Spike kneeled beside her.  “Buffy, luv, look at me.”  She didn’t respond, so Spike gently rubbed her face.  “Pet, you need to open your eyes and look at me.” 

Buffy’s eyes fluttered open and Spike smiled.  “There you are.  Come on, Buffy, we need to find out more about Willow.”  He gently tugged her hand, but she gave no response.

Willow.  Willow’s gone…oh God, Willow.  I’m so sorry.  So incredibly sorry.  Buffy vaguely heard Spike talking, but she was too caught up in silent apologies to her best friend.

Spike looked at Buffy, eyes glazed and unfocused.  Nothing he did brought her out of her stupor, so finally he left her on the stoop.  Circling the parking lot, Spike looked around for someone who might have information about Willow.  His eyes lit on Detective

McClain leaning against a car and smoking.  Spike slowly made his way to the detective’s side.

“Got a fag I can borrow?” Spike asked, sidling next to the cop. 

The detective raised an eyebrow but obligingly offered Spike a cigarette.  Spike lit up and inhaled the nicotine into his system.  “You see what happened to the redheaded dancer?”

McClain jerked his shoulder toward the retreating ambulance.  “Took a bullet to the abdomen.  Last I heard, the EMT said she was looking good, whatever that means.  Being taken to Sacred Hearts Hospital.”

Spike nodded his gratitude to the detective and started back toward Buffy.  “Tell your girlfriend that someone left a note in her locker,” McClain called out.

Spike froze and turned to face the detective.  McClain met his eyes and acknowledged the question with a nod of his head.  “A rose too.  If you want, we can take it into evidence now; make sure she doesn’t know that it even existed.”

Spike was about to answer in the affirmative when Buffy’s voice stopped him.  “I want to see it,” she said quietly.  Her face was ashen, her eyes darkened to jade and stormed with anger, her hands were bunched into tight fists and her knuckles were white. 

She looked cruel and unmerciful, but also like a warrior angel, ready to battle for the innocent.  She headed for the club and Spike followed.

Buffy slowly walked to her locker.  Inside, like a snake waiting to strike, was another dark red rose, thorns removed, note lying under it.  Buffy immediately handed the rose to McClain.  She took a deep breath and Spike put a hand on hr shoulder.  She cast him a thankful look and opened the note.

OBSTACLES WILL BE REMOVED.

YOU ARE MINE.

FOREVER.

An obstacle, Willow had been reduced to nothing more than a fucking obstacle.  Fury shot through her veins and Buffy felt herself perilously close to punching something.  Or someone. 

Thrusting the note to McClain, Buffy stalked outside.  Spike remained behind.  “Do you have any bleedin’ clue about who is doing this?” he asked the detective.

McClain jerked a shoulder.  “We’ve been pursuing leads, people related to the club or who frequent it often.  It’s a slow and tedious process, I’ll give you that.  Honestly, I’m worried about Miss Summers.  She may need to be put in protective custody, her family too.”

Spike shook his head.  “She won’t go for it, already asked her about it.  Something’s happened, though, something that might shed a little light on your investigation.”  Spike quickly told McClain about Angel, Dru and everything that transpired at the law office. 

McClain’s face never changed, but Spike saw his eyes sharpen and focus.  “Okay, thank you Mr. Giles.  I can assure you that we will look into this.”  McClain shook Spike’s hand and walked toward his car.  Spike watched him go, and then searched though the crowd for Buffy.  He spotted her on the stoop again, comforting Jake.  Spike was walking toward her when Riley stepped out onto the stoop.

“Riley, where the hell have you been?” Jake demanded from his position on the stoop. 

Riley assessed Jake with cold eyes.  “Talking to the cops about what I saw, actually, what I didn’t see.”

Spike didn’t know why, but Riley made the fine hairs on his neck raise.  The look in his eyes right now was nothing short of frigid, but when his gaze drifted toward Buffy, it became heated and lustful.  Oh no, Mr. Superhero, you will keep your paws to yourself.  Spike quickly made his way to Buffy.  Lifting her to her feet, he brushed a kiss across her cheek and whispered in her ear.  Buffy nodded and the blond twosome walked back toward Spike’s car in the parking lot.  When Spike looked back, he saw Riley staring at him.  Pure, unadulterated hatred burned in his eyes.  Spike smirked and raised his hand in mock salute.  Riley’s eyes widened, and then narrowed. He took a step forward, but Spike just laughed and led Buffy to his car.  When he got in, Spike checked his rear-view mirror, but Riley was no where to be seen.  Like smoke in the wind, Riley had vanished. 

