greeted from her place on the floor, in front of the television.

“Roses for my favorite girl,” He held out the last three roses to the youngest Summers. You would of thought he’d presented her with a diamond. She jumped up, “For me!? Really!? I’ve never gotten flowers before!? I’m gonna go put these in my room! Thanks Spike!” She gave Spike a hug around his middle and bounded up the stairs.

Buffy smiled at the happiness in her sister, “I think you have a new best friend,” she plopped down on the couch, curling up in the corner.

Spike smiled, he’d never had any siblings, and he found joy in Dawn’s young excitement with the world, “She’s a good kid.” He joined her on the sofa. “So how’ve things been going today?”

Buffy smiled, “Well, our asparagus rolls were a hit. I hid a couple for you in the back of the fridge, behind the milk.” She sighed, “Other than that, me and Dawn have been hiding in the living room watching a VH1 All-Access marathon.” She gestured toward the TV.

Spike watch the special on hot Hollywood couples for a few seconds, “You imagine Brittany Spears knows she looks that bad, or does her entourage just not tell her?”

It was such an off-handed comment, and one that wasn’t a typical one from Spike, Buffy had to laugh. She nodded her head, “I’m thinking that no one tells her. I’ve always said that people with bad fashion sense should not be given unlimited amounts of money.”

For the next half-hour, Spike and Buffy sat back on the couch supplying a running commentary for the celebrity show, laughing as pictures of David Guest seemingly trying to eat off Liza Minelli’s face flashed across the screen.

____________________________________


After dinner, Buffy came in from the living room, carrying an arm full of empty soda cans and plates. Throwing them in the sink, she ran water over them.

“Come on ladies . . .” Aunt Sue announced. She acknowledged Spike, “and gentleman,” she added. Spike nodded in thanks. “It’s poker time!” She had Spike, Joyce, and Linda gathered around the kitchen table and was dealing out playing cards. “Buffy, dear, you in?”

Buffy shrugged, wiping her hands on a dish towel, “I don’t know how to play.”

Spike pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and held out his hand, “Come ‘ere, luv. You can play with me.” She took it and he pulled her to sit on his lap. The Aunts and Joyce exchanged glances. Spike picked up his cards, holding them in front of Buffy so they both could see them. “Jokers wild?” he asked. He received a nod from Sue.

Spike whispered in Buffy’s ear, she laughed and threw two dollars toward Aunt Sue in exchange for another card. She picked it up and showed him. Pleased with the card, he bounced her on his knees and she giggled.

Three games later, the blonde couple had a significant pile of cash in front of them. They had a winning system going -- Spike made the bets and Buffy took the money from her carefully organized pile and threw it into the pot.

“I will see your bet and raise you five,” said Spike. Buffy threw a five dollar bill into the middle of the table. Linda considered the blonde duo, determining if their bet was valid or if they were bluffing. Spike leaned in closer to Buffy’s ear, “Now’s the time for the poker face, luv,” they both wore matching scowls. Joyce and Sue, who had already folded, sat watching the exchange. Linda sat quietly for a moment before laying down her cards for everyone to see -- four of a kind. A sly smile appeared on Spike’s lips, Buffy sat looking innocent on his lap. He laid out the cards, revealing a royal flush.

The room burst out in laughter. “I thought you were bluffing!” Linda yelled. Buffy scrambled to gather all of her and Spike’s hard earned cash.

Spike turned to his partner in gambling, “Well, pet, what do you fancy we do with all this loot? I’m thinking celebratory dinner at The Bronze.”

“I’m thinking yes,” agreed Buffy. She got up off his lap, counting out their money.

“Come on, Spike,” Dawn tugged on his arm. She felt left out with all the attention on the card game. “You promised you’d help me study for my World War II test.”

“Ok, Bit, let’s go learn about Hitler,” he got up from the table, following her up the stairs. “When was Pearl Harbor?” he quizzed.

“December 7, 1941,” she answered proudly. Spike praised her knowledge.

As their voices faded, Aunt Sue turned back to the group, “Oh, Buffy, we love him!” Buffy rolled her eyes at their enthusiasm.

“Where did you find him?” Linda asked.

“We went to college together,” Buffy answered, trying her best to quickly quell their curiosity.

“How long have you been dating?”

Buffy looked startled, “Dating? As in each other? Oh, we are so not dating.”

“But your mother said . . .”

“Mom!” she hissed accusingly.

“Well, you have been spending an awful lot of time with each other. And he did persuade you to do the dishes, so I figured he must be someone special. God forbid you tell your mother what’s really going on in your life.”

Buffy sighed and turned back to her aunt, “He lives in L.A. He came back to write an article on me and the store, that’s all,” she insisted, ending the Spike-centric conversation.

__________________________________________


It was well into the night when Spike decided he should go and all five women stood outside on the porch, lined up to say goodbye. “Are you sure you have to go?” asked Aunt Sue.

“Yes,” Linda chimed in, “We’re leaving the day after tomorrow. Sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“You could mow our lawn,” Sue gave him her most winning smile.

Spike laughed nervously, “No, that’s okay,” he leaned in and gave a quick kiss to Linda and Sue, working his way down the line of women.

“Study hard, Bit. Promise me?”

“I promise,” she answered diligently. Spike kissed the young girl on the head, ruffling her hair.

“Wow,” Joyce marveled at Dawn’s excitement to study, “I think you should come around more often. She’ll be getting A’s in no time.” Joyce gave her favorite boy a kiss on the cheek and wiped at the lipstick imprint she left there.

Last in line was Buffy. While finishing his conversation with her mother, he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. Not paying attention, Buffy accidentally turned her head in the same direction. Their lips met for the briefest, most miniscule of seconds before they quickly pulled away, shock evident on their faces.

Quiet awkwardness fell over them. Spike attempted to redeem the situation, “I’ll see you later, then?” He tried at nonchalance, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Buffy shook her head quickly, agreeing to his statement and his method of escape, “Okay.” They both tensed, fighting back down the feelings that flared up inside them.

Tearing his eyes away from hers, Spike climbed into his Desoto and started the car. Buffy stood with her family, waving goodbye. The sound of Spike’s engine faded into silence. As the girls all turned to go inside, a sound from Buffy echoed through the quiet night:

“Hiccup.”

TBC

CHAPTER 16 -- Big Ben

Buffy slurped at her tomato soup happily. Across from her sat Ben -- her boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend. This was their fifth date in three weeks and, in Buffy’s opinion, things were escalating nicely. Ben was a complete gentleman -- nice, laid-back, calm, and reserved.

Buffy felt as if she was no longer being punished for having no social life. Her whole social circle was quickly making their way off in pairs. Willow and Tara were spending every available moment with each other. With the way it stood now, you couldn’t get one without the other tagging quietly behind. And she was immersed in the details of Anya and Xander’s upcoming nuptials. Anya had Spike stealing her back copies of Today’s Bride. It was her self-proclaimed Bible and she was no longer ever seen without a copy clutched in her arms, eager to show any unsuspecting person detailed photographs of the exact snapdragons and hybrid lilies she wanted to grace her bouquet. Finally Buffy was paired off herself. Although before, she hadn’t really minded being single in their relationship-laden group because with any free time she would have been spending with a significant other, she had been hanging out with Spike.

