Speedway (continued)

Chapter 31

"Can I ask you something?" Buffy said turning to look at him. After a full night of lovemaking, interspersed with talking, and very little sleep, it was time to get back to real life. As much as both of them would have liked to have stayed in bed for the next six months, Buffy did have a teenager with a penchant for trouble at home. So, they had gotten up and gotten dressed, only stopping once when their hormones got the better of them. Now, they were in Spike's Mustang, heading towards her house.

"Sure," he answered, sliding a glance at her.

"Why Crystal?" His eyes widened at that. He'd thought that was settled. He pulled to stop at a stoplight, and turned to look at her. Relief that she didn't look mad, only curious, rushed through him.

"What'cha mean, pet?"

"Just that, she doesn't look like the sort that hangs around race tracks. And since Johnny met her hanging out backstage, how did you meet her?"

"Backstage."

"Huh?" He chuckled at her confused look, and started driving again.

"I guess it was about two years ago. Went to one of Mark's shows in New York. She was there, hanging about."

"And you just decided to take her home?" A scarred brow popped up at that.

"Not exactly. She had seen me talking to Mark. Thought I might help her get where she wanted to be. Which was firmly impaled on Mark's parts." Buffy blushed crimson at the blunt description. "Didn't mean anything pet. Took what she offered and left town the next day. Unfortunately, she seemed to think it did. Spent a good three months fighting her off. Started to see her at every race, she'd even contacted my owner with some lame story about how she was my sister, and she HAD to get hold of me. Sheldon threatened her with lawsuits and all sorts of crap to get her to back off." He sighed, and shook his head. "Needless to say, that little incident made me rethink casual sex with a quickness."

"Good. She's still set on Mark, though."

"I could tell. Little bint. Told her then to stay away from him. Willow's a good woman, and Mark's my friend. I'd hate to have to kick his ass." Buffy giggled at that.

"Yeah. After Willow got through with him first. If there was anything left." They both chuckled at that, knowing full well that Mark would never do anything to hurt Willow. He'd walk away first.

"Well, here we are," Spike said, pulling up in front of her house.

"You wanna come in?"

"I think I'm going to go round up the men folk and show off the new toy," he said with a grin. Buffy smiled back at him, that old saying about men and boys and the price of their toys floating through her mind.

"Alright, but come back for dinner," she told him, leaning across the gear shift to kiss him goodbye. They lingered on the kiss, neither wanting to pull away first.

"Is there going to be dessert?" His wicked grin nearly had her dragging him out of the car and straight up to her bedroom.

"Maybe. Let's see how much of a good boy you are." She started to pull back, only to be hauled against him again when he fisted his hand in his T-shirt that she was wearing.

"Oh, I can be very good," he whispered huskily, before swooping in to plunder her mouth. She stared dazedly at him when he pulled back, her eyes bright with desire.

"Hurry back," she managed, sliding back into her seat. She had to try twice to get the door open. She smiled at him again, then stepped out onto the pavement, holding onto the door to keep her balance. Her knees were the consistency of Jell-O.

When she finally felt steady, she closed the door, leaning down to look in the window and wave. He flashed her another grin, coupled with a smoldering, blue eyed look, then peeled off down the street. Buffy watched the car until he disappeared around the corner, a huge smile on her face.

~*~*~

"And she's all yours?" Xander gasped in awe as he walked around the dark blue Chevrolet. Spike and Mark were leaning against the workbench, smoking.

"Yeah. Now all I gotta do is get her ready for Daytona."

"You have a driver?" Spike shook his head at Mark, flicking ashes on the floor.

"No. Not yet." Mark and Xander exchanged a look, the expression on Spike's face telling them a lot. "Don't have anything yet. Just bought the car. Still have to contact NASCAR, plus get a crew together. Can't keep her here, so I have to get a proper garage. Then there's the need for a sponsor. Won't worry about that too much until we get to Daytona, though."

"I'll do it. Or rather, Native Soul will do it." Spike's eyes shot to the black ones of his friend.

"Wha?"

"I said, we'll sponsor you."

"You want to sponsor the car?" the blonde repeated, just to make sure he wasn't hearing things. Mark rolled his eyes, and nodded.

"Why not? I mean, look at the other sponsors. You've got M&M's, Cheerios, beer, UPS, Tide. Viagra sponsors a car for Christ's sake. Why not a band?"

"Don't forget the Cartoon Network. They had a car for a while. Matchbox, and didn't Kiss sponsor a car once?" Xander chimed in, coming to stand next to them.

"I don't think that was for NASCAR. I think that was for NHRA," Spike replied. "It's pricey, Mark. Sponsors have to take care of all the entry fees, plus get their logo on the car. And that's just the beginning."

"I know." Spike stared at the Indian for a long moment, before a grin cracked his face.

"Alright. You've got a deal." They shook hands, sealing the deal. "Guess I need to put that lawyer of mine to work. Need to get stuff all legalized."

"Yeah. Just have your lawyer call my lawyer. Maybe they can do lunch," Mark quipped, smiling.

"So, what do you think of her, Xan."

"She's beautiful," he practically sighed. His eyes ran longingly over the car, shoulda, woulda, coulda's swirling in his brain. Spike watched the brunette's face, a smile forming on his lips.

"Want to be my crew chief?" Xander's head spun around to pin Spike with wide eyes.

"What?" He tilted his head, his brow scrunching up at the question. He was afraid that Spike was playing with him, and he didn't want to be part of the joke.

"I said, do you want to be my crew chief?" Spike repeated, tossing his cigarette to the floor and stepping on it.

"Are you serious?"

"No, I just asked so I could snatch it away and crush all your hopes and dreams. Of course I'm serious, you git." The two men watched as a slow, goofy grin started to spread across his face. Without warning, he grabbed Spike in a hug, speechless. Spike just laughed and patted Xander on the back, rolling his eyes at Mark.

