*A/N: So I’m back with a new story, especially since “Everything” is lost, for now. I have two very special betas, Spikesbabyblues and Ash. Without them, my grammar and shit wouldn’t be this good. Enjoy and if you enjoy enough, there will be more.*

Prologue: The Initiative

Flashback:
“Buffy, you have so much potential. You’re too young to think about marriage…especially not with a man ten years older than you.” Joyce Summers-Giles sat across the kitchen table from her eighteen year old daughter, worry apparent on her face.

Buffy sighed loudly. “I’m eighteen years old, mother. That means legal. Besides, at this point, Angel’s age is no obstacle…I love him.”

Joyce stood, anger raging within her. “You’ve only known him for a month.”

“Whether you approve or not,” Buffy stood from the table slowly, her voice calm, “I will marry him, mom. If you have such a huge problem with it, than I have no problem leaving.”

“Well, than I suggest you start packing.” Without another word, Joyce left the kitchen, slamming the front door. Buffy took it all in, before heading upstairs to do just that.
End Flashback
*

It was the beginning of the end. Angel Rayne had come into her life the summer before she graduated, and took her life in another direction, away from college, her friends, and family. He promised her the world.

Buffy looked around the roomy two-bedroom New York apartment, and sighed. Angel’s things no longer occupied her territory, and every reminder of him was stored safely in the closet.

Four months of moving from Sunnydale, California to New York City, New York, and eloping, soon turned sour. By the fifth month, Angel’s nights were spent with his secretary, and Buffy’s were spent alone. With the separation, he had compensated her well, but she was alone.

She knew things would change, the moment he began working for his father’s law firm. It was instinct, she figured as she sat at the window seat, staring out at the city lights. Tears formed in her eyes as she thought about her mother, and beloved friends. She traded them all, for the love of a man who didn’t even appreciate her.

*

Flashback:
“Just like that? You’re just going to walk away, and leave us all hanging?” Xander Harris looked at Buffy, obvious disappointment in his eyes.

“Okay, I wasn’t exactly thrilled when you were dating Cordelia, but I accepted it.” Buffy said, mentioning one of the most popular girls in Sunnydale, Cordelia Chase.

“That was different, that was dating, and it didn’t last long! You’re talking about marriage!” He exclaimed. “Willow, back me up on this.”

Willow Rosenberg had no idea how to believe that this was really happening. Her best friend was in love, ready to get married, and leave her all alone. She was getting serious with her boyfriend, and things were changing. For Buffy to not be there through all of that…was heart wrenching. “I-um…what about school?”

“I can get back to it, Willow. I just really need you to be happy for me.” Buffy reached over the small coffee table in the Expresso Pump, and held Willow’s hand, silently begging her friend to be okay with it.

“I am…I just…I’ll miss you.” Willow said, tears in her eyes.

“Whatever.” Xander said, storming out of the establishment.

“I’ll write and you can visit.” Buffy offered. The stood and hugged.

Buffy slowly made her way outside, where Xander was sitting on the curb. “I just have one questioned.” He said, as she sat beside him.

“Shoot.” She said with a small smile.

“Are you sure that this is what you want? All of those sugar coated promises and sweet materialistic gestures?” He looked into her eyes, and saw a bit of hesitation.

She thought for a second, of what she was giving up and what she was getting in return. “It is…for now. And if it doesn’t all work out, and Angel isn’t really my prince charming…I’ll come back. I won’t have anywhere to live, since my mother is really pissed off, but I’ll come back.”

“She’s mad now, but sooner or later, she’ll realize how much she loves you.” He spoke of himself, his high school crush still reeling a bit.
End Flashback

*

The emptiness filled her, as she sat at her desk in her room. It was once their room, but walking in on him, between her thighs was enough to show the truth. She scribbled on a piece of paper, the New York Times at her side.

She wrote:
Roommate wanted. Preferably female. Two bedroom, spacious apartment, overlooking the city. Semi-low rent. No pets, and preferred no smoking. Call: (212) 555-7482.

Her stepfather would kill her if he knew…or ex stepfather. Things had taken a turn for the worse between her mother and him when she left, but she had hope for the duo. She knew that their love was eternal…unlike SOME people.

Addressing the white envelope with the address that was in the newspaper, Buffy stuffed the paper she’s just written inside along with a check. She then, made her way to the hall closet to get her jacket. It was nearing the end of November, and Buffy was not near being used to the winter weather on the east coast. After putting on her hat and scarf, she was out the door, letter in hand.

*

Flash Back:
Rupert Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them with the handkerchief in his pocket. For once he had nothing to say, he was at a loss for words. “You know…you’ve always been like a daughter to me…and if this is what you truly believe is right for you, than I give you my blessing.” The English-man finally got out.

This sent Joyce, rushing up the stairs to her bedroom, tears flowing, as Buffy stood hand in hand with Angel at the front door, her suitcases already in the cab.

Ignoring the older Summers’ woman’s antic, Angel shook Giles’ hand. “Thank you, Sir…I promise, I will give her the world.” He looked at Buffy with a wide smile, and kissed her forehead.

Releasing Angel’s hand, she flung herself at her stepfather. “Thank you, Giles, for everything.” She hesitated. “Should I go up and talk to her.”

“I’m sure she’d like a few-“

Angel cut Giles off. “Our flight is leaving in an hour…we’re a bit pressed for time. You can call when we get to New York…I’m sure she’ll come around by then.” Angel insisted.

With an unsure smiled, Buffy gave Giles one last hug, and turned her back on her only family. She watched the house on Rovello Drive disappear, and the life she had known along with it. That phone call was never made.
End Flashback

*

Two Weeks later…
He read the ads carefully and used his red pen to circle those that appealed, but when he came upon the two bedroom spacious apartment, overlooking the city, he couldn’t resist. It was the second week the ad had been run.

Rushing to the nearest payphone, the bleach blonde man, searched for a quarter. When he found, said quarter, he quickly dialed the number. It rang three times before a tired voice picked up.

“Hello?” She questioned.

“William Evans, speaking. I was calling about the ad in the paper.” His British accent was obvious.

“Well…William…I asked for a female.” She said, intrigued by his voice.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, luv. This ad has been in the paper for the last two weeks…at least allow me to check the place out.” He suggested.

She let her curiosity get the best of her, “Okay, be here by three, or forget it...and the name’s Buffy.” She gave him the address, and wondered if she’d regret it later, as she hung up the phone. Thoughts of a serial rapist, or mugger crossed her mind, but it was a chance she’d have to take.

She was tired of living in the apartment alone, and she had only been there a month. She needed to stop being part of Angel, and start her own life, and today’s phone call was the initiative she needed.

Chapter One: What’s My Line? Part 1

Stepping under the hot spray of the shower seemed like the best choice Buffy had made since she woke up. The winter nights weren’t treating her well, and cold nights made her miss the warm body she used to cuddle up with.

The thought, had tears falling from her eyes. She wept everyday at the reflection of what she had, and what she left behind. She wanted nothing more than to phone home, and ask her mother for the chance to come back, but couldn’t allow herself to do it.

After her shower, she absently walked into her room in her towel, startled by the built, brooding man that stood before her. “What are you doing here?” She asked, her anger raising, as the clutched the towel tighter to her bare body.

“I came to get a few things, heard the shower running, and thought I’d wait till you came out.” Angel spoke softly, watching her carefully, taking in the way the towel draped over her curves. “We need to talk, Buffy.” He said, and began sitting on the bed.

“Don’t you dare sit on that bed…not after what you did.” She pointed her finger at him, wishing she could flail him with such a simple gesture, her voice shaking with anger. “Wait for me in the living room.”

“I’m sorry…” He began.

“Please, just let me get dressed.” She looked down at the floor, ignoring the emotion in his eyes, and slammed the door to the bedroom closed, once he stepped out.

Minutes later, Buffy emerged from the bedroom, wearing a black ribbed turtleneck sweater, boot-cut blue jeans, and thick gray socks. Her long blonde hair was still wet. She made her way into the living room, and stood before the man she once loved, her arms across her chest, as she waited for him to speak.

“Buffy…I really am sorry. I love you, I really do.” Angel said.

“I heard it all before.” She replied heatedly, her face showing no emotion.

“What happened between Darla and I, it was a mistake…I hadn’t seen her in years, and all of a sudden I walk into my office, and she’s my secretary. She was my high school sweetheart.” His voice pleaded.

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” She asked, not breaking stance.

He put a hand through his spiky brown hair, frustrated with her anger. “Please, Buffy, just listen to me.”

“You know, you were the only man I’d made love with…my first. We came here and got married, and consummated our relationship, and when I found out about HER…I thought for a second that it was me…I thought that I wasn’t good enough.” She felt those tears approach her again, but held it in. “I actually thought that everyone was wrong about you, that I had that perfect life ahead of me, and you cheat on me because of some old high school crush? You have to do better than that.”

Angel suddenly broke down, getting on his knees before her, clutching to her hips, his head against her thigh. “Forgive me, I’ll do what ever you want…give you anything.”

Buffy’s tears slowly fell; she couldn’t help but feel sadness and pity for him. “The only thing that will make me forgive you right now…is an annulment. I want to pretend this never happened.”

He stood angrily. “I won’t do it…we’ve been together for six months, our marriage has only had five…we need to work this out.” He stood, looking at her with anger in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, because I can’t stand the sight of you at this point.” She shook with rage, mad at him for hurting her, and mad at her for crying in front of him.

“You know what, when your inner bitch decides to take the backseat, I’ll come back.” He stalked to the door, Buffy close behind him, and opened it, wide; coming face to face with a tall, lean man. “Who are you?” He questioned nastily, running a hand over his face.

“Spike-I mean, William EVans, I’m here to see Buffy.” He replied simply.

“William…sorry, Angel was just leaving.” Buffy perked up a bit, and grabbed the stranger’s arm, pulling him into the apartment.

“Who the hell is this? Captain Peroxide?” Angel questioned agitated.

“It’s William…actually I prefer Spike…it’s a thing. Angel…what kind of sissy name is that?” He countered.

“Spike…are you compensating for something else?” Angel continued.

“No, but with a name like that, I wouldn’t ask those kind of questions, ponce.” Spike smirked at his own comeback.

“Angel, enough…please, just go away.” Buffy pleaded.