Interesting, Spike thought.

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Oz paced the hospital corridor restlessly.  The doctors had yet to come and announce Willow’s condition, and the wait was driving him nuts.  Every so often a nurse would try and soothe him, but to no avail.  Oz would not be placated with food or coffee or anything they had to offer.  Not until he held Willow in his arms again would the raging beast inside him calm. 

It was amazing how much she had come to mean to him in a few short weeks.  The attraction had always been there, but something deeper as well.  A mutual understand that they were basically complete opposites, but also surprisingly perfect for one another.  She talked, he didn’t.  She was frank and open and he was the man of mystery.  She babbled and he soothed.  Willow was his sun, his earth and his moon, and now she was fighting for her life.  It’s not fair, Oz thought.  He finally found the bright light that he searched for, and now she could be taken away from him.  Oz felt anger, liquid hot and bubbling, surge through his blood at whoever committed this atrocity.  He clutched his fists at his sides and envisioned a thousand different tortures for the man responsible.  Slow and long and deliciously painful, they helped take the edge off of his impotent rage.  For the moment, anyway. 

Spike and Buffy raced through the hospital until they came to the small waiting room.  As Buffy approached the receptionist, Oz greeted Spike with a slight eyebrow raise.  Spike nodded and both men sat on the hard plastic chairs.  It wasn’t long before Buffy joined them, and together the three of them waited.  Soon, Oz and Spike were pacing, the pent-up energy coursing through their bodies too much to handle sitting down.  Oz had taken to mumbling words under his breath and every so often Spike could catch a phrase or two.  Most of them involved some sort of painful body mutilation.  Spike raised an eyebrow at his usually stoic friend, but Oz just shrugged.  They continued to pace.  Buffy left for a moment and called her mother.  She was going to call Willow’s parents as well, but Oz informed her that he had already tried, they were currently out of the country.  Again.  Buffy rolled her eyes but said nothing. 

The minutes turned into hours and the three friends began to intermittently doze.  Finally, at around three in the morning, a weary doctor staggered into the waiting room.  Instantly, all three were on their feet waiting for his words.  He rubbed his hands on his blood-spattered scrubs and then gave them a small smile.  Spike let out a whoop and grabbed Buffy into a tight hug.  Oz felt the burning pressure lift from his chest and he smiled a large smile, for him anyway.

“Your friend is one exceedingly lucky girl.  She is also stubborn and tough to boot.  She lost a great amount of blood and suffered from extreme tissue damage.  It was touch and go, but she pulled through beautifully.  She’s unconscious right now, but we can let the family slip back for just a minute.”  The doctor looked past the three friends and frowned when he saw no one else.  His gaze traveled back to the rumpled trio, and Spike stepped forward. 

“Doctor, Jennings, is it?”  Spike asked.  Jennings nodded and Spike continued.  “Surely you can let Oz back to see her; he’s closer to her than her own family is.”

Jennings frowned again.  He glanced at the receptionist, but she was engrossed in paperwork.  Mouthing for them to be silent, Jennings led them back to Willow’s room.  They stepped inside and Jennings cautioned them to be quick. 

Oz stumbled forward and threw himself next to Willow’s bed.  Avoiding the many tubes and wires, Oz stroked Willow’s cheek and ran his hands through her hair.  He whispered to her for several minutes, then kissed her and stepped back to let Buffy and Spike through.  Buffy carefully brushed a kiss onto Willow’s cheek and whispered apologies to her unconscious friend.  When Buffy was done, Spike drew her into his arms and softly kissed her forehead.

 He stepped forward and brushed Willow’s flaming hair from her face.  “Hurry up and get better Red, we all miss you,” he whispered gruffly. 

Jennings motioned for them to leave, but Oz shook his head. No argument could convince him to leave Willow’s side, so Jennings finally surrendered.  Oz pulled a chair next to Willow’s bed and sat in it, resting his head next to Willow’s hand.  Buffy and Spike whispered their goodbyes and left.

Once outside, Buffy surrendered to the tears that had threatened since Jennings appeared.  Spike simply pulled her to his side and rubbed her back while she cried.  All of her guilt and anguish over Willow poured out, soaking Spike’s shirt.  Spike continued to hold her until she cried herself out.  When she was done, Spike hoisted her into his car and drove to his house. 

When he pulled into the driveway, Buffy raised her eyebrows at him.  Spike just shrugged.  “Didn’t really want to stay by myself tonight.”