"Thank you, man. God, yes. But, I have no experience at this sort of thing. Are you sure?" Xander babbled, when he pulled back. He was too excited to worry about the unmanly display he was putting on.

"Look, everybody's got to start somewhere, right? I didn't have all that much experience when I started. Had none when it came to asphalt tracks. But I think I did alright, and so will you," Spike assured him. "Now, we just need to find a crew."

"Wow. This is so cool," Xander gushed, walking around the car again. He was itching to get under the hood and get to know it as well as he knew Cordelia's body. Mark and Spike started talking about what had to be done, while the brunette inspected the car with a new enthusiasm.

~*~*~

"Hi," Buffy said, smiling brightly at Spike. He was leaning against the doorframe, a single white rose in his hand.

"Hello, luv. For you." He handed her the rose, then pulled her into his arms for a kiss. She sighed as his mouth closed over hers, her body leaning into him. "Mmm. Keep that up and dinner is going to burn," she murmured when he pulled back.

"Screw dinner," he growled, leaning back down. She evaded him and stepped out of his arms, giggling when he growled again.

"Uh uh, mister. Dawn's in the living room," she warned. "Go say hi to her. I'll call when the food is ready." He shut the door, and watched her sashay away. She cast him a seductive look before she disappeared around the corner, her throaty laugh drifting after her. Snorting at the display, Spike went into the living room, where Dawn was curled up on the couch, reading.

"Hey, Nibblet. What you reading?" She held up the front for him to read, never looking up from the page. Spike looked down at the blonde vampire on the cover, the gold eyes seeming to stare back at him and his mouth open in a snarl to expose the elongated canines. A large clock was superimposed behind him. The title, written in big, drippy red letters, was Doomsday Clock. "Well, isn't he attractive?" Spike quipped, settling on the couch next to her. Dawn glanced up at him, then turned the book to look at the cover.

"You don't think? He kinda reminds me of you." Spike snorted at that. "It's good. You should read it," she insisted.

"Sorry, Nibblet. I like a little reality in what I read." Dawn just rolled her eyes, marked her place, and put the book on the coffee table.

"What's up?" she asked, draping an arm across the back of the couch and resting her chin on it.

"Nothing. Did we miss anything exciting last night?"

"Not really. Nothing that would compare to what you and Buffy were doing last night, anyway." She gave him a knowing grin, snickering when he blushed.

"Dawn," he said in a warning tone. She just rolled her eyes again.

"Whatever, Spike. I am seventeen you know," she reminded him.

"Yeah. I know. Doesn't mean I like it," he grumbled.

"You missed your dad and Anya. They came in about a half hour after you left. I like her," she added when a scowl crossed his face. He hadn't been lying when he said he wanted his father to be happy, but he was still having a hard time dealing. He supposed he should get over to meet the girl when she had her clothes on, he just wasn't up to it yet.

"I'm sure she's a lovely person," he said, glaring at her when she giggled.

"She is. Very blunt. And she kept Giles hopping last night. Everything she needed, he got. Usually without her asking. They were very sweet." Dawn smiled at the memory. Then, her face twisted into a scowl of her own. "And that Crystal, what a ho. After you left, she just wrapped herself around Johnny. The things she was doing were definitely not made for a PG audience. I mean, she was just so obvious. And when she thought no one was looking, she would just send these nasty looks at Willow. What's her damage?" Spike shrugged, glad that he hadn't had to deal with Crystal all night.

"Don't know, pet. Some people are just naturally hoish," he said.

"Yeah, well, I think nature gave her an extra helping." Spike chuckled at that.

"What are you doing after school on Monday?" he asked, changing the subject. He'd heard more than enough about Crystal to last him a lifetime or two.

"Straight home for me. Grounded, remember?" She frowned as she said it.

"Oh yeah. If I can clear it with big sis, you wanna come with me somewhere?"

"Sure. Where?"

"Need your opinion on something. And that's all I'm saying," he said when he caught a glimpse of Buffy coming into the room. Dawn arched a brow at that, but didn't pursue it.

"Dinner's ready," Buffy announced, turning to head back to the kitchen. Dawn and Spike pushed off the couch and followed her to the kitchen, teasing and laughter filling the air.

~*~*~

"I'm coming!" Mark yelled, unstrapping his guitar. He had come home after seeing Spike and Xander to find a note from Willow. She had gone to the library to study and would be back around eight. As it was seven thirty now, he just assumed it was Willow at the door, having forgotten her key.

"Hey, baby. You forget your key?" He pulled open the door, a smile on his face. The smile faded when he saw Crystal standing outside. She stared seductively at him through her lashes. He scowled down at her, a cursory glance taking in the black trench coat she was wearing. Warning bells started to sound in his head. He was pretty sure of what she wasn't wearing under the coat. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't a person stop in to visit a friend?" Her voice was saccharine sweet, her smile just as sugary.

"You're not my friend," he told her bluntly, starting to close the door. She put her hand up and stopped it, her unusual eyes glittering.

"That's not true. I'm with Johnny, which makes us practically family." Mark angled himself so she couldn't slip past him.

"I don't consider Johnny's fuck mates family." His voice was cold, his words wiping the smile off her face.

"Why do you have to be like that? I could be so good to you." Her lush mouth curved into a pout, and she dragged a well manicured nail down his t-shirt clad stomach. Revulsion ripped through him at her touch.

"Why don't you listen? I have a fiancé. Who I love. Sorry if that's a concept you don't understand, but it's something I take very seriously. Besides, what would Johnny think if he knew you were over here?"

"Johnny doesn't own me." Mark shook his head at the audacity of the woman in front of him.

"Look, I'm only going to say this one more time. I'm NOT interested. Even if I wasn't with Willow, I wouldn't be interested. Fast and cheap is my cousin's style, not mine." Her face twisted into an ugly mask, her eyes glittering with rage.

"You better be nice to me, Mark. I can make your life very miserable."