“Not until you tell me what he’s doing here.” Angel ordered, pointing a finger at the British man.

“William…Spike lives here.” Was all she said, before closing the door on Angel, and turning to her new roommate.

“How soon can you move in?” She asked.

Chapter Two: What’s My Line? Part 2

“Just like that?” The blonde questioned with uncertainty.

“Just like that.” Buffy replied. “What you just did now, standing up to him…it was just what I need to make this apartment right.”

“Who the bloody hell was he?” Spike questioned.

“It’s not important.” She answered, walking away from the door and signaling for him to follow. “This is the living room.”

Buffy gestured to the room, which contained a mahogany coffee table, and TV stand, a 52 inch television within the stand’s door, with various DVD’s. On the bottom of the stand was the Sony radio, complete with a vast CD collection. The couches were a plain dark green, matching the plaid white and green rug beneath the coffee table. Next, she led him to the bathroom. It was decorated in black and white, with a big old-fashioned tub.

Spike sorted through his head, wondering how someone so obviously young was doing so well all alone, and why she didn’t have the brooding man that had just left the apartment staying with her.

They walked down a short hall and turned left to the room that was destined to be his. She opened the door and flicked on the light to reveal a mid-sized, yet spacious room with paneled windows. The room was filled with boxes, labeled BUFFY’S ROOM.

“Was this your room?” He asked.

“No, it was just a spare, and I never really had the chance to sort through the things that were sent in from home, so I put them here.” She explained with a sad smile.

“Where was home?” He questioned.

“Sunnydale, California.” She replied.

“Miss it much?”

“Not so much the place, as I do the people. New York’s so fast paced.”

“You’ll get used to it pet…I’ve traveled all over with my mum…from London, to Paris, than LA, and when we got to New York, I had to stay.” He spoke with pride.

She turned off the light, and he followed her a bit farther down the hall. “How old are you?” She asked, turning on the light in her room, and allowing him to step in with her, as she looked through papers to find the lease. Her room was decorated with light pinks and lavenders, although it hadn’t been like that when Angel occupied it with her. The carpet was a plush white, the curtains a sheer white with small flowers decorating it. The oak sleigh-bed was unmade, but look appealing.

“Twenty-five, and yourself?” He probed, looking at her curves.

“I’ll be nineteen in January.” She answered.

“Daddy hooked you up with the digs?”

“No…it’s a really complicated story.” She said, and he gave her a look. “Well, okay it’s not, but I don’t feel like talking about it.” She presented him with the lease. “All you have to do is promise that you can pay me this amount the first of every month, and you stay.”

*

The terms of which Buffy was able to keep the apartment were simple. If Angel’s father, Ethan Rayne, discontinued the payments, she’d run to the man that helped bring her into the world but didn’t raise her: her father.

She’d met Angel at a small fundraiser that she had attended every year, as visitation to her father. Hank Summers was not a force to be reckoned with. He was a powerful businessman all over the United States, and was now spreading that power worldwide. She had no emotional relationship with her father, but when she was in a bind that power didn’t fail her.

Hank was in business with Ethan, and although it was evil, Buffy knew one word of Angel’s unfaithfulness would send Rayne Corps down hill.

*

It didn’t take long for Spike to move in. As soon as he presented Buffy with the first check, the next day the duo was painting his new room. It was perfect timing for the two to get to know each other a bit better, since Buffy rushed the moving process.

“What’s the point of painting one wall black?” Buffy questioned, her hair tied in a sloppy bun, as she rolled the roller in paint. She wore baggy jean overalls, and a white tank top.

“It will help my thinking process.” Spike replied, dressed just as bummed, in baggy black sweatpants and a black tank top.

“What do you do for a living?” She asked.

“I just started my own column on upcoming rock bands for Rolling Stones magazine.” He said, climbing the ladder to get the corners. “And yourself?”

“Well…nothing right now. I’m thinking about getting a job, so I have a few extra dollars to do my own thing. My bills go to a business associate, and my credit card bill goes to my absentee father.” She explained.

“What kind of business?” Spike raised his scarred eyebrow to her.

“I made the mistake of marrying his ever so unfaithful son.” She answered nonchalantly.

“So that’s who, Mister overhanging forehead was?” He smirked.

“Yes it was…” She took a moment to sit on the floor.

Spike climbed off of the ladder, and took a seat beside her. “So you got a divorce?” He questioned.

Buffy shrugged, taking a smaller brush in her hand. “Technically we’re separated, but there’s no way I’m taking him back. I’m trying for an annulment, but it’s a long process.” She wiped the back of her hand along her forehead, unknowing to the paint that had dripped, and was now smeared on her face.

Spike put his hand over his mouth and stifled a laugh. “That’s a good look for you, Rayne.”

“Don’t call me that!” Buffy said, irritated, as she pointed the tip of the brush at him, white paint fling onto his shirt and neck. She put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “Sorry…”

“Two can play this game…” With that, Spike took him brush and swiped it over her cheek, and in no time, there was a full-on paint fight between the blondes.

After fifteen minutes, they collapsed on the covered floor in laughter. “This has to be the greatest time I’ve had since I got here.” Buffy said, looking at the walls, which were splattered with black and white pain.

Spike looked over at his roommate, a smile in his eyes. “It’s going to get better, pet. Now that I’m here, everything will be better.” He looked into her hazel-green eyes, liberated by the melding of colors. “You’re beautiful.” He said before thinking.

Her eyes went wide, and for the first time, she REALLY looked at him. The way his top clung to his sculpted torso, the glint in his deep blue eyes, and the way the light shined off of his hair. She felt as though she’d just touched electricity.

“I mean, you won’t be alone forever…one day a guy will come along and show you what real love is.” He didn’t want her to think he was making a pass at her. They were roommates…it was like The Real World, no one should ever hook up because it just spells trouble.

“Of course…we should fix this.” Buffy stood, preparing to get back to work on the walls.

“Actually…I kinda like it.” He said, looking around at the splattered walls.

“It does look kinda cool, and when you bring a girl home to it, you can tell her we did it together.” She winked, and shoved him playfully, before heading for the bathroom to shower. The thought of another woman occupying that room, gave her a twinge of jealousy. This was going to be a longer process than her annulment.

Chapter Three: Living Conditions

Buffy sat silently on the couch, her eyes trained on the television, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. She didn’t understand what was happening on the show she was watching, but it brought back memories of nights with Willow and Xander.

“What you watching, pet?” Spike questioned, coming in from work. The two had been living together for three weeks, and all was well.

“Indian TV…not really understanding what’s going one, but I think that girl is in love with her cow, and they want to eat it for dinner.” Buffy explained, her eyes still on the television.

Spike removed his black duster, hanging it in the closet. He than made his way to the living room, kicking off his combat boots, before taking a seat beside the blonde. “I think her parents want to sell the cow to a wealthy family in town, in exchange for their sons vow to marry the girl.” Spike said, studying the show.

“That would make more sense, but what’s with everyone dancing like chickens?” Buffy asked.

“It’s the dance of freedom.” He replied.

“Watch much Indian TV?” She looked over at him with a small smile.

“I browse my options, luv.” He said. “What about you?”

“I used to…with my best friends. I miss them.” Buffy said wistfully.

“Why haven’t you invited them to visit?” Spike looked over her expression.

“They weren’t thrilled with the fact that I married Angel in the first place…and if I go back with this drama…it’ll be an ‘I told you so.’ I really can’t take that right now.” Buffy stood, and stretched, before heading into the kitchen for a soda.

Spike followed her. “If they’re such great friends, they’d forgive and forget.”

Buffy just shrugged. “How was work?” She changed the subject.

“Same as always.” He replied.

“Another crappy band?” She asked.

“Another crappy band.” He stated.

“You know, if you need a band that hasn’t hit big yet, I have the CD to a band that my best friend’s boyfriend is in. They’re not on the map yet…One Starbucks town, and only one place to play.” She smiled, wishing that she could be at The Bronze, the hottest club in Sunnydale that everyone went to. That might have been because it was the only club in Sunnydale, but she still wanted to be there.

“I’d like that.” Spike said with a smile.

Buffy led him into her bedroom, turning the light on. She went over to her dresser, where her small radio sat. She flicked the switch and pressed play. “This song is called, Pain.”

“And the band?” He asked.

“Dingoes Ate My Baby.”

Spike bobbed his head with interest. “Can I borrow this?” He asked.

“Sure, but make sure you give it back, I have to hear it at least once a day or I get cranky. Brings me back home.”

“Speaking of home, I was thinking that maybe you should try to find something interesting to do while you have the chance…you know, like a job…” Spike suggested.

“Are you calling my lazy?” Buffy questioned.

“If the shoe fits, luv.”

“I’m not lazy, just biding my time. I have stuff…really important stuff that I do when I’m here alone.” She said.

“How was Maury this morning?”

“Oh my God, this lady tested seven men…SEVEN, and none of them were her baby’s daddy. Than she tried saying that the test is wrong…” She checked herself. “Point taken.”

*

“Snow…it’s really snow.” Buffy opened her mouth wide and looked to the sky, sticking her tongue out. There were four days left till Christmas, and she was ecstatic.

“Yes, luv, snow. Haven’t you ever seen snow?” Spike asked, walking beside her.

“Hello…I’m from California…we don’t have snow there.” Buffy explained.

“I can’t believe you bloody talked me into this.” He muttered.

“How could you not like Christmas? We can make yams, and potatoes…roast chicken.” She suggested, as they walked to the lot that held Christmas trees.

Spike’s mouth watered at the thought. “We?”

“Or I could just order from the restaurant down the street from the apartment.” Her eyes were as big as a child’s, as they looked for the perfect tree.

“How about this one?” He questioned, picking up one that went to his knee.

“Do you have any idea how many decorations I bought? Little Santa, and snowmen, glittery balls and angels.” The excitement was spectacular.

Spike couldn’t help but enjoy her carefree spirit, her enthusiasm. “What about this one?” They came to a tree, a foot taller than Spike’s 5 feet 10. It was full around the body and smelled like Christmas.

Buffy walked around it, and smiled in approval. “It’s perfect!” She exclaimed. She stood to the side, and waited as Spike bargained for the tree.

“Fifty-five dollars.” The lot owner suggested.

