Disclaimer: The characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.

Credit Where Credit is Due: I began writing this fic while reading Ashlee's then WIP "Criminal Games." If you've read that wonderful fic (and you should) there are some similarities in the set up, especially evident in this first chapter. Remember, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.


ONE

She didn’t hear him enter the room. Most people had already left the commemorative show, and Buffy was looking forward to a sound night’s sleep and an easy day loafing in her pajamas tomorrow.

The painting she had been staring at for the past half hour was from her own private collection. It was the first time it had ever been on public display, and had caused quite a stir. Buffy was grateful that her mother hadn’t used her name in the title of the work. “Girl with Stars” was blessedly anonymous, so that most people did not realize that they were looking at a portrait of the artist’s daughter when she had been eleven years old.

The painting captured young Buffy in profile against a night sky, her blonde hair fanning out behind her as if caught in a strong wind. The curls swirled around and behind her face until they melt into the stars of the background. The painting was somewhat reminiscent of Van Gogh’s famous, “Starry Night,” and it reminded Buffy of happier times. Her mother and father had still been married back then, and life had been much simpler. She remembered how ambitious and cheerful she had been as a child, and was wondering if she would ever get those feelings back now that her mother was gone. She was so lost in thought that she startled when she heard the soft voice behind her.

“Why I haven’t seen this picture before?”

The man looked elegant in a black on black tuxedo, black shirt and blue tie that exactly matched the shade of his eyes. Of course some of the effect was ruined by the fact that he was smoking. But it was more than made up for by the way the cigarette drew her eyes to his sharp cheekbones and full lips. His bright yellow hair set the whole image off to perfection.

It was rare that Buffy wished that she had her mother’s talent as an artist, but this was one of those moments. The man looked like an artist’s model – and that was in the suit. She tried to shake the feeling that he’d look even better without the jacket and tie, shirt unbuttoned, or perhaps gone altogether, but the image refused to leave.

Pretending not to be affected by the older man’s innate sexuality, Buffy tried to place him. She knew most of the people who had been invited tonight – after all they had been her mother’s best customers. But her memory came up empty. This man was a stranger.

“Do you know if this picture is for sale, pet?”

She couldn’t very well avoid a direct question. Especially about whether the painting was being offered for sale. She was supposed to be the person in charge of the event after all. Even if all she wanted at this point was to be left alone.

It had been almost a year since her mother’s death, and Buffy had hoped that the exposition would help her gain a sense of closure. Instead, it had only reopened old wounds.

“No. This one is not for sale. It’s part of a private collection. But most of Joyce Summer’s other works on display tonight are available for purchase. Is there anything else that interests you?”

It was no surprise that the collector didn’t recognize the work. Buffy was tired of telling patrons that it was part of a personal collection, and that this was the first time it had ever been up for public display. If they would only bother to read the sign next to the picture, then they wouldn’t need to pester her.

Looking pointedly from the painting and then back at Buffy, the man blew out a column of smoke. “I’ll get back to you on that. I can’t say offhand that any other painting has caught my eye tonight.”

The soft emphasis on the word ‘painting’ and the look accompanying the words made Buffy color slightly as she realized what he was implying. It took her a moment to quell the rushing in her ears and to focus on what he was saying.

“Really, this is the work that intrigued me the most. She had quite a talent, don’t you think?”

Despite, or perhaps because of the man’s beauty, Buffy really wished that he would go away. She had put up with the polite talk of near strangers all night, and she was sick of it. It was late, she was tired, and she just wanted to go home and curl up in her bed and cry. She was too old to be crying over the loss of her mother, and she knew it. She just couldn’t bring herself to care right now. She was ready for the showing to be over.

In fact, looking at her watch, she realized that the event had been officially closed to the public for fifteen minutes already. Time to wrap this up and go home. Give the gentleman a brochure and send him on his way. If he was really interested in buying a painting, he could come by the gallery during business hours. She started to say as much, but the man had already begun talking again.

“I didn’t know Joyce as well as I would have liked, but I knew her well enough that I miss her sometimes. She was a very good painter – but she was a great lady.”

Buffy didn’t know how to respond. Who was this guy, and if he had known her Mom, then why didn’t she know who he was?

“I guess most people here would’ve put that the other way round,” he continued. “Hope I didn’t offend, but painters come and go with the fashion, while people with genuinely kind hearts are much harder to find, and can’t be replaced once they’re gone.”

“You knew her that well?” Buffy was surprised. Surely she had to know this man.

“I suppose. It’s not like I had her over for tea, but you know someone going on twenty years, you learn a lot about them. She was good to talk to. Sometimes we’d meet over a cuppa at the Espresso Pump. That was back when I was still in school in Sunnydale, of course. Nowadays it’s all chains like Starbucks and such. Not the same thing at all. Especially the hot chocolate. Joyce did love a good cup of chocolate. It’s a vice she passed on to me, I’m afraid.”

Finally, that made Buffy smile, and she held out her hand. An easy way to end the mystery. “I’m her daughter, Buffy Summers.”

“Ahh,” he observed, shaking her hand. “I thought I was just imagining the resemblance.”

Her smile had lit up the whole room, and it was clear to him now why he had thought the girl was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; she had reminded him of Joyce. Her hand was soft and warm, and he wondered if he’d be able to get her to smile for him again. “My name’s William Thorndale. My friends call me Spike.”

There it was again, the smile he would die for. “Somehow I can’t imagine my Mother calling anyone Spike,” she teased.

She could see the mirth in his expressive blue eyes as he snorted and shook his head. “No. Mostly she called me William. But I imagine that we were friends just the same. She was very proud of you, you know.”

Buffy blushed. If he had known her Mother from back in Sunnydale, then he probably knew that things had not always been calm and congenial between mother and daughter. There had been that time when she was suspended from high school, and once she had even run away from home for a couple of months. And of course there had been that incident when she’d just turned seventeen. She still didn’t think her mother had forgiven her for that one.

“It’s nice of you to say so.” She and Joyce had gotten along much better after Buffy had enrolled at UC Sunnydale, and later at UCLA. By the end, before Joyce had died so unexpectedly, they’d been the best of friends.

“It’s true,” he answered as if he knew her thoughts. “Even back in Sunnydale, when you were going through a rough time, she was still proud of you. Proud that neither she nor anyone else was able to make your decisions for you. Even if she sometimes questioned those decisions.” He paused for a moment, giving her time to answer. When she didn’t he continued. “Of course that was a long time ago. Back when you were still in high school. You’re what, 22, 23 now?”

“I’m 28, Mr. Thorndale.”

Spike winced at formality of the title. He wasn’t that old. At least she was still standing here talking to him. That was more than he could have expected from the way she had reacted to him at the beginning of the conversation. But it was time to set her straight. He never wanted to hear her call him “Mr. Thorndale” again.

“Told you, my name’s Spike. I’m only Mr. Thorndale when I’m at work. And before you protest, even though I knew your Mum, I’m not as old as all that. In fact, I’ll tell you a secret.” Looking around he spied an ashtray and put out his cigarette. Then he leaned in close, as if what he was about to say was something he didn’t want to say too loud. “I’m not even really as old as everyone thinks I am. My official biography claims I’m 43. But I’m really only just 38. Not that much older than you, when you think about it.”

His proximity, the tone of his voice confused her – it was almost as if… “Mr. Thorndale, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”

“Oi! Just told you not to call me that! And what’s wrong with that if I am flirting with you? You don’t mind, do you?”

Before she could phrase a suitable answer around that, he continued. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’d like us to be friends. Don’t rightly know why we haven’t met until just now. And I wasn’t lying when I said I missed your Mum. If I can’t convince you to go out with me, I’d still like to take you out for a cuppa now and again, like I did your Mum, even if it is bleeding Starbucks.”

He paused for a minute and took her left hand in his, “No ring. You’ve ditched that Cub Scout you were dating, didn’t you? Is there someone else? Just tell me, and I’ll back off.”

Cub Scout? There was only one person who could possibly fit that description. Of course there weren’t many guys in Buffy’s past that he could be referring to.

“You mean Riley? No, we broke up a while back, when he went back to Iowa.”

It was disconcerting. This guy really did know a lot about her life. She tired to search her memory to see if her Mother had ever mentioned ‘William,’ ‘Thorndale’ or even the name ‘Spike’ (surely she would have remembered that!). But she still came up blank. If Joyce had ever mentioned this man, Buffy hadn’t paid it any attention at the time.

She was certain she had never met the bleached blond. She would have remembered him; the incredible body, his great clothes, his mannerisms, heck, for the accent if nothing else.

He’d begun talking again while she was musing. This guy really liked to hear himself talk. She wondered how a conversation between him and her mother would have sounded.

“I’m glad to hear that. Not only cause it means I may have a chance, but your Mum never thought he was the right guy for you – too much of a nancy boy. Course she didn’t put it quite like that, but that’s what she meant. Now that I’ve met you, I imagine he was a bit thick-headed too. I can’t imagine how he could have ever let you go, nevertheless cheated on you!”

God, did this guy know every personal thing about her life? It was annoying. She was so gonna get back at him once she figured out who the heck he was. Her Mother had kept computer files on all her customers. She’d just go home and find her Mother’s notes on him. Then she’d know all the juicy bits of gossip about his life, too.

At least she hoped she would. She knew Joyce had kept files on her customers, and that those files often included at least some personal information. Unfortunately she had never before felt the need to delve too deeply into Joyce’s files, so she didn’t really know what type of information they would contain. How she‘d love to be able to find some painful bit of his own history to throw in his face and see how he liked it!

Apparently Spike realized that maybe he’d gotten a little too personal and tried to back off when he finally noticed Buffy had crossed her arms and was tapping her foot as if just waiting for a chance to slay him verbally. If there was one thing he knew, it was when a woman was right pissed at him, and this woman was fuming. He put a little distance between them and reached for another cigarette. He took it out of the package and banged it against the box, but he didn’t light it.

“Guy must have been even more of a nitwit than Joyce let on. She knew you were hurt at the time, but she always thought you could do better.” He couldn’t resist asking the question that he hadn’t been able to get an answer to earlier, “Got yourself a new bloke then?” She was already angry – how much worse could it get? Besides, she was downright spectacular when she was angry.

Furious now, she held her hands together behind her back to keep herself from socking him in the nose. She’d give him an answer all right! “No, no new guy,” but by the way she said it she tried to make it clear that she wasn’t looking for one either, and if she was, it certainly wouldn’t be him.

She was satisfied that she’d gotten the message across when she him wince. What he said next confirmed it. “Just not interested in yours truly? It’s all right pet.”

But her sense of victory suddenly felt wrong as she finally heard the hurt in his voice. He started putting the unlit cigarette back in carton, as if he were getting ready to leave.

With his back to her, what he said next shocked Buffy so much that she could barely breathe. “Just my luck. Mum thinks I’m too young and the daughter thinks I’m too old!”

She couldn’t help but let out a short ‘eep’ at that bombshell. “Are you saying that you dated my Mom?”

“No.” Shaking his head he turned back around to face her again. The look in his eyes was full of regret. “Thought about it, maybe, from time to time. But I never mentioned the idea to her. Like I said, she thought I was too young for her. Maybe because when we first met I was still a kid. Plus I was married for a bit in there.”

He was trying for nonchalance, hating to admit even to himself how much it still hurt him that Dru had divorced him. As if he could ever dismiss his relationship with Dru so causally! If he was being truthful, he would admit that when Dru had left him it had, quite literally, nearly killed him. But he’d already seen that unlike her mother, this kitten had claws, and he wasn’t about to give her something else to torment him with.

Even though his marriage had ended more than five years ago, he was still struggling to put the whole affair behind him. There was so much of his life that he would just rather forget. And this girl was definitely someone who could help him do that.

So he blustered on as if it meant nothing, “That’s why I don’t want to be shy about letting you know how I feel about you. I know we’ve only just met, but I feel like I’ve known you forever, because of Joyce. I’d love to take you out, Buffy, but if you’re not comfortable with that, we can just be friends.” He had stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked almost like a schoolboy as he tried to take back his words. “Think about it and let me know, yeah?”

“Sure. I can do that.” She almost felt sorry for the guy. But blech! The guy had had a thing for her mother and now he wanted to date her? How sick was that? It would SO be a cold day in hell before she ever admitted that she wanted to see Spike romantically. Only he did look awful nice in that tux, and he’d been really easy to talk to…

“Right then,” he nodded, changing the subject. “You run the gallery now? You an artist too?”

“No, I’m not an artist.” To her own ears it sounded a little wistful, as if she regretted the lack of talent, and she wondered if he heard it that way. It’s not that she hadn’t tried when she was younger, but she had never had the patience for it. She had never really liked sitting still for long periods, something that hadn’t changed as she grew up, despite her mother’s best intentions.

“But I do run the Gallery now. You can find me here most days.” Why had she said that? As if she really wanted to meet this strange man again? It was probably because it was what she always said when people asked what she did. It was habit now. Ingrained. Not exactly a lie, but not quite the truth either. She had learned it was always best not to lie, just not to be too forthcoming with the truth.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Thorndale.” She put out her hand again. A definite dismissal if he’d ever heard one.

They shook hands once more, but at the hurt look in his eyes she relented, just a little. He really did have very expressive eyes. And he looked so vulnerable when he let his defenses down. It would be cruel to shoot him down too hard.

“Spike. It was nice to meet you Spike. Now that my mother is gone, it’s nice to talk to others who knew her.”

He wasn’t releasing her hand, instead clasping it between both of his. “It’s hard, losing your mother so young. Believe me, I know. Sometimes I think that you never really get over missing your mum, no matter how long she’s been gone, or how old you get.”

“Oh.” Awkward now. Stupid Buffy! Instead of making him feel better, she’d made it worse. “Your mother is gone too?” she stumbled, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

His genuine smile was back now, if still not bright. Finally he let her hand loose and ran his fingers through his hair. With a flash of rare insight Buffy realized that he was nervous, or perhaps embarrassed, to be caught talking about his mother.

“Twas a long time ago, pet. Feels like a different lifetime. But still sometimes I miss her, you know. Seems like I can still hear her giving advice in my head.”

The predatory smile was back as he flashed his bright blue eyes at her. The transition was startling. “Right now she’s telling me to hold on tight to you and not let go. That you could be the one I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

“You never stop pushing do you?” Just that quickly she was angry again. He had just promised to back off, give her some space, and in the almost the next breath he was back to trying to pick her up!

“Nope,” he grinned. She’d been pretty before, but now that he’d gotten her angry again, she was absolutely stunning. Her cheeks were rosy and her green eyes were flashing daggers at him. Provided that he did actually get to see her again, he knew he was going to have to try to resist the temptation to get her riled up, just so he could enjoy looking at her. He remembered Joyce as almost always calm and easy-going. Her daughter was proving to be a horse of a different color.

But it was time to try and seal the deal. “Not when it’s something that could be important. But I guess you’re right, pet. It’s too soon to be talking about happily ever afters.”

Suddenly they were no longer alone. “You got that right! Buffy might be too nice to say it, but I’m not. Get lost. The exhibition closed half an hour ago.”

In jeans and a flannel shirt, the newcomer wasn’t dressed for the exhibition, so chances were good that he wasn’t a client. Plus, if looks could kill Spike figured he’d be about four feet under already. Buffy may have claimed that she didn’t have a boyfriend currently, but Spike would have bet his last dollar that this boy was auditioning for the part.

Buffy tried to apologize, sort of. “Xander! Be nice. Spike is a customer.”

“Didn’t sound like you were discussing Joyce’s work to me. In fact it sounded suspiciously like he was spouting some cheesy pick-up line. Any way, it’s time for everyone to leave, and that means you too, Mr. Fancy Tuxedo Man.” He looked straight at Buffy then, as if Spike were already gone. “The caterers are almost finished picking up.” Xander glared at Spike, unhappy to find he was still present. “If you two have any actual business to discuss, you can do it during business hours.”

Spike returned the glare, then decided the whelp wasn’t worth the effort and turned back to Buffy.

“Just promise me you’ll think about what I said. Either way, it was nice to meet you, Buffy Summers. Nice to put a face to the name I’ve heard so much about over the years.”

He nodded goodbye and took her hand again briefly, still ignoring Xander, and then he turned away quickly and walked out of the gallery.

Looking over at her friend, Buffy was startled to realize that Xander was right. The place was empty. While she’d been talking to Spike everyone else had gone home. Only the catering crew was left, and they were already more than half finished with the cleaning up.

She turned towards her friend. “You know Xander, when I need rescuing I’ll let you know.”

“You’re not seriously considering going out with that guy? He’s… he’s…”

“Rich? Handsome? Help me out here, Xander. Not saying that I’m interested in him, but just why, in your opinion, shouldn’t I be?”

In true Buffy fashion, she turned her irritation at Spike back onto Xander. At least, Xander could have sworn that Buffy had been unhappy with the creep’s attentions. The guy was certainly no one Xander had ever seen with Buffy before. He’d have remembered that kind of competition.

“Well, for one thing, he’s too old for you,” Xander stuttered. “Definitely way past thirty. Maybe older. Plus, well, who the heck is he? How can you trust a guy you know absolutely nothing about?”

“I’m not getting any younger either, Xander. Just like you, I’m closing in on thirty myself. And he knew my Mom. He is a client, Xander. Got any better reasons, or is this just your over protective act?”

“I can’t explain it. I just don’t like him. He seems… too smooth. An operator. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, is all.”

“By your estimation I should never date anyone ever again, is that it? You’ve never liked any of my boyfriends.”

“I liked Riley.”

“Hence showing your good taste. NOT! Point proven. Or maybe you think I should just become a nun.”

“I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth. Besides, you’ll do what you like regardless of what I say. You always do.”

Without answering, Buffy grabbed a glass and a partially empty bottle of wine and went upstairs to her apartment. Let Xander manage the hired help while she got some rest. He always claimed that he just wanted to make her life easier. Now was his chance to prove that he meant it. She had some research she wanted to do.

~ ~ ** ~ ~

Sipping her wine on the way upstairs, it occurred to her that Xander did have at least one valid point. She had just met Spike for the first time. She went over in her mind exactly what she knew about William Thorndale.

Fact the first: William Thorndale, a.k.a. Spike, had been invited to the commemorative showing of her mother’s work, so he had to be listed in her customer database. That was how they had generated the invitation list. ‘Unless he was a gate crasher,’ a voice whispered in her mind. ‘I suppose it is possible,’ she admitted.

Fact the second: If he was in Joyce’s database he had probably bought at least one of Joyce’s paintings in the past. That meant he probably had money. Unless he hadn’t bought anything since their Sunnydale days, when Joyce had been a far less well known artist. Not that that mattered, or course.

Fact the third: He knew an awful lot about her and her mother’s personal life. So either he really had been good friends with Joyce, or else he had looked up their personal history somewhere, and was only making it look like he’d known Joyce. That possibility sent chills down her spine. Why would someone do that? The only reasons Buffy could think of were terrifying in their implications. Still, the whole idea seemed so far fetched she didn’t want to dwell on it.

Buffy really didn’t like being so suspicious of people, but it was an ingrained habit by now. She’d learned the hard way that she really wasn’t a very good judge of people. You only had to look at the list of her prior boyfriends to figure that out.

And her job didn’t help. She was surrounded by people whose job it was to be suspicious. And to figure out who was lying and who was telling the truth. All nearly impossible tasks when she knew she couldn’t even trust her own instincts.

And despite her insistence to the contrary, right now her instincts were telling her that Spike was someone she might be interested in. If she let herself. As she’d tried to make clear to him, she wasn’t really in the market for a relationship right now. Right now her career was more important.

But what he had said stuck with her somehow. How had he put it? Something about not giving up when something might be important. If he really was the guy for her, it would be foolish not to show an interest just because right now was an inconvenient time. Who knew if he’d still be around when she suddenly decided that she was ready for a relationship?

Slowly continuing her way up the stairs with her wine glass in one hand, she hoped that her mother’s files would verify her impressions of Spike Thorndale. At the very least they should lay to rest the fact that they had indeed known one another personally. Surely Joyce would have made a few notes about someone she had known for so long. And Buffy knew that she would be able to trust Joyce’s assessment of the man. Unlike Buffy, her mother had had a keen sense about people. It was one of the qualities that made her a good artist.

Finally inside with the door locked behind her, Buffy refilled her wineglass and took a few more sips while waiting for her mother’s computer to boot up. With any luck she’d soon know as much about William Thorndale as he knew about her. She told herself that she shouldn’t feel bad that she was hoping to find out more about the ex-wife that Spike had mentioned in passing.

Sitting at the computer she called up Joyce’s records and typed in Spike’s name. She was tapping her foot so hard she kicked the leg of her desk, spilling some of the wine. Absently she cleared off the mess with a few paper towels from the kitchen, moving everything else to the side. Her mind focused on what she was looking for, Buffy didn’t even notice as a few items fell behind the desk. She was just grateful that the computer hadn’t been damaged. That would have been bad. Maybe she should take up her friend Willow’s offer to back up her computer files. Better still, perhaps she should have waited until morning to look up the records, only her curiosity wouldn’t let her sleep until she did this.

Finally, she found it. William Thorndale. President of Thorndale Industries. The page listed both home and business addresses and phone numbers. It recorded the purchases he’d made over the years – several of them, spanning back over about fifteen years. He’d not only been a good customer, he’d been a very good customer.

He’d purchased Joyce’s own paintings as well as several others that she had acted as the agent on, including a Renoir. Something about that particular painting sounded familiar, like Buffy had read something about it lately. But she shook off the feeling. She wasn’t interested in following that line of thought just now. She was interested in what the second page would say. Joyce’s private notes on whatever conversations they had had over the years. What had her mother really thought of William Thorndale?

Anxiously, she clicked on the icon that was supposed to take her to the next entry. She sat for a few moments just staring at the page in front of her. It was completely blank. Why would her mother have created a personal page for Mr. Thorndale and then not written anything?