"Oh yeah? Why don't you just try, you bitch?" Both Mark and Crystal's heads snapped around at the sight of the very pissed off looking redhead stalking down the hall from the stairs. A brief glance down the opposite way showed that Crystal had blocked off the doors to the elevator. "Get the fuck away from door," she spat, shoving the girl none too gently to the side.

"Watch it you little. . ." Willow reared around, green eyes sparking with electricity.

"DON'T finish that thought if you want to leave here with all your teeth." Mark eyed the two women warily, wondering if he should run and hide. "Get. OUT. Of. Here." Willow said slowly, enunciating each word.

"You have no idea what you have there. He needs a woman who understands what it's like to be a star." The unladylike snort that Willow replied with had Crystal bearing her teeth in anger.

"You think? Since I've been with him for five goddamned years, I'd say I understand him pretty fucking well. And I know him well enough to know that there is absolutely NO chance of him EVER sticking his penis into you. Not with one condom, not with ten condoms. You are nothing but a skanky little hanger on that seems to think sleeping around with musicians is going to get you somewhere in life. All it's going to get you is pregnant or dead. Now, walk your little two dollar ass down to that elevator, get on it, and get the fuck out of here. And you can expect to get back to Johnny's house and find all those Frederick's of Hookerwood clothes of yours out in the front lawn. All it will take is one phone call, and he'll toss you out quicker than you can say blowjob." Mark didn't even bother to stifle the laugh that her monologue brought on. Willow just continued to stare at the other woman, disgust and anger vibrating off of her.

"I don't think so," Crystal said, straightening. Willow grinned ferally at the hint of fear she heard in the other woman's voice.

"Don't think you're THAT good in bed, honey. Johnny is Mark's cousin, and with them, that's everything." At that, Willow backed up a step and swung the door closed, slamming it in the stunned groupie's face. When she turned with a triumphant smile, she found herself slammed up against the door, a very aroused Indian plundering her mouth. She arched into him when his hand skimmed under her skirt, her panties coming away with a flick of his wrist. Desire slammed into her when she heard the rasp of his jeans coming open. Her hands fisted in his hair, her legs coming up to wrap around his waist. He slid into her with one smooth stroke, the pace hard and fast. She ripped her mouth away from his to scream as she came. He slammed into her three more times, his final stroke pumping his seed deep inside of her. She held onto him, her muscles turned to jelly at the unexpected lovemaking.

She smiled at him when he pulled back to look at her, a rakish smile on his face.

"Not that I'm complaining, or anything. But what was that all about?" He chuckled and rested his forehead against her shoulder.

"Seeing you all 'stay away from my man', just turned me on. Had to have you, right that second."

"Too bad you waited until I closed the door. We could have shown her how it's really supposed to be done." Mark looked up at her then, his black eyes wide, his smile large.

"You are a wicked little girl, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice growing husky.

"Why don't you take me to bed, and I'll show you just how wicked I can be." She wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on as he spun them and started to walk in the direction of their room.

"Hope you don't have plans with anyone, because you're going to be unavailable for the rest of the weekend," he growled in her ear, his words causing her to shiver.

"So I'll fail my test on Monday. I don't care."

"I'll write you a note." With that, he dropped her on the bed, making quick work of their clothes, then sliding next to her. Willow had to giggle at that thought.

"Yeah, I'm sure my professor will understand."

"Bloody well should." Her laugh at the use of Spike's slang turned to a moan when he started to touch her. Nothing meant more to her than him, and she didn't care if she flunked out. As long as he was by her side, she could do anything.

AN: NHRA, National Hot Rod Association. Drag racing. Just for those that wanted to know.

Chapter 32

Crystal got out of the taxicab, glaring at the cabby as he tried to look down the front of her coat. Slamming the door, she turned to the row of brick fronted townhouses, her heart slamming in her chest. The heels of her shoes clicked loudly on the pavement, the neighborhood eerily quiet, it seemed. Her eyes darted left and right, as if she expected an attack to come at any minute. She was pretty sure that Willow had called Johnny as soon as she slammed the door, and her mind was rapidly trying to come up with ways to convince him that it had been a misunderstanding. She didn't see herself having much luck.

She pulled her keys out of her pocket and inserted them in the wood and glass front door, sighing in relief when the door swung open.

"Johnny, baby?" she called, stepping into the wide foyer and glancing around it's white expanse. She glanced up the sapphire carpeted steps to see if he was coming down, then shut the door to walk into the living room on her left. The room was dominated by two large, white L-shaped leather couches. They sat facing each other around a smoked glass coffee table. Jewel tone pillows were thrown across them. Along the back wall was a mahogany bar, the surface gleaming. Sheer white curtains hung over the end unit's main window. On either side, a large palm plant sat in large clay pots. An entertainment armoire sat opposite the window, the doors closed on the big screen tv. To the right of her, hanging on the wall, were the three platinum records their first album earned. The second was expected to do the same. The first single had already started climbing the charts, the album set to be released the following month.

"Johnny?" she called again, walking back out to the foyer and climbing the steps. When she reached the top, she walked down the short hall to the master bedroom, her heart in her throat as she twisted the knob. "Johnny? Where are you, baby?"

"Right here," came his smooth voice. She turned away from the black sheeted king size bed to look at the window. There he was, staring out the glass to the street below. One hand was braced on the wall, the other shoved into the pocket of his jeans.

"Hi. Didn't you hear me calling you?" She put on a bright smile and walked over to him, sliding a hand up his bare back. He really was beautifully built, well muscled and almost graceful. Too bad he just wasn't the one she wanted.

"Yeah," was all he said. He didn't turn to look at her, or respond to the warm hand sliding across his skin.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't sound as fearful as she thought it did.

"Where've you been?" A questioned answered with a question, never a good thing.

"Oh, I just had a couple of errands to do," she told him, turning to walk to the other side of the room to her dresser. She started pulling out random clothes, not really seeing what she was grabbing.