“Fifty-five? Are you bloody off your rocker? How about forty?” Spike winked at Buffy, and the older man shook his head, negative. “It’s her first New York Christmas, Sir, seeing how she’s a California girl. We can’t go over forty, and I really want to make this Christmas special for her.”

The owner looked over Buffy, and she gave him her best smile. He sighed loudly. “I know what it’s like to want to give your girl the best. My wife, Betsey, always has me buy the best tree…I’ll give it to you for thirty-five because she’s cute.” He said, gesturing toward Buffy.

“Oh she’s not-she’s just…” Spike couldn’t find the words, but Buffy came up beside him, happily.

“So thankful…I’m thankful. I knew you’d do your best to get me the greatest, honey.” She stood on her tiptoes, in order to kiss Spike’s cheek, a blush creeping up his face, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

*

Spike watched from the couch, as Buffy carefully decorated the tree. Christmas carols were playing, and the hot chocolate was cooling.

“That has to be the most Christmas card Christmas I’ve ever had.” Spike said, rolling his eyes, secretly enjoying the whole this.

“What was Christmas like for you?” She asked curiously, hanging up a small ornament of Santa sleeping in a rocking chair.

Spike thought about it for a minute. He couldn’t really remember ever celebrating holidays, except Halloween. His ex-girlfriend was insane…never wanted to do much but shoot up or blood play. There was so much, too much that Buffy didn’t know. “Boring…like I said, Mum and I traveled and when I settled here, I wasn’t really into the holidays.”

Buffy took a seat beside him, curiosity eating at her. She wanted to know more about him. “What was life like before you came here? We always talk about me…but what about you?”

He looked into her eyes, a sad smile reaching his features. “I wasn’t a good person, Buffy. Not until my ex-girlfriend overdosed.”

Her breath went in. “I’m so sorry, Spike…I shouldn’t have pried.” She apologized.

“You had a right to be curious…we’re roommates. Besides, it was two years ago, and I was in rehab until about a month ago. The job at Rolling Stone helped me moved from a motel, to here.” He explained.

“Does it still hurt?” She asked, noticing the old tracks in his arm, and reaching out to gently touch it.

“Just emotionally,” he replied, looking into her eyes. “Drusilla wasn’t good for me…she never will be. I noticed that when she passed. It was freedom.”

Buffy gave him a small smile of encouragement. “That happens sometimes…you can love someone so much, but be ten times happier without them.” Her tone was a bit depressing.

“We still have each other, pet.” He said, standing and going to the box of decorations. He pulled out a penguin sitting on a sled and smiled.

Buffy stood beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Best friends?”

“Best friends,” he agreed resting his head on hers as he hung the penguin up.

Chapter Four: Lie To Me

The empty glass earned a groan from the buff man behind the desk. He was in no mood to get up and refill the glass, especially when his wife was living with another man, and spending Christmas with him.

Angel picked up the picture of Buffy in Central Park, a week after their wedding, and threw it across the room. When it hit the wall the glass shattered, and Darla came rushing into the room.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Rayne?” She asked sweetly.

“Haven’t you done enough?” He stood angrily, and shouted.

“I-I’m sorry…I just thought you might have hurt-“

He cut her off. “Get out…you’re fired.” His voice was menacingly low, and Darla fled without much thought.

It was her fault. She begged for the position to be his secretary, and inched her way into his pants. It didn’t take long before his late meetings grew later, and his clothes smelled of perfume.

Every night, Angel would head home to Buffy, complaining of backaches and migraines, and as a good wife, she accepted that. She offered back rubs and Motrin, but he always turned his back to her, and dozed off.

“Tsk, tsk,” Ethan Rayne stood at the door of his only child’s office, shaking his head.

“What are you doing here?” Angel asked, sitting back down at his desk, and sorting through some paper work.

Ethan moved further into the office, and sat on the maroon colored couch at the far end of the office, but not before picking up the shattered frame. “I do own this business.”

“But you’re usually home by this time.” Angel said, glancing at his watch. It was close to seven, and the next two days were the beginning of the holiday.

“I just thought you’d like to know…pretty little thing, isn’t she?” He trailed off, looking at Buffy’s picture. It was the end of the summer when that picture was taken, her hair hung loosely down her back, and she wore shorts and a belly halter. “She never looked so happy.”

“Thought I’d like to know what, Dad?” Angel made his way to the couch. Snatching the picture away, he sat beside the older man.

Ethan took a breath. “The papers for the annulment have arrived at the house. You have until the end of January to sign them, or it goes to court.”

Angel put a hand through his spiked brown hair. “I-I can’t sign those papers.”

“Your damn right you can’t…this business will go to hell if you sign those papers. But if you go to court, it’ll get worse.” Ethan said.

“You don’t understand what I’m telling you, Dad. I can’t sign those papers because I love her. I love Buffy too much to let go of her now, and I have to win her back.” He stood, oozing with enthusiasm. He rushed to the phone, quickly punching in a familiar number. “Hi, I need five dozen red roses delivered to a Buffy Summers. The card? Yeah, it should say, ‘For every minute my heart breaks without you.’” He was happy; he felt he was sure to win her over and her heart back now.

“Good going son, just waste perfectly good roses. We’ll begin interviews for your new secretary Monday, and I’ll see you at the ball tomorrow night.” Ethan said, knowing his boy didn’t hear a word. He was too busy planning a hostile take over.

*

Buffy stood before the open door, her mouth hanging open slightly as she stared at the man before her. “Daddy…what are you doing here?”

Hank Summers surveyed the apartment as he entered with a huge box in hand, his smile wide. “Looks like Angel’s been treating you right. How is the boy? He hasn’t been to any of the poker games lately.”

“Well…you know he’s been busy…with work and stuff.” Buffy did her best to keep her smile going. She could only thank God that Spike was at work. If Spike had been there, instead of Angel, she’d look like the unfaithful one.

Hank turned to his only child and smiled at her. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young lady, Buffy. I’m proud of you.” He set down the box, and reached out to hug his little girl.

“Is everything okay?” She asked worriedly, feeling the invasion of her personal space uncomfortable.

“Why would anything me wrong, Pumpkin?”

“Well, we only see each other once a year…and you just dropping by is out of context.” She explained.

Hank picked up the box, and handed it to her. “Think of this as part of your Christmas present.” He said as she unwrapped it. “Tomorrow night is the Christmas Eve ball at the Plaza, and I thought you might need something pretty to wear.”

“I’m not going,” Buffy stated simply, pulling a long pale blue gown out of the box. It was a tube-top gown, the full skirt decorated with silver snowflakes. “It’s beautiful, but I’m not going.”

“You and the husband have a little tiff?” He asked, putting his hand in the pockets of his sports coat.

Buffy hesitated slightly, “I’m afraid it’s a lot more than just a fight. Angel and I are-“

The doorbell interrupted her train of thought, and with a loud sigh, she opened the heavy metal door. Standing there with five vases of red roses surrounding him was a short Chinese man.

“Rose for Bunny,” he said in broken English.

“Buffy,” she corrected.

“Whatever, here’s card.” With that, the man left.

Buffy opened the card with caution, reading the words carefully and holding it too her heart with tears in her eyes. Fighting off tears, she had no idea why it affected her emotionally, but Angel was hurting and it broke her heart, as well.

“Are going to be fine,” Hank finished her sentence for her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pumpkin. There are two invitations in that box.”

*

Spike entered the apartment, surprised by the surrounding darkness. After hanging his leather coat up in the closet, he headed straight toward the Christmas tree, turning the multicolored lights on.

He figured Buffy was asleep, as he made his way to his room to get more comfortable, but saw that candlelight flicker beneath her bedroom door. He wasn’t one to barge in, but he felt jealousy lace him, at the thought of Angel sharing her bed. He knocked gently, and opened the door when he received no reply.

Lying on the bed, sound asleep, was Buffy, wearing an evening gown. The candlelight illuminated her face; the soft glow of her skin and on impulse, Spike went over to the bed, and stroked her cheek.

Her hazel eyes fluttered open, and she smiled up at him. “Morning.” She said in a whisper.

He took a step back from her, afraid that he invaded her personal space. “Sorry…it’s only seven, and I thought you might like dinner.”

She sat up, and looked down at her attire.

“I was going to ask about that.” Spike said with a smirk.

“My father stopped by, and wants me to go the Plaza for that ball thing…I said no, but he insisted.” She frowned.

“I’m guessing that having you in the same city, shows that he has family. Benefits his business and social life.” He explained.

Buffy sighed. “I understand that, but I really don’t want to deal with Angel. He’ll be there, with his family.”

Spike noticed the invitations on her nightstand, and picked it up. “Well, luv, it looks like you’ve got yourself a date.”

“Oh, really? And who might that be?” She asked.

“Me. I look damn right charming in a tux.” Buffy smiled at the offer, with every intention of accepting it.

Chapter Five: Revelations

The moment Buffy Summers walked out of her bedroom, she was no longer his roommate...she was a goddess. Her hair was pinned up, golden curls escaping, the gown flowed down to her clear Mary Jane’s, and her makeup brought out all the right features. Perfection was the only way to describe her.

Spike’s blue eyes went wide, his lips slightly parted, and it took all the power in his body to keeping his tongue from rolling out. “Bloody hell.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” She said as she slipped on her beige pea coat.

He wore a black tux, with his own personal touch. The tie was slacked, and the top two buttons of his white shirt, open. Deciding against it, he also disregarded his loafers and still wore his black combat boots.

“Ready to go, pet?” He asked after slipping on his leather coat, offering his arm to her.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, linking her arm with his.

*

His eyes became slits of anger at the sight of his wife walking into the ballroom on the arm of the man with radioactive hair. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides, his temper on high.

“Who’s that dude with your girl?” Charles Gunn, a street-smart attorney that worked for Rayne Corp., questioned. He saw the jealousy bubbling within his longtime friend and employer. Although he was more of a friend toward Buffy, he couldn’t help but feel the need to let his boy know.

“I don’t know, but I won’t let her embarrass me like this.” With that, Angel made his way toward the blonde duo, and took Buffy’s arm roughly. “We need to talk.” He looked in her eyes, pleading.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, mate,” Spike stepped between them. The feel of Buffy’s hand on his back, stopped him from ripping off Angel’s arm.