Thinking over the past couple weeks, Buffy realized she hadn’t seen Spike in a while. The last she saw him was a couple days prior when he had stopped by the store to pick up some sketchy details of her dream wedding. She had rolled her eyes at him, scoffing that she barely thought of such a thing for herself, then proceeded to amuse him by wistfully rattling off the exact dreamy details of her own big day. Buffy even halted the impromptu interview at one point, stopping to make sure he had noted ‘bubble gum,’ not just ‘pink’ as the color of the baby orchids.

She found herself wandering frequently what Spike was doing. They had gotten close during his visit home -- skating in the park, baking and cooking, and several trips to the local ice cream shop with Dawn. But demands of work tore them apart. She was busy at the shop fielding the unending stream of questions from Anya, forcing Buffy to eventually put her foot down and explain to Anya that, No, she could not have Wolfgang Puck cater her wedding and still be under budget. And Spike had to split his time between L.A. and Sunnydale. He had picked up a few side projects and was making a constant commute from one city to another.

Buffy and Ben’s first meeting had had the usual first-date awkwardness but they had gotten to talking about their childhoods and had found they had a similar upbringing. His parents had also divorced and he had lived primarily with his mom.

He and Spike had met in grade school, just like Spike had said. What Spike failed to mention was what brought them to be such buddies. Apparently, Spike had entered the American school system at the age of eleven, placing him in Mrs. Shepard’s fifth grade class with Ben. Spike’s mother had just passed away from complications with pneumonia and Giles had moved him and his son to the other side of the country to start anew.

Back then, Spike was quite different than when Buffy met him eight years later. He was smaller than the other boys his age, with thick glasses, and a shy demeanor. Known by his given name of William, he had been picked on for his funny accent and ability to recite Wordsworth from memory. Ben had been one of the many bullies that had pushed the new little boy around outside at recess. It was on one such occasion that little Spike had had enough and proceeded to beat the living snot out of Ben, surrounded by a circle of schoolmates chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” After the fight, when both boys left the principal’s office, Ben was clutching an ice pack to his nose.

Ben and their male classmates, impressed by the otherwise un-intimidating William, deemed him worthy of their club, christening him with the moniker Spike. He and Ben were then inseparable for the next seven years -- both playing for the soccer team Spike was captain of -- until high school graduation tore them apart. Spike enrolled in UC Sunnydale and Ben had gone to UCLA med school.

Buffy felt sad that such a nice little boy was forced the rely on violence to earn acceptance amongst his peers. He had just experienced the tragic loss of his mother, an experience no little boy should have to go though, and he met nothing but ridicule from his unsympathetic classmates. But it explained so much of what Spike was today -- his ability to scale the emotional spectrum, callous to sweet, in a matter of minutes. It explained his climb up to her window and their night spent under the stars on the hood of his car. And it also explained, to a lesser degree, his meanness to her in college. He had been unceremoniously conditioned to strike out at anyone who threatened him -- that being tough and mean were the only way to get respect and results.

“Hey,” Ben interrupted her thoughts, “I was thinking we could go to that new restaurant over on Third Street. How about Friday?”

“Ok,” she agreed with a megawatt smile. Yes, she thought, ignoring the slight sinking feeling in her stomach, things were moving along quite nicely.

TBC

CHAPTER 17 -- Epiphany

Spike slid out of the Desoto, trickily balancing several white Styrofoam boxes on top of each other. Jutting his chin at an odd angle to keep the tower secure, he closed the door and pressed a button on his key chain, the beep of the car signaling its security. He walked up the meandering sidewalk and threw open the door of Fairytale, the door bell chiming.

He was met by Buffy, who was currently three feet above him, teetering on a chair, reaching towards the ceiling. “What are you doing?” he asked, placing the boxes down on a table just inside the door.

“Seeing just how many Buffys it takes to change a light bulb.” She dropped her shoulders in a huff, “And it’s apparently more than one.” Her lower lip jutted out appetizingly as she lifted her heels off the stool she was standing on, again reaching to screw in the bulb. Her wispy sleeveless peach silk blouse raised with her, and the scrap of jean around her waist lowered, presenting Spike with an unobstructed and accidental view of her soft tummy, leaving Spike fighting the urge to nuzzle it.

Without knowing it, Spike subconsciously took several even strides towards the stool, with Buffy trickily balancing on it in stiletto boots.

“One little nudge of my boot,” he thought, glancing at the stool’s uneven legs, “and she’d come tumbling down into my arms.” At his serious consideration, Spike gave his head a violent shake. God, ever since that accidental kiss on the porch his head had been all over the place. Even when he was up in L.A., immersed in bitchy models and unforgiving deadlines, his mind kept wandering to the little blonde back home. Ridiculous.

The room suddenly grew a little brighter, and Spike looked up to see Buffy with her arms crossed, smiling satisfactorily. She glanced up at the burning light, it’s fixture back in place, “Look, I did . . .” One of the spiked heels of her boot slipped off the stool and her body jerked. Spike dropped the car keys he was holing in his hand and rushed to the chair.

Her hands flailed a moment before finding the strength of his shoulders, her legs wobbled until his fingers steadied her hips. He wrapped his right arm around her, bringing her body flush against his. Their gazes met as Buffy slid sensuously against him, down to the floor. “. . . it,” she breathed, finishing her sentence when both her feet were set on the ground. Her hands were still splayed on his chest, his held her low on her hips, their lower bodies rested against each others.

“I . . .um . . .” Spike frantically searched his mind. He knew there was a reason he was at the store -- a specific purpose of his visit -- he just couldn’t remember what it was at the moment. Oh . . . Food. “I brought you something,” he broke away from Buffy, leaving her feeling cold where his warm body had been pressed up against hers.

“Ohhhh, a preezie!?” She squealed, instantly cheered.

“Sort of,” he answered, grabbing the first box off the stack. He held the box in front of her, making a grand gesture of it’s opening. With a flourish, he whisked the top off, revealing a delicious looking chicken pasta.

“My favorite!” she beamed.

“I remembered,” he answered, pleased with her reaction. They had made the dish during one of their cooking sessions at her house. She had loved it so much she had made him promise they’d make it again soon. He handed her the box and a fork, holding up a finger, gesturing her to wait. He went back to his pile revealing fiesta fried cheesecake for desert. “If you got a blanket and some drinks we’ll make it a real picnic, yeah?”

She nodded eagerly and disappeared to the back.

“I heard you were neck deep in designs for the wedding from hell,” he called back to her, referring to Xander’s wedding to the bridezilla herself. “I figured you’d be too busy to take lunch -- working by yourself.”