"In a raincoat?" He turned around then, and smirked at the guilty look that flashed across her face before she could cover it up. Stupid little bitch, he thought nastily.

"Well, I heard it might rain." A nervous laugh filled the air.

"Uh, huh. Why are you lying to me? I mean, I shouldn't be surprised, but it's annoying as hell." His long legs carried him over to her, and before she could protest, he had the coat torn open to reveal her lush, nude form underneath.

"Errands huh? Planning on giving the butcher a peep show? Or maybe you were at Mark's?" Crystal pushed away from him and grabbed the lapels of her coat, wrapping them tightly around herself.

"What if I was? You can't tell me what to do." She tossed her head defiantly, her tawny eyes glittering.

"Oh? Is that so? Well, I happen to think otherwise." The dangerous glint in his eyes had her taking a step back, her hip connecting painfully with the dresser. "Get your shit and get out. The ONLY reason it isn't already in the gutter where you deserve to be, is because I actually wanted to see if you would tell me the truth."

"But, baby. It's not what it looks like." She stepped towards him again, lightly drawing her manicured nails over his chest and abdomen. She cried out when his fingers clasped around hers painfully.

"It looks like you tried to go over to my cousin's house and offer yourself up for some fun. And since I just talked to Willow, I think that pretty much confirms it." He flung her hands away from him and moved to sit on the bed. His face was set in a hard mask, his eyes two chips of black ice. Nobody fucked with his family. "You are just too stupid, you know that? Mark would NEVER cheat on Willow. Especially not with the likes of you."

"That isn't what you were saying last night, when I was riding you into oblivion," she sneered. She started to grab her clothes with jerky movements, anger searing through her. He snorted at that, and shook his head.

"Oh, you definitely have your uses. But that's all they are."

"So, you used me?" she gasped.

"Oh, like you didn't use me. I've been Mark's substitute since we got together." Her smile would have made his blood run cold had he cared. All he wanted was for her to leave.

"So, how did it feel knowing I was thinking about Mark while you were fucking me? That you were just a cheap imitation to me?" Fury raged in her veins when he started to laugh.

"You think I care? I knew what you were about. You're not as slick as you think you are sweetheart. And why the hell am I going to turn down a free lay? You wanted to think that you could use me to get to Mark, and I let you think that. Who's the fool now? Cause all you've gotten out of this deal is a few months warming my sheets, and a quick get the fuck out. Your services are no longer needed," he said with a sneer.

"Don't fuck with me. I'm not just some stupid little groupie that you can push around," she spat, throwing her clothes into a large suitcase.

"Ooh. I'm scared. See me shivering? Don't care Crystal. Just get out. I'm done with you." He watched her with eagle eyes as she moved around the room getting her stuff. He wanted to make sure nothing of his got packed.

"Just wait," she hissed, closing the suitcase and standing. "You and Mark both think I'm just something to toss aside. And that little bitch. You wait." She turned to leave, only to get whipped back around to face off with a very pissed off man.

"You stay the fuck away from Willow, do you understand me?" Fear flickered through her eyes. She studied him for a long minute, her stomach rolling uneasily. A slow, almost cat-like smile spread across her wide mouth, at what she thought she saw in his eyes.

"You're in love with her." It wasn't a question. Delighted laughter filled the air at that.

"No. I'm not. And don't even think about spreading your lies, because it will just be a waste of breath on your part," he warned, his eyes narrowing into slits. All she did was chuckle, deciding that his unrequited love for the redhead would be more than enough revenge for him. Not for the other two, however.

"Whatever, Johnny. I'll be seeing you." She pulled away from him, gave a little wave, then turned on her heel and walked out. He could still hear her laughter long after the front door closed.

~*~*~

"Hello, Will." Rupert looked up from the paperwork on his desk, a smile curving his mouth.

"Hey Dad." Spike walked into the office that had once been Joyce's, and sank into the same chair he had sat in five years before.

"What's wrong?"

"What makes you think anything is wrong?" The look Rupert gave him had him chuckling. "Nothing is really 'wrong'. Just have a lot on my mind." Spike ran a hand through his hair.

"Want to talk about it?" The blonde looked at his father for a minute, wondering if he should just go ahead and tell him.

"I guess I should. But no lecturing." Giles chuckled at that, and sat back in his chair. He took the liberty to study his son, while the younger man took a moment to collect his thoughts. He was pleased to see a look of happiness around him that he hadn't seen in a long time. "I'm thinking about racing again." There, it was out, and he felt lighter for it. However, the look of pure terror that crossed Rupert's face was enough to slam guilt into him tenfold.

"What did you say?" came the response, his father's words laced with disbelief. Spike sighed, wondering why he thought this was going to be easy.

"I'm thinking about racing again," he repeated, staring Giles straight in the eye.

"Are you daft?" The older man gasped, feeling his stomach start to churn. "What about your eyes?"

"I can work around it. Already been in contact with the licensing committee. There are certain things that I have to do to the car, but I can do it."

"What does Buffy say?" Giles was confident that she wouldn't let him go through with this nonsense. The guilty look on his son's face told him a lot. "You haven't told her yet." Spike shook his head, dropping his eyes from his father's.

"No. Not yet. But I will before I make my final decision."

"Don't you think she has the right to know that you're even considering it? You lost each other over this damn sport once already."

"I know that Dad. And I WILL tell her. I'm not just going to decide and say 'here it is, deal with it.' She's as much a part of the decision as I am."

"Well, I'm glad you understand that. I'm a bit disappointed that you're willing to risk yourself again." Spike's eyes locked with his father's and saw the fear. He sighed heavily and leaned forward.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Dad. It's what I love. I'm not even saying for sure that I'm going to do it. Or even do it more than the one time. I just. . .have to see if I still can. I don't care if I come in last, fifty laps down. I have to prove it to myself."

"It sounds like you've already decided," Giles accused. He was surprised at how calm he was being. Maybe he'd already known that it was a possibility. Spike thought about that for a second, and shook his head.