Buffy nodded, neither did she.  They walked into the house, and Buffy called her mom to report on Willow’s condition and the fact that she was with Spike.  Her mother let out a soft sigh when Buffy told her about Willow, and then a chuckle at her current whereabouts. 

“Call me before you come home tomorrow,” her mom instructed.  Buffy agreed and they hung up.  Turning, Buffy saw Spike standing in his living room.  His eyes were following her every movement and she unconsciously swallowed in anticipation at the message his body was conveying.  Slowly, Buffy crossed the expanse of the kitchen, rolling her hips and looking directly at Spike.  She stepped into the living room, her eyes riveted on Spike.  Moonlight glinted off his hair and darkened his eyes from sky blue to cobalt.  He was beautiful, with a hint of danger rippling through his lithe body.  Clothed in a rumpled white dress shirt and black slacks, he made Buffy’s mouth water. 

Still naïve to many of the carnal gratifications of man, Buffy was unaware of the effect her slow, predatory walk was having on Spike’s libido.  It was all he could do to stop himself from throwing her against a wall and sending them both screaming into mindless ecstasy.  Afraid of his own body’s reaction to her, Spike closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He opened his eyes and his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.

 Buffy was dropping her last article of clothing.  Nude, she stood before Spike, chin thrust up, eyes dark and hot.  Her gold skin gleamed in the pale light and Spike was reminded of a proud Amazon warrior.  No pushover, was this girl, she was a strong woman, one who handled the horrors that entered her life with ferocity, determination and an iron will that few could match.  A goddess conjured up images of too-perfect deities, bored and beautiful.  An Amazon, however, made Spike think of earthy elements; soil and musk and sex on the forest floor.  

His control dangling on the precipice, Spike forced himself to take even breaths.  In, out, in, out, in out…come on you git, you snap and you’ll scar her for life.  Buffy touched his face and his eyes flew open.  Cobalt blue clashed with emerald green as Buffy slowly stroked his cheek, his neck and finally down to his chest.  She tugged at his shirt and made a delighted sound when he allowed her to slip it off over his head.  Her hands roamed over his chiseled torso, reacquainting themselves with the hard planes and unyielding muscles of his body.  Still tracing her fingers up and down his chest, Buffy undid Spike’s belt and fly, dragging his slacks down and away from him.  Now, Spike was down to nothing.  Buffy was shivering in anticipation.

Spike was shivering as well, but for another reason altogether.  His control was snapping quickly, his inner demon was roaring toward the surface.  Any minute he was liable to snap and damn the repercussions.  That minute occurred when Buffy dropped to her knees before him and engulfed him in her mouth.  Cor, how in the hell does she know how to do that?  It was his last coherent thought. 

Letting out something akin to an animal growl, Spike hauled Buffy to her feet and ravaged her.  Kissing her fiercely, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, forcing her tongue into battle.  His hands streaked over her body and then claimed her breasts.  He roughly kneaded them, tweaking her nipples until they hardened and then tugging on them.  Buffy let out a whimper and responded by reaching down and stroking Spike with her hand.  Spike just about howled and suddenly Buffy found herself on the ground with Spike laying claim to her body.  His mouth was everywhere, nipping, licking and sucking.  As he worked his way down her body, Buffy moaned and thrashed her head from side to side.  At the first touch of his tongue, Buffy went into orbit, screaming his name.  The sound of her keening wails spurned Spike on.  He positioned himself and entered her in one smooth thrust.  Buffy moaned in pleasure and Spike set a brutal pace.  In no time, Buffy wailing again and Spike quickly followed her.  His orgasm slammed him so hard that his body convulsed and tears sprung into his eyes. 

After several shaky breaths, Spike was able to move off of Buffy.  Good God in Heaven, what just happened?  Spike looked over and winced at the sight.  Buffy was covered with bite marks, scratches and hickeys.  Bruises were forming on her breasts and hips.  Shame washed though him. Bleedin’ idiot, just look at her.  Not an ounce of control or finesse, just a brutal wham-bam.  If she knows what’s good for her she get up and kick your arse until you match her.  You soddin’ git. 

While Spike berated himself, Buffy lay in shock.  She never expected this outcome when she started the game.  Not that she was complaining, by any means.  It had been hot, wild and almost brutal, and it helped to expunge some of the horrors of the past few days from her mind.  Plus, seeing Spike loose control like that had done wonders for her ego.  Not that I should be thinking about my ego right now, she chided herself.   But after seeing Willow lying on the hospital bed, Buffy needed to reaffirm her life and erase the night from her mind, if only for a few moments. 