She pulled up a few more names at random. Clicked on the icon for Joyce’s personal records. Each page was full of dated entries. Customer’s likes and dislikes. Notes about marriages, children, divorces. Peppered with a few anecdotes and personal observations. She called up Thorndale’s page again. It was still blank.

Unsatisfied, she decided to head off to bed. She would try to figure it out in the morning.

Chapter 2: Hidden Faces

Across town, Spike was reading a computer printout with a decided grin on his face. He wondered what Buffy would make of her mother’s ramblings about him. He hoped that he had managed to set the right tone with her, that she’d take him up on his offer of a date. He didn’t think that the girl would be any threat to him. After all, she was Joyce’s daughter. Still, he was nothing if not careful.

Papers still in his hand, he began to head off towards Warren’s office when he spotted Warren in the hallway.

“Any trouble getting this?” he asked, motioning to the papers in his left hand.

“Nah. No trouble at all. There was hardly any security on the machine at all. Plus the door was wide open. Walked in, downloaded a copy, and erased the original. In and out in less than a minute.”

Warren could tell by Spike’s reaction that he had said something wrong.

“You erased the whole file? I didn’t tell you to erase the bloody thing! Just a few parts here and there. Don’t you think if it’s missing altogether it might look a tad suspicious?”

Warren didn’t see the big deal. “Ooops. Well, no harm done.” He shrugged. “She’ll never even know it was there in the first place, never mind that I erased it.”

His employer was getting really angry now. Warren could tell by the way Spike had him pressed up against the paneling in the hallway. Suddenly it didn’t seem like an insignificant problem any more. Warren was starting to sweat.

“You bloody idjit! Why can’t you just do as I tell you and leave it at that? She’s bound to notice something’s missing if every other file has an addendum except mine. She’s not stupid you know.”

Warren was finally starting to become afraid, even though he knew the problem could be easily rectified. Spike rarely had cause to question his work. Warren knew he was one of the best in the business. That’s why Spike had hired him in the first place. Getting Spike pissed off at him was not good for his health, or his future employment prospects.

With Spike’s hand around his throat, Warren tried to explain. “Look. It’s not like it’ll come up on her screen when she turns it on. She’d have to look for the record to know that it’s missing. Plus I erased a few other files to make it look like the disk was corrupted. Why would she single out your information?”

Warren had rarely seen Spike in such a snit, and never at directed at him. “Fool! Because I met her at the gallery tonight. Had a nice chat about her Mum. I could tell she was puzzled that she couldn’t place me, and I’m sure that her mother’s records are the first place she’ll look.”

Trying to contain himself, Spike looked at his pathetic hireling trembling in the scant light cast by the hallway ceiling fixture. “Listen carefully. This is your mistake and you are going to fix it.”

Spike was speaking very slowly now, as if Warren was a dim witted child. Warren didn’t like to be treated that way, not by any one. If Spike had only let him explain!

Resentment that he hadn’t known he’d felt began rising. Somehow, someday, Warren was going to get even with Spike for this. Warren could still feel Spike’s stern grip crushing his larynx. Yes, he would have to think of a suitable revenge, but later. Right now Spike was still giving him instructions.

“Everything is going to be just the way I want it, understand? Do just what I wanted. Just delete the two paragraphs I highlighted and put it back.”

“What?” Warren had been so lost in his own plans that he hadn’t heard what Spike was saying. Now he looked like even more of an incompetent!

“I said, put the file back. Right now. If it’s there by morning, she’ll never have to know it was missing for a few hours, yeah? You can do that – can’t you?” Spike looked Warren up and down contemptuously. “Don’t give me the wrong answer.”

Pushing back his anger, Warren was weak with relief. Disappointing the boss man was a quick way to dismissal without a reference. “Sure. I can put it back. No problem. I left a backdoor on her hard drive so I can get into it remotely. Standard procedure. She’ll never know it was missing.” Maybe he could salvage something from this fiasco yet. “And the changes?”

Spike was grinning now, and had let go of Warren’s jacket. “Delete the sentences I have highlighted. Nothing else! Got it? Just be sure that the file is back on her computer by morning and I won’t ever mention it again.”

As Warren turned to head back down the hall, Spike’s hand around the younger man’s arm stopped him before he could scurry off. The boss wasn’t smiling now.

“Warren. Next time you think about taking the initiative and doing something I haven’t specifically ordered you to do, remember this conversation and stop yourself before you do something that can’t be fixed so easily. When it comes to business, you should know by now that I am not the forgiving type.”


**~**

In the morning Buffy regretted the wine from the night before. Her head hurt and her eyes were bleary, and she was ever so grateful that she had been Ms. Pro-active girl and had scheduled the opening during a three day weekend. The showing had been a huge success, but she was glad that she would have a few days to recover from it. Maybe now that it was over she could start moving on with her life.

Groaning to herself, she made her morning coffee and was just sitting down to breakfast before thoughts of the elusive Mr. Thorndale and his missing file came rushing back.

Settling once again before what had been her mother’s computer, she tried to call up Spike’s file. There it was, same as before, all the vital data about William Thorndale. Pushing her coffee cup to one side, she tried opening the second page. She only had to wait a second, and there it was. Her mother’s personal notes on William. Why couldn’t she get it to come up the night before?

Quickly she scrolled through the data. Everything seemed to be there, three pages of it. Dated entries about their conversations scattered back over a period of fifteen years. Sipping her coffee she began to read.

Still engrossed in her snooping, Buffy barely even registered the fact that Willow had entered the apartment until the perky redhead’s face poked over the top of the computer screen.

Buffy understood that Willow was a morning person, while she definitely was not. Still it was hard to deal with that chipper voice and too bright smile so early in the morning.

“You counting up all the sales from last night? Am I wrong, or was the show a huge success?” Willow was positively glowing. Hadn’t she been up until late last night also, working with Buffy at the opening? How did Willow manage to sound so happy all the time?

“Hey Wills!” Buffy replied, trying for cheerful although she kinda thought it might sound flat. “Glad you decided to drop by, even if it is too early on the morning after the night before.” At Willow’s puzzled glance she gestured to her yummi sushi pajamas and unkempt hair.

“Well, you know what I mean,” Buffy explained. “I’m not even showered or dressed yet. Guess I got a little distracted. But you aren’t wrong about the opening. At least I don’t think you are. The show was a big success. But these aren’t the accounts. I finally decided to take a look at my mom’s personal notes.”

Willow’s interested was piqued. “Really? I thought you decided that you didn’t want to do that. It was too much like reading her diary or something. What changed your mind?”

“Guy I met last night.”

“Oh, Buffy!” Willow gushed. “You met a guy? Who is he? Did he ask you out?”

Buffy tried to downplay it. “Just one of Mom’s clients, Will.”

Nonplussed at Willow’s glare she continued, “And yes, he did ask me out. But I haven’t decided how I feel about him just yet. I mean, he’s way older than me, and, well, he knew my mom! Fairly well I’m judging by what he said and what she wrote about him. It’s a little creepy dating a guy who knew about your life when you were still in grade school. Plus, there’s this whole, if he knew Mom so well, why haven’t I ever heard of him before thing. And finally, it’s like his name is familiar, but not in connection with my Mom. Hence, reading the file.”

“Hmm.” Willow didn’t really feel it was her place to comment. But Buffy did need a man in her life. She had been single far too long. In Willow’s opinion Buffy had suffered from her previous relationships far more than she’d let on at the time. Therefore the lack of so much as a casual date since Riley had left. That had been years ago.

Maybe a little push was in order. “Tell me about him.” What Buffy said would give Willow a clue as to whether she should encourage this relationship or not.

Before she even started, Willow could tell by Buffy’s expression that Buffy really was interested in this guy, despite whatever excuses she gave. The next few words out of her mouth only confirmed Willow’s assessment.

“First off, he’s really gorgeous. One of those guys who only looks better with age, you know? Only he’s not really that much older than I am. He told me he’s 38. I know it sounds ancient, but if you’d seen him you’d know it’s really not. And he has a kinda twisted sense of humor, but he’s really sweet underneath. And you can just tell that he’s used to getting his own way. He has the nicest hands, and his eyes are to die for…” Buffy stopped for a moment and looked at her friend. “Willow Rosenberg, are you laughing at me?”

Willow couldn’t help it as the giggles couldn’t be contained. “Buffy, you may not realize it, but you’ve got it bad. You start off telling me he’s gorgeous, and then you start going on and on about his hands and his eyes! If you don’t go out on a date with this guy I’ll get Oz to tickle you until you can’t see straight. You haven’t had a date in years, Buffy. You need this.”

“Okay already. I was coming around to the idea. Slowly. I’m just not as flippant about it as you are. It’s a big step for me. You know I have terrible taste in men. That’s why I wanted to see what Mom thought of him.”

“She write much?”

“Yeah, she did. I even tried a few other names to see if she kept the same kind of records on her other clients. It varies a lot. But she seemed to have a lot to say about William. None of the other pages are so detailed. At least not on the names I checked. But there were a couple of files I couldn’t pull up. It’s really strange. When I tried to look at this information last night, it just didn’t seem to be there. Now William’s personal page is back, but there are still some other’s I can’t seem to access. It’s like the computer had a nervous breakdown or something. Of course I had had a bit to drink last night, so it could be I just hit the wrong button or something.”

“Do you want me to look at it for you?” Willow was a wizard when it came to computers. It was what she did now professionally. She could surf the net like nobody’s business, and hacking into closed systems just seemed to come as second nature to her.

“You can if you want. I’m gonna go get ready to face the day. Start work on those accounts, like you said. But it’d be really great if my computer wasn’t wonky when I get back.”

“No problem, Buffy. As long as you let me have some of that coffee. I like a good computer mystery. You don’t mind if I read about him, do you? See if your mom also commented on his eyes?”

Buffy called out from the other room, “Knock yourself out Will. I’ll be back in a jiff. Well, for me anyway.” The shower was already running as Willow began reading the file Buffy had just finished. Silently she agreed with Buffy’s assessment. If Joyce had personally liked the guy, he was probably a pretty good guy. Just what Buffy needed.

She turned back to the first page and stopped, staring as she saw William’s full name and address for the first time. Buffy was right - the name was definitely familiar. But where had she heard it? She’d have it in a minute.

While she let her subconscious process whatever it was that was bothering her about Thorndale, Willow began searching through Joyce’s other files just as Buffy had – trying figure out if anything was off with Buffy’s computer. As she reached for her coffee again, she realized something else that was bothering her. The small Egyptian artifact that Buffy always kept on her computer desk and used as a paperweight was missing. After a brief search she found it under the desk, but still. It had set her mind to wondering. The artifact was small, and Buffy treated it casually, but it was still quite valuable.

By the time Buffy came out of the shower dressed for the day, Willow had her resolve face on.

“What’s up? You couldn’t possibly have run into something you couldn’t fix. Not on Joyce’s dinky old home computer!”

“It’s not that. I just realized. Buffy, we’ve been stupid. Really really stupid.”

“What do you mean, Wills? You’re starting to scare me.”

“Maybe we should be scared. You let the caterers in and out of here all last night, didn’t you? The door to the apartment was unlocked the whole time, wasn’t it?”

“Of course. There’s hardly any kitchen downstairs. They needed the refrigerator and stuff for the food.”

“I know. What scares me is that neither one of us thought what a downright stupid idea that was. Strangers in and out of your apartment all night. Think carefully Buffy. Was anything out of place last night? Anything missing?” Willow gasped as another thought occurred to her. “Buffy, this was Joyce’s computer, right? Although I know you use it sometimes too. You didn’t have anything on it yourself? Anything work related?”

“Work related?” Buffy paled. “No. Nothing work related. What are you saying Wills?”

“It’s possible someone was in here last night. Someone who shouldn’t have been. Someone who was most definitely NOT a caterer.”

Buffy sat down on the sofa, her face pale. “Tell me what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying, Agent Summers, that we need to be more careful. Your home could have been compromised last night. Anyone could have walked in here last night and stolen whatever they wanted, or worse, taken a look see at your personal files. You need to go through your apartment and make sure that there’s nothing incriminating lying around. And you need to be very sure that there are no links from this computer to work. We both know that it’s against policy, but believe me, it happens.”

“Oh! But who would even think to look through my stuff? It’s not like anyone knows that the gallery is only a sideline for me. I don’t broadcast what I do for a living, Willow. You know that.”

“Still. Someone could have been here. We can’t let you leave yourself open like that ever again. It’s too risky.”

Buffy didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t really think of her profession as risky. It wasn’t like she was a field agent or anything.

While Buffy had been gaping like a fish out of water, Willow’s mind had been busy making connections. “This guy you met last night, Buffy. Your mother’s client? His name is William Thorndale, right? The same William Thorndale who recently tried to sell a forged copy of a Renoir to the Getty museum. The same William Thorndale who also donated a stolen copy of a Munch to a Paris gallery a few years before that. We got a tip on him. The agency wants an investigation. I was gonna hand the file over to Art Investigations first thing Tuesday morning. It’ll probably be on your desk by noon.”

“Crap.” She remembered Xander’s assessment, ‘too smooth, an operator.’ Perhaps for once Xander’s opinion was correct. “Why is it that every guy I am interested in turns out to be a major loser? This guy just takes the cake. Not only is he a slime ball who wants to hit on me, now he’s a slime ball that I am supposed to investigate.” She slumped down further into the couch and put her head in her hands. “You know, Willow, sometimes this job just sucks.”

Chapter 3: Assignment

Tuesday afternoon, Giles’s glasses were on top of his head and he was squinting at the page when Buffy walked into his office. How a man who couldn’t see got to be head of the Art Crimes Division was beyond her. Of course, that wasn’t the only division he was in charge of. But still, really!

She didn’t have the patience for this today – she was upset and wanted answers. The file she was looking for, the file Willow had told her about, the file she dreaded reading, the file on William Thorndale, (a.k.a. Spike), was missing from her caseload. Giles was going to explain exactly what was going on. She’d had more than enough of the appearing and disappearing Thorndale. A computer glitch was one thing. Especially when she had been half drunk at the time. But surely, even if he was a Mafia czar or the best art thief in the world, he couldn’t have arranged for someone to sneak into the Agency and remove his file? Could he?

She was made to wait a few moments more until Giles deigned to notice her. She spent the time examining the arcane nature of his office decorations. Buffy wished she had the nerve to come into his office when he wasn’t in and take a good took at all of his stuff. Aside from the fact that it looked like a family of pack rats had taken up residence, the quantities of knickknacks filling up the office were fascinating. Judging from his office, and the gentle face he tended to show his employees, Buffy sometimes wondered just how he had risen to be head of a department. On the face of it, he seemed far too mild mannered for this type of work at all. Of course she had heard the rumors about Giles, the rumors that said that he hadn’t always been like this. Had in fact been quite the field agent himself in his younger days. But Buffy had immediately discounted them. In Buffy’s opinion, people didn’t change like that.

Nonplussed, Buffy didn’t know what to say when Giles actually admitted to taking the file right off. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her, but at least that mystery was solved.

His next words really ticked her off. “I don’t want you working on that case, Buffy. It’s been reassigned.”

Buffy was pissed. She was the resident expert on forgeries. Besides, she really wanted to get to the bottom of this particular case. Now that she’d met the guy, it was personal. If he had somehow been using her mother to hide his crimes, she wanted to know about it.

Buffy crossed her arms and tapped her foot, prepared to argue with her boss. It’s not like she had never argued with Giles before.

“Why? Just because I met the guy last weekend you think I can’t be trusted with the case? I know my job, Giles. If you don’t think that I do maybe you should just fire me.”

Glasses firmly on his face now, Giles finally looked at her. Flabbergasted might not have been too strong of a word for his expression. “You actually met him? I didn’t know that. Why wasn’t I informed?”

“He was at my mother’s commemorative showing. Apparently he was not only a good client, but he knew Joyce personally. I made a copy of her notes about him, because after what Willow told me, I knew you would want to see them. Joyce felt really bad when a painting she’d sold Spike later turned out to be a forgery. She thought it was her fault- that she should have investigated it more thoroughly. If it turns out that he’s been dong something, hiring forgers to make copies and then selling the fakes, or buying stolen works on the black market – well, I’d want to know about it. It’s a personal thing. I don’t like to think that my Mom was taken advantage of.”

If it was true, then Thorndale had really pulled one over on Joyce. From her journal it was apparent that her mom had really liked William. As time went on, it became obvious that she thought of William more as a friend than a client. Even though she never once referred to him as Spike in her notes, although she did acknowledging that the nickname existed.

Buffy had been shocked to read that Joyce had intended to invite William to Buffy’s college graduation. Joyce had had some idea that William might be able to help Buffy get her first job. As things had turned out Thorndale had been out of the country at the time, and so of course they hadn’t met.

Fleetingly Buffy wondered if things might have been different if they had met when her mother was still alive. Would she still be having this meeting with her employer about him? Would she still be willing to investigate him? Would she even have this job at all, or would she have settled for some boring desk job in his corporate office?

“I see. Well.” The glasses were off his face again, as if they had somehow gotten smudged in the last few minutes. “I’ll simply explain matters to Harmony, and have the case reassigned to you. Seems only natural, since you two already have a connection.
You do think that he’d be open to seeing you again, don’t you? I understand that Mr. Thorndale is a hard man to get to. People with money and power usually are, and a preliminary investigation seems to reveal that he’s more paranoid than most. It might be difficult to get another agent close to him.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Giles muttered to himself for a minute. “Yes, Ms. Summers. It makes perfect sense to me. Consider this your case. I’ll get the file back from Harmony later this afternoon. Remember that I expect you to make weekly reports of your progress. Daily should anything of note happen.”

Satisfied, Buffy turned to leave his office, but Giles’s voice called her back.

“One more thing, Ms. Summers. A word of caution. This is the first time you will be working undercover, as it were, although he already knows your real name and identity. Don’t get too close. Don’t let this man know too much about you. Right now he is only a suspect, but he’s a suspect for a reason. Where there’s smoke there’s fire, as the saying goes. Don’t get burned.”

Chapter 4. Coffee, Tea, or…?

Four days later Buffy had agreed to meet William Thorndale for coffee after work. She had taken the subtle route, and waited for him to call her. In the meanwhile, she had researched everything she could about his personal history, and his taste in art. Over time he had bought and sold a wide variety of expensive pieces. If only a small fraction of what passed through his hands was being tainted, then there could be dozens of stolen or forged art works out there.

The shop was surprisingly busy for a Thursday evening, perhaps because of the cold drizzle that was steadily falling outside. Thorndale had already appropriated a table. From a distance all Buffy could see was the white blonde hair, mussed and curly because of the rain – sexy as hell. As she made her way to the table, Buffy decided not to say anything about the hair. She thought it made him look even more drool worthy, but she didn’t want to take a chance that he might take any comment she made as an insult, or a come on. They didn’t know one another than well yet.

Buffy ordered a Chai tea latte, and almost laughed when she saw that Spike had ordered a chocolate. There he was in his gray business suit, complete with light a light blue shirt and a fashionable purple and gray tie, with a white foam mustache. On anyone else it would have looked ridiculous. On him it looked sexy. Especially with the curly hair that made him look like he had just gotten out of bed – or was ready to get into it.

The thought immediately gave her pause. This was work! She should not be thinking about how the guy looked, what he was wearing, his hair, or how adorable he was covered in marshmallow cream. Her objective was to get inside his home and have a look around, file a report, and be done with it. The guy was most likely a crook and a scoundrel! What was it Giles had said? ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ Of course their criminal justice system meant that he was innocent until proven guilty, but it’s not like most people are ever even investigated. Smoke. Fire. She had to keep that in mind.

He had asked that she call him by his nickname, but it was dangerous to think of him that way. She needed to keep her distance, stay objective, but it was difficult to do when he turned those baby blues on you and licked the froth from his lips like a little boy. If only she found him unattractive her job would be so much easier!

At first they talked about her mother, and Spike shared a few anecdotes that Buffy wished she could believe. Eventually the conversation moved on to their mutual appreciation of art. Apparently Spike was well traveled. He had been all over Europe, and even to the Far East.

Buffy’s major expertise, of course, was in the field of American and European painters. Spike’s knowledge of art was far broader. Although she had passing knowledge of non-Western and ancient art, Spike was into everything from ancient Etruscan vases to Chinese horse figurines. He’d apparently been places and seen things that Buffy had only read about. At least his enthusiasm for and knowledge of art sounded authentic. It wasn’t just an act. No one could talk for hours about something like that unless they had a passion for it. They were both just lucky that it was a passion that they shared, so that they barely noticed time passing.

In a way that passion surprised her. Many of her mother’s clients had purchased art merely for the status it gave them, or perhaps as an investment. In general, they had accepted Joyce’s recommendations, or simply bought ‘name’ artists. Spike seemed to actually have an appreciation for art for its own sake. Not many businessmen were like that.

After what felt like two minutes, but was actually closer to two hours, the conversation finally started getting more personal. “You’re asking the wrong question, luv.” Spike purred when she voiced her thoughts. “It’s not why am I, a businessman, interested in art. It’s how did I, an aspiring artist, become a successful businessman?”

He seemed quite pleased when Buffy suggested that they relocate to a small restaurant around the corner where they could continue their conversation while ordering something more substantial than tea and chocolate.

As soon as the food had arrived, Buffy reminded Spike that he had been about to launch into his life story. Laughingly she assured him that the change in venue had not been meant to thwart his desire to tell her about himself. She neglected to tell him that she had already looked him up in every source she could find and knew the official version probably better than he did. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to hear how he would tell it. With a rapt look on her face that she didn’t have to feign in the slightest, Buffy sat back to listen while she tucked into her pasta.