“It’s okay, Spike. I’ll be right back.” Buffy said, allowing Angel to drag her to a small room outside of the ballroom. “I got the flowers. They were beautiful. Sorry I didn’t-“

“What are you doing here with him?” Angel cut her off.

“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” she whispered, looking down at the floor.

He took her chin in his big hand, forcing her to look him in the eye. “As long as you’re my wife, you’ll do as I say.”

“I asked to get out of this months ago. I know you got the paper work last week.” She turned her face to the side, avoiding the emotion he held in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t plan on signing a thing. Not until we at least try working this out.” He argued.

Buffy sighed loudly. “Sorry, Angel, but Spike’s already living in the apartment. He’s my roommate, and I’m beginning to realize that this marriage was a mistake.”

“What is it with you and this guy? What’s really going on between the two of you?” He asked.

“He’s my roommate, and my friend.” She replied, feeling the emptiness of the words. There had to be something more there. Whenever Spike sat beside her, or looked at her, she felt it. But why did she ignore it? At that point, the answer was unknown.

*

“You’re new around here.” Gunn approached Spike with a scotch, and handed it to him.

“To New York, no. To the Plaza…yes.” Spike replied, accepting the drink with a smile.

Gunn nodded. “I’m originally from LA, myself. I came with the movement, when Rayne decided to take his business to the East Coast.”

“Sounds like you’re a prized player in the company.” Spike said.

“Actually, Angel is. Ethan Rayne has big plans for his son to take over the company...but it’s not looking too good.” Gunn admitted.

“And why is that?” Spike inquired.

“Because without Buffy here, in New York, at his side, Angel won’t have reason to run the company.” Gunn explained.

“And what makes you think that they won’t get back together?” Spike asked, watching the couples dance.

“It’s simple, man…she’s already falling for you.”

*

“Ready for a dance, luv?” Spike asked upon Buffy’s return.

Her smile was shaky, but she nodded her head. Before they could make it to the dance floor, Hank stepped in their way, a million questions on his mind.

He could only get one out. “Buffy, what’s going on?”

“I tried to tell you yesterday…but Angel and I are not going to be together much longer.” She had to let him know sooner or later, and sooner seemed better. The timing was unfortunate.

“What did he do to you? There were rumors, but I thought it was just office talk.” Hank said angrily, casting a dirty look Angel’s way.

“Nothing, Daddy…I just feel as though we rushed it. I’m only eighteen; I’ll be nineteen next month. I have to have some fun before I settle down.” She explained, and noticed Hank looking over Spike. “This is Spike…he’s my roommate.”

“Nice to meet you, son.” Hank said, holding his hand out to the bleached blonde.

“Likewise. This is a really nice party.” Spike said.

“God knows you’re as bored as I am. I suggest that you two run along, and have some real fun. It’s about time my little girl saw what New York City’s all about, and I have a feeling you’re the one that can show her.” Hank gave Spike a pat of approval on the back, and smiled as the two left. Buffy wasn’t made for the life of ballrooms and business. She was pure California, fun and sun. Hank knew that enough to let go of his reservations, and let his only child see what life is really like.

Chapter Six: Choices

“I can’t believe that just happened!” Buffy exclaimed, as she stepped out of the Plaza with Spike. “He just saved me from a tortured night of questions, and aggravation.”

“You act as though he’s never done it before.” Spike said, as they began walking without a destination in mind, not caring where they went.

“Are you kidding me? Ever since I was thirteen, I’d see him once a year at this benefit they throw in LA…I always begged him to take me ice-skating, or to the latest Freddie Prince Jr. movie, but he was all work.” She explained.

Spike reached out, and took her hand in his. “The rest of the night is ours, luv. What do you want to do?”

A shiver ran down her spine from his gesture, and her stomach tied in knots. “It’s your city, what is there to do?”

“How about a walk through Central Park?” He suggested.

The last time Buffy was in Central Park, was a week after her wedding. Angel had arranged a small picnic, for the two of them. “I’d love to.” It was time to rewrite those memories.

Although the temperature was close to zero, it was impossible to feel with the heat transferring between the two. They came upon a green bench, near the skate park, and took a seat. The entire place was lit up with white Christmas lights, and as the snow began falling, everything was perfect. It reminded them of a fairytale.

“God, it’s beautiful…” It almost took her breath away. She couldn’t believe that this was the first time she was seeing the beauty of New York City, after living there for seven months, although she had a feeling that Spike contributed to the beauty.

“Yes, you are.” Spike said, staring at her intently.

She turned to see his eyes on hers, and felt THAT feeling pass between the two of them. Before she had the chance to realize, the two were slowly inching closer, their lips meeting in a simple and tender kiss.

Buffy pulled away first, looking forward with red cheeks, not only from the cold, but also from embarrassment. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“And why is that, luv?” His voice was husky, full of lust. He couldn’t remember ever feeling that something was so meant to be with just a kiss.

“Because…this won’t work if we become physical. Our friendship won’t work, and our living arrangement.” She stood, putting her hands in her pockets.

Spike stood beside her, doing the same. “You’re right, let’s get home and forget that this ever happened.”

It would be impossible, not only for him. “Yeah, it’s getting a little chilly.” She felt his cold reaction toward her words and it hurt.

*

On Christmas morning, Buffy was awoken by Christmas music blasting from the living room. She looked at her clock, and saw that it was nearly ten. After the silent cab ride back to the apartment, she was reluctant to join her roommate for a little holiday cheer.

She wasn’t sure if he was angry, or offended by her reaction toward the kiss they shared. She was upset with herself at the fact that she didn’t allow it to go any further. It was nice, and for once in her life, Buffy felt as though she belonged. Then why did she stop? What was so bad about being close to someone she learned to trust and was comfortable with? Or was she afraid to lose that comfort? She needed him, his friendship, but she wasn’t sure if she could handle anything more.

A million questions ran through her mind as she made her way down the hall, in her Yummy Sushi pajamas, stopping at the kitchen. There in a pair of gray sweatpants, was Spike, making enough breakfast to feed ten people. There were sausages, weird shaped pancakes, and freshly squeezed orange juice, plus coffee.

“Planning a party without me?” She asked, startling the chef, causing him to drop the pancake he was flipping.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you, never interrupt a bloody man when he’s flipping pancakes shirtless…that would have been one ugly burn.” He said, bending to pick up the now dirty pancake and threw it in the trash.

Buffy couldn’t help but stare at his bottom as he bent, a sly smile coming over her features. “I wouldn’t have minded nursing the wound back to health.”

Spike cocked a scarred eyebrow at the short blonde, trying to keep a straight mind for his sweatpants’ sake.

“I was kidding…who are we feeding, anyway?” Buffy asked, sitting at the metal kitchen table.

“There’s us…and oh yeah, us.” Spike said with a smile.

“What are these supposed to be anyway?” She studied the blobby pancake, unable to see what it was supposed to be shaped as.

“My attempt at Christmas tree shaped pancakes failed, so now we have an assortment of different abstract shapes.” Spike sat across from her, after placing a plate before her. He began splitting the food between the plates.

“You’re quite the artists, Mr. Evans.” She couldn’t help, but feel good that the kiss hadn’t seemed to change things between them.

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” He poured a fair amount of Vanilla syrup on his pancakes, and handed it to her. “I just want to say, that even though we’re going to go about this day as though nothing’s changed since yesterday, it has. I like you, Buffy. I know you need time to sort through things with that pillock, but I’m willing to be here for you, and wait.”

Buffy choked on a piece of pancake, and Spike was quick to run behind her and pat her back.

“Didn’t mean to almost kill you, pet.” He apologized, sitting in his seat to finish his meal.

*

Spike couldn’t believe the gift before him: His own acoustic guitar.

“I figured you’ve been seeing all of these bands that are just garbage…maybe you can start one of your own.” She smiled at the genuine glee in his eyes.

Without much thought, Spike reached behind the tree, to get the most important gift he’d gotten for Buffy. “Speaking of music…” He said, handing it to her.

Buffy sat before the wrapped up, flat square shape, excited to open it. She ripped the paper open without much resistance, and read the framed words aloud.

“After countless bands, wasting my time, it took a night of Indian TV, for my roommate, Buffy Summers, to let me in on a little secret. They are called Dingoes Ate My Baby, and with songs titled “Pain,” and “Fate,” it’s no wonder that they’ve become Sunnydale, California’s greatest entertainers. With a soothing alternative sound, and a slight vibe that rages “punk,” the Dingoes have become a hit in the small one Starbucks town, trying to break free of the border…”

Buffy looked up at Spike with tears in her eyes. “You did this for my friends?”

“Mostly for you…besides for the fact that they deserve the recognition. They’re a great band, Buffy. They have to be discovered…that talent can’t go to waste.” Spike said with a small smile.

She quickly put down the article, jumping up to hug him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered in his ear. “Thank you…it’ll be worth the wait.”

Chapter Seven: Pangs

Christmas was just like any other night. The blonde duo sat in front of the television, watching Indian TV, and eating a meal from the only Chinese restaurant they could find that was open. It turned out that the eatery down the block wasn’t open on Christmas.

“I’d have to say, this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” Buffy said with a smile, looking up at Spike from her red beanbag chair on the living room floor.

Spike grinned in return, from his seat on the sofa. “I’ll second that, pet. What was Christmas like in Sunnydale?”

Buffy thought for a second, feeling as though she hadn’t been home in years. “Mom, Giles, and I would decorate the tree the day before, and have a big dinner. We’d put the air conditioning on high for a little while, so it could feel a bit wintry, and eat Mom’s meatloaf, which is always a little dry and weird. Than we’d stay up until twelve, and open gifts.”

“Giles’ your brother?” He questioned.

“My stepfather…he’s English…you’d like him.” She said.

“If you miss them so much, why don’t you call?”

She thought for a minute, unsure of her answer. But it came to her within time. “Because they were right, because I left them to start my own life, and I failed.” Tears formed in her eyes.

Spike moved to sit beside her in the beanbag. “What do you call this, luv? Aren’t you happy?” He put his arm around her, and looked into her eyes.

She gazed back, getting lost in the vastness of blue. “Sometimes…I think I am.” She whispered, as he inched closer to her.

“I think I can change that answer.” His lips came to hers slowly. It was a risk he didn’t hesitate to take. He was glad he didn’t, because after reaching up with his hand, and wiping away a stray tear with his thumb, their lips met in ecstasy.