Buffy came out from the back, “You figured right,” she replied, laying down an old piece of fabric on the carpeting. She took a moment to marvel at the rightness of his statement. She hadn’t planned on eating today, figuring she’d snack on some cherry licorice of some other unhealthy alternative. She handed him a Pepsi and joined him on the floor. They ate in comfortable silence, both their hectic lives suddenly calm in each other’s company.

She looked over her dish at him, digging into his chocolate like a little boy. She smiled at him, “Thank you,” her tone implied more than just the meal.

“Your welcome,” he returned quietly. It was the way he looked at her that caught her breath. His features soft, his head tilted to the side, and his eyes shining.

“So,” Spike broke them out of their trance, “I haven’t seen you in a while, luv. Everything between you and the good doctor going well I take it?” He steered the conversation and his internal feelings in the opposite direction.

Buffy tried to wipe away the haze that fuddled her brain. “Huh? Oh, ah, yeah. Everything’s going great.”

Spike nodded. “I’ll be going back to L.A. tomorrow. You’ll be up there with me on Tuesday, correct?”

“My flight lands at eleven o’clock, you’ll meet me there, and we go straight to the photo shoot,” she answered dutifully.

“Good girl, I’ll see you then,” he kissed her on the forehead and headed out the door, the chime of the bell echoing behind him.

TBC

CHAPTER 18 -- Covergirl

Buffy thought that day at the salon getting her hair done was the most she’d ever been fawned over. She was wrong. Buffy sat on a stool, blinded by florescent lights and buried in make-up artists and hair stylists. She had one guy fluffing her hair with a round brush, working to pull it back in a elegant low bun. Buffy’s eyelids fluttered when two women in front of her began dotting her face with little brushes. Another woman yanked a little on her hand, asking her not to move as she continued to paint her nails. It was a complete circus all around her. Everyone was hurrying and stressed, but Buffy sat silently through it all. She wished Spike was there. She hadn’t seen him in two hours since he’d handed her over to the hair and make-up crew. She needed a friendly face.

“Okay, who stole my favorite pen? You know I cannot approve layouts without my favorite pen,” a woman demanded from the doorway. Buffy swiveled in her seat to see the woman. She was the kind of girl that Buffy had always shied away from in high school -- perfectly put together, make-up flawless, and moves graceful. Buffy had been on the receiving end of some very snotty comments from girls just like her.

“Oh,” she smiled perfect teeth, “You must be Buffy. You’ve had to deal with Spike for the past couple weeks haven’t you? How unfortunate. Although I must say, I’ve enjoyed the vacation from him immensely. I find my skin looks better when I don’t have the stress of having to baby-sit him.” Buffy couldn’t help but smile at the brunette’s bluntness mixed with a hint of egocentrism. She offered her hand and Buffy took it, “I’m Cordelia Chase, fashion editor. I’ve worked at Vouge, Marie Claire, and In Style, but have somehow ended up staying at this fine establishment.” She said it with a hint of distaste, glaring over at a young man who had followed her into the room, offering her coffee, a donut, and the sky if she so requested it. Cordelia sighed, “I hate interns,” she remarked. “Well, good luck at the shoot. If Spike gets out of hand, just throw something sharp and pointy at him, it works for me all the time.” She rolled her eyes at the boy waiting for her at the door. “Okay, shadow, let’s go,” the kid flanked Cordelia out of the room. Buffy smiled at the welcome interruption, Cordelia Chase had breezed into the room and easily took it over, every eye off Buffy and hanging on to her every word, guys and girls alike. She couldn’t help but marvel at the ability.

There was a flourish of white in front of her and Buffy whipped around to see an older white haired woman standing in front of her, a measuring tape around her neck and extra pins in her collar, “Here’s your dress, I hope it’s exactly how you wanted it,” she said to Buffy nervously. She pulled off the white zipper-down clothes cover.

Buffy let out a small gasp. In front of her was her dream wedding gown -- strapless A-line gown with twelve foot veil. “Oh my God,” she whispered quietly. Buffy looked up at the seamstress, “It’s beautiful.” The older woman looked down at the young girl, pleased that her work had been appreciated.

A group of five women help Buffy get into the gown, completing complex buttoning up the back and holding her steady as she stepped into the beaded ankle-strap sandals. Buffy stared at herself in the mirror, running her hands delicately over the veil. She was almost sad her mother wasn’t there to see her, this would probably be the only time she’d ever get to see her daughter in a wedding gown, as the real thing was not going to be happening in anyone’s lifetime.

Buffy sighed, deciding to enjoy herself the best she could playing the psedo-bride, and took the bouquet of pink gardenias offered to her.

“There’s are little cover girl!” Buffy turned to see and older woman walk through the door. The way everyone in the room reacted to her, told Buffy that she must be the one in charge. “Hello, Buffy,” she spoke in soothingly precise words, as if Buffy was a small child and that talking to her slowly would help her understand the big words. “I’m Liliah. I’m so glad you could come up to L.A.” Oh, this must be Spike’s boss, a/k/a “Babe” as Spike had called her on the phone. Buffy immediately decided she didn’t like Liliah. “Well, it’s getting late, I’m sure Spike’s already set up to shoot,” she spoke Spike’s name intimately, like she was the only one who truly knew him. Buffy almost snorted, like Spike would be dumb enough to sleep with his boss. Then she considered the man she was thinking about, the thought instantly sobered her. Oh my God. Spike slept with her!? His boss!? Ewwww. Gross. At their whore-of-a-boss’s suggestion, the room ushered Buffy out the door into the studio.

Buffy entered the set of the shoot, flanked by three make-up and hair crewmen, who were to stand in the wings, swooping in every so many shots to do touchups. On the set -- a replica of her dream wedding.

Rose petals lay scattered up the short white aisle. A stain glass window was at the front, signifying where the alter would be in a church. Over to the right was a table decorated to her exact specifications, like it was taken out of her reception.

The round table was scattered with rose petals and a short cut-crystal vase with tight, short-stem arrangements of pink roses served as the center piece. Several Japanese Peony candles were in clusters around the glassware. Her entourage having dissipated, Buffy sat at the reception table in the silent studio, smoothing over the white linen that covered the table, lost in thought.

“Ready?” Buffy twirled around, her veil swooshing behind her. Spike came into the room, taking his place behind the camera and it’s stand. He wore blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and well-wore Vans. She felt silly being so overdressed.

He looked over her and the scene around her, earlier he had silently pushed everyone out of the room and had leaned up against the doorframe, just watching her. She was glowing and looked perfectly in her element. She was the most perfect, exquisite bride he’d ever seen. “You look beautiful.”

She glanced over her ensamble, blushing slightly, “Thank you,” she answered softly. Something caught her eye, sitting off to the side of the table was a five-tier vision with roses, piping, and swags.

“Is this real?” she asked, pointing to the cake on the table.

“Try it,” Spike replied with a knowing smile.

Buffy swiped a finger into the confection, placing her recently French-manicured finger into her mouth. Just as she suspected -- red velvet, just like she’d wanted, had the wedding been real. But it all was kind of real. A little too real.