"No. Because if Buffy objects too badly, I won't do it. I'd like to do it again, but not at the risk of losing her." That was the first thing Spike had said since he walked in that made Rupert smile.

"I'm pleased to hear that. I don't know what you want me to say, Will."

"I just needed to know if you would be supportive." Giles removed his glasses and started cleaning them, heaving a deep breath.

"If that is what you want to do, I will be there for you. I will say that I hope you choose not to do this. I don't know if my heart can take it." Spike smiled at that.

"I'll try not to give you a heart attack."

"Rupert, I need you to look at this. . .Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here." Anya breezed through the office door, a folder in one hand. She smiled brightly at him, despite the flair of resentment she saw in his eyes. It was going to take some time for him to accept her. Giles rose to his feet, a smile immediately coming to his lips. Spike saw the look of happiness on his father's face, and dropped his eyes.

"Anya, I would like you to meet my son, William. William this is Anya." Spike rose to his feet and took her hand.

"Anya, pleasure to meet you with your clothes on." Giles' face flamed at the reference, but all Anya did was smile.

"Yes, it is. That was a rather embarrassing situation, wasn't it?" She stepped back, not looking the least bit uncomfortable. Spike had to give her points for that.

"Yeah. Hey Dad, I'm going to go. Have to pick up Dawn. I'll call you."

"Oh, wait. You should come to dinner on Friday. Bring Buffy, too." Spike's eyes shot to his father, then back to Anya.

"Uhm, I don't know. . ."

"I won't take no for an answer. Rupert, tell your son to come to dinner." Giles looked between the two, feeling at a loss. As much as he wanted the two to get along, he didn't want to push Spike into accepting her, he had to do it in his own time.

"Will, if you would like to, we would be happy to have you." Spike just stood there for a minute, not knowing what to say.

"I'll talk to Buffy," he finally said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"That would be fine."

"Alright, then. Anya." He turned and left the office, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

"Was I too pushy?" Anya asked, holding the file she had out to him.

"No, dear. That was fine. He's just going to need some time." He opened the folder and sat down, leafing through the invoices inside.

"I know. But I thought that maybe in a group setting, he'd be alright." She walked around the desk to point out what she needed him to see, and slid a hand across his back.

"He may be. He wants to race again." Anya blinked at the subject change, her heart clenching at the fear she heard in his voice.

"You knew it was possible," she said softly, stroking her fingers through his hair. His eyes drifted closed at her touch, the tension he'd had since Spike dropped his news lessening.

"I know that. It doesn't make it any easier to accept."

"He needs to do what he feels is best for him."

"I know. I already almost lost him once. What if he's not so lucky the next time?" Giles' voice was thick with the horror that statement brought on. Anya continued to stroke his back, lending him strength to let his son find his own way.

~*~*~

Angel drove through town, wondering why he ever came back to this little piss ant of a town. He'd hated every minute here while he was growing up, and could hardly wait to get out to go to college. The only reason he'd come home then was to see Buffy. And that had been a fine waste of time.

Bitterness ran through him at the thought of how much time he had put into her. No girl before and no girl since had been that much trouble. Even Fred, who had been just as much of a virgin as Buffy was when he met her, had been easier to get into bed.

The thought of his wife caused a smile to curve his lip. He certainly had picked that one out well. Shy and quiet, and eager to please, she was the perfect wife for him. And the fact that she was from money, well, that just made it all sweeter. Her father had nearly fallen over himself to welcome Angel into the family, since he had been pretty sure that Fred would never find anyone to marry.

She had started out as a challenge, much like Buffy. In fact he had just gone after the girl to try to make himself feel better after Buffy hit him with the frying pan. Then he had found out just WHO she was, and the rest had been history. Life had been smooth sailing since then.

Then he had seen her in the grocery store, and all the anger he'd felt just came flooding back. As well as all the desire. If possible, she had gotten even better looking over the years. That had just made his failure with her even more tough to swallow. He'd decided to try again, thinking that now that they were older, she'd be more responsive. The fact that he had a wife and child hadn't even entered his mind.

Then that Indian had gone and gotten involved, butting into something that had nothing to do with him. If it hadn't been for the fact that they were in a public place, he would have taken care of that half breed. Nobody got in his way. Nobody. When he got home, he hadn't even been able to take out his foul mood on his brother, because the little shit had sucker punched him. Connor had been doing a good job of avoiding him since then.

Angel was locked firmly in his thoughts of retribution against his brother and Mark when something caught his eye. His head swiveled around and he strained to see the couple that was walking down the sidewalk. Sure enough, there was Spike, with what looked to be a very grown up Dawn walking into a jewelry store. His eyes narrowed at what they could be doing, jealousy raging through him at the only logical conclusion.

Well, that just wouldn't do. Not at all. With a sharp turn of the wheel, Angel turned the next corner, all thoughts of picking up milk thrown from his head. Spike had been the reason he'd lost Buffy in the first place. Ever since that stupid Brit had come to town, she had drawn her knees up tighter than a nun's. Something would have to be done about him. It didn't matter to Angel that it had been five years before. He could hold a grudge a long time. And now it was time for payback.

Chapter 33

"I don't know why you brought me along. She'll love anything you pick out, even if it's a pop top off a can," Dawn said, looking down at the trays of diamonds in front of her. She hoped she wasn't salivating all over the rows of gold and glitter, and embarrassing herself beyond redemption.

"I think I can manage a little better than that, Nibblet. I need you for moral support and ring size. You do know her ring size, right?" he asked, turning his eyes to her. She smiled and nodded, holding up her hand and wiggling her fingers.

"We wear the same size, you lucky dog you." He snorted at that, and picked one up. It had caught his eye almost as soon as the tray had been set down.

"What you think of this one?" Dawn plucked it out of his hand and inspected the ring. She just knew that she had to be drooling now. The diamond was at least a carat, the color pure and clear. The band was a thin black hills gold, with roses engraved on the sides.