Tenderly, he sucked her bottom lip, nipping at it gently. There was slight hesitance at first, but Buffy couldn’t deny how right it felt, and gave in, allowing his probing tongue to take a dive into sweetness.

“This can be your life.” He whispered against her lips, and her eyes widened.

She jumped up from her seat, and pointed a finger at him. “You’re taking advantage of my vulnerability and invading my personal bubble. I don’t need sex right now…I need a friend.”

“Are you saying that if I was to touch you, luv…show you what it’s like to be with a real man, that you’d still reject me?” He asked.

“I’m attracted to you, Spike…but I’m still married, and even though it’s idiotic, I still love Angel. I’m not willing to work things out, but I won’t play kissing games with you, while he’s out there, trying to get me back. When he signs those papers, and I feel like I’m ready to move on…you’re the only person I can imagine doing that with.” The words were out of her mouth before she had the chance to stop herself. With a deep sigh, she put a hand through her hair. “I-I’m sorry…I’m going to go to bed. Merry Christmas, Spike.”

He watched as she walked off, ignoring the tightness in his pants. “Merry Christmas, Buffy.”

*

Flashback
She wore a low cut red dress, which clung to every curve. The slit going up her right leg showed off a trail of tan, and glow. She smiled at the passing guests, and put a hand through her blonde curls.

“Buffy, I want to introduce you to an associate of mine. Angel Rayne, this is my daughter Buffy Summers.” With those simple words out of Hanks mouth, Buffy was sent into a tailspin, her stomach fluttering and her knees going weak.

Angel stood before her, in all of his masculine and brooding glory, looking smug at her reaction. “Nice to meet you, Buffy. I see you have your mother’s looks.” This earned him an eye-roll from the petite blonde.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.” Angel apologized.

“There are ways you can make it up to me…” Buffy said with a sly smile, after her father had made his way away from the duo, to mingle with clients.

“And how can I do that?” He asked.

“Do you like coffee?”
End Flashback

*

She awoke in the middle of the night, the memories she longed to forget, rushing into her dreams. It wasn’t long before she was dialing that familiar number, that she had gotten accustomed to dialing at that time of night.

“Buffy?” Angel questioned, the moment her name showed on the caller ID.

“Hey…” She said, at a loss for any other words to say to him.

“Is everything okay?” He began worrying.

“Yeah, everything’s fine…I just had a dream…” She replied.

“And you called me?” He was shocked.

“It was about you…it was the first time we met all over again.” She bundled under her quilt deeper.

“I miss you, Buff.”

“I miss you, too, sometimes. It doesn’t mean that I want to be with you. It just means that I’m going to be civil with you. We need to get through this, and not allow any bitterness. I love you, Angel…a part of me always will, but you fucked up. I hate throwing it in your face.” She felt tears burn her cheeks.

“I deserve it, I deserve worse. You were so good to me.” His tears were obvious.

“Just promise me you’ll sign the papers…I want to go back home. I miss my family.” She whispered.

He sighed loudly. “I understand, Buffy…just promise me you won’t be afraid to come to me if you need anything.”

“I promise.” She vowed.

Chapter Eight: When She Was Bad

The next few days leading up to New Years Eve, were busy for Spike. He’d barely been home, and Buffy spent her days watching TV. It got lonely as time went by, but Buffy didn’t feel that there was any point in getting a job, when unknown to Spike, she was heading home in three weeks.

She hadn’t given herself a moment to discover New York’s night life, so when Spike called her and asked her to meet him at a small club near the house.

“You have to enjoy the night life, luv. I promise that you won’t be able to resist going out every night after tonight.” He vowed.

There was a bit of hesitance. The last thing that the blonde wanted was to fall in love with a city she couldn’t stay with…and the same went for a guy. “I don’t know…”

“You’re a couch potato. Do you California girls even know how to bloody dance?” It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and he knew it.

“I’ll show you what a Sunnydale girl can do.” After writing down the address to the club, Buffy went to take a shower and get dressed.

*

It took forever, but after finding her tight black mini, and knee high black boots with a low cut dark red halter that showed off her toned stomach, and putting her hair half up in curls, she was ready.

With her thigh high leather jacket over her outfit, it looked as though she wore nothing under. Her walk to the club was problem free, until she reached the door. The line was around the block, and Buffy figured she should wait as all the others, but the temperature was intolerable.

“Can I help you?” The bouncer asked, over the beat of the music, as he stood before an open door.

“I’m supposed to meet a friend here.” She replied.

“And that gives you the okay to just get in when there are over seventy people in front of you?” He questioned sarcastically.

“Obviously not, but I thought there might be some kind of list.” She said.

“Name?” He asked.

“Buffy…” She stated.

“No Buffy on the list. Who are you looking for?” He asked.

Her toes were numb from the winter cold, and her teeth chattered. “Spike Evans.”

“Spike? You’re a friend of Spike’s?” The blue-eyed country boy asked with a wide smile.

“That I am…I’m actually his roommate. Buffy Summers.” He seemed to know who Spike was, which meant that she’d be warm in no time.

“Summers! You’re Hank Summers daughter.” He was surprised and impressed. “I’m sorry about the wait. Name’s Lindsey McDonald, by the way, and next time, don’t be so patient with me.” He lifted the velvet rope, allowing Buffy to enter, checking her out as she made her way through.

The music was slow…sensual, and after putting her coat away in the coatroom, she put her hands up, and began moving with the music rhythmically, as she walked trough the room, to the dance floor.

It wasn’t long before Spike spotted her, a smile gracing his lips, as he looked her up and down from head to toe. His lust was pulsating, and he watched her, getting closer.

Unaware of his presence, she lost herself in the hypnotizing sound of THC’s Overfire. She was startled by the feel of hands on her hips, and attempted to turn around, but he stopped her.

“It’s me, luv,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“Don’t call me that,” she responded softly, for the first time since they’d met. It had never bothered her before, but since his attraction had become evident, and the evidence was in his pants rubbing against her backside, she felt awkward. That didn’t stop her from swaying against him, enticing his love muscle. She teased, rolling her hips, pressing more firmly against him.

He held back a groan, moving with her. She was dangerously close to making him release, but with quick maneuvers she faced him, her breath tickling his throat as she breathed.

“Do you want to fuck me?” She asked bluntly, in a low, seductive voice. She didn’t understand what came over her; she just had the urge to tease him. It was time to let loose, show him what she was made of. She was tired of being looked at, as though she was nothing but sweet and innocent.

“More than anything…but not until I make love to you.” He spoke without hesitance.

“Don’t you wish I’d just give it to you?” She questioned, grinding her pelvis to his, causing his eyes to roll in back of his head.

“Oh, God, yes.” He replied, barely above a whisper.

“I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up. I've got muscles you've never even dreamed of. I could squeeze you until you pop like warm champagne and you'd beg me to hurt you just a little bit more. And you know why I don't?” Her lips were dangerously close to his, his eyes never leaving them as she spoke. “Because it’s wrong.” Without another word, she turned and headed for the bar, leaving a puddle of Spike on the dance floor.

Spike watched her, as she buttered up the bartender, and he gave her a shot of tequila with little reluctance. After composing himself, once again, he took to her side. “That stuff is bloody dangerous for someone your size.”

With a shrug, Buffy licked the salt from her hand, downed the shot, and took the lime that the bartender offered. “Thanks,” she said, making a silly face.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Spike asked.

“My honeymoon.” She replied. “Mexico…three days, two nights…until Angel had to get back to the office, and forced me to be Betty homemaker.”

“Not what you wanted, pet?”

“Do you think I like getting everything handed to me on a plate. I would rather be prepared to be on my own than living off of my ex-husband, and father…” She said, gesturing for another shot.

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?” He asked seriously.

Buffy was already on her fourth shot when she came up with an answer. “Hold my hair back when I puke later on tonight,” and she knew he would.

Chapter Nine: Restless

The light that entered her bedroom window was painful to her eyes, as she awoke from slumber. Her head throbbed, pounding within her ears. She stood up, squinting around the room. It took her a minute to realize that she wasn’t in her room, and for a second she thought she might have made a mistake.

She stood in Spike’s room, wearing nothing, but her underwear and an oversized black t-shirt. It wasn’t until she exited and saw a rumpled blanket on the couch, that she discovered that she didn’t have sex with Spike.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she made her way to the bathroom, and opened the door without a knock. As the steam from the hot water that was running moments before she entered cleared, Buffy’s jaw dropped at the site before her.

Water trailed down the expanse of his hairless, and sculpted chest, as he dried himself with the towel, oblivious to her presence. Her eyes traveled down to his muscle, and widened in amazement. It was only then that a draft from the open door reached him, and he saw her.

“Bloody hell!” He yelled, trying to wrap the towel around his waist, but dropping it accidentally.

Buffy’s hands went to her eyes, covering them, but spreading her fingers apart so that she could still see him. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here, and my head wasn’t working right.” She turned quickly and bumped into the doorway, hitting her head and falling backwards.

Once again, Spike’s towel was on the floor, as her hurried to catch her before she could fall. There, in Spike’s naked lap, Buffy felt his thick, throbbing member pressing against her bottom. There was a moment that Buffy couldn’t help but grind against him, the warmth of her underwear-covered ass, hitting him hard.

“Buffy…” He couldn’t holdback the groan.

She looked up at him, as though she was a deer caught in headlights. She attacked his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, allowing their tongues to tango. It wasn’t long before she was slipping to the floor, Spike’s bare body over her. The kiss intensified, as Spike reached down between them, reaching toward ecstasy. He rubbed her through the thin cotton that separated them, and her back arched, her pelvis reaching for him.

“Spike…” She whispered, her resistance buckling.

“Do you want me, Buffy?” He asked, his voice husky.

She was unable to speak, and nodded instead. He reached for the hem of his shirt, and pulled it over her head. He breasts were small, yet perky. His lips trailed slowly down her neck, stopping at her right nipple. He licked softly, and sucked gently. He showed just enough attention to the other.

She couldn’t hold back the moans, and allowed him to caress her wetness, spreading her legs so that he could let his fingers roam. Moving her underwear to the side, he pushed his index finger into her opening, the tightness surrounding, amazing.