“Not long after Dru and I first came to the States, I enrolled in school at UC Sunnydale. That’s when I met your Mum. I had a double concentration in Art History and Chemistry. Long ago I had figured out that I didn’t have the originality or the talent to be a painter or an author in my own right, so I wanted to be the next best thing I could think of: an art conservator, a restorer. I’d even finished my degree and begun looking about for a job when Dru took sick. Or more sick.

“She’d never been well. Something had happened to her as a child, or perhaps as an adolescent, and I don’t think she was ever the same after that. Looking back on it now, I guess she was never really completely sane in all the years I knew her. But as far as I was concerned in those days it only added to her charms. But this time her madness went beyond anything that I could deal with. I had to have her committed for a while.”

Buffy must have looked shocked, as he added, “I try to keep it out of the public record. It’s not anybody’s business. I don’t know why I told you. You’ll keep it to yourself, won’t you? Joyce knew, but I knew she would keep it quiet.”

He really didn’t know what was wrong with him. He had just gone to a lot of trouble to keep this bit of information out of Joyce’s notes, and here he told the girl first chance he got! At least he hadn’t babbled everything! He had better start keeping his mouth shut around her, or soon she’d know every secret he had. She was easy to talk to, just like her Mother had been, but he really didn’t know Buffy that well at all. The thought sobered him up. He liked Buffy, a lot, and wanted to get to know her better. But he wasn’t sure how far he could trust her. He didn’t want anything to spoil their chance at a real relationship.

Buffy was stunned, but tried not to show it. There had been very little said about his ex-wife in any of the articles that Buffy had read. Most of them, she realized belatedly, had been slanted in his favor, probably approved, if not written, by his own public relations staff. Thinking about it now she realized that the reporters only mention of Drusilla had been to say that they were no longer married. As if she hadn’t been an important part of his life at all. Spike told it differently.

Buffy had been silent for a long time. Spike didn’t know what she was thinking. He had gone to a lot of trouble to keep their private matters private, and he needed them to stay that way. He needed to be sure than Buffy understood.

“I loved Dru, I really did. It broke my heart that I couldn’t help her. I tried to do what was best for her. Having her committed in Sunnydale forced me to forget about moving out of town to take a new job. Relocating just wasn’t something Dru was up to at the time. She needed familiar people and surroundings. So instead I took a job at a local pharmaceutical company, that liked my background in chemistry. Came with a good salary and more importantly, good benefits.”

Belatedly Buffy thought she should have looked a little more deeply into his life history so she would know how much of his story was the truth. On the other hand, Buffy thought, it was possibly a good idea that everything she knew about Thorndale was common knowledge. That way when he came out with these unexpected statements her reactions were real.

“I can count on you to keep it quiet, yeah? You won’t go sell the story to the tabloids, will you?”

He made it sound absurd, the way he said it. Of course she wouldn’t have anything to do with unscrupulous tabloid reporters. Aside from violating her sense of propriety, she realized that if she went to them, they might want to find out more about her life story, and she had her own secrets to keep. So really, it was easy to give him what he wanted.

“You have my word. No newsman will get any story out of me.” That still left her room to put it in her report to the Bureau. It would not make the heaslines, which was what Spike was apparently afraid of. Beside, the Agency probably knew already, or could find it out if it became necessary.

“Thanks pet. I appreciate it.” He put his hand over hers on the table and left it there while he continued his story

“Life would have gone on that way indefinitely if not for a fortunate series of events. A guy I knew introduced me to a man who owned a bar in L.A. This was a few years later, and Dru was out of hospital by then, but she was still far from well. Since Dru was prone to fits now and then, I had made a kind of tonic for her, that calmed her down. I made sure that I always had some with us wherever we went.

“One night we were in Lorne’s bar, and Dru wanted her ‘special’ drink. She wasn’t acting out, but I wanted to avoid the possibility of a scene. I hadn’t exactly explained to them about Dru. They just thought she was a little odd, and they accepted her that way. After I gave Dru her drink, Lorne asked for a taste, so another bottle was passed around. One thing led to another, and Lorne started selling it in his bar. It was so successful he suggested that I have it bottled and sell it nationally.

“Hence the genesis of Thorndale Industries. Of course we sell a lot more than ‘Tiger Tonic’ now, but that’s where it all started. Something I mixed up at home to help my wife. Irony of it all is that not long after she was labeled fully ‘cured,’ she decided to up and leave me. But at least I was able to help her when she needed it most. Only fair, I suppose.”

Tiger Tonic was a subgenre of so-called energy drinks. What products like Red Bull claimed to do for you physically, Tiger Tonic was supposed to do for you mentally. Its advertising claimed that it helped keep your mind clear and improved memory. It had been a huge success, especially among the college set. Then the craze had spread, until it was a popular drink. Buffy could have ordered it tonight, but she preferred the warmth of her tea and thought she got much the same effect from it.

“So,” Spike said. “I’ve rambled on about me for long enough. I’ve shown you mine, now’s time for you to show me yours.”

Spike chuckled slightly at the look on her face. God, he needed to get to know this girl better. “What I meant, pet, was that it’s your turn to tell me about yourself. Granted, I know most of the highlights already. But all I’ve heard is your mother’s side of things, and not much past when you started college. I’m sure that you have quite a bit to add to that.”

He finally let go of her hand then, and started rummaging for a cigarette. They hadn’t been holding hands, exactly, but it had felt natural. She hadn’t realized that they had stayed touching for so long. Now that he had taken his hand away, she was surprised that she missed his warmth, and took another sip of tea to try to make up for the lack.

He was looking at her expectantly, but she really couldn’t think of much to say. Finally she decided on the truth. “I think you know way too much about me already. If I had just met you, and you hadn’t known my mom, I would never tell you any of it. All that stuff in high school, none of it was my fault. And that’s all I’m gonna say about it. Ever. Understand?”

“Course pet. Not gonna pry. Just want to get to know you better.”

Buffy wasn’t sure what he wanted to know. It wasn’t like she was a world traveler or had done anything interesting with her life. Well, not anything that she was willing to share at any rate.

The silence continued for a few moments as they both sipped their drinks. Finally it was Spike who broke it.

“Cat got your tongue? Why do I find quiet Buffy so hard to believe? How about this – to get the ball rolling so the speak. What was your major in college, art history?”

“Ugh! Don’t even go there!” Buffy rolled her eyes and squinched up her nose in a way that Spike found strangely appealing. “ Instead of quiet Buffy you’re gonna get complainy Buffy. But you asked for it. So here goes!

“My Mom wanted me to major in Art; Art History was okay, but she really wanted me to follow in her footsteps. The fact that I didn’t have the talent for it or the desire didn’t bother her one bit. Then there was my Dad. Mind you, I hadn’t actually seen much of him since before junior high. But somehow Mom got him to pay a large part of the tuition bill, so he figured he had the right to tell me how the money should be spent. He forced me to major in Pre-law! Pre-law, like I was really gonna go to law school?” She crossed her arms and pouted, “No one cared what I had to say about it.”

Spike thought she looked adorable, and had to restrain himself from trying to kiss her. For once he decided it would be safer to simply voice his thoughts.

“I can see how law might be a bit of a stretch, but are you saying you didn’t like Art History? You do run the Gallery now, or did I get that wrong?”

“Yes, yes. The Gallery is mine now. And I do love it. I just wanted to have some say in the matter, that’s all. Not have both my parents decide what was good for me whether that was what I wanted or not.”

“So, if you had your choice, pet, what would you have majored in?”

Buffy’s eyes lit up and her response was immediate. She had obviously given this no small amount of thought at one point in her life. “P.E.”

“P.E.?” Spike wasn’t sure what she meant. Maybe it was a British thing. “I’m not tracking here, luv? What is P.E.?”

“Physical Education. P.E.”

Spike’s brows went up in surprise, and it was only with some effort that he managed to stifle a laugh. “You wanted to major in gym? Is that what you mean?”

“Yeah. And it’s not funny.” Now she was indignant and that was even more adorable than the pout. “There’s a lot of money in gym,” she continued. “I wanted to be a personal trainer, or start my own fitness club. I could have made my own videos. Who knows, I might have invented Pilates! Instead, there I was, newly graduated with a double major in Art History and Pre-law, with absolutely no idea what to do with myself. To make matters worse, my boyfriend of three years had just broken up with me. Do you know my mom seriously considered asking you to help me find a job?”

“Really?” Spike tried to act surprised. “I don’t rightly know what Thorndale Industries would have done with a Pre-law and Art History major. Could you type?”

“I so would not have worked for you anyway,” she taunted back. “I mean, you made all your money bottling soda water. It may be lucrative, but it doesn’t sound very interesting. No offense.”

“None taken.” Spike was spell bound. Suddenly he was very glad that they hadn’t met back then. If his reaction to her at 21 was anything like his reaction to her now – well, let’s just say that Joyce might not have approved of the relationship. But he dearly would have liked to watch as young Buffy took on the world. “So what did you decide to do? Or did you just go straight into helping your Mom out at the Gallery?”

“Nah. At the time, that didn’t seem very appealing either. The Gallery was still in Sunnydale, and I seriously wanted to get out of that town. So I mucked around in graduate school until my Mom got too sick to run the Gallery on her own. By then she had relocated here to L.A., and I came home to help her with the business.”

“Don’t tell me you really did go to law school? I can’t see that really working out too well for you as a career choice.” It was only after he’d said it that she realized how it might sound. He hadn’t meant it a derogatory way. It’s not that he thought that Buffy was stupid. It just didn’t seem like a good fit for her. Too sedate for a woman who was obviously full of spice and vinegar.

“No, no. It was an interdisciplinary program. Definitely not law school.” More like spy school, she thought.

She never did really figure out how she had gotten picked for that particular program. She certainly hadn’t applied for it. But they had recruited her after college, and she had proved to be good at it. And it had led to her more clandestine second job in the Art Investigations division, while allowing her to maintain the Gallery as well. Buffy felt it was the absolutely perfect set up. She couldn’t have arranged it better if she’d planned it that way.

“Sorry the grad school bit didn’t work out then. But you’re happy now, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah. I love what I do.” Both jobs she thought. It was a perfect combination of her talents. And it certainly wasn’t boring.

That thought brought her mind back to her current assignment: Thorndale. While she was sitting across from him, it was hard to credit the Agency’s suspicions. Spike seemed far too genuine to be a criminal. Besides, he already had tons of money. What did he need more for?

Still, there could be other reasons. Maybe he just liked the thrill of outwitting the law. His day job had to be terribly tedious to someone as well educated as he appeared to be.

She considered her assignment and the best way to complete it. If she could, she would like to see Spike cleared of the allegations as soon as possible, so she wouldn’t have to have an ulterior motive in seeing him. She figured casual and straightforward was best; they were friends now weren’t they? As they were getting ready to leave, Buffy casually suggested going back to his place.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wanted to take them back. The look he gave her then had her quickly backpedaling. Of course a guy would take a line like that differently than how Buffy had intended it! If nothing else about him was clear, it was certain that he was all male. Of course he would assume that her innocent request meant that she wanted to sleep with him!

As far as Buffy could tell, Spike was everything a girl could want in a man: personable, good looking, rich, slightly famous, and single. He was probably propositioned at least once every night of the week!

Buffy tried her best to hold back the blush that colored her face as soon as she realized how what she had said had been interpreted. Trying to push back thoughts of Spike’s yummy goodness and the possibility of the two of them in bed together, Buffy knew her face must be flaming. She was suddenly inexplicably jealous of those faceless women whom he might in fact have taken up on such an offer.

She had to keep reminding herself that she was working. They had had a fun evening together, and gotten along well. If she had just been Buffy Summers, regular girl, she realized that she would have been interested in dating him. But as things stood now, he was an assignment, and would have to remain an assignment. Once she completed said assignment, and the Agency realized that he was innocent of all charges, then she would make the decision what to do with him then.

“I just meant I would like to see it,” she stammered. At his raised eyebrow she stammered even more. “The… the… your house I mean. That is – well – it’s probably like a museum, full of all the interesting and exotic art you’ve collected over the years.”

She was not Faith. She was not willing to sleep with him just for the sake of an assignment – even if he did turn her knees to jelly. The idea of him as a criminal – well, that was just all wrong. She couldn’t bring herself to believe it. He wasn’t like that. He had an honest appreciation for art, not just money. He had more then enough on his own without resorting to criminal activities!

Plus he had been friends with her mother; that said a lot about his character right there. And they had just had a very sweet and uneventful evening in a coffee shop. Until she had to put her foot in it and had unwittingly propositioned him!

Instead of taking her up on it, he seemed amused at her fumbling attempts to cover. Despite trying to guard her emotions, she suspected she was falling in serious like with the guy.

The light must have caught his eyes just the right way as he smiled down at her. He wasn’t laughing at her, was he?

“I thought you wanted to take this slow, pet? How about I take you out to dinner and a movie or something first, yeah? We can talk about going back to my place after we get to know each other a little better, yeah? I promise my ‘house’ isn’t going anywhere.”

5. Baby You Can Drive My Car

They had agreed to meet again on the following Saturday for the promised ‘real’ dinner and possibly a movie. While on the one hand Buffy wished that she could complete her assignment without pretending to date Spike, on the other hand she was looking forward to seeing him again. He hadn’t informed her exactly where they would be going, so she had spent the majority of the afternoon searching her closets for exactly the right thing to wear.

Jeans were definitely out – too informal. And a dress, while looking terrific, might imply that she was trying too hard, or expecting too much from a casual night out. She felt it was important that she strike just the right tone with him – one that said, ‘I’m interested, but not too interested.’ She hoped that they’d be able to discuss their relationship tonight, and she’d tell him again that she simply wanted to remain friends.

All other issues aside, Buffy just didn’t think she was comfortable leading him on while what she was really doing was working undercover to find evidence against him. Even if she was sure that said evidence would prove his innocence and not his guilt. Being duplicitous just wasn’t in her nature. She was beginning to think that even if the opportunity for undercover work came up again, she would refuse it.

She was looking forward to spending time with Spike, and knew that if things had been different she would have been totally interested in really dating him. Unfortunately things were as they were, and she would never get the opportunity to find out. Even her Agency friends were no help. Willow spent all of her time behind a computer screen, and rarely dealt with live people at all, so she had no idea what Buffy was going through.

At the other end of the spectrum was Faith. She was an experienced undercover agent, and she had no trouble at all divorcing herself from any and all feelings she might have about a suspect in an investigation. As far as Faith was concerned, it was all just a game. The undercover gig no different from her real life. Sometimes Buffy doubted whether Faith had any feelings of her own or not.

She couldn’t even confide her conflicted emotions to Xander. Xander, of course, didn’t like Spike for his own reasons. And although he had been her best friend for ages, Xander didn’t know about Buffy’s second career, and she had never felt the need to tell him. He was overprotective enough without bringing the idea of actual danger and real criminals into the mix.

She wasn’t sure what she expected from the evening, but the stretch limo that pulled up outside her apartment at seven o’clock on the dot wasn’t it. She was glad that she had opted for the black silk pants and slightly more fancy looking (although slightly revealing) white lace top. She would have felt uncomfortable sitting next to him in short skirt, and the leather pants she’d also considered would have looked far too trampy.

Another problem had been what to do with her hair. Loose implied that she hadn’t spent any time at all on it, while an upswept style would imply that she’d spent too much. Again she went for what she considered middle of the road, and pulled most of it back so that it was held by a clip, but leaving enough tendrils loose to hang down and frame her face. She was embarrassed at how hard she had worked to get that ‘carefree’ look, like it was something she had done just at the last second.

She was feeling nervous, so she met Spike at the door. She obviously knew that he was coming, and she didn’t think it was really necessary to have him climb up to her apartment just so that they could leave again. Besides, if he wasn’t going to show her his, (as he had said) she didn’t think it was fair that he get a good look at hers. House, that is. Or, condo in her case.

He’d obviously already had a complete tour of the gallery, and she didn’t want this to get any more personal than it already was. If nothing else, she was trying to keep the “you show me yours and I’ll show you mine” as a last resort to try to get a look at the inside of his house. And she really did want to see it.

Tonight he was also dressed more casually. The suit and tie were gone, replaced by black slacks and a red shirt that he wore untucked, and unbuttoned over a tightly fitting black undershirt. Looking closely she saw that the both the red fabric and the black shirt were almost translucent and she could see his chest and abdominal muscles rippling beneath the fabric. It was almost risqué, except for the black suede jacket that covered it, and which hid most of his frame, except when he moved. His hair was brushed back, and obviously held in place with gel or mousse. She thought it had looked prettier the other night at the café, when it had curled because of the rain. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Spike had spent almost as much time as she had preparing.

Not being accustomed to limos, Buffy was somewhat surprised when as they approached the driver came out to open the door for them. Once again Buffy was grateful for the impulse that led her to wear slacks rather than a skirt. She could see how getting in and out of this thing with two men standing over her could be problematic if she wasn’t careful.

Then there was the whole, ‘what do you say’ problem. She wasn’t quite sure how to deal with a chauffeur. All that she could think of was the hackneyed phrase “Home, James,” and she had to stifle a giggle as she wondered if the chauffeur’s name was in fact James.

As she neared the door she looked briefly at the shortish man standing at attention, she figured a brief “thank you” was always polite, in any situation. But the words didn’t come. Buffy had realized that she knew the driver, and his name was not James, although it was close.

“Jonathan? Is that you?”

Not sure how to answer a guest who he obviously knew, Jonathan stumbled for a reply. Finally he settled for something simple, “Hi Buffy. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find you left Sunnydale behind too.”

“Yeah. College was okay, but I didn’t see much point to sticking it out in smallville when L.A. was so close. How have you been?”

Spike was nonplussed. “You two know each other?”

Buffy figured it was her place to respond. Jonathan was obviously embarrassed caught talking to his employer’s guest. After all she didn’t want him to lose his job because of her.

“Jonathan and I were at Sunnydale High School together. He presented awards at Prom. I still have the parasol somewhere; it was a very sweet gesture Jonathan.”

“I just presented the award, Buffy. I’m not the only who voted for you.”

“You’re just modest Jonathan. I know we weren’t best friends in high school, but it’s still nice to see you again. The only people I really keep up with are Willow and Xander.”

Spike smiled. “How about we actually get in the car and start off to the restaurant? You two can continue with the ‘old home’ week on the way.”

Once they were seated, Jonathan smoothly moved the car into traffic. He wasn’t going to say anything else unless Buffy started it. He thought Spike would be okay with it, but on the other hand, Buffy was on a date with his boss. It probably wouldn’t be too cool to monopolize her conversation even if Spike wasn’t his employer. And it’s not like they were ever really friends in high school.

Buffy surprised him when she rapped on the glass as soon as they were on their way. “Do you keep up with any of the old gang?”

“Only Andrew and Warren.”

“Oh. I don’t remember Warren. And I’m not sure about Andrew. Was he our year?”

“Andrew is Tucker’s brother. I’m not surprised that you don’t remember Warren, though. He was only in high school for a short time before he transferred out directly to college. We all work for Thorndale Industries.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Spike’s a really good guy.” I never hurt to try to get in good with the boss. Especially when Jonathan was talking with his date. “You two know each other long?”

In all the time he’d known Spike, he’d never driven him anywhere with a date. Oh, there’d been plenty of women once upon a time, of one type or anther, but Jonathan wouldn’t go so far as to actually call any of them dates.

When he’d first stated working for Spike, there had been about a six month period when Jonathan had driven Spike to a different bar or night club practically every night. Spike would get so pissed drunk he could barely remember his name let alone how to get home, so Jonathan would act as designated driver. On the nights when he didn’t pass out in the bar, Spike almost invariably found some babe or other who was more than willing to spend the night with him. Jonathan would drive them all back to the house, and in the morning, after Spike had miraculously risen early and gotten himself off to work, it would fall on Jonathan to give the girl the brush off and then drive the her back to her own home. Needless to say, it hadn’t always gone smoothly.

Jonathan was infinitely grateful when Spike had decided to give up that lifestyle after a brief stint in a clinic. Jonathan had his own theories as to what had brought about the radical change in his employer’s destructive behavior. It might simply have been that the pain of Dru’s leaving had started to fade, or perhaps Spike had realized that drinking to excess was not a good long range plan, but Jonathan suspected it was something more. Maybe one of Spike’s castoffs had decided to make trouble about what had obviously been intended as a one night stand. Whatever the reason, Spike he had begun to spend more and more time at home, and hired his own in-house entertainment. But Jonathan had remained his designated driver.

So Jonathan was more than a little curious as to how Spike had met Buffy, how close the two of them they were, and whether anything more would come of it. Andrew especially would be interested in the gossip. Back in the day, Andrew had been jealous of Jonathan’s nightly outings with his employer, imagining they were actually more fun than they really were. The one time Andrew had volunteered to act as driver had been a disaster. For reasons that weren’t obvious to Andrew, the girls in the bar had apparently assumed that Andrew and Spike were together, and left them to themselves. Spike had gotten no less drunk, but he’d been mean as piss the following morning.

“I’ll take that opening to join the conversation,” Spike groused. “Was beginning to think I should just have you pull over and let the two of you get on with it.”

Buffy decided to take it in a good natured way, hoping that was the way it was intended. Besides, as nice as it was to see an old familiar face, she could never be interested in Jonathan.

“Hey you,” she smiled as she slid over to the other side of the limo so she was seated next to Spike rather than across from him. “You have nothing to worry about. I’d never dump you for Jonathan,” her eyes lit up and she glanced quickly up and smiled into the mirror so that Jonathan could see she was teasing before she continued mischievously, “that is, seeing how it’s your limo and all.”

“Very funny, pet. Say goodbye to Jonathan. You can catch up later on your own time if you like. Tonight you’re mine.” And he pushed the button to roll the window partition up again.

Chapter 6: Painting the Town Merlot

By the time they reached the restaurant Buffy was already pleasantly buzzed. She knew that she shouldn’t have had anything to drink in the limo, but she was nervous. She figured that the food would help sober her up. Besides, she didn’t really want to accomplish anything nefarious tonight – just have a good time and get to know one another better. She could do that just as well a little tipsy – perhaps better because she’d be more relaxed.