Groaning slightly, Buffy raised her head and assessed her body.  She looked like a war survivor, but for some reason the marks pleased her.  She’d made the usually calm and composed Spike lose control.  With that thought in her mind, Buffy rolled to Spike’s side.  She traced her hand down his back, but Spike rolled away from her.  Frowning, Buffy moved toward him again, but he jumped up and stalked out of the room.  Irritation flashed though Buffy, followed closely by hurt.  What’s wrong with him?

Buffy stood and walked to Spike’s room.  Naked, she stepped inside and surveyed the room for any sign of Spike.  She saw nothing, but heard the shower going.  Buffy walked to the bathroom and watched Spike step into the shower.  Still slightly hurt by his behavior earlier, Buffy stepped in behind him.  She touched his shoulder and felt his muscles tense under her hand.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice still hoarse from screaming.

Spike shrugged a shoulder.  “Nothing, luv, what makes you say that?”

Buffy rolled her eyes.  “Umm, maybe because you just left me without saying a word.  What’s up, William?”

Spike whirled around quickly, his eyes blazing blue flames.  “Don’t call me that.  Ever.  Maybe I just felt like taking a shower, by myself, I might add.”  He turned back around and grabbed the shampoo. 

Quick as lightening, Buffy snatched his shampoo and threw it over the side.  Spike’s eyes flashed in anger.  “Bloody hell, woman, back off.”  He grabbed the soap and twirled it in his hand.

Buffy raised an eyebrow, and then grabbed the soap and it went over the side as well.  Spike clenched his jaw and shut his eyes.  When he opened them again, Buffy was still in the shower, giving him a shockingly similar version of his own smirk. 

Spike was not amused.  He shut the shower off and reached for his towel, which suddenly was not where he left it.  Buffy remained in the same spot, still smirking.  Anger building, Spike slid the shower door open.  He immediately jumped back when Buffy slammed it shut.

“Bloody hell, pet, what the fuck are you doing?” he shouted.  Buffy smiled.  Spike’s anger flared and caught.  He shot his hand out and grabbed her by the neck.  Pulling Buffy closer, Spike growled his question again. 

Buffy negligently shrugged her shoulder.  Reaching around, she turned the shower on and a blast of cold water stuck Spike’s back.  He howled and jumped out of the way.  Buffy slid past him, turning the water to warm again.  She let the warm water cascade down her back, washing away the scent and sweat of sex. 

By now, Spike was absolutely livid.  Stupid bleedin’ woman, just what in the hell is she doing.  Doesn’t she know that she should be repulsed by me?  Why won’t she just leave me alone? 

He jumped when he felt Buffy lay a hand on his back.  Spinning around to meet her eyes, Spike let loose.  “Jesus Christ, woman, can’t you leave me alone for one bloody minute?  Just because I fucked you doesn’t mean you get to do whatever the hell you want.  Now, leave me the hell alone, please?”

Pain lanced though Spike when Buffy slapped him.  He felt a small trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.  He looked at her in amazement.  Buffy’s ire matched his.  “What’s the matter, Spike, can’t handle what you dish out?  You hurt me; I hurt you, isn’t that the way it works?  I don’t know what bug bit your ass, but screaming at me and trying to make me feel bad will result in nothing but anger every time.  So either you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you, or I swear to God, I will kick your ass.” 

Spike’s temper shot up.  It burned out when he looked at Buffy’s eyes, clouded with pain and tears.  “I’m sorry, luv.  I just wanted time to think, time to let you leave if you wanted to.”

“Why would I leave?” Buffy asked softly.

Spike looked her up and down, and Buffy realized the true reason behind his anger.  “Spike, I’m not made of glass, I won’t break just because it got a little rough.” 

Spike let out a short laugh.  “A little rough? Kinda an understatement, don’t you think, luv?  I nearly mauled you to death.”

Buffy laughed.  “Spike, relax.  I liked it.  It was exciting, and different.  I’m not so dumb that I don’t realize sex isn’t whispered words and candles every time.”

Spike’s eyebrow drew together and he looked at her pensively.  “Luv, just look at yourself, you look like an accident victim.”

Buffy smiled.  “Seen a mirror lately, Spike?  You look pretty beat up yourself.” 

Spike looked at his body.  He was covered with nail tracks and small bite marks.  A few small hickeys decorated his stomach, and when water hit his back Spike felt the scratch marks Buffy left behind.  He grinned.  “Guess we’re just a couple of animals, aren’t we, pet?”