“So bloody tight, luv, and I’m not even inside of you.” He grunted.

She whimpered softly as he added another finger.

“Do you think you’d be able to handle me, Buffy?” He asked, and her eyes went down to his dick.

She was about to open her mouth, and tell him to put it in, when the doorbell cut her off. She jolted back from him, startled. Before she had a chance to compose herself, and Spike wrapped the towel around his waist, Angel entered, his expression full of shock, at the sight of Buffy coming out of the bathroom, looking disoriented, and Spike naked coming out after.

“Is this what that phone call was about? Is he the one you want?” Angel asked angrily.

“Angel, what are you doing here?” It was all that would come out of her mouth.

He put a hand through his hair. “I came to tell you that I signed the annulment. I just need your signature, but hell…I just got a little show.”

Spike was about to respond, but Buffy didn’t let him. “Can you come into the bedroom for a sec?” She asked, smoothing out the t-shirt.

“The bedroom we used to share?” Angel questioned sarcastically.

“Cut the bullshit and follow me.” He did as she said, slamming the door, and locking it behind him. “What do you think you’re doing? I asked you to give the key back.”

Angel closed in on her, noticing that the bed was unmade. “I had a spare…and I’m glad I kept it. How could you do this to me…this was our apartment, you were mine.”

“The past tense part of those words is the point.” Buffy said, sitting on the bed. “Although Spike and I weren’t doing anything, I just accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom, it’s none of your business.”

Angel got in her face, his expression hard and angry. “It is my business. As long as I’m in love with you, I’ll make it my business.” He gripped her shoulders hard, and kissed her roughly on the mouth. Then, as though she was nothing, he pushed her down on the bed, hovering over her. “I was here first…I always will be…I swear to God, Buffy, if another man ever touches you, I’ll kill him.” With that, before resorting to anything drastic, Angel pulled away from her, making his way out of the apartment.

Tears shook her, and she cried not because of his cruelty, but because she allowed Spike to draw her in. She was going to let him take her on the bathroom floor.

There was a gentle knock on her door. “You okay, pet?”

She sobbed softly, and turned away from the door. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“And why is that?” Spike asked, hurt.

“Because we can’t do this. I’m leaving in a week and a half, back to Sunnydale. It just wasn’t meant to be.” She spoke of their interruption, and Spike didn’t respond. He only left her to her misery, while he let out his own anger, and sexual frustration.

*

Buffy tossed and turned, as she lay in bed that night. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, most of them reminiscence of what almost happened in the bathroom. The feel of Spike’s lips and hand all over her body, forever burn into her mind.

In the other room, Spike couldn’t sleep, either. He could only think of what he would miss out on once Buffy was gone, what he could have had if Angel hadn’t showed up, and how right it felt to make that move.

She was leaving, it was final, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. Her throat going dry, Buffy made her way quietly down the hallway toward the kitchen. She stopped before Spike’s door, and put a gentle hand on it.

Although he couldn’t see her, he felt her presence, and stood quickly from his bed. Putting his hand to the door, he waited for a knock, a sign that she wanted him to join her, not only for the night, but also for life. He was in love with her; there was no way he could deny it.

Suddenly, Buffy was no longer thirsty, and with the tears burning in her eyes, she rushed back to her room, before Spike opened the door to find her there. The disappointment was no lie, as he found an empty place on the other side.

Chapter Ten: Amends

The silence filled the apartment, upon her waking up. Her head was still feeling the hangover, but she quickly gathered her surroundings, and headed for the shower. This time, she knocked before entering. It was obvious that Spike had left for work hours before, avoiding her.

It was New Years Eve, and for some reason it didn’t feel like it. Another year had gone by, and Buffy could only feel the waste.

She reached the mirror, and studied her reflection carefully. Her eyes were puffy from spending the night crying, and her skin pale. “I can’t do this…” She whispered aloud to herself, and turned on the water.

As she stepped under the hot spray, memories of the past few months that she’d been on her own flashed through her mind. She had to get out of there, but where would she go? Willow was expecting her back in Sunnydale in two weeks, and her mother had no idea she was returning. Apart from a few postcards, Buffy made it a habit to avoid actual conversation. It just seemed easier that way.

Joyce’s letters were also, void of feeling, and avoiding of all things involving Angel. No one knew of the annulment, which was still processing. Buffy felt it was better to keep under wraps for the time being.

Tears of her failure, in love, in life, even, filled her mind. No matter how much she tried to ignore it, she missed Angel. The warmth of his arms around her, the way he kissed her, the few times that he made love to her…but that wasn’t love.

Being so close to Spike the day before, she had never felt anything like it. A surge of lust, maybe even love filled her. Heat rose in her belly, and her heart raced at the thought of him. It was love.

*

She sat on the couch, most of the day, waiting for him to come home. She wore black jeans with a black tank top and a sheer white top over. Her hair was up in a messy bun, strands of blonde hair escaping. Dick Clark kept her company, as she waited for the bleached blonde to walk through the door.

By the time the clock was on twelve, she was already asleep. The sound of the door slamming awoke her at two in the morning.

“Spike?” She questioned, squinting into the darkness.

There was a high-pitched giggle, and Spike’s deep laugh. The light flickered on and an obviously drunk blonde duo, that included Spike were standing before the couch, kissing.

“What are you doing?” Buffy asked.

“Is that your wife or something?” The blonde asked with a giggle.

“Do you really think I’d bring you back here with my wife home?” Spike asked.

“I hope not…because there will be no threesomes, unless it’s guy, guy, girl, or Charlize Therone.” She replied.

“Sorry to wake you, Betty…Happy New Year!” Spike said with a sloppy smile. He knew it hurt her, but didn’t care. He was hurt, too. “This is Harmony…I was thinking you should either insolate your walls, or head out for the night, because no one in this apartment is sleeping.” He turned to the girl at his side, and kissed her passionately.

Tears stung Buffy’s eyes at the sight, and she stood abruptly. “I’ll get out of your way. She went to the hall closet, struggling to put on her black boots, and finding her suede tan jacket. Without a hat, gloves, or a scarf, she headed out into the cold.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she walked down Lexington Avenue, people from parties passing her by. She cried silently as she walked, ignoring the fact that she couldn’t feel her fingers.

*

“Oh, Blondie Bear…I love that you take control like that.” Harmony said, kissing Spike’s neck.

Spike stiffened, as his beer fogged mind began comprehending what he’d just done. He rudely kicked Buffy out of the apartment, and let her go out with a thin jacket.

Why was he suddenly worried about how she went outside? She could catch a cold. His mind was inflicted.

“Let’s get these jackets off, and head to the bedroom.” Harmony said, looking up at him.

His hands were suddenly gripping her arms hard, pushing her away from him. “You have to go.” Spike said.

“What? But I thought you were going to show me all of those nasty things you whispered in my ear.” Harmony whined.

“Sorry…” He pushed her out the door, slamming it in her face, before going to look for Buffy’s things.

He ran down Lexington, looking for her. Every blonde that was coming back from the ball dropping in Times Square caught his eye, but he didn’t hesitate running up to each woman to be sure.

Than he spotted her, five blocks down, waiting for the light to change. “Buffy!” He called out, and her head whipped around to look at him.

She turned back, and began jogging away. “Stay away from my, Spike!” She yelled back.

“I sent that bint home…please Buffy, it’s bloody freezing out here. You’re going to catch pneumonia.” He caught up to her, grabbing her arm, her stuff bundled under his free arm.

She turned to face him, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Why?”

He took a breath, and began putting her hat and coat on. “Because, Buffy…I love you.”

“You can’t.” She whispered, looking up into his eyes, as he wrapped her scarf around her neck.

“I’m sorry, luv, but I can’t help it. You’re all I bloody think about, dream about. I’m drowning in you Summers, drowning.” His hands went to her hips.

“Why?”

“The way you laugh, the way you cry,” his hand went up to her cheek, wiping away a tear, “the way your eyes always turn colors when you’re angry. I love how I can come home from work after having the shittiest day, and you just make it all go away. And when I kiss you, I feel like I’m falling into a black hole. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine and done things I’d prefer you didn’t. I don’t exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn’t exactly rush in the direction of my brain so I make a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. Twenty-five years, and there’s only one thing I’ve ever been sure of. You. Hey, look at me. I’m not asking you for anything. When I say I love you, it’s not because I want you, or because I can’t have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You are a hell of a woman. You’re the one, Buffy.”

“I don’t want to be the one.” Her voice rasped, as she looked up at him.

“I don’t want to be this good-looking and athletic. We all have crosses to bear.” He said, and she smiled. “I won’t let you go.”

The clouds suddenly opened, and snow fell over them. “Can we go home now?” She asked softly.

“Of course we can, luv.” He replied, putting his arm around her shoulder, and walking beside her, leading her home.

Chapter Eleven: Forever

She sat on her bed, wearing her Yummy Sushi pajamas, Spike stood before her, preparing to tuck her in. She was frozen from the cold outside, unable to warm up.

He put a cup of hot tea on her dresser. “That should do the trick.”

“I never really had a cup of tea from an English guy before…well, besides for my stepfather.” Buffy smiled up at him, and took a sip from the mug.

He returned her smile. “I’m going to head over to my room, and attempt some shut eye.” He turned from her, and began going toward the door.”

“Spike?” He stopped in his tracks. “Can you stay here?” She asked softly.

“Sure. I’ll take the floor to be on the safe side.” Spike offered.

“No. I mean…here. Will you just hold me?” She asked, pulling down the comforter and slipping under, leaving some room for him.

*

Buffy awoke close to the afternoon, to the feel of his warm body beside her. She propped herself up on her elbow, and watched as he slept. His lips were slightly part, and she felt herself drawn to them. Slowly, she leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on them, and his eyes fluttered open.

“Morning, pet.” He said, looking up at her.

“Sorry…I couldn’t help it.” She smiled, and he returned it. She jumped up from bed, and stretched. “Feel like breakfast?”

“Hate to break it to you, but we haven’t done any shopping since Christmas, luv. All we bloody have is ketchup and moldy bread.” Spike said, sitting up.

“Hm, we should get to it today. Set up shop for my departure.” She didn’t want him to get his hopes up with the idea that she was staying. Sure, he confessed his feelings for her, but she still wanted to go home.