And she needed something to help her relax. She’d never been in a restaurant quite this fancy. The table was set with so many different knives and spoons she was sure that she’d use the wrong one. Why couldn’t he have just taken her out to the Doublemeat like a normal guy?

Okay, so bad example. She had worked there for a while, and hoped never to eat their food again as long as she lived. But what was wrong with a nice simple ubiquitous chain, whose whole reason for existence that it was so bland no one could possibly be offended? Or even the diner they had eaten at the other night? The food had actually been quite good.

Buffy was further intimated when she realized that the menu she had been handed didn’t even have prices listed on it; plus it was all in French! How was she supposed to know what to order? She was so far out of her league it wasn’t even funny.

Without even asking her what she wanted, Spike was already pouring her more wine. She would have been annoyed, except the wine was really good. Probably the same wine as what they had been drinking in the car, only she couldn’t be sure. Saying that she wasn’t an expert on wine was like saying she wasn’t an international chess champion. All she knew was a few brand names, like Gallo, and that it came in two basic types: red and white. After than, when they started adding more names like Zinfandel and Chardonnay she became confused.

Pretty soon Spike was going to ask her what she wanted to order, and she didn’t have the slightest idea what to say to him. In a play for time she excused herself from the table. Maybe she’d think of something on the way to the ladies room.

Once she reached her destination, Buffy decided that it would be a good idea to make use of the facilities. The wine she had already drunk was making its way through her system quickly. While she was freshening her make up she heard two older women conversing about their meal. The first was talking about a dish that Buffy couldn’t pronounce if her life depended on it, but thankfully the second replied simply enough, “the veal was excellent.” There, she would order that. She hadn’t even known veal was on the menu.

Aside from a slight awkward moment when Spike had asked her what wine she wanted to go with dinner, the evening was going more smoothly than she had any right to expect. After another glass of wine she had finally come clean and asked him why the menus were so intimidating. He had laughed, but in a good way, not in a way that made her feel like a ten year old. Then he had explained.

That had broken the ice and after that conversation had again come easily. They had talked about the latest crop of young artists, and argued about who they thought held the most promise. They had discussed current events, theatre and Spike had even mentioned a few books that Buffy had thankfully either seen the movie version or at least heard of, so she didn’t feel that she came off looking too unsophisticated.

It was a good thing that the conversation was good, because the food was bad. At least Buffy thought it was bad. The people around her, including Spike, looked as if they were enjoying their meal, but Buffy barely touched each course. There had been a soup that was served room temperature, a salad that was too bitter, followed by something unidentifiable. It was a relief when the promised veal finally arrived and turned out to be something that Buffy could actually eat and enjoy. Unfortunately there wasn’t a lot of it. She guessed that she was supposed to have been filled up by the previous courses. At least the desserts were good, and she ate all of hers, and half of Spike’s.

Aside from still being hungry, another unfortunate side effect of not eating much was that Buffy hadn’t really ever recovered from the wine they had drunk in the car on the way over. She didn’t think she had drunk much in the restaurant. She hadn’t refilled her glass once during the meal, and so was surprised when the waiter brought them a second bottle.

She didn’t quite think that she was drunk, but she wasn’t as sober as she would have liked to have been. If Spike invited her back to his house now, she knew that she wouldn’t be alert enough to be as observant as she should. Besides, even she realized that it would mean something totally different to take her back to his house after a night of dinner and drinking. Although she genuinely liked Spike, she was not ready to take their relationship to the next level, and wouldn’t be until the Agency realized that they were investigating the wrong man. Even then she wasn’t sure that she would be ready for a physical relationship until she had known him for much longer than a few days. Her previous relationships hadn’t worked out so well; she had learned to be cautious.

As they rose to leave, Buffy discovered that for some reason the dessert and coffee after the meal had not had the desired effect. Standing was fine, but walking was a little difficult. She was much more tipsy than she had thought. She really should have forced herself to eat more, even if she hadn’t liked the food.

With trepidation Buffy realized that Spike had intuited her condition, as he graciously helped her to navigate her way out of the room. His hand against her back felt nice. Until that moment she hadn’t really missed being touched, at least not consciously. Joyce had used to hug her all the time. Since she had gone, she had been far lonelier than she had realized.

As they made their way back into the car, Buffy’s mood turned maudlin. She snuggled up next to Spike in the back of the limo, trying to hide from him the fact that she was crying. The fact that she had intended to keep her distance from him had completely slipped her mind.

“What’s the matter, kitten?”

Buffy looked up at the man sitting next to her in the backseat, trying to smile as she wiped at her tear stained eyes. “Huh?”

“My shirt’s all wet. It’s kind of a give away. Why are you so sad all of a sudden?”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin our evening out. It’s just…” What could she say that wouldn’t sound foolish? “I guess I had more to drink than was good for me.”

“It’s my fault. I saw that you weren’t eating much. Did you not like it, pet?”

Relieved to be talking about something else, Buffy screwed up her face and shook her head. “Too fancy. I’d rather have pizza. Plus I was always afraid I’d use the wrong fork or something. Next time can I pick the restaurant?”

Now it was Spike’s turn to be relieved. He was afraid that the night had been a disaster. At least Buffy was willing to give him another chance. For a girl who patently stated that she wasn’t interested in dating him, she sure seemed to be dating him. If the way she had held on to him in the restaurant or was snuggled up next to him in the back of the limo were any indication, despite what she said, she was in fact interested in being more than friends.

“Whatever makes you happy, kitten. I’ll even eat those horrible Doublemeat burgers if it’s what you want.”

‘Blech! Did you know that I worked there for a while? That must be the worst job in the world. Plus, the smell of the place! It took weeks after I quit and I could still smell it in my hair!”

“What a shame,” he agreed, running his hands through her tresses. “You have such beautiful hair.” He moved in closer, pressing his nose to her hair, kissing her ear tentatively to see how she would react.

Pulling back he looked in her eyes. What did she really think of him? She was sad, and more than a little bit drunk. Reluctantly, he moved to sit back on the seat, but Buffy held him tightly to her.

Just as he was determining to pull away again, Buffy closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. The kiss seemed to go on forever, and the longer it lasted, the harder he knew it would be for him to let her go. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had kissed him with so much depth of feeling. Maybe no one ever had. He’d known plenty of passion, and at the time he’d thought that he’d been crazy in love with Drusilla, but somehow this seemed different. More personal.

When she was quite finished with him, she laid her head back down on his chest and sighed, replete for the moment. “I think you’d better take me home.”

The words were whispered softly, but she spoke them with conviction. Not arguing, Spike told Jonathan to take them back to Buffy’s apartment. At first he was hoping that she would invite him to go upstairs with her, but the more he thought about it, the more he thought it would be a mistake to accept. He didn’t want to her to do anything that she would regret in the morning. He’d known from the moment they met that he wanted Buffy as a permanent part of his life. Whether merely as good friends or as something much more, he would leave up to her. Staunchly he determined that he wouldn’t do anything that might scare her away.

7. Happiness is...

It was a rare occasion that found Buffy singing while she cleaned house. But she was happy. Truly happy for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Earlier in the week Spike had called and invited her to his home for a picnic Saturday afternoon. She couldn’t decide whether it was the simply the fact that he had called, or the possibility of winding up this investigation that put her in such a good mood. Finally, she was going to get to tour his home! She would be able to complete her report and finish her assignment! She would show them all that Spike was obviously innocent of any wrongdoing, and what happened between them after that would strictly be between her and Spike, and nobody else’s business.

Of course her euphoria couldn’t last. The first disappointment was Spike calling with a change of plans. The picnic was off. Instead, he invited Buffy to accompany him on an urgent business trip to New York. In one short conversation, her hopes of winding the case up quickly disappeared. Instead she was filled with an irrational mix of fear and excitement at the thought of traveling out of town with Spike.

She had already allowed things to progress further than she meant them to. Now she was petrified that if she accepted his invitation for a long weekend together that he would expect her to share a room with him.

Even before she’d kissed him in the backseat of the limo, she knew that she could easily be hurt if she wasn’t careful. She had obviously been far drunker than she had realized at the time, or she would never have initiated that kiss. She couldn’t recall the number of times she had told him she merely wanted to be friends. It was harder to keep up that resolve once they’d passed the boundary of physical intimacy. And the memory of her body pressed up close to his, his lips soft and tender against hers – well it was enough to keep her up at night. It had been a long time since Buffy had been close to anyone.

And so she felt justified at being concerned about spending that much time alone with Spike. Plus, how would they handle the hotel arrangements?

Thinking about the prospect of the trip, one moment she had herself firmly convinced that she could keep Spike at arms distance, while the next she found herself fantasizing what it would be like to sleep with him.

Wryly she thought that if she was really that serious about keeping her distance from Spike she shouldn’t have to keep reminding herself of her resolve. Heck, it shouldn’t have to be a resolve. Why couldn’t the guy be totally unattractive or a total sleaze ball? Then she wouldn’t have this problem.

The more she thought about it, the more she decided that the only way she could really trust herself would be to foist the whole issue off on Spike. She’d have to make a point of reminding him that it was strictly a hands off policy, and get him to promise her that nothing would happen. She’d make it very clear to him that she was not the kind of girl who slept around, and that she wouldn’t be falling into his bed anytime soon, even if she did agree to travel with him. Then it would be up to him to keep the proper distance between them. And then if anything did happen, it would be all his fault, and not hers.

After giving the matter some more thought, Buffy decided that was a plan she would be able to stick to.

Picking up the phone she tried to think of how she would pitch the idea of her flying off with Spike to her boss. Giles was sure to be against the idea – for some reason Giles believed that Spike was a bad man, and he didn’t like the idea of his least experienced agent mixed up with him. She knew exactly what she would say before she picked up the phone.

“I know it’s not what we planned, Giles.” Buffy coaxed. “But perhaps it will work out just as well. You know I don’t think he does, but if Spike has black market connections, who says they have to be here in L.A? They could just as easily be in New York. So, I’m thinking that maybe I should go with him.”

Giles sputtered into the phone and took his time before speaking. He didn’t like it when plans changed at the last minute, which they often did. But his operative did have a point. Finally he gave in.

“All right, Buffy, go with him to New York. I’ll have another agent there to follow Spike and see if he meets with anyone suspicious. If he doesn’t, and if his house comes up clean, I’m willing to drop the investigation.”

“Great.” Buffy sighed, “I want to wrap this up as much as you do. I don’t think that I am cut out for undercover work. But since you agree that you’ll drop the whole thing if Spike comes up clean, It’s a plan.”

“Good, Good.” Buffy imagined she could almost hear the sound of the cloth as Giles paused to clean his glasses, “Now all I have to do is arrange to have another agent or two in place to follow him in New York. Your role will simply be to be his companion. Notify us whenever he goes out without you, and take whatever opportunities that arise to pass on information about his activities; but you are not to try to follow him yourself, or do anything at all that could potentially ruin your cover. It’s too hard to get another agent near him. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Giles. I understand. Not a problem.”

Not blowing her cover should be easy. Whenever she was with Spike she tended to forget that she even was working undercover. The problem was going to be not falling into that cover too deeply. That and keeping herself from totally believing that Spike really was the great guy he appeared to be whenever they were together. At least until Giles agreed to call off the investigation. That and of course keeping her hands off him, and trusting that he would do the same.

Picking up the phone again to ring Spike and let him know that she would be accompanying him on this trip, Buffy made sure it was one thousand percent clear that she expected Spike to continue to be a gentleman. She made it plain that she intended to stay in a separate room, and that she would be sleeping alone in her bed. She didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings. There would be no hanky panky going on. That was a condition of her acceptance.

Now all she needed to do was figure out what she needed to pack.

~~** ~~

She couldn’t get over the fact that they had traveled across country in Spike’s private jet, so it came as no surprise that they were staying first class too. Spike had picked what Buffy was sure had to be the most posh hotel on the planet for them to stay in. She’d been amazed at the gorgeous lobby, filled with Chihuly glass and expensive antiques, and couldn’t wait to see what the rooms looked like.

She had hung back a little as Spike checked them in, but had overheard enough to realize that the two of them had the same room key. If looks could kill, Spike would be a pile of ash right now. Did his promise mean so little that he wasn’t going to at least pretend to honor it? She was all set to protest, loudly if necessary, when Spike casually mentioned that she should have first choice of rooms. Deciding to reserve judgement, Buffy thought perhaps she had misheard the clerk.

Simmering, she was all set to start a scene when the bellhop opened the door to only one room. Not saying a word, Spike ushered her behind the hotel employee. As the bellman showed them the amenities of the spacious apartment, Buffy soon understood. They had been given a suite, in the true sense of the word. The view of Central Park from the main room and largest bedroom was just to die for! If this was how he traveled, she couldn’t imagine how he must live! She simply couldn’t wait much longer to see his house, assignment or no assignment.

The suite had a separate living room and a dining room, a small kitchenette, and three separate bedrooms, each with their own bath. The fact that Spike wanted her to choose which room she wanted was immaterial; they were all gorgeous, and a far cry nicer than her apartment in LA. Each bedroom was at least twice the size of what she was used to, and the adjoining baths were appointed in tastefully neutral marble and ceramic tile. She decided to choose the bedroom that had a bath with a huge whirlpool and a stained glass window, and let Spike enjoy the bedroom with the fabulous view. Although it was stunning, Buffy wasn’t that interested in the view outside a window; she intended to do her viewing of the city up close and personal.

Spike was forced to spend the first two days attending to business, and suggested that Buffy spend the time relaxing around the hotel and the spa. But Buffy was far too excited. Even though she had to remind herself that she was working, it felt like a vacation. She was determined to do everything a tourist would do. Although she had tried to object, Spike had insisted on giving her some spending cash, and spend it she would.

So the first two days passed uneventfully while Buffy amused herself, and Spike did whatever it was he needed to do. If the Agency spies were watching him, they didn’t let Buffy know if they anything they saw seemed suspicious to them. They would make their report directly to Giles.

So Buffy saw Spike only in the evenings; it almost felt as if he were her husband coming home from work. Each night when Spike returned from his meetings, Buffy showed off all her purchases before they went out to eat. Tomorrow would be the first day in New York that they would actually get to spend the whole day together, and they were both looking forward to it.

8. A Lesson in Art

Saturday morning dawned fair and bright, and Buffy and Spike were each in a good mood as they enjoyed their breakfast on the balcony overlooking Central Park.

“I wanted you to know, Spike, that I’ve been having fun. I really enjoyed last night. That moon restaurant was way cool…” Leave it to Buffy to always comment first about the food.

“Mars, Buffy. It was supposed to be Mars. But I’m glad you enjoyed it. Today should be even better, because we get to spend all of it together. First the Museum and then dinner anywhere you like. Just tell me what you’re in the mood for. And tomorrow I have a special treat planned. If you approve, I hate to admit that you’ll have Jonathan to thank, not me. He was the genius who arranged for the tickets.”

“Yeah, that Jonathan really is something.” Buffy giggled as she spooned more whipped cream onto her waffles. “Who would have guessed back in high school? The look on your face when they brought out that steaming volcano last night and started singing Happy Birthday, that was just priceless! I never laughed so hard in all my life.”

“Yeah, bloody hilarious. Scare a poor bloke like that with no warning. I’ll be having a talk with Jonathan later, is what. Last time I let him book our reservations. Unless he’s managed to redeem himself with these tickets.”

“Please tell me where we’re going Spike.” She squinched up her nose, “If it’s the opera or a ballet or something, I’ll tell you right now maybe we should just stay home. My love of culture begins and ends with art. All that fancy singing and dancing just makes my head hurt.”

“You head’s too pretty to hurt, so don’t worry. I’m a quick study, and I think I’ve figured you out. See, all I have to do is think of something that I know would entertain your average twelve-year old, and you’re sure to love it. Mind, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to broaden your horizons just a little bit though. Take off those blinders and make you appreciate that Art was not a product of the Industrial Revolution. Now get yourself into some better walking shoes. You’ll wear yourself out trying to walk around New York in those ridiculous high heeled contraptions you call sandals.”

“Spike, I’ve been walking around New York for the past two days in these shoes! I’ll be fine.”

“You haven’t seen walking until you’ve done the entire Metropolitan in one go. I’m not gonna waste my time sitting on the steps just because your feet get tired! Surely you brought something more practical with you?”

“Well, yeah,” Buffy pouted. “But they’re not as pretty.”

“Oh, so now you admit that you want to look pretty for me?” Spike said, grinning and tilting his chair back. “That’s almost a profession of undying love coming from ice queen Buffy Summers. Sure you don’t want to take it back?”

Stomping back to her room to change her shoes, he could just make out Buffy’s muttering, “Stupid man. Making it sound like everything’s about him. What if I happen to like having pretty feet? We’re in the City, for crissakes. People dress up here. Even more than in LA, which is saying something. That is, if they’re not forced into wearing comfortable shoes!”

He could just make out the sounds of drawers opening and the impractical shoes thudding to the floor before she called out, “You do realize that I’m going to have to change my outfit to go with these monstrosities, don’t you? There’s no way I’m wearing a dress with these ugly clod hoppers you are forcing me to wear!”

Spike just smiled and shook his head as he settled in to finish his coffee while waiting. How long could it take to change into some slacks and sensible shoes?

He wasn’t smiling when she finally came back out. Apparently it could take a lot longer than he would have thought was humanly possible. But if it would keep Buffy in a good mood while he educated her in other forms of art, then it would be worth it. There was a lot to Buffy that was worth waiting for.

Because of the delay, the museum was already more crowded than he would have liked by the time the cab dropped them off at the front entrance. He couldn’t get over how magnificent the front of the museum looked. The last time he’d been here they’d been deep in renovations and the façade had been covered in scaffolding. Now the front of the building positively glowed. The museum building itself looked almost as magnificent as the treasures that he knew were housed inside.

Just as he had feared, Buffy was also enchanted with the newly scrubbed and gleaming edifice: the huge sprawling staircase and the flocks of people who congregated on them. Since it was already midmorning, she told him she could not possibly enter the museum without first having a pretzel. Bowing to the inevitable, Spike purchased two of the coveted ‘New York Style’ pretzels from what undoubtedly had to be the richest pretzel purveyor in the city.

Watching Buffy munch contentedly he wondered again how a girl so small could possibly need to eat so often and in such large quantities. She was the one who had made quick work of the ‘Happy Birthday’ volcano Jonathan had surprised him with, and that after having downed an entrée of Red Planet Penne Pasta, a dinner salad, and half his order of onion rings. But it was just part of the mystery that made Buffy, well, Buffy. He was content to simply learn as much as he could about her. He was hoping that he’d have years to slowly unravel everything there was to know.

After making a generous donation and receiving their buttons, Spike immediately forced Buffy to turn to the right. Her first impulse had of course been to head for the stairs, but he knew that once Buffy got to the painting galleries above that there’d be no prying her out. At least until it was time to eat again.

And so for just this once he insisted, and without warning he led his girl straight into the land of Egypt. As he had hoped, Buffy was immediately mesmerized.

Aside from the Temple of Dendur, which Spike informed her had been moved piece by piece from Egypt to save it from being flooded when the Aswan Dam was built, Spike had certain other works in mind that he wanted to be sure they saw. The museum had recently agreed to return several famous works of questionable provenance to Italy, and Spike wanted to be certain that they got to see them before they were flown another several thousand miles further away.

As they drew nearer to the Greek vase in question, Spike once again put on his tour guide voice. “This pet, is The Euphronios Krater, one of the most famous examples of the ‘Red Figure’ style of Greek vase painting from the 6th century B.C. It was purchased by the museum in 1972, from what is now believed were suspicious sources. People may be going to serve jail time over this beauty. You have to admit it is magnificent, but I hardly think it’s worth going to prison.”

Buffy had heard of the scandal, and was glad those guilty were going to be made to pay.

“Did you know that I read somewhere that the third most trafficked item on the black market is art? That means it’s right up there behind illegal drugs and weapons. That’s quite a statement, don’t you think?”

Why would Spike know what the black market trafficked in? Well, she did of course, but would a normal person? Someone who wasn’t personally involved? God, she couldn’t hope for a better opening to sound him out, could she? It was almost as if someone had written the lines for him.

“I just think it’s so wrong.” Buffy began. “I mean Art is supposed to be a thing of beauty, something pure. It’s wrong for people to buy or sell stolen art. Even if it’s not something you stole personally, if you buy it, then in essence you’re saying it was okay to steal it. I hope that who ever is responsible has to spend time in jail regretting it.”

“Isn’t that a bit harsh, pet?” Spike was still admiring the Greek vase, wondering how something seemingly so fragile could have endured and remained beautiful for so long. “I mean the people who bought it might have been dealing in good faith. There’s really no way to prove that they knew it was stolen. See the problem with ancient art particularly is that there is so much of it that is incompletely documented. It’s only recently the legal rights of the previous owners have been questioned.”

He was back in tour guide mode now, spouting the standard British line. “Take the Elgin Marbles – they’ve been in Britain for 200 years now. But the government of Greece says they were taken without consent and they want them back. Well, who’s to know what was said to whom way back then? And why should we send them back? The temples in Greece are being eaten away by all the smog in Athens. They’re decaying at an alarming rate. Should we really give away priceless treasures to people who may not be able to take care of them properly? Don’t we have a duty to future generations to preserve these treasures?”

She couldn’t decide whether it was a good thing or a bad thing to have this conversation about ancient museum artifacts. Would it really illuminate what his attitude would be on a more personal level?

“Spike, you don’t seem to understand. Wrong is wrong. Stealing, or receiving stolen merchandise, is wrong, whether you’re a willing participant in the theft or not. Whether it happened last week or two hundred years ago.”