Buffy nodded.  “Guess so.  Of course, you realize that my mother might not like that explanation so much.”

Spike smiled.  “Probably not, but then again, you can tell her that you got into a bar fight.”

Buffy laughed and splashed him with water.  They played in the shower until the water ran cold.  After they dressed, Spike pulled Buffy downstairs to watch another movie.  They fell asleep on Spike’s couch, Buffy cradled against Spike’s chest and Spike against the arm.  Both wore smiles.

Chapter 25: His Angel

Willow awoke slowly, in deference to the tap dancing women wearing spiked heels in her brain.  Her mouth felt like she swallowed a sponge wrapped in sandpaper.  She swallowed a few times.  No help.  Cautiously opening her eyes, Willow assessed her situation.  She appeared to be in a hospital room.  Looking down, Willow saw that she wore a hospital gown.  Interesting, how did I end up here?  Oz’s bright blue hair caught her attention.  She smiled at him, asleep and holding her hand.

What the hell happened to me?  Willow wondered.  The memories of the night before began to rise to the surface, slow at first then quicker and quicker.  Willow remembered being up onstage, dancing.  She was on her last set, excited to be done because she was meeting Oz after work.  Then, screams. Willow vaguely remembered people screaming.  And fire. Willow remembered feeling like she was on fire.  She sat up to inspect her body for burn marks. 

The contraction of her muscles rekindled the searing pain in her stomach.  Willow moaned loudly and fell back to the bed.  Oz awoke at the sound of her moan.  He yawned and looked up.  Willow’s tight, smiling face stared back at him.

“Willow?” he asked in wonder.  Standing up, Oz stretched as he looked her up and down. Seeing nothing wrong, he bent down and kissed her.  “How do you feel, baby?”

“Like an elephant just stepped on me,” she replied dryly.  “How did I end up in a hospital?”

Oz took a deep breath.  “Sweetie, you were shot last night.”

Willow’s eyes widened and she sucked in a breath.  “Shot?  As in a gun and bullets and ow, ow, my spleen, shot?”

Oz nodded his head.  “You were up onstage when someone started shooting.  You got hit in the stomach…”

Oz’s voice cracked and his usually calm behavior broke.  Tears sprung to his eyes as he recounted the rest of the story ending with her surgery and prognosis.  When he finished, Oz had regained some control, but emotions continued to sweep through him when he thought about how close he had come to losing her.  

Willow’s eyes were as big as saucers.  When Oz finally finished, Willow tried to wrap her brain around his explanation.  Someone had shot her!  Why would someone shoot her?  It didn’t make any sense.  Unless…maybe it had something to do with Buffy.  Pondering this, Willow felt something in her mind stirring, but she couldn’t quite grasp it.  No matter how hard she tried, the memory remained just on the periphery of her consciousness.  She shook it off; it would come to her eventually.  Right now, all she wanted to do was lay in bed with Oz.  Even if that bed happened to be a hospital bed. 

Willow pulled back her covers and scooted over.  “Wanna jump in?” she asked with a grin.

Oz smiled back.  He shucked his shoes and bailed in next to her on the small bed.  Being careful not to jar any wires, Oz pulled Willow to his side and wrapped his arms around her.  Spooning, they slept.

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Buffy frowned.  Her pillow kept moving beneath her.  Sighing, she shifted her body.  Hmm, something funny here, why is my pillow hard and kinda lumpy?  Yawning, Buffy opened her eyes to investigate the matter.

Spike’s baby blues were the first thing that Buffy saw.  “Wow, I could get used to this,” Buffy said with a smile.  She yawned and stretched, reminding Spike of a happy and conceited cat. 

Spike smiled back at her.  He had been awake for a little while, watching her sleep.  His angel.  Flights of fancy and half finished phrases extolling her beauty flew through his mind, begging to be transformed into verse.  Spike ignored them as he had done for most of his life.  His father caught him writing once, that was all it took.  The pain and embarrassment that he suffered was indelibly etched in his mind.  Xander was the only person who encouraged him to write.  Now that I think of it, where the hell has Xander been lately?

So lost was Spike in contemplating the whereabouts of his friend, he didn’t hear his front door open and shut.  “Well, isn’t this nice and cozy,” a voice boomed from behind the couple. 

Spike cringed.  He knew the owner of the voice, and his instincts told him that one hell of a fight was the order of the day.  Spike gently lifted Buffy off of him and turned around.  “Good morning, father.  Thing’s going well, I hope.”

Buffy turned to ice.  That’s Spike’s father?  This is so not of the good.  “Good morning, Mr. Giles,” she said meekly.