"It's gorgeous," she breathed, turning it around to study it closer.

"We have the entire matching bridal set, sir," the thin, blonde man with dollar signs in his eyes said, a large 'buy a lot' smile on his face. Dawn slipped it down her finger, smiling at the fit.

"Perfect." She held her hand out in front of her and admired the play of light off the stone.

"I'll take it. And the rest," Spike said with a wave of his hand. He didn't know how he felt about wearing roses on his finger, but for Buffy he'd dance through town in a tutu.

"Very good, sir. Might I say, you have made an excellent choice," the man purred, taking the ring back from Dawn and turning to package the three rings up. Spike pulled out his wallet and plucked a credit card from within.

"So, when are you going to ask her?" Dawn looked down at the case in front of her, not really seeing the rings. She was too intent on the man beside her.

"Dunno yet. When it feels right, I suppose." He looked over at her, studying the azure eyes that she trained on him. He saw the flare of jealousy in them, and sighed. "Dawn, I. . ."

"No. Don't say anything about it. I'll get over it." She gave him a quick smile.

"I shouldn't have asked you to do this. I'm sorry."

"I told you, don't say anything. I'm glad you asked me. Now I know something she doesn't. And if I can't have you for myself, having you as a brother in law is just as good." He smiled at her lie, then turned to accept the package and his card from the salesman. He nearly choked at the total on the slip, but he signed it, and thanked God that he was rich.

"So, how's things with Connor?" The smile that bloomed across the girl's face had relief surging through him. She was moving on, and he was glad for it.

"Oh, he's just great. Of course, he's not too happy right now with Angel home. It's hard to avoid someone when they're in your house, but he manages," Dawn told him, walking out the door he held open.

"Well, can't say as I blame him. Angel's not exactly the forgiving type. Probably not real thrilled with his baby brother nailing him." Spike chuckled at the thought of Angel's face when his brother punched him. He would have loved to have been there. Dawn snorted herself, a tiny thread of worry working it's way through her. She didn't like Connor being there while Angel was home. Unfortunately, there wasn't much choice.

They turned at the corner of the building and made their way to the parking lot in the back. It was almost time to pick up Buffy from work, and Spike was going to take them out to dinner. Dawn had just turned to say something to Spike, when she saw him hit the ground.

"Bloody hell," Spike hissed, hitting his knees and shaking his head to clear the stars.

"Spike!" Dawn cried, her wild eyes landing on Angel. "Shit," she spat, torn between running from the blood in his eyes, and going to see if Spike was alright.

"Hello Dawn. My goodness, you certainly have grown up." Angel smiled pleasantly, and casually swung the tire iron around in his hand. She took a step back, her gaze darting around to see if anyone could help them. Unfortunately, the parking lot was off an alley at the side of the store. There was no one. And Angel was blocking the exit.

"Angel, what are you doing?" she asked, looking over at Spike. He was still trying to get his wits back, a thin line of blood trailing from the bottom of his hairline.

"Just figured I'd say hi to old Spike here. Been a long time." With that, he hefted the iron again, and started to swing it towards the blonde's exposed back. Dawn screamed a warning, and Spike rolled out of the way just in time. He sprang to his feet, rounding on Angel with a snarl.

"Well, hello Peaches. Long time no see," he quipped, circling the larger man to keep him in his vision. Angel scowled at the name and gripped the iron like a baseball player going up to bat.

"See you're out doing a bit of shopping. Pick up anything nice?" While he spoke, he swung, barely missing Spike's stomach with the sharp edge.

"What's it to you?" the other man asked, dodging another swing. He had to figure out how to get that thing away from him. Dawn had pressed herself against the side of Spike's car, wondering if she could get around them and into the store to call the police. Angel was even more unbalanced than she thought.

"Well, it seems that I owe you a little something for moving in on my territory. Figured late is better than never." Another swing, this one connected with Spike's arm, tearing the material of his shirt, and drawing blood. The blonde cursed violently at the contact, barely avoiding the next swing.

"Didn't move in. She just found out what a dickless wonder you are." Fury passed over the brunette's face, the feeling only worsened by Spike's laughter. He hunched his back and charged at the amused man, his anger causing him to be careless. At the last second, Spike moved out of the way, sticking his foot out. Angel tripped over the black boot, sprawling to the ground face first, the tire iron skidding uselessly away from him. Before he had a chance to react, Spike was on his back, pressing his knees into his elbows to keep him down. "Now, this is more like it."

"Get off of me you bastard. Just wait until I get up," Angel warned, struggling to buck the blonde off. Spike just grinned, hanging on better than any rodeo cowboy.

"Oh, no. Don't think we'll be having any of that now." Spike reached into his pocket, and pulled out a cigarette and his car keys, tossing the former back to Dawn. "Nibblet, get in the car and dig my cell out of the glove compartment. Be ready to speed dial the police. Alright?" Dawn nodded, eyes wide, and scrambled into the car.

"The police. We don't really need them, do we?" It was amazing how quick Angel had calmed at the threat of law enforcement.

"Well, I'd say that depends on you." The snap hiss of Spike's lighter was the only sound that was heard for the next few minutes. Angel's mind was spinning at how to get out of this, and quick. He had way too much to lose if the cops were called.

"What do you want?" he finally asked, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of the man on his back. Spike brought the cigarette to his lips, crossing the other arm over his chest. He stared at the brick wall in front of him, a thoughtful look on his face.

"What do I want?" he repeated. "Hm. Such an interesting question. World peace, a race car that'll win the Daytona. Oh, and most important, I want YOU to fall off the planet. However," Spike continued, talking over the indignant sputtering of the man on the ground. "Since that isn't likely to happen any time soon, I'll take the next best thing. Leave town. Today. And don't bother Buffy or Connor ever again."

"And what if I don't? Even if you call the police, my lawyer will get me out of it before you can blink with those worthless eyes of yours." The sentence was ended with a cry of pain when Spike dug his knee even more firmly into his elbow.