“I’m just trying to say it’s not all so cut and dry as that, is all.” There had to be some way to make her see his point. “Take those ridiculous shoes of yours that you wanted to wear. What if I told you that they were made from the skin of an endangered animal, and that the animal was poached illegally to get the hide? Would you stop wearing the shoes?”

“That’s not the same thing at all, Spike. My wearing or not wearing the shoes wouldn’t make the animal any less dead. This is nothing at all like that.”

“Sure it’s not. But somehow I don’t think those animal protection activists would see it that way at all.”

“Oh, now you’re just arguing because you love to hear yourself talk.” Sometimes Spike could just be so obstinate. And it wasn’t really getting them anywhere. “Let’s go upstairs where I know everything that is on display properly belongs to the museum.”

Spike held her back. “Do you really know that, pet? How can you know for sure? What if someone brought proof that one of those ‘proper museum purchases’ was really a painting that had belonged to their great uncle and claimed that it had been looted during World War II? Or World War I, for that matter. How could anyone really know the whether the painting had been stolen and not sold for cash by a family trying to escape Nazi rule? They didn’t document things back then like we do today. And certainly wouldn’t have bothered in the middle of a war.”

“Do you enjoy making me angry, Spike? Sometimes I think you like it when I argue with you. I really wish you would see things my way…” But it was clear that she wasn’t going to convince Spike of anything. She could only hope that his opinions were just theoretical. She didn’t want to think about what she would have to do if she found out that Spike had in fact either purchased or sold illegal art.

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree then, pet. Let’s not let it spoil our day, okay?”

Some how he was holding her hand as they wandered past the gallery that had sparked their argument. However much she disagreed with his viewpoint it was one that many people shared. And it certainly wasn’t a crime. And it was nearly impossible to stay mad at Spike when he could turn around and be so endearing.

“Of course,” she agreed pleasantly. “It’s stupid to argue about. The courts will settle it all. That’s what they’re there for, after all.”

Buffy spoke without conviction, all the while reciting in her head, ‘Please don’t let me find anything in his home that’s on the stolen items list. Please, let him be innocent. Please.’

9. Night Terrors

It wasn’t until late afternoon that Buffy finally got to have her way and dragged a reluctant Spike into the upstairs portrait galleries. Buffy felt that she had been very patient while Spike showed off his knowledge of Egyptian, Greek, Middle Eastern and Far Eastern art, and felt the need to reciprocate with her own version of Impressionism 101 when they finally came to the area where she was the expert.

As she babbled on and on she suspected that Spike was feigning ignorance and disinterest in order to goad her on, much as she had tried to pretend not to be fascinated with the works of art he had shown her. The arms and armor exhibit she had found especially fascinating, and wondered why she hadn’t felt this excited about the earlier periods of art when she had been in college. Of course modern paintings were what she had been most familiar with, and so they had become her main focus.

By the time to two of them finally agreed to leave the museum, they were both staggering. It was only with some effort that they were able to pull themselves up from the front steps where they had sat so contentedly this morning and pile themselves into a cab. Exhausted, by mutual agreement they headed straight back to the hotel where they each returned to their own rooms and immediately fell asleep.

It was several hours later when a somewhat rejuvenated Buffy awoke ravenous. A brief peak into the master bedroom revealed a still slumbering Spike, so she began rummaging through the suite’s refrigerator in search of something worth eating. All she had managed to find so far that was in any way appealing were a few packets of cheese and crackers and some granola bars. Of course the suite came with a completely equipped bar, but that was SO not what she needed right now.

Earlier in the evening they had each been too exhausted to even contemplate eating, and they had made do with a smallish lunch after their mid-morning pretzel break. Contemplating her dinner of crackers and granola, Buffy was seriously feeling the lack of any substantive food.

When she heard his stumbling behind her, Buffy realized guiltily that she must have woken Spike when she turned on the kitchen light. Hair in disarray, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Spike shuffled in wearing only his boxers. He was definitely easy on the eyes, though his voice was a bit cross.

“Hungry again? You’d better marry into some serious money, pet, or you’re gonna eat the bugger out of house and home.”

Blushing at the candid comment as well as Spike’s lack of dress, Buffy managed a quick “sorry” before holding out one of the unopened packages to Spike.

Spike shook his head. “Not gonna eat that. We could try room service if you like.”

But room service was closed for the night. It was past two. They’d either have to wait till morning or go out in search of food. Spike was all for heading back to bed, but hearing the rumblings from Buffy’s stomach he relented.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “This is supposed to be the city that never sleeps – I’ll see what I can find, yeah? Just as soon as I can find my pants…”

“Spike, I didn’t mean you should go out by yourself. I’ll go with you. Maybe we can find an all night diner or something.”

Buffy was dressed before Spike even found his shoes. ‘Must be hungry.’ Spike thought. ‘Haven’t seen the chit get dressed so fast in… well, ever.’

Course she wasn’t really dressed for going out. She had merely thrown on some low cut jeans under her nightshirt and called it good enough. Still, the outfit had a certain charm to it. The lack of a bra was quite alluring, and the jeans rode low on her hips leaving much of her mid section exposed.

He grabbed a jacket from the hook by the door and tossed it to her, with a mumbled, “Might be cold.” There was no way he was letting Buffy traipse around New York wearing only a silk teddy for a top and jeans that looked like they’d fall off given a good tug. If they were going Clubbing that flimsy nothing could pass for a shirt, but at an all night diner? Best not to tempt fate.

The diner wasn’t far, and as always Buffy enjoyed her food. Grateful that he would soon be able to get back to the soft sheets and warm covers waiting for him at the hotel, Spike carelessly dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the counter and they headed back out onto the street.

They hadn’t gotten far at all when Spike noticed that they were being followed. He tried to hurry Buffy along, but it was already too late. The distinctive click of a pistol forced him to stop even before the rough voice rang out ordering Spike to hand over his wallet.

Turning slowly Spike saw the gun first. Warily he considered the four men that were slowly surrounding them, cutting off any chance of escape. They had all been in the diner, either there looking for likely marks or taking a break from prowling the streets in search of trouble. They thought they’d gotten lucky when they spotted Spike’s cash.

Briefly Spike considered resisting. If he’d been alone he figured he would have had a better chance. But four against one was not good odds, especially when the four had a gun, and he was saddled with a girl he had to protect. Too many things could go wrong, and it just wasn’t worth taking the chance. Still, it galled his pride to simply roll over and give in to these punks.

The gang was well trained. Each man knew just where to stand to make escape impossible. They’d obviously done this sort of thing before.

Glancing at Buffy, Spike slowly reached into his back pocket. “Don’t want any trouble.”

Slowly taking the billfold out Spike began to remove the cash from his wallet. If he tossed the loose bills in the air, he was hoping that the punks would scramble after the cash, giving the two of them a chance to get away.

Instead, the leader gestured with the gun, “All of it wise guy. The wallet too. On the ground.”

Spike complied and let the wallet drop near his feet. If one of the gang came close enough to retrieve it, he’d be an easy target, as well as a shield. But the man with the pistol wasn’t buying it. He forced Spike to kick the wallet further away, then motioned to one of his minions to retrieve it. The rest of them, and the gun, remained firmly in place. The leader was obviously not amused.

“Funny guy, huh?” He turned to Buffy. “Now you, sweetheart.”

Buffy glanced once at Spike and then back to the man with the gun. “I don’t have anything.” She gestured helplessly. “No purse.”

Despite the haul they must have gotten from Spike’s wallet, the man seemed annoyed. “How about jewelry?”

Buffy shook her head again.

“What’s in the pockets? Let’s see the coat, Goldilocks.”

Tentatively Buffy began shrugging out of the jacket. Impatiently, the thug to her left yanked it off the rest of the way. Then he casually tossed it the guy behind her, who searched the pockets and came up empty handed. Disgustedly he threw the garment to the ground.

“You can have my watch.” Spike hurriedly began unfastening the clasp. “That’s everything. Let us go.”

But the man with the gun hadn’t taken his eyes off Buffy, not even to glance at the gold watch Lefty now had in his hand. Spike saw the look that passed between the leader and the punk with the hat, the one who been so rough taking off Buffy’s jacket, and he hazarded a look at Buffy himself.

Spike had been right, it was cold out. Buffy’s nipples stood hard and erect against the almost see through fabric of her top. Heart sinking, Spike knew the punks weren’t simply gonna let them walk away. Not anymore.

Clueless, Buffy turned and bent over to retrieve her jacket from the ground. Spike took the opportunity to make his move while the thugs were momentarily distracted. Feet and fists flying, Spike lunged towards the leader. If they were to have any chance at all, Spike had get control of the pistol, or at the very least take the gun out of play. As a last resort, he would make sure that he put himself between Buffy and the man with the gun; buy Buffy some time to escape.

Behind him, Buffy made a sound that he could only imagine was rage, and instinct took over. Later he couldn’t remember exactly what happened, but next thing he knew, the leader was lying on the ground bleeding where the butt of his own revolver had cracked his skull. The gun itself had fallen down a storm drain, which was a better result than Spike could have hoped for.

A quick glance behind him revealed that Buffy had caught on quickly to what was going down, and had come up from her crouch swinging, catching Lefty off guard. The man was down on the ground, screaming holy murder and holding his knee. Satisfied that he was out of play, Buffy had then apparently moved on to her second opponent, the one who had searched her coat, and had been guarding their escape.

Spike could only stare as he watched her petite hands strike out with surprising force and skill against her much larger opponent. If Buffy could take care of herself, for a little while at least, then all Spike had to worry about was the punk with the hat. The one who had dared touch his Buffy.

Both keeping one eye on the fight going on behind them, Spike and the thief in the ridiculous beanie began to circle one another. All element of surprise was gone now, and Spike knew he couldn’t afford to lose this fight. The punks had been hurt too badly, and by a shortish man and a tiny woman at that. It was an insult he knew they wouldn’t let pass. They would want revenge.

Fury rose up in his eyes, and Spike didn’t think at all; he just attacked.

When the rage began to clear again he could hear Buffy screaming. She sounded nearby. He had to force himself to let go of the bloody face he’d been pounding against the pavement. He had to stop what he was doing and make sure that the girl was okay. That was his first priority, to protect the girl. How had he forgotten that?

Belatedly he noticed that the man in the hat was no longer resisting. The face under the beanie was a bloody mess now, as was much of the rest of the punk. Slowly regaining awareness, Spike realized there was someone else was behind him, slapping at his head and screaming in his ear. Without thinking he tried to grab an arm and throw the aggressor over his head and into the street. He was stopped cold by an unexpected kick to his kidneys. Unlike the other punks, this one apparently knew how to fight.

Snarling, he turned around to face the last of bunch. Once this one was taken care of he’d be able to help Buffy. Expecting to see the leader of the thugs, he blinked when instead he saw… Buffy.

Still dazed, he looked at the carnage on the street. The bodies of two of the punks lay nearby, unmoving. The third was lying on the ground and cursing, calling out for help from companions who were never going to help him again. The fourth punk was no where to be found.

Spike looked up again, and there was his girl, calmly collecting her jacket and frowning over his now empty wallet. The remaining thief had clearly taken the cash and run off.

Trying to sort out her hair, she smiled at him. “Sorry about kicking you, but you were pretty out of it. If I hadn’t of stopped you, I was afraid you were gonna kill that man.”

“What happened?”

“What, you mean after you decided to go all whacko and attack the muggers? Well, apparently you took out the gun man, while I disabled the one with my jacket and sucker punched the guy with the bad haircut. Then you started wailing on fuzz face over there, and wouldn’t stop for anything. While I tried to keep you from killing him, apparently bad haircut came to his senses and ran off with your money.”

Spike looked around him. Her description pretty much matched what he saw and what little he remembered. But how did she do that?

“Love, not to be overly critical, but did you say you took out two of the blighters?”

“Uh huh.” She grinned and held out an arm to help him stand. “P.E. major, remember?”

“Didn’t know that meant bloody martial arts! Hell, woman…”

“Why’d you go do that, anyway? It was over. They were just about to high tail it out of here with the loot. If you’d just let it be, well, you'd still have been out the money, but we'd both be a lot less sore.”

Trying to hustle her off the street quickly, Spike merely shrugged. “Let’s go, pet. The other one might come back with reinforcements.”

They didn’t speak again until they were safely back inside their hotel room. Soundlessly, Spike sought out a small first aide kit from the kitchen, while Buffy examined her ruined jacket. Spike’s forehead was cut just above the scar on his eyebrow. If he didn’t get stitches Buffy thought it might leave another scar.

Luckily Buffy appeared to be unscratched, just a few bruises that were beginning to purple and would probably turn black by morning.

Putting ice on Spike’s wound to stop the bleeding Buffy voiced her thoughts. “You want to go to the hospital, get this looked after, before I call the police?”

“No. No hospital.” He jerked his head away from her hand and the cloth; the ice was too cold. “And no police.”

“No police? Why? I mean we were held at gunpoint and robbed! I don’t know how much money they stole out of your wallet. We have to report it. Those guys are still out there! Plus… well, you beat up that one guy pretty bad, Spike. He’s gonna need a hospital…”

“Gang like that won’t want a hospital. They’ll take care of their own.” Take care of their dead, more like. Spike knew that the man in the hat was never going to get up again, and he had his suspicions about the one he’d hit in the head with his own pistol.

“Why did you go all crazy like that Spike? It was over – they were gonna let us go.”

“No, pet, they weren’t.” He shook his head, wished he could get the picture out of his mind. “You didn’t see what I saw, Buffy. The look that passed between the one you called ‘fuzz face’ and the leader. They weren’t gonna let you go.”

“What do you mean? They took everything we had. What more could they…”

Blood rushed from her face and Buffy sat down quickly when the implications of what Spike wasn’t saying finally hit her. “You mean… you think they…”

“Yeah, I do.” He moved to sit on the back of the sofa, and held her head to his chest, stroking her hair. “That’s why I took the chance I did; fought back. If you hadn’t of been such a good fighter, took care of two men each easily twice your size, they probably would have succeeded.” Closing his eyes he breathed in the scent of her hair. “I don’t care about the money, baby. But those punks, they were gonna… hurt you, Buffy.”

Spike couldn’t bring himself to say the word, ‘rape.’ But it was evident she knew what he meant, because her body had started to tremble and she started to gag as if she was going to be sick. The possibility that she had been in real danger had apparently never occurred to her until now.

“Sssh. It’s alright now.” He pressed her head closer to his chest like he’d never let her go. “It’s all over now, sweetling. No real harm done. But yeah, that’s why I went a little overboard. Couldn’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you.”

The dry heaves had stopped, and she was starting to think more rationally now. At least Buffy thought that she was thinking rationally. “That’s why you don’t want to go to the police.”

She didn’t want to think about what had almost happened. Instead her mind latched onto another detail. “Because you beat that man almost to death; you’re scared. But surely anyone could see it was in self-defense? Spike, please, we have to do the right thing…”

Buffy was going to be all right. If she was well enough to argue with him, she was going to be fine. Spike breathed in a sigh of relief. She didn’t know that Spike had killed two men tonight. He had been trying to protect her, but he wasn’t sure how well she would take the news. He had killed two men tonight, and he wasn’t sorry for it.

“It’s not only that, kitten. We were lucky, we got away clean. We’re not hurt, and they have no idea who we were. I got my wallet back; I.D. and everything intact even if it is light a few thousand bucks. But if they’d kept it – if they found out who I am…”

“What do you mean, who you are? What difference does that make?”

“Lot of difference, to some. For one thing, it’d be in all the papers. I’m just rich and famous enough that the paparazzi can sometimes be a problem. Especially if they got wind of something juicy like this. We’re better off just letting it go. There’s nothing anyone can really do now. And I’m quite sure that even if you called an ambulance, when the got there no one would be there for them to treat. What’s done is done, Buffy. It’s best left alone.”

“You sound so sure.”

“I am. And consider this. Best case, the police actually find those thugs, put them on trial and they get shut away in jail for the rest of their lives. Do you really want their friends to know your name and where you live?”

“You really are paranoid, aren’t you? I never would have thought of it that way. But I still think the right thing to do is to call the police and get it on record.”

“As soon as we file a police report, we’ll have given them free access. Right now we’re just some faceless couple who happened to have a lot of cash on hand. They don’t know anything about us. Once its on record, they’ll be able to trace our names, address, phone numbers, even if the police never identify any of them. I don’t want that to happen, Buffy. I want this to be over. I want to put it behind us.”

“But they could attack someone else. The right thing to do Spike is to report it…”

“I don’t care.” He stated again. “I’m okay, you’re okay, and that’s all I care about.” He held her close and kissed her hair. “That’s all I care about.”

Chapter 10: Wicked

Instead of going out again the following day they both decided to stay inside their hotel and recuperate. After the events of the night before, New York had lost a lot of its appeal.

They’d spent most of the day apart. Spike had categorically refused to go to an emergency room or to report the incident to the police, and Buffy had finally given up arguing with him.

Consequentially, Spike had spent most of the day reading and going over some business matters, while Buffy had kept herself glued to the TV. They only time they spent together was when they were eating the meals they’d ordered from room service, or when they each found out that the other was a fan of Passions.

As day slipped into evening, Spike approached Buffy. He didn’t know how she would react, but he wanted to give her the option to go out or not. But he was done with surprises. He’d let Buffy know what his plans were, just where he’d be taking her, and whether she felt up to it or not would be her decision. Either way, they were headed home tomorrow.

Privately he was relieved when Buffy agreed to go out. He had known that Buffy would enjoy the musical “Wicked” and was happy that she felt recovered enough to go out. He would have to thank Jonathan when they got home; he had been the one to suggest it, and how he had gotten tickets at the last minute, Spike didn’t know.

By intermission Buffy was back to her usual self, babbling a mile a minute about the characters in the musical. It had taken Spike a few tries to catch on, but slowly he was learning what kinds of things would make his girl happy. Forgetting the incident last night, this little trip was turning into a huge success.

No sooner had he finished that thought, than Spike felt a shiver run up his spine. Later he would wonder what had alerted him. Maybe he was still on hyper aware from the fight the night before. Perhaps he had caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, or heard a voice he had hoped to never hear again. Or perhaps it was simply a premonition or a warning lest he ever become too comfortable or too happy. Either way, he was dreadfully afraid that whatever he did it wouldn’t be enough to do him any good.

Along with half the theatre, he and Buffy were headed towards the lobby for refreshments at intermission. Buffy was chatting animatedly at his side as they hurried to beat the crowds to the refreshments. Feeling cornered already, Spike viewed the long lines with dread. Desperately, he tried to persuade Buffy that they would be better off just heading back to their seats. He felt like a coward as he finally blurted out an excuse to slip off to the men’s and meet Buffy back in the theatre.

It was as he turned to leave her that he felt a thick hand over his shoulder, pinning him in place. With a sinking feeling Spike knew before he turned just whose meaty hand it was, and whose face he would see smirking down at him. Angelus.

“William!” the hated voice boomed with false good cheer. “What a pleasant surprise! You must wait and pay your respects to Dru! She’s been so concerned about you, poor thing!” Angelus’s firm grip on his shoulder offered the smaller man no choice. There was no way he’d be able to get away from Angelus, at least not without making a huge scene in the lobby.

“She knew that you would take it hard when she left,” Angelus continued. “Every other month or so she gets it in her head to call and see how you’re doing, for old times sake. But of course I have to dissuade her. I told her it would only make the breakup harder on you if she refused to leave you alone. Somehow she’s got it in her head that we’ll all be together again someday. Of course that’s impossible now that Darla’s gone – God rest her soul.”

Spike wished that he could prove that the Poofter had murdered Darla himself, but all he had were his suspicions. Unable to get away Spike stood as if rooted to the spot, helpless to do anything else but brazen it out.

“That’s a funny one, Angelus, you speaking about God. It’s a wonder He doesn’t burn you where you stand.” The brash fighter from the night before was suddenly gone; all he had left to fight with were pitifully inadequate words.

“It’s good to see you too, Will,” Angelus chuckled. “I can see you’re looking well.”
Spike tried not to flinch as the larger man reached out with his other hand and touched the fresh cut over Spike’s eyebrow.

Pulling back his hand, for the first time Angelus noticed Buffy hovering nearby. His eyes widened as he took in the matching bruises on her neck and shoulder.

“This the new rough and tumble then?” he laughed. “Pity you didn’t have this much spunk when you were still married to my Drusilla. She might not have left you then. But then you never know. Women are such fickle creatures, aren’t they?”

Staring stonily ahead, Spike refused to answer. If Spike denied him his fun, maybe the lunkhead would take the hint and bugger off to go bother some one else.

Angelus leered at Buffy, openly appraising her figure and her youth. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to the new girl?”

“No.” Gritting his teeth to keep from screaming, Spike tried again to slip from his grasp.

“That’s not very polite, Will,” he glanced at Buffy again and leaned in as if to speak to Spike personally, but his stage whisper was pitched loud enough that Buffy could hear it clearly, as could several people around them, judging by the way they turned and stared.

“Tell me, just between us two. Is she some trollop you’ve picked up for a one-night stand, or is she one of your hired help?”

Angelus took one look at the enraged expression on Spike’s face, clapping him on the shoulder and bursting into laughter again as if he had just made the funniest joke in the world.

“God, I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed you, boy!” Spike still refused to answer. “Didn’t you think I’d know what you’ve been up to? Only it doesn’t seem like you’ve been up to much at all of late. Little performance anxiety perhaps? Not quite sure you can measure up anymore?” Casting Buffy another brief glance, he continued, “Maybe she’d be willing to give me a go if you’ve had enough? I could probably convince Dru to give you a pity fuck. She’s come over all nostalgic lately.”

Spike wasn’t going to stand for any more. Damn it to hell that it was public place, Angelus was asking for pounding. Instead of continuing to try to escape the larger man’s iron grasp, Spike let his fist fly straight into the older man’s stomach.