Sensing he was losing her, Spike took her hand, leading her into the middle of the set, “Just have fun with this okay, luv? Promise me?” Buffy gave him a sweet smile and shook her head. Spike grabbed a remote -- pointing it at the stereo in the corner, he pressed play. The romantic tunes of Frank Sinatra began to filter through the stereo. “I usually have Sex Pistols, Generation X, The Clash, or some other equally ass-kicking tunes in here, luv,” he winked at her, “But for you I made an exception.” He gestured to the music currently playing, “Thought it set the mood -- classic and romantic.”

For the next three hours, Spike took hundreds of pictures of Buffy. He had her sitting at the reception table with her hand resting on her chin, sitting on the floor with her dress billowing around her, and standing with her bouquet close to her face. She’d never seen Spike so much in his element. Just as she suspected from witnessing first-hand his inability to stay still in any situation, he was an active photographer. He had laid on the hard floor to get a shot of her standing with the stained glass behind her and followed her around the set, asking her to act natural. She sent him an exagerated glare, and he laughed, requesting her to maybe not be THAT natural. Buffy had laughed and he had taken the opportunity to snap several shots. His mind reeled with creative possibilities. A fan blew a light breeze at Buffy and he took a string of close-ups for the cover.

They were getting so carried away that they hadn’t heard Spike’s assistant enter the room, “Hi, Buffy,” Tara greeted quietly, “You look really pretty.”

“Thanks,” Buffy replied happily.

Tara took Spike’s place behind the camera and he joined Buffy on the floor.

Buffy looked slightly alarmed, “What are you doing?”

“Getting in the picture.” At her quizzical look, he continued, “It’s customary, in our world of fashion, to get a couple taken of the photographer and his subject. They use them in the contents, with blurbs on who worked on which layout.”

“Oh.”

Feeling her begin to tense at not being sure what to do, he took her hand, “Here,” he reached over and changed the track on the CD player. The exotic beat of Dean Martin’s “Sway” began to play, and Spike firmly pulled her towards him, putting on arm around her waist. He began to move them. He twirled her around the floor, Spike leading easily and Buffy following. He began a basic tango that Buffy was surprised he knew.

Buffy laughed, “You know how to dance?”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” he swung her around the floor with renewed furvor, adding a few more complicated steps and dipping her back.

Tara smiled behind the camera, as the couple continued to giggle on the floor, both collapsing against each other when the song came to an end. This was going to be a beautiful shoot.

TBC

CHAPTER 19 -- Early to Bed, Early to Rise

Spike walked through the deserted office of Today’s Bride, everyone having left hours before. He’d been doing a lot of that lately --getting in early and leaving late. In a move that shocked even himself, he had turned down a couple of parties that night and a particularly promising night with Lola, January’s cover girl, a few days before.

He strolled into an empty room. In the middle of the office was a long, four legged table littered with fifty or so proofs -- all under consideration and deep scrutiny for the next issue’s cover and layouts. Spike aimlessly flipped through a couple, some of which he had taken and some not. At the sound of approaching footsteps behind him, he whipped around.

“Well, aren’t we staying a bit late?” Cordelia stood in the doorway, arms crossed and looking impressed.

Spike shrugged, tossing the proofs back onto the pile, “Thought I was the only one left. What are you still doing here?”

“Lola threw a fit this morning when her make-up wasn’t done to her liking. It was a disaster with the photographer ending up with expensive cake smeared all over his five thousand dollar camera. I stayed late to make a few phone calls to assure him everything would be replaced.”

He chuckled at the fussy model and turned back to the photographs in front of him.

Cordelia’s brow crinkled, “Weren’t you supposed to go out with Lola the other night?”

“Yeah,” Spike replied flatly.

Cordelia eyed him critically. She had noticed a difference in Spike since he returned from his little trip home. Whereas he used to come sauntering through the doors of Today’s Bride unapologetic and brash, he was now there before anyone else, flying under the radar and remaining low-key. Lately, when she heard stories about outrageous outside-the-office behavior -- it was never about Spike. Strange.

His cell phone rang. Cordelia watched as Spike retrieved it from his pocket eagerly and checked the caller ID.

Spike frowned at the phone. It was Lilah. Some late-night booty call, he imagined. Spike sighed, turned the ringer off, and hid the phone back away in his pocket.

At his uncharacteristic behavior, Cordelia had a feeling it was a girl that called him -- but not the girl he wanted. She smiled, “I saw the proofs of your shots this morning -- really hot.” She stopped behind him and whispered, “And I’m not talking about the ones of just her.” She slide an envelope over his shoulder, into his hands. He looked confused, but as she sauntered out of the room Cordelia suddenly turned back.

“Spike, just promise me something, okay?”

Spike nodded, “Sure.”

“Be careful,” she stated. “I don’t know what this whole attitude adjustment thing is about, but I’m pretty sure it’s moving towards the better. I just have a feeling that things are going to get a little messy for a while. Whoever just called is going to be mad at your rejection, and whoever you wished had called -- she probably doesn’t know you want her to. You’re life’s about to get a major face-lift -- fight for it.”

Cordelia turned and left the room.

He took a moment to take in the fashion editor’s revelations about him. He smiled, shook is head, and peeled back the fold. In the envelope were the shots he had taken of Buffy. He sifted through them, smiling at the memories of the day. He passed by the single shots of Buffy until he reached the photos of the both of them -- the ones Tara had taken of him and Buffy together. One was the two of them posed lounging on the ground, Buffy leaning back into his arms, a series of them dancing, another of him dipping her back. He continued to flip through, but stopped at a particular shot.

It was a picture of Buffy snuggled up against him, her hands balled up in his t-shirt, her eyes closed in serenity, a soft smile upon her face. She alone made it a beautiful shot, but what jarred him was the rest of the picture. His own face was cradled close to hers -- his eyes studying her ivory features. A slow smile also upon his lips. He didn’t remember this picture -- it was not one they had posed for. It was taken without either one knowing it -- completely natural.

Buffy. The smell of her perfume. Her smile. Her laugh. How cute she looked with flour on her face. All these things assaulted his senses as he stood alone, staring down into her face on the picture in front of him.

“Fuck,” he stated into the empty room. “I’m in love with her.”

TBC
 

CHAPTER 20 -- Pivotal Moment

Author’s Note: Ok, this chapter is long, but not as long as I originally planned (and promised). It’s my first week of school, so until I get a set schedule, I didn’t know when I’d have time to update, so I split the chapter in two so I could give you an update sooner. Don’t hate me -- happy reading! And a BIG THANK YOU again to everyone currently voting for “Game of Love” on Spuffy Archives!!!