"Now, no need to get nasty, is there?" The blonde flicked the cigarette away and leaned down to speak intimately into Angel's ear. "Let's just say, that if you don't, I will not ONLY call the police, I will also call every reporter, every tabloid, and every news station that I can think of. Now, why would I do that, you might ask. Here's the answer. I will call all these lovely vultures and give them detailed descriptions of how Angel McKenna, vice president of park safety, has cut corners in the building of rides at the second happiest place on earth. Couple that with the little affair you've been carrying on with the former Miss California, a union which has spawned a child might I add, and I'd say that would put a nice end to the cushy little set up you have. You'll be tossed out of your corner office with a shitload of child support to pay, left flipping burgers at the Doublemeat." The look of fear that crossed Angel's face had an evil smile spreading across Spike's. "Glad to see we understand each other. Now, I'm going to get up, and if you so much as look at me wrong, I'm going to signal to Dawn to push that speed dial, and send your ass to jail. Understand?" Angel's face was a hard mask of anger and spite, and he seemed to be struggling with an answer. Just as Spike was getting ready to signal Dawn, Angel gave a curt nod. "Wha? 'Fraid I didn't catch that."

"Yes," Angel bit out. "I understand."

"Ah, now that's a good lad." Spike patted the broad back under him in a friendly fashion, and rose to his feet. He backed away from Angel, warily watching him as he stood. They eyeballed each other while Spike slipped into his car. The powerful engine roared to life, filling the alley with the sound of a well maintained machine. With one final glare at the brunette, Spike put the car in gear and peeled out of the parking lot, spitting gravel up from his tires.

~*~*~

"Oh my God, are you alright?" Buffy gasped at the sight of the blood seeping into Spike's collar.

"I'm fine, pet." Spike was leaning against the side of the car, waiting outside of the bank for Buffy to get off. Dawn was still inside, the passenger door open, her feet tapping against the pavement.

"What happened?" She reached up to brush gentle fingers over the cut at the base of his hairline, a pained expression on her face.

"Got nailed in the back of the head with a door. No worries pet. I'm alright." He and Dawn had decided on the ride over that there was no need to worry Buffy with the details of the attack. Angel, if he was smart, would be a memory now.

"Well, let's get you home and clean you up. You wanna just rent some movies and pick up some chicken or something?" she asked, sliding into the seat Dawn vacated.

"Ooh. Kentucky Fried here we come," the teen squealed. Nothing put a smile on her face quite like the promise of deep fried food. Spike and Buffy rolled their eyes simultaneously.

"That's fine," he answered, changing direction and heading towards the video store.

"We can go home first. You are kind of bleeding."

"S'just a scratch," Spike said with a shrug. "I'll stay in the car, let you birds pick out the movies. Nothing too chick flicky though," he warned, sliding a glance at Buffy.

"We promise. Don't we Dawn?" Dawn nodded her head enthusiastically, her hair bouncing around her shoulders.

An hour later, they were sitting in the Summers' kitchen, eating chicken while Dawn and Buffy stifled their grins at the scathing looks Spike was sending them.

"I thought I said no chick flicks," he growled, ripping into a piece of chicken.

"You said nothing TOO chick flicky. Big difference," Buffy clarified, delicately dipping a french fry into ketchup. "Besides, that one's actiony," she said, pointing to the one on top. Spike snorted, wiped his fingers off, and grabbed the action one in question.

" 'Runaway'. A desperate man with cops on his tail kidnaps a school girl, and they go on the run. Yeah, what do you think is going to happen? A guy, a girl. Dangerous circumstances. Perfect combination for lots of gratuitous romance. And this one, this one has absolutely no testosterone in it at all. 'Take A Chance'. Two people unlucky in love meet for one night of passion. Three years later they meet again." A scarred brow shot up, and he eyed the chuckling girls, annoyance written plainly across his features.

"Oh, come on Spike. Life is nothing without romance," Buffy told him.

"All I wanted was some guns, a few explosions. Maybe some car chases." Spike spoke to the ceiling, as if he was complaining to God, causing the girls to giggle once more.

"Poor baby," Dawn said, unsympathetically. "That'll teach you to stay in the car."

"Next time, we get something with lots of destruction. Hear me?"

"Absolutely," Buffy agreed.

"Sure thing." Dawn nodded, talking around her food. Spike shoved more food in his mouth, not sure he should trust the innocent faces staring back at him.

~*~*~

"You have everything?" Willow asked, watching as Mark packed. He nodded, zipping the bag closed, and turning to face her.

"I'll call as soon as I get there," he said, holding his arms open. She went to them immediately, breathing deep his scent.

"I'll miss you," she whispered against his chest, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill. Mark rested his cheek against the top of her silky hair and ran his long fingered hands over her back.

"You know I'll miss you," he replied. This was always so hard on them. He had just gotten back and now he had to leave again. This time for a bunch of promotional crap that he didn't feel like doing. Then, they had to tour for six months, before taking a month off, then heading off to Europe. That wouldn't be so bad though. Willow would be out of school by then and planned to go with him. It was every minute before then that tore him up. They would see each other at least two weekends a month and he would be home for the holidays. But he missed her so much in between, it was near crippling.

"Call me a lot. And think of me."

"I think of nothing else. I love you."

"I love you, too." Mark leaned down and captured her lips with his, kissing her like she was his lifeline. They pulled apart when the knock on the door sounded.

"Johnny's here," Willow said with a sigh. They held each other a little longer, waiting until the knocking became insistent to pull away.

"COMING!" Mark yelled, grabbing his bag and walking out of the room, pulling Willow behind him.

"Lord, I hope not," Johnny quipped when the door swung open. Mark rolled his eyes and threw his duffle bag at his cousin. The drummer just grinned, stepping inside and closing the door.