If Angelus even felt the blow he didn’t let on. Without the least bit of exertion, Angelus took Spike’s fist and turned it around his back so that he held the smaller man in a wrestlers hold. With just the slightest bit of extra pressure, he could break Spike’s arm. Oblivious again, the crowd of people around them continued their conversations about the play while they finished their drinks.

“That’s not very smart, Will,” Angelus whispered menacingly. “I could have you arrested for assault. More to the point, I could make it even more unpleasant for your girlfriend here. Something about her just smells delicious. I don’t think I’ll be able to rest until I’ve had a taste of her. Tell me, Willy boy, she likes it rough, does she?”

Buffy had gone white as a sheet and had started trembling, the fear she hadn’t felt the night before compounding the terror she felt now. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she vainly looked around the lobby for someone to help them. No one was paying them the least bit of attention as the lights began to flash, signaling it was time for people to start making their way back to their seats.

For the first time Angelus turned to address Buffy directly. “So tell me little girl, are you afraid of me? Of what I could do to you?”

Controlling her tremors, Buffy vowed to be strong. “No.” If she had the nerve she’d give the bastard a blow he wouldn’t soon forget. And it wouldn’t be his knee she’d be targeting this time, either. Spike didn’t seem to want to fight, and she wasn’t going to start anything until she knew why. “No, I’m not afraid of you, Angel. You see, you’ve already done everything you could to me.”

Stunned, Angelus released his hold on Spike and looked at Buffy full in the face for the first time. The hand that had been holding Spike at bay now gripped her sore shoulder painfully as he turned her face to the light.

“I don’t believe it! Little Buffy Summers from Sunnydale. All grown up!” If his grin was any wider his face would crack. “And now you’re with Spike! Oh, this is too hilarious.”

Letting go of Buffy he turned back to man silently fuming beside him, “I hope you had more success with her than I did. Maybe the intervening years have taught her a few things about how to please a man in bed. I knew you liked my leavings, Will, but how the two of you ever managed to find each other … God, I couldn’t have planned it better myself!”

The lobby was almost empty now, Angelus’s laughter echoing in the now vacant space. A lone figure was making her way over to the trio.

“My Spike! I knew you’d come. We’ve been waiting ever so long.” The dark-haired woman pressed herself against Spike’s back and ran her hands through his hair like she owned him. Peering over Spike’s shoulder at Angelus she spoke quite clearly, as if making a point, “I knew you’d come. Angel didn’t believe, but I knew.”

Her eyes still on Angelus, Drusilla lowered her head just a bit to whisper in the smaller man’s ear. “Come back with us. There’s enough tea for all. Even bring the new dolly if you’ve a mind to. She can play Darla’s hand. Card games are ever so much more interesting with four players.”

Spike gritted his teeth as he struggled for a response. “No, Dru. Not coming back with you.” Again he’d been trying to disentangle himself from the brunette’s embrace without using too much force, but the grip she held him in was deceptively strong. Perhaps words would accomplish what he was loath to achieve by force.

“Not ever going back to you Dru, not after what you’ve done. And certainly not going anywhere with this sod you’ve shacked yourself up with again.”

Finally seeming to come to himself, in a fluid gesture Spike shook himself free, and reaching for Buffy’s hand began leading her out of the theatre. “Come on, Luv, let’s get out of here. Its past time we were on our way back home, where we don’t have to mix with this trash.”

The sound of Angelus’s laughter rang in his ears, seeming to followed them out to the street.

11. Was that the L word?

They were silent as they made their way out of the theatre and hailed a cab to take them back to the hotel, except for the brief call Spike made to the airport to have the plane readied. Still in silence, they packed up their belongings and headed outside to wait for another cab that would take them to the airport. Spike sat still as stone all the way to the waiting plane. Without the usual banter with the pilot, they took off in silence, each afraid to say anything.

The plane didn’t seem so luxurious any more. The wood paneling, even the pictures mounted on the wall that she had exclaimed about during the flight to New York, seemed meaningless after the past twenty-four hours. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she would never feel safe anywhere again. Wherever she went, whatever she did, her past would always be a part of her.

She wondered if this was how Spike felt, why he hired guards to protect his house and rarely dealt with strangers. Once you have been betrayed by someone you trust, it’s even harder to trust again.

Eventually, not knowing what else to do, Spike slowly reached over and took Buffy’s hand. Tentatively, her eyes searched his.

Spike was the first to speak. “It’s true then, what he said? I’m sorry he hurt you, pet.”

“It’s not your fault, Spike. Who could have known those two would be there? That was your ex, wasn’t it? Drusilla? Angelus is the one who stole her away from you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. Good old Dru and her wanker Angelus.”

“Do you think they planned it somehow? How did they know that we’d be there?”

“Not really sure that they did. Dru did sometimes have the sight, so it’s just barely possible that what she said was true. More likely it was just a coincidence. Unless of course they’ve got someone on my staff who’s also on their payroll.”

“I don’t believe that. Not Jonathan!”

“Doesn’t have to be Jonathan, pet. Could be any number of people knew he’d gotten us tickets.” He hated the thought that someone in his employ might be a spy, but privately he thought it was the most likely of all the options. Coincidences like that just didn’t happen, not in the real world. And Drusilla’s visions usually weren’t that specific.

Spike didn’t pity his employee if the man were ever caught. But there was nothing that he could do about it right now. It would have to wait until they got home. Besides, right now he was with Buffy. Every moment with Buffy was precious, and he didn’t want to waste the opportunity by worrying.

Buffy was staring out the airplane window, but even he could tell that she wasn’t really looking at anything. She was obviously still shaken up. Perhaps it would be better to get her to talk about it.

He’d have to tread softly, let her set the pace, “Can you tell me how you know Angelus, pet? Tell me what happened between you two, luv?”

Looking ashamed, Buffy turned and lay her head on Spike’s chest. Sighing a few times, she looked down at the coffee table before haltingly starting her story. She supposed that Spike deserved to know. And it wasn’t like Angelus had ruined her life the way he’d ruined Spike’s. She’d only known Angel for a few months. And it had all happened so far back in the past it was almost as ancient as those vases Spike had been so impressed with.

“It was a long time ago. I was still in high school. I was young and naïve. I was flattered by all the attention Angel gave me, all the time and money he spent on me. I thought we were in love.”

She pulled away from Spike then, and leaned against the window so she could look out at the clouds below them. She spoke so softly, she almost hoped that Spike couldn’t hear her. But she wasn’t going to repeat herself, whether he caught every word or not. He’d get the gist. Undoubtedly he already had figured out what had happened, or most of it.

“I thought we were in love,” she whispered. “So I gave myself to him. He… Angel was my first. He told me his name was Angel. If I live forever I will never forget the hateful things he said to me… afterward.”

She turned away from the window, looking down at her clasped hands, before raising her eyes to meet the blue of the man sitting next to her. Her next words were louder; almost as if she wished Spike would reassure her, tell her that it wasn’t true.

“After I gave in to him, he dumped me like I was nothing! Not only that, he told me it was all my fault, that I wasn’t good enough! I felt so awful. Here I was, barely seventeen, and the man I thought I loved, the man who’d just taken my virginity, was telling me I’d never be able to satisfy a man in bed. For a long time I was afraid that there was something wrong with me.”

She turned to look back out at the sky. It was so blue now, like they were turning back time. Like this evening had never happened.

She spoke into the window again, her words turning to fog on the glass, and then disappearing.

“I suppose that on some level I knew it was just an excuse, a lie. Something that he must have been planning all along. But somehow that hurt even more, you know? That I had never meant anything to him at all.” She rested her head against the windowpane and then continued. “He told me he was a student at UC Sunnydale, and that his name was Angel. I never would have put it together that he was really Angelus O’Connor.”

Spike was silent for a moment as he digested what she had just told him. He reached out with his hand and touched her face, then leaned his head next to hers.

“He hurt, you Buffy, and I would go back in time and change it if I could. And don’t think for a minute that that wasn’t exactly what he meant to accomplish. Not a word has ever come from that man’s lips that wasn’t meant to his own advantage, or to hurt someone else. I’m so sorry, kitten.”

“It’s not your fault. And it was a long time ago.” Spike could tell that Buffy was trying to make light of the incident, so for her sake he would try to let it go. “What happened tonight though – Angelus and Dru, it still hurts you, doesn’t it?”

“His being alive hurts me, pet. And I hate to tell you this, but I’m afraid that just maybe it was my fault, what happened to you back then. Angelus was only in Sunnydale because he knew that Dru and I were there. And I’m afraid that he might have picked you to play his games with because he knew that I was friends with your Mum. No doubt he was hoping I’d get wind of the whole affair somehow, and that’d be another way he could hurt me – by hurting the daughter of someone I was close to.”

“I doubt that’s it Spike.” Somehow the thought that Angelus hadn’t even picked her especially, that he’d only chosen to target her because of some association her mother had with Spike, made the whole thing seem even worse. More impersonal. But she wouldn’t tell Spike that. “I was just too young to know any better, and I got burned. No big.”

“But it is big, Buffy. Don’t you see, it’s still influencing you today. Still coloring your relationships with men, your views on sex. Just because Angelus is an evil bastard, doesn’t mean all men are monsters, Buffy.”

He was silent for a moment, then continued, “I love you Buffy, and I don’t want to see you in such pain. I have a friend of mine I think you should see. She’s a therapist, and a damned good one. If that bastard’s been playing with your head, she can help you, Buffy, to get around this emotional wall you’ve built up around yourself. What do you say, pet, are you willing to give it a try?”

Buffy searched his eyes, stunned. She had been staring out the window again. Perhaps she’d misheard. Had he really said what she thought he’d said? “Could you repeat that?”

“I asked if you’d be willing to talk to my friend about your Angelus issues, pet?”

“No, before that.”

Spike thought for a moment. “The part where I said that I cared for you, and don’t want to see you hurting? It’s true pet. Even though we’ve only know each other a little while, I care for you. I want to see you safe and happy. You deserve to be safe and happy. Everyone does.”

He hadn’t even realized what he had said! Did that mean it was true? Was Spike really falling in love with her? God, her life was so complicated. She’d have to find a way to wind this case up quickly. But, what if he really was guilty? What was she going to do then? Because she realized suddenly, she was falling for him too.

Chapter 12: Debriefing

After her return from New York, Buffy decided to stay home an extra day. The events of the trip had been emotionally as well as physically exhausting, and she needed a chance to unwind. She made plans to meet Willow for lunch the next workday. Just seeing her friend and listening to her chatter about unimportant things would go a long way towards making her feel better. And if she had the chance, if it seemed like the right time, she might confide in her friend about recent events.

Buffy and Willow met for lunch at their favorite spot. They hadn’t had a chance to talk for days, and it felt like there was a lot to catch up on. As usual, Willow ordered the soup and Buffy ordered a salad. “So, how was the trip to New York?”

“Good. We had a good time. I bought some new clothes, we went to the museum, we saw, well, we saw part of a play…”

“So what went wrong?” Buffy had tried to put a cheerful face on it, but apparently Willow wasn’t buying it. “Come on, Buffy. You know I can always tell. You’re all ‘Oh, it was good.’ But you don’t really mean it. I could hear it in your voice.” Willow grabbed her hand and put on her resolve face. “Tell me, did he try to make a move on you, Buffy?” Buffy blushed and shook her head, pulling her hand away from her friend’s grasp. “Oh, oh, I know!” I Willow almost shouted. “He did something incriminating, and now you’re upset because you have to report it. Is that it?”

“No, Willow. Nothing like that. He was a perfect gentleman the whole time, and no, he didn’t do anything incriminating. You know I don’t believe that he’s guilty.”

On her official report Buffy had skimmed over the traumatic events of the weekend, focusing instead on their trip to the museum and the conversations they had had. It didn’t seem as if their encounter with Dru and Angelus or their scuffle with thieves had anything at all to do with why she was investigating Spike.

“You really do like him, don’t you Buffy?” Buffy hadn’t said so in so many words, but Willow knew Buffy better than she knew herself.

“Yeah, I really do. So it kinda sucks that I have to keep this whole investigation thing a secret from him. I mean, if it wasn’t for my stupid job, I think I might really be falling for him.”

“Stupid job! Sometimes I think I hate it!” Willow moaned. She tried to hide it, but Buffy had been Willow’s best friend for forever. Buffy wasn’t usually percepto girl, but even she could tell that whatever was making Willow teary-eyed over her soup probably had very little to do with Buffy’s inner conflict over someone she was assigned to investigate.

“What’s the matter Willow? Why are you crying?”

Although there was a lot that Buffy had hoped to add to the conversation, she knew when she had been trumped. Still, they had been talking about her problems before Willow burst into tears.

“Why are you upset about work, Willow? You’re not the one who has to hide things from her boyfriend. That’s why you and Oz are so perfect together. Even though he is all ‘action man’ and you’re all ‘computer girl.’” As soon as the words left her mouth, a horrible thought struck Buffy for the first time. Oz worked with them at the Agency, but as Buffy had implied, unlike the girls, Oz took a much more active roll in fighting crime. “Willow, nothing happened to Oz while I was gone, did it?”

“Not the way you mean, no.” Willow used the napkin in her lap to dab her eyes. “But something must have happened. He refuses to tell me about it. But he’s just been acting strange lately. The last few days, I don’t know …but he’s been talking about leaving the Bureau. Going back to civilian life.” Willow was so upset she could barely get out the words. “He wants to buy a house in Cleveland.”

“Cleveland?” Buffy was stunned. “Where does Cleveland come into this?”

“Oh, he has family there or something.” Willow tried to dismiss Cleveland as unimportant, but of course it wasn’t. “Buffy, I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t know if I can just pick up my life and move to Cleveland and get a job in some car factory or something! And you know the worst part?”

“What Willow?” Buffy could barely imagine the consequences if Willow picked up and moved to Cleveland with Oz. She knew it was selfish of her, but she would miss her friend so much. They had been best friends since high school. Other than a few almost friends she knew from work, Willow was the only friend she could share her double life with. “What’s the worst part, Willow?”

“He hasn’t even asked me if I’d be willing to go!”

“Oh Willow,” Buffy commiserated. Now she was the one holding the redhead’s hand.

“It’s just, I’m sure he understands how hard it would be for you to make a decision like that, Willow,” Buffy rationalized. “I’m sure its not that he doesn’t want you to follow him to Cleveland. It’s just that he wants you to do what is best for you, not what is best for him. He’s trying not to make it worse for you, by taking the decision away from you. Making it seem like he doesn’t want you, even if we all know that’s just not true.” Buffy wasn’t sure that this was coming out right at all, so she decided to try to put it another way.

“He’s a man, Willow. He’s bound to think that he knows what is best for you. Regardless of what he does or doesn’t say, Willow, you need to make your own decision, and then let him know what it is. If you love each other, you should stay together.”

“Stupid men, think they know everything.”

“Yeah. Men can be pretty dense sometimes.” Buffy agreed. “The two of you need to talk about it some more. Find out what’s changed for him. It’ll be all right, Willow. I’m sure it will.”

The two friends ate in silence as they each tried to regain their composure.

“All I can say is that I hope that somebody somewhere had a good weekend, because it sure as heck wasn’t us.”

Willow had stopped sniveling, and smiled at her friend, as she thought of some good news that she could share. “Oh. Oh, Buffy. I know what I forgot to tell you. The good weekend? It was Xander and Anya. They got engaged.”

“Engaged? As in promised to marry?” Sometimes it was hard to imagine that Xander was old enough to date, let alone get married. He still acted like such a teenager sometimes.

“Yeah. Kinda weird, isn’t it?”

“Way weird if you ask me. But if Xander isn’t bothered by Anya’s past, who are we to protest?” Buffy tried to be all open-minded girl, but sometimes it was hard for her. And Anya’s constant candid talk about sex made her feel uncomfortable.

“Yeah, But you gotta remember, Buffy, it’s Xander we’re talking about. If it was longer ago than last week, then he’s already forgotten about it.”

“I suppose so. Still, I can see dating Anya. But marrying her? Something else entirely.”

“Buffy, you shouldn’t hold it against her.” Anya’s frank mannerisms had also taken Willow by surprise, but she’d gotten used to it by now. “And it’s not like Anya’s tried to hide her past from anyone. Xander knows what he’s getting into.”

“Kinda makes you wonder what she could possibly see in Xander.” Buffy often wondered what other women seemed to see in Xander that she didn’t.

“Does kind of make you wonder. But we all know that she’s not like that anymore. She owns a store now, she’s a perfectly normal girl who just used to work as a hooker, that’s all.”

“Of course.” Still unconvinced, Buffy knew it was time to let it go. After all, she wasn’t the one who was going to have to live with her.

“You should have seen her Buffy. She was so happy you would have thought someone told her she was the long lost Queen of England. So, that’s where our good weekend went. Xander and Anya used up our happiness quotient, and I guess we were both stuck with the really suckie weekends.”

“Well, I hope their new found happiness wears off pretty quickly, Willow, and they start sharing some with us.” Once again Buffy wasn’t sure that that came out quite the way that she meant it. “Well, you know what I mean. Because another weekend like this last one? I don’t think I could handle it.”

13. Debriefing, part 2


Later that same night, an exhausted William Thorndale had also decided that a visit to his best friend was in order.

“You okay, Spike?”

Coming from Tara, the question wasn’t casual. Tara was always happy whenever Spike contacted her, but usually that was by phone. When he showed up unannounced at her office; that was bad.

“Not sure, Glinda. Came by for some more of your magic.”

“You sleeping okay?”

“Yeah, alright I guess.” Carelessly he ran his hand through his hair, and smiled. It brought out the lines on his face; he didn’t look like he’d been sleeping okay. “Though another prescription might not be a bad idea,” he reluctantly admitted.

“So what happened?” He had seemed so happy lately. “That girl you been seeing decide to dump you?”

“Nah. At least, not yet. We’ve been getting on great. It’s just…”

“Just what?” What caused him to show up outside her office looking so haggard?

“Took her to New York. Some stuff happened.”

“Are you going to tell me about it, or am I going to have to drag it out of you? Here – why don’t we go back inside the office and get comfortable? I have a feeling this might take awhile.”

Taking out her keys, Tara unlocked the office she had just closed. She turned on the small lamp by the desk, and threw her coat over the back of a chair, then sat down, ready to give him the same attention she would a patient.

In contrast, Spike kept his leather jacket on, as if he were ready to bolt any moment. He pulled a second chair around and sat, not quite facing Tara. His legs were splayed wide in that posture a woman could never get away with, his elbows resting on his knees and holding his head between his hands. He didn’t look up at Tara when he spoke.

“Ran into Angelus and Dru in New York.”

Tara tried not to betray how startled she was. “Did you speak to them?”

“More like they spoke to me. And Buffy. Turns out the bastard knew Buffy back in Sunnydale. Did a right number on her too.” He looked directly at Tara then; it was easier to look at her when he was talking about some one else. “I recommended she call you, Glinda. If there’s anyone can help her out, it’s you.”

“Buffy, that’s the girl you’ve been seeing?” She waited for his nod before she continued. She could hardly imagine how painful that must have been for her friend and said as much.

“Painful isn’t the word for it, luv,” Spike replied. “It was downright humiliating. And I just stood there and took it.”

“Sometimes it hard to know the right thing to do,” she answered. “Especially when the person you’re dealing with isn’t reasonable.”

“I wish I’d killed the bastard.” Tara could tell they weren’t just empty words as Spike’s hands involuntarily curled into fists. “Right there in the lobby of the theatre. Poofter deserved it.”

“You never would have done a thing like that.” Whatever she heard, Tara always tried to strike a moderate and non-committal tone. It was what she was trained to do as a counselor.

“True enough.” Spike relaxed his fists and stood. “You should have seen how Buffy was shaking after we left! At least now I know why the girl keeps running hot and cold. It seems like she wants me, but then she changes her mind.”

“Maybe you just need to give her time, Spike.”

“Suppose you’re right.” He hadn’t really thought of it that way. Their relationship still was kind of new, time wise. It’s just that to him they felt so perfect together, it was sometimes difficult to realize she might not feel the same way. “You think I should back off for a while, give her some space, see how it goes? Maybe if she comes round to talk to you she’ll feel a little more confident in herself.”

“Do you know what happened between Angelus and this girl? Buffy? Maybe if you two talked about it, you’d both feel better.”

“Already talked, for all the good it did. As to what happened, same thing as always. Evil and decadence corrupted youth and innocence, then kicked it where it hurts the most. This happened years ago, Tara, and the girl’s still reeling from it.”

Tara refrained from voicing her thoughts, ‘just like you, Spike.’ Instead she asked, “What about Drusilla?”

“Dru? She had some mad idea that the four of us should all get together and re-live old times. Like that would ever happen. She’s madder now than when I first brought her to you. Don’t know why I should have expected any different. I think he encourages it.”

“You may be right,” Tara answered. She could feel that the tension was still thick in the room when it should have begun to clear. Something else was bothering him. “What else happened in New York, Spike? What aren’t you telling me?”

Spike looked sideways at Tara with a sad smile. “You always know, don’t you?”

Tara shrugged her shoulders. “You’re still pretty undone Spike. If Drusilla was what you came here to talk about, you should have relaxed by now. So what else could upset you more than Angelus and Dru?”

There was no help for it. He knew when he came that Tara would somehow get the truth out of him. “I killed a man.” He sighed, “Possibly two.”

“I see.” Tara remained calm. She knew her role was to sit back and let her clients express their emotions. She wasn’t the law and she wasn’t here to condone or condemn Spike’s actions. Just to help him decide for himself how to deal with it and where to go from here. Still, no comment at all could be taken for tacit consent, so, “I take it there were no police involved?”

“No.” Spike shook his head and smiled ruefully. “No police. But to be fair, it was in self-defense. There were four of them and only two of us. And one of them had a gun.”

Spike looked at the pictures on Tara’s desk. The family she never talked about, even after almost ten years. And the pictures hadn’t changed in all that time. The people in them never grew any older, and he wondered what that meant. What private pains Tara was carrying.