Spike stood, like a deer caught in headlights. “So, you’re still leaving?”

“I really see no reason to stay,” she lied.

“Well, I do. Me. I want to give you the world, Buffy.” His voice was filled with honesty.

She turned from him, looking out the window at the white city streets below. “I don’t need the world.” She replied simply. “I need to enjoy the time I have left here with you and go home.”

He didn’t want to ruin what little time they had left. So he figured he’d let it go, for now. “Why don’t we shower, and go grocery shopping?”

“Shower…together?” Blush crept up her cheeks.

“If that’s what you want, luv…” Spike cocked an eyebrow.

“Separate is better.” Buffy attempted to convince herself.

“Ladies first…” He said, and began making the bed.

*

Buffy stood at the end of the shopping cart, as Spike pushed. “We should buy cookie dough.” She suggested, hopping off the cart.

“You don’t strike me as the baking type, luv.” He smiled at her enthusiasm.

“You’re not supposed to bake it. It tastes so much better raw.” She said, and Spike’s stomach turned at the thought. Buffy and Willow had spent many slumber parties with a roll of cookie dough.

“You’d be stuck in the bathroom for bloody hours.” He said with a look of disgust on his face.

“It’s worth it.” Buffy shrugged. “Read the list to me again.”

“Eggs, milk, butter, bread, TV dinners, mini pizzas, pancake mix, bacon, and apples.” He read the list, looking over the things in the cart, to make sure nothing was forgotten, and made his way to the cashier. Everything that they needed was accounted for, and more.

The ring of Buffy’s cell phone interrupted the duo’s day out. “Hello?”

“Buffy…I need you to come here. Fast.” Angel’s voice rasped, as though he was in some kind of pain.

“Angel?” Spike’s head turned as she said the name. “Is everything okay?”

“Please…it won’t be much longer.” The pain was so great, and in no time, he wouldn’t be conscious.

“I have to go.” Buffy hopped off the end of the cart, and looked up at Spike with eyes begging him to understand.

“Is everything alright, luv?” He questioned, attempting to keep his cool.

“I don’t know…he didn’t sound so good. It’s over between us, but I can’t just let him go like that.” She explained.

“I understand, pet. Is that why you’re leaving? So you can truly let go?” He asked.

She nodded before placing a chaste kiss on his lips, and heading for the exit.

He cursed her for wanting him to think that it was okay for her to run to Angel. But she wasn’t his, she didn’t belong to neither man, and that’s why it was considered right.

*

“Angel?” The door to his pent house apartment wasn’t closed all the way, and Buffy felt a chill up her spine. “Angel?” She walked slowly into the living room, and was shocked at the dark trail of blood, leading to his bedroom. She rushed into the room, and he lay faced down on the white carpet, his wrists bleeding. She ran to his nightstand, pulling out clothes, and quickly wrapped his wrists with enough pressure to slow the bleeding.

“Everything’s going to be okay.” She promised, pulling out her cell, and dialing 911. “Yes, my ex-husband…I think he tried committing suicide. I think he’s unconscious. His breathing isn’t very steady. Thank you, please hurry.” She said, and hung up the phone. “We’ll get through this.”

“Buffy.” Angel said softly. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, not right now.” She said.

“Promise-promise me, that you’ll stay forever,” He pleaded.

She let her tears run down her cheeks, and didn’t respond to him. The blood soaked her clothes, but she just held him close, until the paramedics arrived.

Chapter Twelve: Hush

She sat in the hospital waiting room, wearing blood-soaked clothes, and staring into nothing. Her eyes were red and swollen from the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling, and her head was pounding. She blamed herself for what was happening within the emergency room.

Spike ran through the double doors that led to the waiting room, to see her sitting there in a daze. He didn’t hesitate, and slid in the seat beside her, his arms wrapping around her.

She didn’t bother looking at him; she just put her head on his chest and wept. “All I seem to do is cry.”

“Don’t worry, pet. You’ll always have my shoulder.” Spike comforted, trying his best to show her that he was there.

“This is all my fault. He-he tried to kill himself on my account, and I-I just don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten there on time.” She cried.

“Well, Mrs. Rayne, your husband is going to be fine thanks to you.” The doctor took her by surprise, as he exited the emergency room. She moved away from Spike, so that she could listen to him. “Angel is in the midst of a blood transfusion, and his wrists are both stitched up. Do you know any reason why this could have happened, any meds he’s been on?”

“We just got an annulment, and have been separated for a few months, now.” Buffy explained.

“I see.” The doctor said, scribbling on his clipboard.

“What are you writing?” Buffy stood, defensively.

“Calm down, Ms…”

“Summers.” She finished the sentence for him.

“Your ex-husband is obviously torn apart by your divorce, and is reacting unreasonably. He has to stay here for a few days to make sure that he’s mentally stable, but we need to know who will be taking care of him after he’s discharged.” The doctor questioned.

She wasn’t given a chance to respond, for Ethan Rayne had arrived out of nowhere. “I will be hiring someone to be with him, until he’s fit to take care of himself. I am his father.”

The doctor nodded, scribbling more notes down, and turning to leave.

“Why am I not surprised that you’re behind this?” Ethan asked angrily, turning to Buffy.

“Behind what?” She was shocked at the hatred in her ex-father in-law’s eyes.

“You’re the reason why the company is failing…his mind is not set on money, anymore…he’s a fool. Trying to destroy his life, because of a blonde spoiled California girl. Darla was key treasure to him, and she should be the one with the ring…she should be the one with the family’s name.” He was insistent, and scary, causing Buffy to back up.

“That’s enough!” Spike stood between the older brunette and the woman he was in love with. “Your son was lucky to ever get close to this woman, and the day that he cheated was the day that he lost her, forever. I’m sorry that he’s a jackass and would attempt at taking his life, but Buffy and I are going home.” With that the bleached blonde took Buffy’s small wrist and pulled her away from Ethan.

*

They arrived at the apartment in silence. Buffy was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. After removing her jacket, and leaving it on the floor, Spike looked over her with care.

“You need a shower, luv…” He spoke softly, taking her hand and leading her to the bathroom.

They stepped in, and he reached for the hem of her shirt, looking into her eyes. She gave him a small nod, before he pulled the shirt over her head, the dried blood sticking to her body. She cringed as it was thrown to the side.

His arms encircled around her back, and reached for the clips of her bra. As he worked on the hook, Buffy looked up into the depths of his eyes. They sent a shock through her body, and she leaned in, touching his lips with hers.

He was shocked, and pulled away slightly, searching her face for an answer. Her eyes were endearing, appreciating his defense of her. At that point, he was all that she wanted, everything that she desired most. Their kissed turned to passion, as she reached for his belt buckle.

He tore his lips from hers. “Are you sure?”

“I-I don’t know…let’s just take it one step at a time.” She requested.

He nodded his head, pulling his t-shirt over his head, and returning to kiss her. He unsnapped the button to her jeans and expertly slid them down her legs, along with her plain cotton panties.

He looked over her bare body, noting that it was beautiful, even with the stains of blood. He reached for the knobs of the shower, turning it on hot. The bathroom steamed up quickly, and they enjoyed the warmth as they stepped under the spray.

Taking the Dove soap in his hand, he lathered her body from head to toe, paying close attention to her most sensitive parts. The red washed off, leaving the expanse of her tanned skin clean. She took the soap from his hands when he finished, and did the same to him.

When the soap was washed off of his body, Buffy kissed a trail slowly down his body, nipping at his nipples, her tongue rounding his belly button. She got on her knees, coming eye to eye with his throbbing thick member. Her tongue darted out, licking the pre-cum from the tip. It wasn’t long before the tip was hitting the back of her throat.

The feel of her hot lips surrounding him, her mouth working him toward ecstasy, it was no surprise that it took him ten minutes to cum. It had been the moment he had been waiting for forever, and he fucked up.

Buffy allowed his salty nectar to slide down her throat, enjoying every bit.

“So sorry, luv,” he moaned.

“Don’t be…” She said, standing as the hot water ran over her.

Spike was quick to kiss her lips, and taste himself. He trailed down her neck to her pink nub. He sucked gently at first, than nibbled and bit. Licking his way down, past her belly button. He reached ecstasy, and tasted her slowly, enjoying the feel. Buffy slid down to the shower floor, and allowed the pleasure to begin.
 

Chapter Thirteen: Doomed

Licking lightly, his finger entered her tight haven, enticing and teasing, as his tongue worked her clit. She moaned aloud, his name slipping out of her lips. The sound made him recover from his release.

He never wanted to be inside anyone else so bad, and as much as her eyes seemed to be pleading for his entrance, he couldn’t do it. Not there, and not at the moment. He stopped licking her for a second, to look into her eyes.

“I want to make love to you, pet…but not just yet.” He said, looking a bit disappointed at his own words.

“Did I do something?” She asked, unable imagine being turned away.

“No, luv. You’re bloody perfect. I think I’m going a bit crazy, but I just want to be right. Tonight, isn’t right, especially after all the shit that’s happened.” He explained.

She nodded her head in understanding, and began standing, but he took a rough hold on her thighs.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to please you, Buffy.” He said, and went back to his task.

His fingers slipped within he, once again, pushing in out, causing her to gasp. “You like that, pet?” He asked, his tongue darting out to lick the juices.

“Oh yeah…” She groaned.

“Is this my pussy?” He asked.

She didn’t hesitate to respond. “Always.”

*

Buffy’s body awoke buzzing with pleasure. Every place he touched, everything he kissed, she still felt him there. No man had ever paid such attention to her body, worshipped her the way he had.

They’d fallen asleep within each other’s arms, and of course it was the hardest thing they’ve ever done. But Buffy woke up alone as she had expected. Spike had been a bit negligent of his work, and had to be in extra early. Buffy suggested that he buy a laptop, work from home like every other respectful writer would do, but Spike refused.

He loved being able to go into work like any normal man. He had an office, and a secretary, all of which had been neglected since he moved in with Buffy.

She sighed loudly, and stood from his bed. She had a long day ahead of her. No matter how great last night was, she still had to visit Angel. She made her way into her room, and began searching her drawers for something to wear. She picked out a pair of baggy blue jean overalls and a light pink shirt. The outfit said, “I care, but I’m not here to impress,” which was exactly what she wanted to say.