Willow couldn’t help but smile across the front room of Fairytale as Buffy laughed at something Ben had said, jokingly placing a bridal crown with a three-foot veil on top of his head. Willow was glad Buffy had found someone. At least for now. Granted, she liked Ben, but he just didn’t seem to be a perfect match -- something Buffy deserved. He was more like a training-wheel boyfriend -- something to practice on until the real thing came along. Willow’s smile quickly faltered and she quirked a critical eyebrow at the couple. Buffy was engrossed in a conversation with Dawn -- a story about an adventure she had with Janice, and the result of the current high school dreamboat, Kevin, getting a plate full of coleslaw and lima beans on his varsity letterman jacket. From behind, Ben slid his arms around his girlfriend’s waist. Buffy smiled at something Dawn had said, gently extracting herself from Ben’s arms and immediately finding something vastly interesting behind her desk. Before Willow had the time to further contemplate their budding relationship, the bell signifying the opening of the front door sounded throughout the store.

A bride, crying out of happiness at all her dreams coming true, exited the store as Spike made his way in.

He lurched out of the hysterical girl’s way, her mother following closely behind. Spike’s brow furrowed at the sobbing girl’s entourage as it passed him, “How’s Sam’s Club’s favorite Kleenex customer?” he asked, walking into the store.

“Hey!” Buffy popped up from behind her desk, attitude instantly brightened at his entrance. At her reaction, Spike’s chest grew a little tighter and his confidence bloomed. Buffy made a bee-line over to Spike, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss just to the left of his lips. He returned with his own almost-kiss. It was their new thing. Spike wasn’t sure when exactly it had started, but these hugs and close kisses after not seeing each other for a while was their own tradition.

Pulling back, Spike ran his hands firmly up and down her sides, eliciting a giggle from the blonde in front of him, “How’s my girl?”

“Not bad,” she replied, leaning all her weight on the arms slung around his neck. He swayed them back and forth, Buffy completely trusting him not to let her fall. “I missed you.”

“I called,” he defended.

Buffy rolled her eyes, “Yeah, and talked to my mother and sister more than you did me,” she pouted.

“I can’t help it if your family finds me irresistible,” he smirked.

“We played poker again the other day,” Dawn chimed in. “You should have seen her.” Dawn made a face, further solidifying the fact that her sister was a horrible liar and card player.

“Hey!” Buffy yelped. “I was the pure image of composure.”

“Not unlike you that day on the hill . . .” Spike’s face broke out in a smile.

Buffy gasped at his insinuation, “Well I wouldn’t have went that fast if you hadn’t pushed . . .”

“I was steadying you!” he interrupted.

“I was on skates! That hill must have been at a ninety-degree angle!” she yelled, her own smile upon her.

“The face you made when . . .” Spike burst into laughter.

Buffy couldn’t help it -- she rolled into an uncontrollable fit of giggles, “And then the old woman . . .” Buffy couldn’t finish the sentence at the two laughed harder at the memory.

The blonde couple continued to reminisce in code. Willow shot a glance over at Ben, who stood off to the side, smiling uncomfortably, trying to get in on the joke that only his girlfriend and old friend shared.

Willow felt bad for the odd guy out, how he was barely acknowledged when Spike walked in the room. Spike continued to tease Buffy about their apparent mishap on one of their skating trips and she began slapping at his chest half-heartedly amidst her laughter. Spike turned his back defensively to Buffy and her pummeling hands. In response she jumped on his back playfully.

Willow continued to observe Ben’s dejected attitude. Even when Buffy and Spike hated each other, whenever one would walk into the room, the other would forget that anyone else was in the room and zone in on the torturing. Now, their relationship had grown. The torturing was gone, but that aspect of only the two of them in their own little world still remained.

“Oi! Watch it, Summers,” Buffy rode Spike in a zigzag fashion around the room, using the neckline of his t-shirt as reins, before parking him over by the desk and sliding off him.

“Ben,” Spike nodded in the direction of his friend.

“Spike,” Ben greeted back.

The guys began conversation as Buffy carried a dress over to the far corner, laying it down on the table, a smile in her lips.

“So . . .” Willow ventured over to her friend, “Where are you and Ben off to tonight?”

“Oh, just the standard dinner and movie. And then . . .” Buffy’s lips curled into a smile, “We’ll see.”

“What do you mean?” Willow looked perplexed.

Buffy glanced over at her boyfriend, who was across the room talking to Spike, “I’m going to sleep with him, Will,” Buffy bounced on her heels.

Willow didn’t look so excited. After what she had just witnessed with the Ben-Buffy-Spike dynamic, she was even more hesitant to say that Ben was Buffy’s perfect guy. Whether Buffy admitted it or not, she was a bit of a romantic. She had the one-guy-one-girl-forever innocence. You could see it in her wedding store, by the fact that she never had a boyfriend, and that she shied away from cereal-dating losers like the other girls their age.

“Don’t you think you should wait a little, you know, until you’re sure?”

The joy drained out of the blonde, “What? Will, you guys always treat me with kid-gloves when it comes to dating. You sleep with whoever you want!”

“No, Buffy, I’m just telling you not to settle.”

“What about Ben is settling?”

“What about Spike?” Willow countered.

Buffy squinted, “What about him?”

“Buffy, I just witnessed you blow off Ben when Spike walked into the room.” Buffy was a smart girl, always had been, but when it came to certain things, she was blatantly oblivious. “Buffy, he’s kind of in love with you,” Willow braced herself for a reaction. “And I think you like him too.”

Buffy deflated, “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Buffy, the way you two act around each other. It’s so obvious. Why don’t you just admit it?”

Buffy’s jaw dropped. What had brought this on? She knew she was the most inexperienced out of their little group, but she was also an adult capable of making her own decisions about her love life. First Spike showed up with his little “Get Buffy her first boyfriend quick” scheme and now Willow was pushing her in the opposite direction. That was it. Buffy was fed up with being everyone’s project. She had her own life, her own relationship, and the rest of them couldn’t handle their Little Buffy growing up, no longer everyone’s den mother. Confused and angry, she shook her head, “I have to go,” Buffy grabbed her coat, leaving the store.

Both men’s eyes followed Buffy out of the store, both unaware of what had made her so upset. Ben turned back to Spike, “I guess that’s my cue,” he shrugged, grabbing his own coat and heading towards the door.

“Yeah, guess so,” Spike replied distractedly, his gaze still on the place where Buffy had disappeared, all the while knowing it should be him, not Ben, running after her. It was a battle to keep both his feet glued to the floor.

When the door finally closed for the final time, Spike let out a long breath, eyes closing.

Willow’s voice filtered from behind him, “She’s going out with Ben tonight.”

Agitated, Spike raked his hands though his hair, “Red, I’m the fucking idiot who set them up, of course I know they’re dating.”

Willow moved to say something, but Spike spoke again, a sigh of defeat in his voice, “You know what? Fine. Let her date him. I’m not gonna stick around like some little lost boy!” Spike held his head high, pride apparently back in place, “I’m moving on. I’ve got . . . prospects,” his last sentence wavered uncertainly.

“Spike, she’s going to sleep with him tonight,” Willow replied quietly to his tirade.