“They were going to hurt Buffy, Tara. I didn’t see what else I could have done.” It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was as close as he was willing to come.

“So you feel totally justified in what you did. You were protecting your friend. I take it they attacked you.”

“Yeah, course they did, Glinda. Idiots wanted my wallet. I’d handed it over, no problem. But then they decided that wasn’t enough.” The clenched fists were back. “So they got what they deserve.”

“So what you’re saying is that you feel totally justified and you’re not sorry you did it? If that’s true, why are you here talking to me?”

Tara was always perceptive, and she didn’t pull any punches.

“I didn’t tell Buffy.” Spike was back in that hunched position on the chair. “Don’t get me wrong, she was there, she saw the whole thing and knew there was no other choice. In fact Buffy incapacitated two of the bastards herself, or those bastards might have killed us instead of the other way round. But she didn’t know the thugs I’d dealt with were deaders, and I didn’t feel the need to enlighten her.”

“So you feel guilty about lying to her.”

“Didn’t lie.” Spike insisted. He always had had a twisted sense of honor, and it always surprised her the way it manifested itself. “Didn’t tell one single lie. Just didn’t tell the truth is all. That’s another thing completely.”

“It is if you think it is,” Tara agreed. “Does it make you feel better that you didn’t have to actually lie to her, this girl you’re seeing?”

“Not really. See, it bothers me, but that’s still not what’s at the heart of it. I know why I came to see you today, Tara; it’s not like its some big insight into my personality. Yeah, all this stuff that happened, it was bad. Way bad. Maybe by itself it would have been enough to bring me here to see you. But that’s not what’s got me running scared.”

“Then what is it, Spike?” Tara was perplexed. What had happened to him over the weekend was more than enough to bring a normal person running for counseling, but for someone who was already so close to the edge…?

“I didn’t choose to do it, Tara. Like you said, I feel totally justified in killing those thugs, for what they were threatening to do to Buffy. But I didn’t choose it. It just, sort of, happened. One second I was all calm and thinking about how I was going to take them down, not kill mind, just take them down so we could get away. And then the next second there I am sitting on the street pounding one of them into the pavement while the other’s bleeding in the gutter from a cracked skull. Buffy had to pull me off the bloke. I don’t remember any of it. Something in me just snapped, and suddenly two men are dead. I lost control and couldn’t stop by myself. If Buffy hadn’t of been with me, I might have stayed there bashing that thug’s brains onto the curb until the police arrived, with no memory at all of what I had done.”

“It’s all right, Spike. Sometimes, in extreme situations, when people are pushed like that, people do things that they wouldn’t normally do. It’s okay. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You were protecting your girl the best way you knew how and things got out of hand. You should have contacted the police, let them deal with it. Things would probably be a lot simpler for you if you had. I can’t say that I can condone taking someone’s life like that, but I can understand what happened. You’re going to be all right Spike. I promise.”

“Wish I could believe you, pet. I really do.”

14. Consultation

Buffy made it to Thursday before she felt like she was going to explode. She hadn’t been able to unburden at all to Willow, who was busy with her own problems. And Xander was far too happy over his engagement to sit still for a serious talk, even if she had been willing to confide in him.

The muted but happy tones of the office seemed well suited to its purpose. The colors were bland enough that they wouldn’t offend anyone, while the offsetting decorations were vibrant and richly colored so that the office seemed welcoming rather than sterile. Although nothing in the office could be called expensive, it was put together so well, and in such good taste, that it felt like someone’s living room rather than a reception area.

She had argued with herself every step of the way over, but now that she was here, Buffy knew that she could relax. Spike had gone out of his way to make sure that she knew that whatever went on inside of this office, would stay between her and the psychiatrist. He had made it abundantly clear that although he had set up these appointments, whatever she discussed here would remain private.

Once Buffy had glimpsed the name on the office door, she no longer had any reservations whatsoever, except to kick herself in the shin for being an idiot. Now that she knew Spike’s friend was actually Tara McClay…she felt like laughing the relief was so great. Both the relief and the irony. The irony was not lost on her.

Nor apparently on Tara, as the older woman grinned broadly when she opened the door. Ushering Buffy inside the inner office, both women had to struggle to contain their laughter before they both burst out giggling.

Tara was the first to speak. “I thought it might be you. As soon as Spike said your name was Buffy, I just knew. I mean, LA is a big city, but even in LA there aren’t many girls named Buffy. And then when he called to set up the appointments, well I’m pretty sure there’s only one Buffy Summers.”

Buffy had known that Tara kept an office downtown, and that she saw outside clients, but until now Buffy had never had any reason to talk to Tara much. She felt like such a fool. When she had started having problems with her assignment, Tara was the logical person that Buffy should have turned to. Tara was the Agency Psych.

“You do know who recommended you, don’t you? Officially, this meeting never happened.” Buffy thought that Spike would die if he knew who his ‘friend’ really was; that she worked for the same criminal investigation agency as Buffy. “Of all the people in the world, Spike sets up an appointment for me with you! Who would have thought?”

Tara grinned, enjoying the joke fate had played on them all. “You know Spike, only the best will do.”

“And you, Tara are the best,” Buffy agreed easily. The Agency was in the habit of employing only the best and brightest too. And that had meant Tara.

“Geesh,” Buffy continued, “I can’t imagine what Spike would do if he knew what else you do for to earn a living!”

“Probably be about as shocked as he would if he found out where you really fit in,” Tara shrugged, then sobered. “Would I be wrong if I guessed that he’s your assignment?”

“Yes, he is. Spike knew my mother, and came to her retrospective. When Giles found out that I knew him, he immediately assigned me to the investigation.”

Tara sat behind her desk, all professional now. “How’s that going for you?”

Buffy sat down opposite her. “Depends on how you look at it. According to Giles it’s going slow, because he wants me to get a look inside Spike’s house, which I haven’t managed to do yet.”

“And according to you?”

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but I will because I know that Spike thinks of you as a friend.” For the first time Buffy narrowed her eyes and looked at Tara critically. “Are you his friend, Tara?”

“I am, Buffy. Have been for quite a while. I knew Spike before I ever started working for the Agency. So you can feel free to tell me what you really feel.” With a smile Tara continued, “Of course I’d have to point out that that is what I would say in any case, even if Spike was just a stranger.”

“All right then, Tara. And I need you to agree that anything we discuss is off the record. I won’t feel comfortable confiding in you if I know that you’re going to report everything I say to Giles. Besides, like I said, this is Spike’s nickel; neither of us is on Agency time right now.”

“Buffy, it doesn’t matter who is paying the bill or where we have a discussion. Everything said to me in confidence remains in confidence. I don’t report on my clients – not even to the boss. Unless I feel that they may become a danger to themselves or others. That’s different. But if you’re feeling conflicted about any part of your job – well, that’s what I’m here for. You can feel safe telling me anything.”

“Alright Tara. Since you know Spike yourself, I guess you’re in a tough place too. So maybe you’ll understand me when I say that I am quickly coming to the point where I’m not completely sure what I would do if I did find anything suspicious. Spike seems like a good man. I don’t want to be the reason he gets sent to jail.”

“As Agency psychiatrist, I’d have to say that you need to be careful not to let your undercover persona become too real. Not to get too close to the subject of your investigation, or let your emotions get in the way of your job. But as Spike’s friend, has anything in his behavior led you to believe that he is in fact guilty?”

“That’s just it, Tara. I can’t even tally how much time we’ve spent together, and he certainly hasn’t done anything suspicious that I’ve seen. Except that he doesn’t seem to want to invite me over to see his place, though I’ve asked loads of times. Giles just seems so sure that something is going on. But I have a hard time thinking of Spike doing that sort of thing.”

“It’s hard to tell what people will or won’t do given the proper motivation.” She thought of what Spike had confessed to her only the other night about the altercation in New York. “My first reaction would be to agree with you – I don’t think that Spike would do anything shady. Certainly not for personal gain. But I could imagine a circumstance where he might do something illegal. And I know for certain that he done some things he feels remorse about.”

Tara tried to put herself in Buffy’s shoes, and thought a little longer about the man she had known for almost ten years. In all that time, had she seen or heard him do anything that she would have to report? She sighed, “I know Spike sometimes deals with people who live on the wrong side of the law. I’ve even met some of them. But would I have felt a need to report it? No. Some of the so-called shady characters I’ve met seemed a lot more honest than many supposedly solid citizens. For example, have you met Warren Meers yet? That guy just gives me the creeps.”

Buffy looked askance at the woman she thought she knew. “But you, who work for the number one criminal investigation agency in the country, didn’t feel a need to report it who you met someone who admitted to breaking the law?”

“No, I didn’t.” Tara moved from behind the desk and took the chair next to Buffy. She wanted to make sure that the other woman understood what she meant. “There are some crimes where no one gets hurt, Buffy. And sometimes the legal alternative is even worse for all involved. What I’m referring to was a perfect arrangement for everyone involved. No one was getting hurt or taken advantage of. So no, I saw no reason to report it.”

“You’re not going explain what exactly you’re talking about, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” Tara smiled, “But if you want to ask Spike about his dealings with a woman named Glory, he’d probably be willing to tell you. Besides, that was a long time ago – right after he’d broken up with Dru. I doubt he’s even talked to Glory in years.”

“That was about five years ago, wasn’t it? You realize he still seems pretty bent out of shape about a break up that happened five years ago.”

Under the excuse of studying the prints on the wall, Buffy got up and starting pacing around the small office. A new idea came to her.

“Is that how you two met? Spike…he wasn’t a client, was he?” Somehow the word client seemed to have fewer negative connotations than ‘patient.’ “I mean, I know you can’t tell me that, but he doesn’t talk to you about – personal matters – does he?”

Tara shook her head. “Not really, no. Except as a friend. As I said, Spike and I are friends, Buffy, it’s not an act.” For her friend’s sake, Tara was glad to see that Buffy winced at that. “Even if Spike knows nothing about my ‘dark side.’ And like you said, even if he had come to see me professionally, you know I couldn’t tell you about it. All I’ll say is that he did go through a very rough time when Drusilla left him. It wasn’t something he got over easily. Like you said, he still isn’t over it entirely, maybe he never will be. Especially since she left him for another man, someone Spike hates.”

“I know.” Tara was watching Buffy closely, and could almost see the shudder as it ran through the younger girl. “We ran into Angelus and Dru in New York. It’s sort of why I’m here, actually. Turns out I knew Angelus back in Sunnydale. When I was still in high school. Once Spike found that out, he nearly pushed me into your office. But it was a long, long time ago. It hardly matters now.”

“I did wonder why he was so insistent that I make room in my schedule to see you. He was very upset, Buffy.” She looked Buffy in the eyes and told her the truth. “Spike told me that his girlfriend needed help. He told me you’d be brutalized, and that you had problems with intimacy.”

Tara paused for a breath and then continued, “And you’re wrong, Buffy. In my profession you learn that everything matters. It’s not that you can’t get past it, it’s just that every experience we have leaves its mark on us. It’s part of what makes each of us unique. Why don’t you tell me about it?

“It’s silly Tara.” Buffy started moving again, looking out the window this time. “I was young and foolish, and I got hurt. Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

“So Spike is wrong, and you don’t have problems with intimacy?”

“Of course not!” She turned and faced her friend. “It’s just that this is a case, Tara. And I won’t sleep with him as part of the investigation. I’m not like Faith or some of the others.”

“And yet if you notice that wasn’t what I said. Spike told me you had problems with intimacy, Buffy, that you were afraid to let anyone get to too close. He didn’t say a word about sex.” It was an important distinction that Buffy didn’t seem to be making. “Buffy, Spike didn’t send you to me so that I could convince you to have sex with him. He sent you to me because he thinks you need help.”

“Right. I SO do not need help, Tara.” Buffy began to collect her things from the chair. “I’m fine.”

“Of course you are. It’s just that you’re lying to a man you’re strongly attracted to, and don’t quite know how to handle it. Am I wrong? Buffy, it’s my job to help you deal with that.”

Buffy sat down again in the chair. “It’s harder than I thought it would be. I thought it would be all one way or the other, but this not knowing, it’s killing me.”

“And you don’t think that you need anyone to talk to about the conflict you’re feeling? Buffy, we all need someone to listen to our problems. To help us sound things out. It’s natural. Let me be your friend, Buffy. Anything you need to, you can confide in me.”

“Thank you Tara. I think you’re right. Willow wants to be helpful, but she is going through some things of her own with Oz right now, and she just doesn’t understand what I am going through. She doesn’t think it’s important. Spike is just a file to her. She can’t see how difficult it is for me to do my job, when I have these feelings…”

“Maybe it’s time you changed all that. Let her put a voice and face to the file. Get another unbiased opinion. Even if you just ran into each other casually, once she’d met him she’d have a much better appreciation for what you’re going through.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Why not? If you trust him, what difference would it make? Besides, Willow knows the score. She might even be able to help you out a little. Think about it. It’s just a suggestion. I think we should meet once a week.”

“All right, Tara,” Buffy agreed. It would be good to have someone to discuss Spike with. Once again Buffy rose to leave, but Tara put her hand on her arm. “Your hour isn’t over. Why don’t you talk about your other problem?”

“Other problem?” Buffy sounded puzzled.

“Angelus. You do know that when his name came up your whole body just trembled, as if you couldn’t stop yourself? Judging from that I’d say whatever it was that happened between you left a lot of unresolved feelings behind.” She took Buffy’s purse away from her again and started leading her back towards the chairs. “I guess I can take it from that reaction that seeing Angelus again brought back unpleasant memories.”

“It’s not that, Tara,” Buffy prevaricated. “It’s just that Angelus was so deliberately cruel in New York. I can’t imagine why anyone in their right mind would leave Spike for that bastard, Angelus.”

“Ah. So you’re no longer offended on your own part, now you hate and fear Angelus because you know he’s hurt Spike? That is what you’re saying, isn’t it Buffy? Maybe that means that you care for Spike a lot more than you’d like to think.”

“Oh, you are good,” Buffy moaned. “In that gee I wish I’d been talking to someone else kinda way. So now you either want me to admit to deeper feelings for the man I’m investigating, or feelings left over from an affair that ended after one night over ten years ago.”

“Or both.” Tara encouraged, her smile taking some of the sting out of the words. “If you were willing to admit to both, then I could say we made some real progress today.”

Buffy stood up to leave, determined this time. “I don’t think so. Anything between me and Angelus I got over a long time ago, and anything between me and Spike, well, that’s between me and Spike.”

Thrusting open the office door, Buffy stormed out into the hall.

Tara peered her head out and called after her, “Thursdays from four to five.” Grinning, the shy blonde headed back to her desk to write down some notes. Buffy would be back, she knew she would.

15. Bronzing It

For perhaps the thousandth time that day, Buffy was second-guessing herself. Tara had made the original suggestion, and Buffy had thought it over for a week before putting her plan in action. Buffy and her friends were going to be out at a club, and she had invited Spike to drop by casually, as if it were a coincidence. That way she would have a chance to see how well he got along with her friends without any pressure. If things went badly, Spike could simply leave.

She couldn’t remember feeling so nervous since this whole thing had begun; that first night Spike had picked her up in the Limo. Perhaps that wasn’t the best thought – that night hadn’t gone exactly to plan, in fact nothing about their ‘relationship’ had gone according to plan. Obviously the evening was bound to turn into a huge disaster one way or another. She just didn’t know how yet. The universe seemed to take a perverse delight in smashing her plans to pieces.

Buffy had been surprised a few years back when a club calling itself The Bronze had opened in LA. It was almost exactly like the one she remembered from Sunnydale, from the catwalk and the sleazy upper level where couples went to make out, down to the homegrown and rough and ready quality of the live entertainment. Going to the club now felt a bit like turning back the clock. Especially when she planned on meeting Xander, Willow and Oz there, like she did tonight. Only difference was that tonight Xander would be with his new fiancée, Anya, instead of Cordy. And of course they would all be meeting Spike for the first time.

Willow had been against the idea, because she knew how Buffy and Spike had started their relationship, and Xander was against it just on principle. But Oz had no preconceived ideas (even though he worked for the Agency, he didn’t know about Spike), and of course Anya would also be more than willing to give Buffy her unvarnished opinion of Spike. Probably right to his face, too. Anya just wasn’t shy about the things most people were – perhaps because of the life she had led.

Sometimes she wasn’t too sure if Xander and Anya were really going to make it. They didn’t seem to have the same kind of chemistry that Willow and Oz had. Those two she could totally see in a house in the country surrounded by annoying grandbabies. Even if it was a house in the suburbs of Cleveland.

“Hey.”

“Hey Oz. Willow. How’s things?”

“Can’t complain, ‘cause you wouldn’t listen anyway. Besides, it’s Saturday. Always a day for celebration.”

Some people just didn’t get Oz, but Buffy totally did. And he was totally into Willow. Which worked out well, because Buffy knew that Willow was totally into Oz. Of course Willow was clueless. Until this latest rift about quitting work Buffy had been sure that Oz was thinking about popping the question and Buffy feared she would be stuck with yet another hideous bridesmaid dress. Sometimes she just wished that Xander and Anya would decide to elope. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her friends. Its just that she was so tired of endless discussions of the details. Especially since Anya would ask for her opinion, and then ignore her advice.

Even though it was Saturday night, Xander still looked frazzled as he led Anya to the table. The cause of his distress was immediately obvious. Anya had brought a wedding planning book with her to the Bronze. The woman was obsessed!

“Hi, Buffy.” Anya said brightly completely unaware of her intended’s mood. “I need to ask your opinion. Do you think we should have a wedding cake and a groom’s cake, or is that just too much? Because the wedding planner says we should have both, but I just don’t know. It seems like an awful lot of money for just cake, and a second cake at that. Do you think that Xander deserves a cake of his own? And I hate to waste money, but I want to do what’s traditional. What do you think?”

“I think you’re totally right, Anya.” If it didn’t matter what she said, she may as well agree with her friend. “Those caterers want too much money for cake. But maybe if you wanted you could buy some Twinkies or something and kind of put them together with frosting and call that your groom’s cake.”

“No, Buffy no!” Willow had finally arrived. “Don’t even say it in jest! Anya will totally take you seriously and then what? The wedding will be all tacky and awful and it will be all your fault!”

“Doesn’t sound so awful to me,” Xander bravely offered his opinion. For the most part he was learning to keep his mouth shut, but every once in a while he forgot that he was supposed to be a disinterested party, even if it was his wedding. It was hard for him to understand that although Anya kept asking his opinion on things she really didn’t want his input.

“Yeah, like what’s the worst that would happen? You forget to freeze a piece of groom’s cake and find it under your bed a year later, and it’s like totally fine. What’s wrong with that?” Oz had no such compunctions about getting involved. He hadn’t spent nearly as much time around Anya as the others and didn’t realize that he was stepping into a virtual minefield. Besides, he seemed to enjoy getting the girls riled up.

“Daniel Osbourne, you are a genius.” Anya almost looked as if she were going to kiss him, but settled for a giving him a hug instead. “If I wasn’t already engaged to Xander, I think I might want to be married to you instead. That is, if I was looking for a man with a large brain instead of a large…”

Quickly Xander put his hand over his bride’s mouth. “Maybe we men folk should go play pool for a while. Let the ladies work on the wedding plans without us.”

“Sure thing.” Oz agreed moving away from the girls and towards the pool tables. “Though I don’t understand why you stopped her. Seems like she was about to say something complimentary.”

“Trust me on this. Once Anya gets started talking about her favorite subject she doesn’t stop. That’s why I put up with all the discussion about the wedding. Keeps her from blurting out other inappropriate details.”

“Really? I’ll have to spend more time around you guys. Maybe Anya could give me and Willow some pointers. Never can be too rich or too thin. Or at least that’s how the saying goes. Of course it’s not really true. I mean, yeah, I agree with the rich part – but too thin – that one is definitely doable.”

“I know why you and Anya could never get married, Oz.” Xander replied while he began racking up the balls. “The two of you’d each talk the other to death. And here I used to think you were the quiet guy.”

“I am. Sometimes. Just now is not one of those times. Guess I’m a little hyped up.” Oz took the cue and broke the balls. “All this talk of weddings and I’m starting to think me and Willow might be next. Either that or I’m gonna pick up and move to Cleveland. Or both. I’m kinda thinking I’ll wait a bit and see how things go with you two first.”

“Really?” In the excitement of Oz’s mention of another possible wedding, Xander completely dismissed his friend’s offhand reference to Cleveland. “That’d be great man! Congratulations!”

“I haven’t decided yet. Like I said, I’m just trying to examine all the angles.” With that he sunk the eight ball and won the game. Oz looked back at the girls chatting happily at the table with their drinks and pouring over the wedding book. He tried to imagine what Willow would look like as a bride, but just gave it up. He’d have to wait and see.

~~**~~

Buffy was trying to be enthusiastic. Really, she was. But it wasn’t her wedding they were talking about, and she wasn’t sure that she would care that much even if it were. Stifling a yawn, she tried to excuse herself to get another round of drinks.

“I’ll go, Buffy.” Anya said unexpectedly. “I want to see if I can get close enough to the guys to hear what they’re talking about. I think they’re planning Xander’s bachelor party, and I want to have some say. If they’re going to go and hire strippers or something, I want to make sure that they know who to go to.”

Trust Anya to have both an ulterior motive and a sleazy thing to say. At least it gave Willow and Buffy a respite from the wedding talk. Now they could talk about Buffy’s date, who had yet to arrive.

“So, tell me some more about Spike, Buffy. All I’ve heard is Xander’s assessment, and I know that he’s biased against Spike. Not that I’m not. I mean, well, you know what I mean. I know the real reason why you’re seeing him. What I don’t know is why you are bringing him here, to meet us? What’s going on with you, Buffy?”

“It was Tara’s idea. She said…”

“Tara? You mean Tara from work? Why would she suggest…?”