Edward didn’t even spare Buffy a glance.  “So, I see the rumors are true.  Cavorting around with a stripper and I have to hear about it from a client.  Who was pretty damn smug about it, too.  William, you’re not giving me much of a choice here, I warned you what would happen if you continued this common behavior.  Now, not only are you an embarrassment to the family, but your latest harlot has embroiled herself in some sort of sex scandal.  This does not reflect well for our family.”  Edward shook his head.  “All of this has stressed Drusilla so much that she miscarried, did you know that?  You made your fiancée lose her child.  How does it feel, knowing that?”

Buffy shrank back against the couch.  Spike glanced at her and saw the tears swimming in her eyes.  Lifting her hand, Spike kissed her knuckles.  “Luv, why don’t you go take a shower?  I’ll be up in just a minute, okay?” 

Buffy nodded and silently padded out of the room.  When she was out of earshot, Spike prepared to face off against his father.  “Just what the hell are you doing here?  You are neither invited nor welcome in my home, ever again.  You stand there and fling around accusations and insults like you’re a bleedin’ saint.  Let me clue you in on something, Edward, Drusilla’s child was not mine.  I’ve got the test to prove it.  Oh, and another thing, she came by the office yesterday and enlightened me on a few items that might interest you.  Ethan Rayne is responsible for this scandal you accused Buffy of starting.”  Edward shook his head, as if to deny the words his son spoke, but Spike was on a roll and not about to be thwarted.  “Oh, yes he is.  Your golfing buddy and best friend instigated this whole fucking mess, along with the DeLucas.” 

A light went on in Spike’s head.  He gave himself a mental head slap.  How could I have been so blind?  “But then, you already knew that, didn’t you?  Ethan Rayne doesn’t even associate with DeLuca, but you do.  You put him up to this, didn’t you?  You’re the one who assigned me Parker’s case in the first place.  No way of winning and now big man DeLuca is pissed.  He comes to you, man to man, father to father.  What can he do?  What do you know, you’ve got a plan, one that is slightly illegal, vastly immoral, but will produce results.  Bring your wayward son back under control, save face for his son, and scare away the girl, no permanent damage done.  Even better, you go through Rayne, Drusilla and Liam, no way of tracing it back to you.  Right?” 

Edward shook his head forcefully.  “No, no, no, that’s not true.  I would never...” 

Spike cut him off.  “Save it, Edward.  I know you did, it just fits.  I couldn’t figure out why Rayne cared what I did with Buffy.  He didn’t, but as a favor to his friend, he agreed.  Right?”  Still more denial from Edward.  Spike continued on heedless of his father.  “Rayne’s got his stepdaughter, who I supposedly knocked up, and the man who actually did knock her up, the very same man who absolutely hates me.  And, best of all, he dated Buffy.  That’s how they got the information on Buffy.  You gave them the info on me and voila, perfect scheme to right the wrongs.  But, things didn’t go so well.  The hit man is out of control, so Drusilla and Liam try and divert my attention and get Buffy out of the picture.  Break us up, then perhaps things will go back to normal on their own, Dru and I continue on and Liam gets a nice big bonus and his choice of cases.  Call in the police and give up the hit man, because after all, no one supposed to get hurt, physically.  But, even if she does, no skin off your ass, right?” 

Spike couldn’t contain his disgust.  All of this because of a lost case and a broken relationship?  No, that didn’t make sense.  “Why, Edward, why did you do it?  Is it that big a deal ‘bout Dru and I breaking up?”

Edward gave a cold harsh laugh.  “You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you boy?  No one gives a flying fuck about you and Drusilla being happy or in love.  Shit, she screwed around on you so much I began to think that it was a turn-on for you.  No, the big deal is the power.  The power these two firms could have if merged.  Legally, we can’t but if a marriage should occur…then it would be within legal boundaries.  We would run the city.  Mayor, police chief, anybody we wanted to name to those positions.  And once you own the police, you own the city.  From the city to state...”

Again, Spike cut his father off.  “And from state to federal influence.  Jesus Christ, did you actually think that would work?” he asked in amazement. 

Edward’s smile was smug.  “Already did.  All we needed was the merger and everything would have been fine.  But nooo, you had to finally open you pathetic little eyes.  So Dru cheated on you!  Big fucking deal!  You get over it and you continue on.  We thought the pregnancy would tie you down, keep you connected to Drusilla.  But, oh no, had to have a paternity test, didn’t we?  Had to throw a hissy fit and then hook up with a damn stripper.  Blow our plans to hell.  You arrogant little prick.”