"You need anything, call. There's plenty of money in the bank, so don't worry about that. I also left word with my lawyer that you are allowed to authorize anything that Spike needs. Alright?" Willow nodded and gave him a shaky smile. Mark ran his hand over her hair, the look he gave her causing Johnny to avert his gaze from the emotion in it. "I love you," he told her again.

"I love you, too. I'll be fine. You better get going. You'll miss your flight," she said, leaning up for another kiss. Mark's fingers played along her cheek and his black eyes took in every detail of her face.

"I'll call." She nodded, blinking back tears as he stepped away.

"Bye Johnny." She smiled at the pink haired man, giving him a small wave. He grinned wide at her and hefted Mark's bag, preceding him out the door. With one last, heated look, Mark turned and left, the soft closing of the door punctuating his departure. As soon as he was gone, Willow let the tears flow, turning towards the kitchen. Looked like it was a night for the whole pint of rum raisin.

~*~*~

"So, what happened with Crystal?" Mark turned in his seat to look at Johnny, a cigarette smoldering in his hand. Johnny chuckled and lowered a window a bit to release the smoke.

"Not much. Tossed her out on her ass. She said a whole bunch of shit that she had hoped was going to piss me off, then left." He shrugged when he finished, expertly maneuvering onto the turnpike. "Oh, she did threaten me in a rather lame way. And Willow. I told her to stay away from Willow, and she gets this crazy idea that I'm in love with her." They both shared a chuckle at that. It wasn't the first time someone had thought that. Johnny's protectiveness over the redhead had long fed fodder in the tabloids. Nobody thought that it might have to do with the logical extension of his love and loyalty to his cousin.

"What were you thinking with that one? I mean, she went all stalker on Spike, and all he did was fuck her once." Johnny just shrugged a cavalier shoulder, checking the rearview to change lanes. He never noticed the car, two cars back, do the same.

"Bad judgment on my part?" he offered, sliding a glance to his older cousin. They were two years apart, and cousins by marriage. They looked like brothers, except for the rainbow hair the drummer often sported. Mark snorted, and tossed his cigarette out the window, watching the scenery pass by. Johnny signaled to change lanes again, the traffic thinning out, and his exit coming up. Again, the car behind them followed.

"When you going to settle down?"

"When I find a Willow of my own. Or a Buffy, or Cordelia. I mean, is it my fault they were all taken when I met them?" The brunette let out a laugh at that.

"You snooze, you lose, man. Shoulda been paying more attention." Johnny grunted in agreement, slowing the car to the required speed for the exit. Normally, he would have just flown down the ramp, but Mark was a whiner. The ramp said 35, do 35 by God. Granted, this one was a bad one. The ramp nearly circled around itself, with nothing but trees on either side. The drop past the guardrail was a good ten feet. Neither noticed the car exit with them, or that it sped up until its headlights flared brightly in the rearview mirror.

"Son of a bitch," Johnny spat, speeding up a bit to try to get the car off his bumper. Mark swiveled in his seat, grimacing at the seatbelt when it pulled across his throat.

"Jackass," he spat, turning back around. The car matched their speed, seeming to be waiting for something. They both cursed violently when they felt the bone jarring collision of bumpers.

"Shit." Johnny hit the steering wheel with his fist, and started to pull over. He was so going to kill somebody. This was a mint condition '69 Camaro and that bastard was going to pay for every dent. As soon as the car came to a stop, he was out the door, leaving Mark in the front seat to wait. When the loud pop came, the Indian ducked, looking behind him at the same time. His heart was slamming in his chest at what he thought the sound was, and fear slammed into him when he couldn't see Johnny. Hell, he couldn't see anybody.

Quickly, he unbuckled his seatbelt, and slid out of the car, keeping his long frame tucked close to it. As he approached the other vehicle, he saw the prone figure of his cousin on the pavement, a large crimson pool forming around him.

"Johnny?" he gasped, moving over to him quickly. Johnny looked up at him through pain clouded eyes, his breathing coming in gasps. "Johnny?" Mark watched in horror as blood pumped out of the hole in his chest, the person that did this a distant memory. Without thought, he pulled his shirt off and held it against the wound, pressing his cousin's weak hand over it. "Hang on, I'm going to get help." Johnny gasped a few times, as if trying to tell him something. "Just lay still. I've got to get the cell." Almost as soon as he stood to leave, he found himself faced with the enraged face of Crystal, a thirty two aimed at his chest.

"Hey Mark," she said casually. Mark's eyes widened to comical proportions, and blinding rage slammed into him.

"You bitch," he spat, taking a step forward. She raised the gun higher, aiming it between his eyes.

"Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn't do that if I were you. I'm an excellent shot."

"Why?" was all Mark could gasp past his fury. Anguish tore through him as he thought about his cousin dying on the pavement behind him. The man he had grown up with, snuck down to the quarry with to swim on hot Arizona nights. The one who lied to get Mark out of trouble with their grandmother when he'd left the barn door open, and all the horses got free. The one who had been his friend, as well as his cousin.

"Why? Well, I didn't really want to shoot him. But, that's our Johnny. Always the substitute."

"He was never yours, you little slut. You will die, if he dies," Mark promised, raising himself up to his full height and taking a step towards her.

"I said stop," she reminded him, backing up when he took another step. "Do you want to die?" she asked, cocking back the hammer.

"No. I want to kill you." His voice had lost all of its usual warmth. Now, it made her blood run cold. This wasn't going the way she'd planned. He was supposed to be quaking with fear, his proud form at her complete mercy. Then she would show him just who the little whore was. She had planned on making him beg for his life, then have him show her how much he wanted to stay alive. Instead, he was advancing on her with the purpose of a man possessed, and she found herself afraid.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts, that she didn't pay attention to where she was walking. The spiked heel of her boot slid into a hole in the concrete, causing her to stumble. Mark took that opportunity to lunge. They started to struggle, his superior height and weight quickly turning the fight in his favor. His eyes widened in surprise when the gun went off, the sound echoing into the clear, quiet night.

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