Spike looked around the room helplessly, “Son of a bitch!” he yelled. Willow winced at his exclamation. “I’m in love with her!” he screamed at Willow with the same intensity. Apparently his new-found pride was a front.

Willow smiled nervously, “I know, that’s why I told you.”

Spike collapse on the steps, wallowing in his own self-pity. “This is very inconvenient,” he stated dully.

Willow couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “What? It’s inconvenient for you so your just going to let her go out with him!? Sleep with him!? Spike, you have never in your life made anything easy for yourself, why should finding the love of your life be any different?”

“Red, you couldn’t stand me and Buffy being anywhere near each other. What’s with the cupid?”

“Well, I think it’s kind of romantic.”

Spike looked at her doubtfully, “You got another word for that? Projection?”

“What?” Willow stuttered nervously, “Don’t you go making this about me!”

“You’re banging my assistant, Red.” Her face flamed the same color of her hair and Spike rolled his eyes and sighed, “You’re in love and now you have some misguided notion that everyone should be as happy as you.”

“They should be,” she replied quietly before regaining her voice, now strong with rousing conviction, “Think about it: It’s mortal enemies, sworn to despise each other, turned lovers. Shakespeare couldn’t write that!”

Spike looked up at her from his place on the floor, “He did, Red, it’s called Romeo and Juliet. And before you continue, let me just remind you how THAT love affair turned out.”

Willow had no other choice. It was time for drastic measures. She put on her resolve face. “Spike, I’ve been your friend for years. I know your track record. Falling for Buffy is the smartest, albeit most ill-timed, decision you’ve ever made.”

“What are you saying I should do?”

“Go get her, stupid!”

“Red, she has no idea I have any intention of being more than friends,” he fought.

“Well . . . She might have . . . An inkling,” Willow stumbled over her words.

Spike shot her a piercing gaze, “Don’t make me hate you, Red,” he warned.

“Spike, I . . .”

“What did you do, Willow?” he growled, trying to control his rage. He would hate to have to go ape-shit on the most sunny-dispositioned girl in the world.

His use of her real name guilt-tripped her over the edge, “I kind of told her you were in love with her,” she released quickly, then shut tight her eyes, waiting for the inevitable blowup from her short-fused friend.

But she was met with silence. Warily, she ventured an eye slightly open. Her gaze met open air. Startled she shot both eyes open, venturing around the store.

He was over by the coat rack, slinging his jacket around his shoulders.

“Where are you going?” Willow called frantically.

“To find Buffy,” he replied.

The store clock chimed seven o’clock behind him.

TBC

CHAPTER 21 -- Complications

Your reviews are wonderful!!! Thank you so much! AND THANKS FOR GIVING ME AND CAROL STORY OF THE WEEK ON SPUFFY ANCHIVES!!!! You guys rock! And you convinced me -- I’m doing shorter chapters with more frequent updates. I’m hoping to put the next update up tomm or Tuesday. Thanks and happy reading!

Buffy raced around the empty house, gathering her last minute items distractedly. Her purse remained in the kitchen, her gold hoop earrings on the living room coffee table, and her wrap was God knows where. Ben would be there any minute to pick her up and she wanted everything to be faultless. An abrupt knock on the front door made her jump. Nervously, she flung the door back, an expectant smile on her face.

Coming face to face with the man on the other side of the door, her brightened features quickly vanished. She left the door in it’s halfway opened state and walked away.

Buffy kept her back to her visitor, “What do you want?” she asked, shuffling through a pile of junk on the coffee table for her missing jewelry.

Spike ran his gaze warily over the entire frame of the door, looking for some sort of invisible barrier. With the animosity he was receiving from Buffy, there might as well have been. Taking in a breath, he only ventured as far as the foyer. His eyes followed her form, clad in a black spaghetti strap dress, “Are you going out with him tonight?” he spoke sullenly.

Buffy spun on her heels to face him, a fire in her eyes he hadn’t seen in a month, “This was your idea you know! All this! You came back into town pushing guys at me! Trying to fix me!”

“I know,” he said in a hushed tone, looking at the floor, his palms wiping restlessly on his jeans.

Buffy threw up her hands, “Why the problem with this all of a sudden? I like Ben. I like him a lot. I’m happy.” She rushed past him into the kitchen, never looking him in the eye.

Spike cringed at her words, standing in the living room alone to compose himself before following. She was at the kitchen table, rummaging through her purse, probably for nothing but to keep her hands and mind occupied. “Where’s your mom and the Bit?”

She hesitated at his abrupt subject change, “Visiting my grandmother. They’ll be back on Sunday.” She made her way over to the refrigerator. “You want something to drink?”

He shook his head in response, “No.” She extracted a bottle of water, then reached up to the cupboard above her, taking down a pill bottle. Spike furrowed his brow, worried, “Since when do you take aspirin?” All the years he’d know her, she was stubborn when it came to pain -- always said she could handle it without any painkillers, even when the uncomfortable throbbing was obviously too much.

“Fighting with you makes my head hurt,” she replied quietly.

Spike smirked nervously, “Not unlike the time you actually hit me over the head with your Ramen Noodle bowl junior year.”

The look Buffy shot him was less than amused, “Don’t try to change the subject.” She bravely met his eyes, “Spike . . . What’s this all about?”

Spike closed the distance between them. Buffy looked startled, but didn’t move away. He cupped her cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her soft features. He gently, slowly brought her mouth up to his. The softness of his lips coaxing her tongue from her mouth. She moaned into the kiss. They soundly tasted each other’s lips for a full minute. He pulled back and gazed into her eyes, swallowing hard, “I’m in love with you.”

“So I’ve been told,” she whispered. The lipstick she had worked twenty minutes on getting right was smudged and her lips swollen. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Buffy blinked and pulled away, the spell broken, “So, what . . . I’m supposed to ignore my feelings for him and jump into your arms?”

A bitter smile graced his features. He rocked back on his heels, “No, you’re supposed to decide you love me more than you love him and leave him for me.”

She scoffed aloud at the idea.

“Do you love him?” he asked. She didn’t reply and walked over to the counter to fetch her shawl, smoothing out the edges. “But you’re going to sleep with him,” he stated.

Buffy froze, turning slowly, “How did you . . .” realization came over her face, “Willow.” She shook her head, “God, is nothing sacred to you people!?” When Spike didn’t answer, she continued. “Can I ask you something? Why Spike? Why do you care?”

Spike’s eye pleaded with her own, “Because your first time shouldn’t be with him . . . It should be with me.”

The color drained out of Buffy’s features, “So that’s what this is all about! You getting a piece of ass! It has nothing to do with me! I should have known!” She paced violently around the kitchen.

Spike followed her, “Buffy, no, luv, you got it all wrong!” The sound of car wheels on gravel echoed in the night outside -- Ben had pulled into the driveway.

Buffy grabbed her things, making a quick exit towards the front door, “This is all about you, isn’t it? It’s been about you since day one! You used me to get a big magazine project and now you want to bang a virgin! It’s only about what you, Spike, Bachelor extraordinaire, wants. It always has been.”