Spike looked at his father with loathing.  “Get out.  Now.  I never want to see or hear from you again.  Oh, and I quit.” 

He turned to walk up the stairs.  Edward cursed and then left, slamming the door behind him.  The window’s rattled with the impact.  Spike sat on the first stair and stated at the floor.  It was all too unreal.  His own father triggering this whole entire mess because of the power and the merger.  Just bloody amazing.  My own fucking father.  The pain was there, but it was dull and throbbing.  His father was never really much of a father at all, why should he consider his own son anything more than an investment?  Still, it hurt to know that he was the reason Buffy was a target, he was the reason Willow was shot and he was the reason a psychopath was on the loose. 

Hot tears burned Spike’s throat and threatened to spill.  A noise caught his attention.  Buffy stood a few stairs up from him, her eyes bloodshot from crying.  “I guess you heard it all, didn’t you, pet?” Spike asked softly.

Buffy nodded.  She move down next to him and wrapped her arms around him.  “Oh, Spike I am so sorry,” she said quietly.  Gently, she rocked him, unconsciously lulling and soothing his pain and fears. 

The tears spilled down his cheeks.  “Luv, how can you even stand to look at me?  Knowing what my father did, the consequences of it, everything that’s happened?  Why aren’t you running in fear?”

He spoke the words, yet clung to her like she was his lifeline.  Which she was, actually.  “Hush Spike, you know the answer to that.  How could I leave you?  This strong man who showed me a whole new side to life?  You brought me in and you bet your ass you’re gonna bring me out.  Together.  I thought I made it clear to you.  No way in hell you’re gonna shake me that easily.” 

“Hi, Spike, how are you today?” she cheerfully asked as she walked through the door.

Spike was sitting at his kitchen table.  Spread over the table was dozens of file boxes.  He stared at them blindly.  “My stuff.  All my offices files, my cases, my motions, everything.  I’m not a lawyer anymore.  What will I do now?”  His handsome features twisted in confusion and tears swam through his navy eyes. 

Buffy’s heart staggered at his words.  Damn you to hell and back, Edward Giles.  She walked to the table and sat next to Spike.  Taking his hands in hers, Buffy leaned toward him and looked directly into his eyes.  “Spike, sweetie, you can still be a lawyer.  Just because you don’t work for your bloody father anymore doesn’t mean that you can’t practice at all.  You could start your own if you wanted to.  Or even try something completely different.  Haven’t you ever thought about doing something else besides law?” 

Spike looked blankly at Buffy.  Her words slowly penetrated his muddled brain.  Free, he was free from his father.  Free of the ridicule, the expectations and the obligations that the elder Giles always imposed.  Free to…write?  Could he possible dare to hope?  As he turned Buffy’s words over in his mind, he chuckled for the first time all week.  “Luv, do you realize that you just used ‘bloody’ in a sentence?  Think that I may be corrupting you.”

Buffy smiled.  “I don’t mind.  Corrupt away,” she said and crawled into his lap. 

Cupping his face with her hands, Buffy leaned in and kissed Spike deeply.  She ran her hands through his platinum locks and tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck.  Spike responded by banding his arms around her waist.  He tugged her close until he could feel her heat burning him though their combined layer of jean.  The kiss broke and Spike nipped at her neck, trailing kisses down her throat and to her collarbone.  Buffy arched her back and bared her neck to his erotic assault.  His tongue swept across her carotid pulse point, and then he suckled it gently.  Buffy hissed and unconsciously ground her hips down against Spike.  Spike moaned at the contact against his throbbing erection.  He dragged her down for another searing kiss. 

The blood rushed though Buffy’s body and roared in her ears.  It was as loud as pounding surf and just as consuming.  She felt herself being pulled into the undertow of the passion.  Buffy experienced a brief moment of anxiety until the kiss broke and she looked into Spike’s eyes.  His azure gaze was ablaze with emotions; lust, desire, and something else.  Something profound and more resolute.  Something Buffy understood, but slightly feared.  Love.  Strong and deep, the kind of love she had once felt for another, only to have it thrown back and dismissed.  Dare she chance it again?  Could she even love anyone that completely again, ever?  It was a hard question, and no answers seemed forthcoming.  Buffy shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind and concentrated on Spike.  He picked her up and set her on the table.  Her legs wrapped around him and clothing was quickly lost as the lovers struggled to feel skin against skin. 