After showering and dressing, she was about to get on her coat, when the phone stopped her. “Hello?”

“Buffy?”

“Mom?”

“Yes, Honey, it’s me.” Joyce Summers felt the tears sting her eyes at the sound of her daughter’s voice.

“Is everything okay?” Buffy asked worriedly.

“Everything is fine…I just had to talk to you. I’ve been meaning to call, but everything’s been complicated. Are you okay?” Joyce questioned.

“Well, my marriage has been annulled, and I’m going back to Sunnydale in about two weeks…” Buffy replied.

“Oh, well that’s good…great,” Joyce paused, “but is there anyway you can come earlier?”

“For what?” Buffy probed.

“Xander…he couldn’t send an invitation…because he forgot. He’s getting married, Buffy.” Joyce explained.

“Xander? Xander is getting married? Xander forgot to send me an invitation to his wedding?” Buffy was shocked. “When is it?”

“This weekend…” Joyce replied.

“I’ll be there.” Buffy hung up the phone and called the airport to make arrangements. “Yes, I’d like to change my flight from the first of February, to tomorrow. Buffy Summers.”

*

Buffy stared at the surrounding white walls, feeling a bit Closter phobic in the elevator. There was a nice older lady with blondish white hair smiling at her. Buffy gave her an uncomfortable smile back. She finally reached the floor that Angel was on, and gave the lady a small wave before getting off.

A knot tied in her stomach as she slowly approached Angel’s room. She peeked in hesitantly and smiled slightly at the fact that he was alone. With a small knock, his gaze went to the door. “Permission to enter?”

“Permission granted.” Angel replied with a small smile. His wrists were wrapped in white gauze, the IV sticking out of his hand and restraints holding his legs.

Buffy felt tears approached, as she walked toward his, and stopped at his side. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I tried to commit suicide.” He replied. “Cheer up, Buffy…I was just drinking and my mind wandered.”

“Your father must hate me…” She whispered.

“Not as much as he hates me. I believe the term he used was, “weak.”” Angel grimaced as he attempted to move.

“Angel, about yesterday…” She began, but couldn’t form the words.

“The suicide thing, or the fact that your new boyfriend stood up to my father?” He probed.

“He’s not my boyfriend…and your father was attacking me verbally. The other subject…did you do it because of me?” She questioned.

“Partially…I had other reasons…the thought of you with another man, the stress of being the boss, and the fact that my marriage is no longer there.” He explained.

“So about 75% was me…” She figured.

“90%.” He corrected her. He looked up at her with tearful eyes. “You deserve better than me, you deserve better than that other guy. You need a good old farm boy that will take care of you, Buffy. I know now that we were doomed…New York doomed us. You belong in Sunnydale, you belong with your family.” Part of his explanation was aimed at getting her away from Spike, another part, away from New York. He didn’t know why he was doing it, but it was right. It was what he needed to be able to live a normal life.

“I know…that’s why I’m leaving. My flight leaves tomorrow night.” She felt a stabbing pain in her heart as she said the words aloud. She was going to forget her marriage, New York, and Spike. She was going to give up on her only hope for love.
 

Chapter Fifteen: Same Time, Same Place

As usual, Spike arrived home to find Buffy silently sitting on the couch, engrossed in another episode of The Simpsons. However, the only difference this time was the lack of laughter. He approached the couch with precaution, and found her sound asleep. With a gentle shake, her eyes drifted open.

They held certain sadness, he was sure he had rid her of the night before. “What’s on your mind, luv?”

She didn’t speak, sleep still clouding her, the emotion from the day keeping her fogged. She reached out to him, and he lifted her from the couch. “Make love to me,” she whispered the words in a haze of love, and regret.

It would be the first and only time. No matter how she felt after, she would be out of his life before he returned home the following day. There was sadness in her that begged for the final moment to become a part of him, take without expectations or attachments, no matter how hard. The last thing on her mind was his feelings, or her own.

In what seemed like slow motion, Spike didn’t hesitate, as he made his way to him bedroom, laying her down on is bed. She reached up to the red and blue striped tie he wore, and began untying, fumbling with the buttons on his white collared shirt. He watched he eyes, and face, as she bit her lip in concentration. Something stabbed in the pit of his stomach, but he ignored it.

“This is what you want?” He asked, and she nodded. “Speak to me, Buffy,” he pleaded.

Without much thought, or hesitation, she reached for his slacks, unbuttoning them as she whispered, “I love you.” Gazing deep within his blue orbs, she meant it deep within.

In obvious awe and shock, Spike watched as she pulled off her shirt, after easily disrobing him. When his brain began functioning again, and he helped her remove her sweatpants, taking his time, and enjoying the way her eyes traveled over him.

There was silence as he took in the glow from her bare skin, and he leaned over to the nightstand, lighting a single lamp. He wanted to watch her, when they became one. She laid peacefully, on her back, watching him, as he hovered over her. She eased her legs open, wrapping them around his waist, as he slowly pressed himself to her opening.

She breathed in deeply, flinching slightly at the size of him, adjusting, as he set a slow pace, within her. Her body was on fire, and his hand traveled over her, his lips praising her.

“You’re so bloody beautiful. Please, don’t leave me. I need you, so much.” He moaned and whimpered and she reacted similarly, without speaking, not wanting to lie. “You’re mine, I’ll never let you go without a fight, baby.”

She felt herself begin to climax, and gently bit his shoulder to muffle her screams. With the pressure of her bite, he felt himself let go, spilling his seed deep within her womb without reservation.

They reached their height together, and Spike collapsed on her chest. “I love you,” he repeated the words over, and over, holding her tightly.

They leisurely made love throughout the night, till the sun poked through the blinds that covered the window.

“Please, at least tell me that you meant what you said yesterday.” He noticed her silence, and was saddened by it.

“I love you,” she repeated the words softly, and felt her heart swell.

She savored the last kiss after he hesitantly got ready for work the following morning.

“I’ll be back early. I want to spend the night saying you name…I’ve never craved a woman, as I crave you.” He admitted, honestly.

“I’ll be waiting,” she regretfully said. When she was sure he was gone, she raced to her room, and began packing her belongings. With a simple phone call, the cab would be picking her up at three, and she’d spend the remainder of he time, waiting for her flight. She left no note, or message, just an empty room.
*

“Buffy?” He slowly made his way toward her bedroom; feeling as thought something was off. He reached her bedroom, a shiver running up his spin, as he opened the door. The sight before him seemed unbearable, and he rushed into his own room to be sure that they weren’t robbed, and that Buffy was safe.

When he realized what was going on, finding his room unharmed, his fear was instantly replaced by anger. He looked around for something to answer her absence, and found nothing, but the answering machine light blinking. He pressed play.

“Hey, Buff Buff, can’t wait to see you here, I know your flight leaves at six, and you’re probably busy with the packing, but I was kind of hoping that you could bring me and Tara back a really tacky souvenir. Just a reminder, this is Willow.”

Quickly glancing at his watch, Spike had an hour and a half to get through rush hour, and stop Buffy from leaving him. His stomach was in knots, and he ran down the stair, quickly hailing a cab. All was well, until they reached the Grand Central.

*

“Now boarding, flight 1728, to Sunnydale, California, please make your way to gate sixteen.”

The announcement was clear. With a sigh, Buffy stood from her seat, and made her way toward the mass of people, a red backpack on her shoulder. She wore her paint stained overalls, which looked stylish with the black and white splatters, and her hair hung in two loose braids.

She was in a daze, so much so that she barely heard her name being shouted as she handed her ticket to the flight attendent, who stood by the gate.

“Buffy! Buffy, don’t go!” She turned suddenly, to see Spike. Tears streamed down his face, and he looked wrecked, as guards kept him from reaching the gate without a ticket. She felt her own tears fall down her cheeks, as she shook her head, and turned away from him, taking the long walk away from him, regret churning her stomach.

*

Buffy sat with her head in her hands, tears taking her over. She had no one left, and although those she loved were ecstatic about her return to Sunnydale, there was no telling whether things would ever be the same.

The hurt on Spike’s face, when she turned away, was enough to remain embedded in her mind, and cause pain beyond belief. He was going to come for her, she figured, and she didn’t want to turn him away. But she would.

Their loving making had been beautiful, and beyond what she’d experienced with Angel. Spike was only her second, and she was sure her last. Memories of the night before, brought another flood, and she ached where he touched her, his word repeating in her head, sing-songed, and loving.

The man beside her cleared his throat. “You okay miss?”

She didn’t bother answering, she just leaned back in her seat, and let sleep overcome her. She dreamt of her actions, and the repercussions she’d face. She had nightmares that she’s never come face to face with Spike again, and if she ever did, he’d have nothing but hate for her.

*

Joyce Summers held her breath, as her only child stepped off of the airplane. It pained her to see the frail tear streaked face, and rumpled appearance. The sadness in the girl’s eyes seemed to lessen at the site of her friends waiting for her.

She put a hand over her face, and rushed into open arms. Willow, Xander, Tara, Anya, Joyce, and even Giles, rushed her, making her feel like she was no longer alone, as she felt the entire plane ride. Spike temporarily vanished from her mind, as she succumbed to the love of her family.

“Ever leave us again, and we’ll hunt you done and maim you.” Willow said, a little too enthusiastic.

Tears were once again present, representing the joy she felt be the heartfelt words. “I missed you guys, so much.” She cried.

“We missed you too, honey. Look at this, what have you been eating? You look fabulous.” Joyce reached out, patting a hand over Buffy’s flat stomach.

“Oh, Joyce, I’m sure she’s been indulging in Chinese every night with you there.” Rupert put on.

“Only on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. The other day’s were reheat, and pizza.” Buffy joked. She smiled, her attention floating to Xander and Anya. “I can’t believe it! A wedding!” It was at that exact moment, she noticed a bulge in Anya’s belly. “What the hell is going on?”

“We wanted to surprise you.” Xander announced, proudly placing his hand over his fiancé’s belly, his unborn child.

“It’s why we’re rushing the wedding. No reason to have a bastard child, when we’re going to be together forever.” Anya smiled.

“I’m going to be an auntie,” Buffy felt the threat of more tears deep within, as she embraced Anya and Xander in another hug. She felt her problems disappear, as she embarked back to the life she knew and did well. Buffy Summers, Ms. Sunnydale, California…