“Buffy! Wait!” he reached for her.

She whipped her arm around out of his reach, “You can show yourself out.” With that she slammed the door behind her.

TBC

CHAPTER 22 -- Fiddle

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who’s currently voting for “Comedown” on Spuffy Archives! You guys are the best and your support and reviews mean the world to me! I wish I could hug each and every one of you! Happy reading!

Buffy was obviously in an agitated state. All night through the movie Ben had watched her as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair as if it was a cement block. She barely picked at the popcorn and chocolate covered peanuts in front of her. Now, two hours later, sitting across from him at a nice Italian restaurant, she fiddled with her fork, viciously cleaned off her spoon with her napkin, and twirled the ice in her glass with her straw.

Ben couldn’t help but smile a little at her nervous state. He’d been going out with her for a while, but had never witnessed any of the habits she so avidly displayed now. Habits that he recognized belonging to another one of his friends.

He slid his hand across the table, his larger one covering her tapping fingernails, bringing them to a halt, “So the movie was pretty good huh?”

“What?” Buffy looked up at him startled. Up to that point she had been staring fixatedly on her salad plate. “Oh, yeah, Denzel Washington is great.”

Ben looked puzzled, “Buffy . . . that was Will Smith.”

Buffy’s eyes widened, “Oh . . . Right, of course.” She gave him a half-hearted smile, “My bad.”

Buffy played with the corner of her menu which lay on the table. Ben had watched her and noticed that she hadn’t opened it yet. Looking to his right, he saw the waiter coming their way, “So, what are you ordering?”

“Chicken alfredo,” she answered instantly. She had ordered it there before and liked it. But it wasn’t as good as when Spike made it.

The couple placed their orders, handing over their menus, Buffy smiling guiltily when the waiter studied her dog-eared menu disapprovingly.

Buffy continued to drift her eyes aimlessly around the room, studying the sculptures decorating the place and paintings of quaint Italian villages mounted on the walls.

Ben examined his date, “Buffy, why are you here with me?”

“What?” she looked across the table at the queer look he was giving her. “What kind of question is that?”

His gaze never wavered, “Why are you here with me when you should be with him?” he asked gently.

“Him who?” she asked, nervously glancing around the restaurant, not liking where this conversation was going.

“Spike,” he replied.

Buffy jaw hit the floor, “Oh my god. I can’t believe this is happening. He put you up to this didn’t he? He told you . . .”

Ben interrupted her, “Buffy, what are you talking about? Spike didn’t tell me anything. Is there something I should know?”

Buffy continued to deny, “How do you . . .”

“You can just tell,” he sighed. “The way you are around each other. The way your faces light up when the other walks into a room.”

“We’re just friends,” she offered.

Ben gave her a contradictory look, “You ignore me when he’s around.”

Buffy slouched in her seat and pouted, giving a little, “I don’t mean to.”

“I know you don’t, that’s the incredible thing. You put the two of you in a room together and you fall into this incredible sync with each other. Buffy, I know you and I know Spike.”

Buffy shook her head, “Ben, I don’t feel the same way he does about me.”

“Don’t you?” he questioned.

They finished their meal in silence.

__________________________________________

They walked out of the restaurant together. Inside, Buffy was dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe it. Spike showed up in town with that cocky attitude of his and not only used her, but brainwashed everyone else. He had apparently successfully convinced everyone but herself that she was in love with him.

“Buffy, I know this night was supposed to be special for us, but with everything that’s gone on maybe we should just . . .”

She shut him up by kissing him, pushing her lips hard against his -- willing the fireworks, bells, and whistles to forcibly appear like the one’s she had seen earlier that night in the kitchen. None came, but Buffy ignored their lacking.

Ben pulled back breathless, shock evident on his face. He searched her eyes, “So what do you want to do?”

Buffy set her jaw, addressing him squarely, “Go back to my place,” she answered.

TBC
 

CHAPTER 23 -- Moondance

Author’s Note: Thank you again for all the reviews and for voting for “Comedown” on Spuffy Archives! This is a shorter chapter (the Author’s Notes probably being longer than the story) but I’ve got some great ideas coming up in the future based on some recent experiences I had. I’m very excited for the direction this story is going in and am not going to be stopping anytime soon.

Author’s Note: Ok many, if not all of you, are questioning my use of Ben and not Riley as the other guy. It comes down to this: I refuse to put Riley in a story in which he does not die violently and that just wasn’t where this story is going. And I needed you to like Ben, and his character doesn’t come with all the emotional reader baggage that Riley does. I needed room to work and create my own character a little for the good of the story and I’d be stuck with Riley’s Iowa corn boy image. I hate that image. So sit back, enjoy, and happy reading!

Approaching her front door she saw him. He was on the steps, illuminated only by the porch light and the moon. His eyes were bloodshot and he had his head cradled in his hands. He must have been sitting there all the hours she was gone.

He heard her heels clicking against the pavement in front of him but couldn’t bring himself to look up, afraid of some tale-tell sign on her face he didn’t want to see. She came to a halt in front of his hunched over form. He couldn’t bear to know, but at the same time couldn’t bear not to. The did she/didn’t she had been torturing his every thought for the past three hours, forty-two minutes, and twenty, no, twenty one seconds. “Did you sleep with him?” He asked quietly.

Buffy closed her eyes for a minute, trying to compose her thoughts, preparing what she would say to him. She wasn’t good with words, not like him. He said whatever was on his mind -- eloquently and with no concern to the ramifications. He just let his ideas fall off his lips and let everyone else deal with their meaning. She smoothed the back of her dress and sat down next to him, hands on her knees. “No, I didn’t sleep with him.” She answered just as quiet.

His hands slid to the back of his neck. He met her eyes for the first time, his usually immaculate features wreaked with hurt, slight confusion, and maybe a glimmer of hope, “Why not?”

After Buffy and Ben’s kiss, it had taken half the ride to her house for her revenge mode to cool off and Ben’s chivalry to prevail. He had renounced his earlier motives and refused to continue a relationship with a girl so obviously caught up in someone else. In the end it had all been so very anticlimactic and awkward. “Because he’s convinced I’m love with you,” she answered dully, so very tired of the whirlwind her life had taken in the past couple weeks. She’d have to think about simplifying in the future.

Spike’s body straightened in response.

Buffy rolled her eyes, her mood lightened, “Hold on their, cowboy. Just because someone fancies themselves perceptive doesn’t mean jack for you right now.”

He gave her a smile, “Well, you can’t blame a bloke for holding on to some hope.”

She turned to him, “Why don’t you . . .” He cut her off with his lips. It was demanding, chaste, soft, and promising. Everything a kiss should be.

He pulled away slowly and she sighed at the rightness, her eyes still closed and her lips slightly puckered.

Spike smirked at her state, running a hand into her hair, bringing her back to earth, “Remember to breath, sweetheart.”