Throaty moans and whispered sighs, tantalizing caresses and featherlike touches, a breath, a murmur, a prayer, a supplication.  Two bodies entwined into one, intimate and private, moving in the rhythm of the ages.  Her hands glided over his pale flesh, urging him closer.  Deeper.  She needed him deeper inside her; she needed to feel him touch every inch, to feel him pulse inside her.  His sharp release of breath against her neck shivered down her spine, his hands gripped her waist.  Up and down, in and out, the erotic ballet continued.  Her slick channel and velvet walls tightened, gripping Spike in a silken vise.  The cadence changed, becoming erratic instead of controlled, primal instead of sensual. 

Buffy’s head was thrown back, her back arched and hips gyrating wildly to match the intensity of Spike’s thrusts.  So powerful were his movements that the entire table shook and wobbled with every movement.  And when the final moment arrived, when the pleasure became overwhelming, both Buffy and Spike cried out one another’s name in mindless ecstasy.  Spike’s eyes watered, so strong was the force of his orgasm.  Buffy closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. 

They collapsed onto the floor in a heap of tangled arms and legs.  Gulps of air were consumed, and it was several minutes before the spent lovers could perform the simple function of speaking.  Then, they heard the front door open and slam shut. 

“Hey, Spike.  Where are you, man?” Xander called out. 

Buffy froze.  The only thing separating them from Xander was the kitchen island, and he was quickly approaching them.  “Shit, Spike, do something,” Buffy whispered.

Spiked rolled his eyes.  “What would you like me to do, pet?”

The footsteps got closer.  Buffy’s widened to comic proportions and she rolled closer to the island.  Spike grinned at her antics, and then stood up.  A very surprised Xander yelped and threw a hand over his eyes.  “My eyes!  My eyes!  I’m blinded by the extreme whiteness of your chest.”  He paused for a minute.  “Which brings me to my next question; what the hell are you doing in the kitchen with no clothes on?”

Spike smirked.  Xander cleared his throat and smiled.  “Anyway, Anya and I were wondering if you had snapped out of your stupor enough to have dinner with us tonight.”  Another pause.  “You too, Buffy,” Xander added. 

Buffy raised up enough to poke her blushing face above the island.  “Hey, boss.”

Xander’s smile grew.  “Hey, how’s my favorite bookkeeper?  Doing fun things, I hope.”

Buffy blushed even deeper and the men laughed.  “We’ll be there.  The restaurant at nine?” Spike asked.

Xander nodded.  “Hey, Buff, anytime you want to walk around my kitchen nude, feel free.” 

Buffy laughed and Spike socked Xander in the shoulder lightly.  “For shame, mate.  What would Anya say?”

“She’d appreciate my unique taste for the beauty in life,” Xander quipped.  He headed for the door.  “A word of advice, there is a lovely Summers woman heading directly for the door.  Clothing would probably be a plus.”

With that, he strolled out the door.  Buffy and Spike shared a look of horror.  Joyce was about to catch them bare-assed on the kitchen floor.  They dove for their clothing, pulling underwear, shirts and pants on with alarming alacrity. 

A knock sounded seconds before Joyce threw the door open.  “Spike, honey, its Joyce,” she called out.  

Buffy and Spike popped up from behind the island and Joyce jumped.  “Oh!  What are you kids doing?”

Buffy and Spike looked at each other, then at Joyce, then back at one another.  “I lost a contact,” Spike said.

Joyce raised an eyebrow.  “Since when do you wear contacts?”

Spike raised a shoulder.  “Few days now.  Just getting used to the little buggers.  Irritate the hell outta me, that’s for sure.”

Joyce nodded her head.  “I see.”    She paused for a minute.  “Buffy, is there a reason that your shirt is inside out and backwards?”

Buffy looked down, then back up at her mom.  Her mouth flopped open and close, but no words came out. 

Joyce laughed.  “Well, with that deep and profound question, I think I’ll get out of here and let you two clean up.” 

She gathered Spike into a hug.  “I’m glad you’re doing better,” she said.

Spike smiled and hugged her back.  “Not to fear, mum, I always bounce back.”

While Buffy rolled her eyes, Joyce laughed and gave Spike one last squeeze.  “Come by for dinner tomorrow, A.J wants to finish the Kings v. Lakers debate,” she said.

Spike nodded.  Joyce brushed a kiss over Buffy’s forehead and then left. 

The lovers stood together for a brief moment.  Spike took a deep breath of Buffy’s signature scent; vanilla, citrus and the underlying smell of her floral perfume.  “Wanna go take a shower, luv?”