Buffy opened her eyes and scowled, annoyed that he had so effortlessly reduced her to a sappy puddle of goo and knew it. “Doesn’t mean I love you,” she said.

“No,” he agreed, a slow smile spreading on his face, “But you will.”

TBC

CHAPTER 24 -- Resistance

She found it taped to the front door a week and a half later when she arrived to open Fairytale for the day:

“Bard Apartments. Room 512. Four o’clock,” the paper read. It was written in Spike’s distinct handwriting -- hurried but with a hint of the elegance of the proper cursive his father had distilled in him when he was young.

Buffy knew exactly where the address was. It was an apartment complex on the outskirt of the Sunnydale University campus. It housed students lucky enough to score a place outside of the dorms. And she knew exactly where Room 512 was -- it was Spike and Xander’s apartment for their four years in school. Buffy had roomed in the dorms with Willow for the first two years, but both got an apartment with Anya for their last two.

Buffy pulled the note off the door and folded it, sliding it into the back pocket of her jeans, and headed for the pile of boxes of new merchandise that sat in the corner. The balk of her day had gone on a little distractedly, Spike’s note pinned in the forefront of her mind. The last time she had seen him was the night on her porch when he had kissed her, insisted that one day she’d love him, and left town for L.A. Just what exactly was he up to?

And of course, he had left her to deal with the whole Spike-loves-Buffy debauchery on her own. Buffy couldn’t even count the number of Willow’s chocolate chip cookies she had to eat to ease her best friend’s pain. The redhead that insisted that the whole thing was all her fault and she shouldn’t have stuck her nose in any of it. Yet, Buffy couldn’t help but notice the distinct look of satisfaction on her friend’s face when Buffy had verbally rehashed the altercations with Spike -- both in the kitchen before her date and on the porch afterwards -- all of which had ended with the blonde couple kissing.

Although as open as she had been with Willow, Buffy kept the cryptic message to herself. Even when the bubbly girl arrived at the shop two hours later. Buffy feared she might seem a little distant, never catching what Willow had said the first time around and constantly asking her to repeat herself. But Willow was still guilt tripping over the fallout with Ben and the apparent addition of Spike to take much notice of Buffy’s behavior.

Nor did Willow act suspicious when Buffy left the shop hours before she normally did, having to make the twenty minute trek to campus. Buffy had simply made the excuse that she had to run some miscellaneous errands for her mother and planned on returning in a couple of hours.

Now, Buffy stood in front of a very familiar door. Taking a deep breath she rapped on it. When there was no answer, she slowly turned the doorknob. Pushing open the door, she was transplanted back to six years prior.

It was Spike and Xander’s old apartment all right, but not only in address. It was exactly the same as they had left it all those years ago. Buffy even thought she could still see the wine stain on the far wall from the time when she had chucked a glass of the deep purple beverage at Spike’s head and he had expertly ducked out of the way.

The furniture, complete with the cheap futon (which boys had picked up off of someone’s lawn) that sat opposite the twenty-five thousand dollar entertainment center, was all in it’s right place. Although she did find the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit calendar mysteriously missing from it’s usual spot as the living room centerpiece.

“Spike?” she called out, slowly wandering around the flashback before her.

She heard footsteps and whipped around to face the hallway. He walked out of the back bedroom wearing an outfit Buffy hadn’t seen him wear since college -- his black ensemble. She didn’t even know that he still had any of that stuff. The snug black jeans, the black t-shirt turned inside out that hid writing that only he knew what it read, the scuffed up boots, and of course his black leather trench coat that had been so ever-present in their college days. Even his hair was neatly slicked back, unlike the more messy spikes he sported in recent years.

Buffy ran her eyes over the scene, “What are you doing?” she asked confused, wonder laced through her voice.

“Starting over,” he replied taking a few steps toward her. “This, if you remember, is the first place we met. It was the first week of freshman year and Xander had invited you and Willow over to meet his stunningly handsome new roommate.”

Buffy didn’t remember the “stunningly handsome” part, but so far the story was true.

“And within, I believe, five minutes, you were already threatening to kill me.”

“You told me I had stupid hair!” she defended.

“Besides the point,” he continued his story, ignoring his part in their first conflict. “Our relationship only went downhill from there, ending with me leaving after graduation. When I came back it was only to get the big project.” His voice quieted, more introspective but at the same time revealing, “And it’s true . . . I didn’t care how it would affect you. But God help me Buffy, somewhere in the middle of all of it I fell in love with you.” Spike smiled, lifting his arms to bring attention to the room, “So I’m starting over.”

Buffy’s brows furrowed, then her eyes widened, “You’re living in Bard?”

Spike laughed, “No, I gave the frat boys living here fifty dollars in drinking cash and told them to get lost for the night. I got a place across town.”

“Oh,” she replied but continued to be lost just seconds later, “Wait, across town? You’re living in Sunnydale? What about your job?”

He bit his lip for a second, unsure how Ms. Responsible would react, “I quit,” he replied.

She didn’t disappoint him. Buffy’s green orbs grew even larger, “You what!? Why!?” she screeched.

“Because if I’m not near you I don’t feel right. Because this is home. Because if I’m really going to make this work with you -- which I know I am -- I have to be here, not three hours away. God help me if some prat gets some bright idea to come after you while I’m gone.”

“Oh, God, Spike, when I told you that this would always be home that night I didn’t mean to give up everything you’ve worked for all your life! Oh God, you don’t have any source of income. You’ll be living in a cardboard box and it’ll be all my fault! That was so irresponsible of you, Spike!” While Buffy continued to rave and work herself up into a frenzy, Spike looked anything but unsure about his decision. “I know you have some sort of idea about us, but what if it doesn’t work out? Then you’ll resent me for ruining your life!” He smiled at her nervous ramblings and stalk slowly towards her. In response she unconsciously back up as she continued her rant.

“Did you give them any notice or did you just up and walk out? They won’t give you any kind of recommendation if you left under bad terms!”

They continued the cat and mouse movement until Buffy was pressed against the door. He had one hand on either side of her, effectively caging her in.

Buffy was scared and he could tell, and not just by her incessant talking. Buffy didn’t like her world to be so abruptly shaken and Spike had effectively turned it on it’s head. He had given up his entire life in L.A. -- one that had taken him six years to build -- and that showed her just how serious he was about her. Now he was here full time. That meant she didn’t get any convenient breaks from him when things got too heavy.

Spike could see she was still mad at him. Her jaw was locked in place and her hands were curled up into tight balls, just begging to sock him in the nose. He gently lifted one of her clenched fists and kissed her knuckles tenderly. “I hate you,” she told him.

“I know,” he continued to worship her hand.

Each placement of his lips on her hand loosened her tight fist. He pressed kisses all over her hand until it was pliable. He intertwined his fingers in hers, “But you love me,” he stated.

Buffy huffed, “Good luck getting me to admit it,” she said doubtfully.

Spike smirked, “Baby, that’s going to be half the fun.”

TBC

 

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