“You’re never gonna believe this, Willow. She and Spike are friends, and have been for like years. I think she agrees with me that there’s something fishy behind this whole investigation, and I know she agrees with me that Spike is totally innocent. Both my mom and Tara think he’s a really good guy, and I want you to meet him so I can get your opinion too. We can’t all be wrong, can we?”

“I suppose, if you say so, Buffy. But you know Giles and his ‘smoke and fire’ speech. I mean if Spike’s really such a great guy and everything, why the big covert operation?”

“I don’t know, Willow. Not to fight one cliché with another, but just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they really aren’t out to get you.”

“You think he’s being set up?”

“I think it’s possible. A man that rich has got to have made some enemies along the way. There are some pretty evil people out there. Trust me on this Willow. I met two of them last week in New York, and believe me, that pair is capable of anything.”

“Who?”

“Angelus O’Connor and Drusilla Thorndale. Spike’s ex-wife and her new flame.”

“Buffy, why haven’t you told me about this? I’m your best friend, you’re supposed to tell me everything.”

“I tried, Will. But you were all undone about Oz and this Cleveland bit. At least it seems like that is one crisis that has passed.” Over Willow’s shoulder Buffy noticed Spike’s distinctive blonde hair coming towards them through the crowd. “He’s here. Act like you don’t see him and let him find us.”

“Act like I don’t see him? Buffy, I don’t see him. I don’t even know him, except from his picture… which he looks way better than.” Without warning one of the hottest looking guys Willow had ever seen was standing at by their table. Far more attractive in person than he was in his file picture. But then those weren’t meant to be flattering.

Tentatively she held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Willow Rosenberg, you must be William Thorndale.”

“Please, call me Spike, almost everyone does. I’m pleased to meet you, Willow.”

Willow was stunned when he greeted Buffy with a kiss on the cheek and casually made himself at home sliding into the chair Anya had only recently vacated.

“I’d like to say Buffy has told me a lot about you, but it’d be a lie. Your name hasn’t really come up much.”

Willow wasn’t sure how to respond to that one. The blunt statement sounded like something Anya would say.

“Except that I know you’re good mates and all,” Spike continued. You and that Xander fellow. Don’t think he likes me much, so I’m hoping you’ll be the push over. There’s supposed to be a few more people you wanted me to meet, aren’t there kitten?”

“Yes, Willow’s boyfriend Oz, Xander and his fiancé, Anya.” Buffy gestured helplessly. “They’re all here somewhere.”

Pushing her way through the crowds, sans any drinks, Anya was slowly making her way back to the table. “I’m back, Buffy, Willow. The boys weren’t planning the bachelor party, they were planning something much more exciting. I’ll tell you about it later. Is this the guy you wanted us all to meet?”

All Anya could see at the moment was the back of a blonde head where the man in question was sitting in what had been her seat and talking to her friends.

“Spike,” Buffy pulled on his arm, forcing him to turn around in his chair. “Come meet Xander’s fiancé, Anya.”

“Pleased to meet you…” recognition and another emotion that Buffy couldn’t name flashed in his eyes. “Anyanka?”

“Spike!” In contrast, Anya’s eyes were almost as easy to read as the tone of her voice and the words out of her mouth. Buffy hadn’t seen them sparkle like that since the last time Anya had shown off her engagement ring. “It’s been ages since I last saw you!” She gave Spike an even more enthusiastic hug than the one she’d given Oz earlier. “How have you been?”

“I’m good pet.”

Just a few steps behind her, Xander was making his way over to the table. “Wait a minute,” he interrupted, looking from his fiancée to Spike and back again. “I take it that you two know each other?”

“Of course we don’t.” Anya had her hands on her hips – never a good sign. “I don’t just run up and hug total strangers.”

For a girl who was usually so frank, it took Xander a moment to catch on to the sarcasm in her voice. So he could perhaps be forgiven if a barely whispered “Not anymore, you don’t,” escaped his lips before he had time to call it back.

Nevertheless, it was totally lost on Anya, who was still talking. “I’ve known Spike longer than I’ve known you, Xander.”

Spike was praying that she would leave it at that. What the whelp didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. But of course both men knew Anya too well for that. She would never keep quiet when there was something awkward that had been left unsaid.

“Spike was, like, my best client ever."


______

I left lots and lots of hints. Did you guys toally see that coming or not? Please review, it makes me write faster.

16. Some Explaining to Do

When Xander had asked his fiancée how they knew one another, Spike had started sweating. As soon as he had seen Anyanka, Spike knew the truth would come out one way or another, but he had held a fleeting hope that she would be a little more tactful. The unvarnished words that came out of her mouth were still reverberating in his head; ‘Spike was my best client ever.’

She could have easily glossed over the truth, or simply said that they had lived together for a while and left it at that. But trust Anyanka to call a spade a spade.

As far as things he wanted his new girlfriend to hear about him, that was about at the bottom of the list. He couldn’t imagine that the whelp was very happy about it either. He was looking a little green around the gills, but Xander still hadn’t said anything. Was it possible that he hadn’t heard? Perhaps they could ignore it.

Spike turned to Anyanka. “Do I understand correctly that you’re the one engaged to Buffy’s friend Xander?”

“Yep, that’d be me.” Anya’s enthusiasm was undiminished. “See the ring? It’s 1.5 carats, and…”

“I’m glad that life’s been good to you, Anyanka,” he took her hand to get a better look at the ring. He knew if he didn’t stop her right away that she’d go on and on about the particulars, so Spike had cut her off quickly by making appropriate noises. “I’m happy you found what you wanted, pet.”

Aside from the high disgust factor of his prior relationship with Anya, Buffy thought that Spike seemed to have a knack for talking with her that Xander sometimes lacked. He didn’t give her the opportunity to prattle on about things no one else was interested in. He just interrupted when he wanted to say something. Still, Buffy knew Spike well enough to know that something in his tone was off. It was more than just the obvious embarrassment any normal person who wasn’t Anya would feel. She just couldn’t put her finger on what it was, until she saw his eyes. Spike hadn’t denied Anya’s words, but he looked like they had hurt him, although he was trying not to let it show.

“Yes, I have. And I owe it all to you!” She hugged Spike again before stepping back. “Oh, and it’s just Anya now. I gave up the name Anyanka when I gave up the business.”

Xander interrupted again, as if he hadn’t been standing there the whole time. “I take it you two know each other?”

“Oh course. Weren’t you listening? Xander, I’d like you to meet Spike. Spike, this is Xander, my fiancée.” If both Spike and Buffy were silently praying that she wouldn’t repeat her earlier words, no god heard it. “Back when I was a working girl, Spike was my best client.”

Apparently the words finally sank through the cotton in his ears this time, and Xander’s jaw dropped.

Anya continued, oblivious to the feelings of those around her. “Buffy, you are so lucky. Spike’s a demon in the sack. Many orgasms should make you much more pleasant to be around.”

When no one spoke for a few moments, Anya finally noticed Xander’s expression. She wasn’t pleased. “Stop it Xander. You knew I used to work of a living. I never lied to you about that. And I never said that you weren’t a demon in the sack too.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Of course you are! I’m marrying you, aren’t I?”

Still no one knew what to say to that.

Eventually it was Xander who regained his voice, although it came out high and squeaky. “Ahn, now that we’re engaged, could you maybe stop talking about how you used to take money for having sex with other men?”

“It’s not like it should come as any surprise to you, Xander Harris. You knew I used be a professional. Hence the sex with other men. I mean, I didn’t even know you then. It was like ages ago.” Cuddling up to Xander she lay her head on his shoulder. “You’re the only man I want now.”

Xander was beet red. If he wasn’t still so young, he might have looked ready for a heart attack. “Still, knowing about it and actually meeting someone you used to…to… well, that’s two totally different things!”

“But it was ages ago, Xander,” Anya rationalized. “It was almost five years ago. I remember it clearly, because I was so relieved to have a steady job. It was about the same time that serial killer was strangling girls in LA. Everyone at work was afraid to take a new client for months. We were always worried that maybe some random trick would turn out to be the LA Stalker, and one of us would end up dead in a ditch somewhere, or just vanish off the face of the earth.”

“I remember that.” Willow chimed in, glad for the change in subject, even if it was kind of an eerie thing to talk about. “Even on campus everyone was spooked. They never did catch that guy, did they?”

“I don’t think so. All I know is that Spike providing me with a steady job saved me from having to worry about that. He could have saved my life, Xander.” She punched his shoulder and turned Xander so that he was facing her directly. “You should be grateful that he took me in.”

“Took you in? Who said anything about taking you in? I thought we were talking about one time here – not – not…”

“Spike didn’t do things by halves, Xander. He never hired girls for the night. He kept them for at least a week, sometimes a month or more. I think I stayed the longest. I was with him for over six months.”

Xander looked like he was about ready to fall over. “Six months! You’re telling me not only did you have sex with him, but you lived in his house and slept with him repeatedly for six months?! And this is not supposed to bother me, why?”

“I didn’t get upset when you introduced me to your old girlfriend, Cornelia.”

“Cordelia.”

“Whatever.” It was totally logical to Anya. She didn’t get why the others seemed to be uncomfortable by the fact that she had once had a physical relationship with Spike. After all, they must have known that she slept with somebody while she was working the trade. “Well then, I don’t see why it bothers you so much; it seems to me this is pretty much the same thing. It’s in the past now Xander. You’re my future. Besides, Spike is with Buffy now.”

“And that’s supposed to make it better?” Xander stuttered. “The guy who was giving it to my fiancée has moved on to one of my best friends? I’m sorry, Anya. But I can’t do this. I’m not going to sit here and share a drink with a guy who has the morals of a…of a flea. Come on, let’s go.”

“That’s all right.” Spike knew when he was fighting a lost battle. “You lot stay and enjoy your evening. I’ll go.” Spike picked up and jacket and stood. Somehow he didn’t think this was going to help his chances with Buffy any. “Sorry to ruin your fun. Anya, pet, for what it’s worth, all my best.”

As Spike made his way back out of the club, Buffy turned to Willow. “Somehow I think that that could have gone better.”

As she had known it would, the evening hadn’t gone at all like anyone would have expected. Spike had shown up, Anya had opened her mouth, and the rest, as they say, was history.

Making a quick decision, Buffy grabbed up her coat and chased after Spike. She caught up to him in the parking lot. Apparently he had driven himself over.

Hearing her approach, he stopped with his key in the lock of the door. He didn’t bother to turn around to face her. “You want to shoot me now, or does the condemned man get to make a statement?”

“I don’t carry a gun, Spike.” Buffy tried to lighten the words with her smile, but he wasn’t even looking at her.

“Fair enough. Karate kick then? Or a right cross? You’ve got a hell of a punch for a girl. I know, I’ve seen it.”

“I’m not going to hit you Spike. Although the offer is tempting. I’m trying to understand why you would do such a thing.”

“Sleep with Anya? What bloke in his right mind wouldn’t want to sleep with her?”

“But it wasn’t just Anya, was it? And it wasn’t because you were dating her. You HIRED her. She was, like a pet, in your house or something. That’s just wrong.”

“Would it help if I said I’m sorry?” He finally turned around to face her and rested his back against the side of the car, cocking his head slightly as if studying her reaction to this turn of events.

“Not really. I mean, Xander is crushed… I’m just trying to understand. What would drive you to do such a thing?”

“It was a bad time for me luv. You know that.” Making a face, Spike moved to pull out a pack of cigarettes. It was one of Spike’s cardinal rules; in the face of a crisis, a good smoke always helped. Smoking cigarettes might eventually kill you, but the cigarettes themselves never intended any harm. Some how just the act of pulling one out was soothing. He decided not to light it right away, instead using it to gesture to Buffy to get inside the parked car so they could talk in private.

They sat in silence for a while. Him fiddling with the unlit fag and Buffy staring daggers at him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.

“Dru had filed for divorce,” he began. “To say I didn’t take it well would be an exaggeration.” He wished he had brought Jonathan and the limo, because then he could have poured himself a few strong drinks while they cruised towards home. He’d left his drink in the Bronze, untouched. But there wasn’t any liquor in this car, and there was nothing for it but to try and explain.

“Buffy, there’s entire months of my life I don’t really remember.” Sighing, Spike put the unlit cigarette back in the pack. “I was on a bender for so long I couldn’t tell where one week ended and another began. Mostly I’d go out at night and pick up a bird, bring her back to the house and screw her.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Buffy flinch at his vulgarity. But the truth wasn’t pretty. “By morning I’d have forgotten her name, if I ever knew it. Then I’d crawl off to work and another round of the hair of the dog, and let Jonathan or one of the others deal with the getting the chit home.”

“And this is supposed to make me feel better?”

“No. It’s supposed to let you see that Anya and the others were better than the alternative. I didn’t know what I was doing, Buffy. I was more than half-crazy. And I did some pretty stupid things. I was drunk out of my mind most of the time, did whatever was easily available: pot, coke, meth, whatever, it didn’t matter. Some nights I’d swear I’d come home with a bird, and wake up alone. Other times the opposite. And I wasn’t being careful. I could have a dozen kids out there somewhere and not know it. I could have gotten syphilis, gonorrhea, aids.”

How much did he feel safe telling Buffy? He’d promised himself that he’d never lie to her, just like he had never lied to Joyce. But he hadn’t always told her the whole truth either.

“Finally it got to the point where I was afraid that I was literally losing my mind. That’s when I checked myself into Tara’s clinic. It wasn’t just to dry out, Buffy. I was afraid that I’d finally gone starkers, like Dru.” Again, not the whole truth, but he hoped it was close enough.

“When I came out, I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to go back to the booze and the bimbos, so I hired some of Glory’s girls. First it was by the week, but sometimes it was longer. They kept me company, as well as providing the more obvious services. Anya’s right though, she stayed the longest. She was easy to talk to.”

“To talk to? Do you really think I’m going to believe that you paid hookers to come and live with you so that you would have someone to talk to? How stupid do you think I am?”

“Never said that’s all we did. Just why I liked Anyanka so much. A bloke always knew where he stood with her. None of this saying one thing and meaning another balderdash you bints are so bloody good at.”

He wouldn’t tell Buffy, had never told anyone, but it had hurt when Anyanka left him. She might have been his whore, but still, they’d lived together for almost a year. He had gotten used to her company and frank mannerisms. After she left, it had taken him a long time to get used to the silence. But he wasn’t going to tell Buffy that – he’d never even told Anya.

Instead he said, “After Anya decided to retire and bought the Magic Box, well, anyone else just wouldn’t have been the same. After a while I found that I didn’t need the booze or the constant companionship anymore. That’s not to say that I’ve lived like a monk since then, but at least I knew where I was and what I was doing.” He thought of the dead muggers back in New York. “At least most of the time.”

“So between Anya and Tara, they brought me back to sanity. Don’t know where I’d be without them. Probably dead in a ditch somewhere, like Anya said.” Or rotting away in prison. “So, yeah, I’ll always be fond of Anya. And if the whelp can’t handle it that’s just too bloody bad. But I hope that you can find it in you to forgive me, pet. I am a bad, rude man, and I’ve never denied it.” For the first time he turned to face her, rather than staring out the window ahead. “You bring out the best in me, Buffy. And I’ve been trying, for your sake. I’ve been trying very hard to be the man you want me to be.”

Buffy didn’t know what to say. This was a real as it had gotten between the two of them. She felt like she was finally getting to see the man behind the façade. It was also too good of an opportunity to let pass her by.

“Anything else you feel like you ought to confess to me?” She was only half kidding, but the job was ever present on her mind. “Anything else about you I should know? Other dark secrets of your past or present that you’ve been hiding?”

Here it was, then. His chance to come clean. He’d probably never get another one so perfect. “No, pet. Nothing else about me you need to know.”

Ashamed that he didn’t have the courage to completely confide in her, he finally tossed the ruined cigarette out the window. “Do you want I should take you home, pet, or do you want to go back in and see your mates some more?”

“It’s all right, Spike. Take me home.”

The ride to Buffy’s was spent in silence, illuminated by the dull red gleam of one cigarette after another.

On the way Spike decided to invite Buffy to his home next weekend. It was the one proposal from him that he knew she wouldn’t to refuse.

17. Waterscapes

Spike gave Buffy a few days to mull over what they had said outside the Bronze. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he called. He had to know whether or not she was still willing to see him. So he tried the one thing he knew that she would have a difficult time resisting. It had taken a little effort to arrange things to his satisfaction, but he was finally ready. Buffy was coming over for a swim and a picnic at his house.

The promised day dawned bright and sunny, and Spike decided that he would drive over and pick her up himself. He had discovered that Buffy seemed to respond to him better when she wasn’t constantly reminded of how wealthy he was. The house itself would probably be off-putting enough. Besides, he really didn’t want her to get into another conversation with his driver; he wanted her all to himself.

Spike was pleased that Buffy seemed to be in a good mood. Things were definitely looking up. Maybe she had a more forgiving nature than he gave her credit for. Or maybe Warren was right and she was just a gold digger; willing to overlook anything until she got her hands on his money.

By mutual assent, neither mentioned the row that they’d had about Anya. As far as Spike was concerned, if it never came up again he’d be happy. He didn’t think he’d be so lucky.

Spike chuckled when they entered through the gates and Buffy said a few complimentary things about the quaint stone house. “That’s the gatehouse, luv. Staff live there. Main house is up ahead a ways.”

“Oh,” she replied. She had never expected his property to be so vast. “By ‘staff’ do you mean Jonathan?”

“Yeah, well, Jonathan, Andrew and Warren. They all live there. That way they’re close enough to do whatever is required, but far enough away so as to be out of my hair.”

“Oh. What do they do?” Buffy was trying to make small talk. It felt a little more awkward now to be spying on him after he had met her friends, even if it had turned into a disaster. “I guess Jonathan is your chauffeur?”

“Personal assistant. Jonathan and Andrew both do whatever is required, though generally that means that Jonathan takes care of me personally, while Andrew takes care of the house.”

“What about Warren?”

“He’s head of technology and security, both for the house and Thorndale Industries. Jonathan and Andrew report to him as well.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

“It seems to work out well for everyone. Here’s the main house.”

They pulled up in front of an impressive looking Mediterranean style home half covered with ivy, with a broad porch and sweeping archways. It was easily three or four times larger than the ‘gatehouse’ where her three high school classmates lived. Privately Buffy felt that it was far too large a house for one person to live in comfortably. She could see how it could get lonely. Maybe that was why Spike kept his ‘staff’ so nearby.

Instead she said truthfully, “It’s beautiful.”

Buffy seemed entranced by the short tour of his house, and Spike enjoyed showing off. It wasn’t often that he had this opportunity to talk about the things that he had collected over the years. He was pleased but not at all surprised that Buffy seemed genuinely interested in all the items on display. If she asked a lot of questions about where and when he had acquired them, he didn’t notice.

There were only a few tense moments all morning. The first was when he refused to open the locked door that led to his studio. Buffy protested, pleasantly at first, that she had been promised a tour of the whole house. When Spike explained that he never let anyone into his inner-sanctum, she didn’t let it go easily. But when had anything with Buffy been easy?

The second awkward moment came when he showed Buffy his bedroom. It was the only room in the house that she didn’t actually enter. She stood in the doorway and nodded while Spike showed her the a few of his favored pieces of art on display.

Finally, they made their way down to the recreation room. This was the part of the house where Spike spent the majority of his time. It was between the pool and the kitchen, and housed his TV and stereo systems as well as a billiard table and a small office with his computer equipment.

But what Buffy focused on was the one blank space in the entire house, where from the discoloration of the paint, it was obvious that a picture had been recently removed.

“Meant to have something up there by now.” Embarrassed, Spike tried to explain. “But the painting I wanted, well, the owner’s being stubborn. Doesn’t want to sell. I didn’t think it was going to be so difficult to acquire, so I had something else removed to make room for it. Now I'm left with an empty space, where there ought to be a picture hanging. Looks awkward, doesn’t it?”

Spike offered her a drink, and went to fetch them something from the kitchen. When he came back, Buffy was still contemplating the empty space. Spike felt the need to make another comment.

“I guess there’s nothing for it but to offer more money. Owner’ll come ‘round, if enough cash on the table. When I want something, I usually find some way of getting it. I was hoping to have it here to show you, but it’ll have to wait until next time. It’s a work I’ll know you’ll love.”

Buffy wasn’t sure if she bought his explanation; Spike seemed to have a lot of them ready to hand. But the casual mention of ‘next time’ had her thinking. If she came back, maybe she could contrive an opportunity to snoop around on her own, see what she could find out about the missing artwork and the locked room. Had he had a painting removed because he knew that she was coming for a tour today? Was it something he’d gotten illegally? Was it still in the house, perhaps in the mysterious locked room?

In any event, the mini camcorder in her purse had recorded the entire narrated tour. Now it wouldn’t just be her word that there was no contraband here. She would hand over the tape to Giles and let the behind the scenes investigators deal with it. Aside from the locked room and the missing painting, she had seen nothing that would be any cause for suspicion. Spike was obviously just what he appeared to be, an art enthusiast and an avid collector. But he wasn’t a thief. Unless he was damned good at hiding the evidence.

That was something she was going to let Giles worry about. She had finally achieved her objective. She had filmed the entire contents of his house (minus one painting and the locked room) and she wasn’t going to let it bother her anymore. There was absolutely no evidence that a continuing investigation of Spike would ever reveal any wrongdoing.

Buffy was going to make sure that Giles was going to stick to his word and drop the whole thing. And after that she was going to forget the entire unpleasant assignment and never agree to do another. She would pretend that she had never had any ulterior motive for seeking Spike’s company, and just be glad that they had finally found one another. And look forward to the promised ‘next time.’

Buffy hadn’t seen the outside of his house yet, but judging from the front lawn and the interior, she thought she was ready for anything. She was sorely mistaken. The back of the house was completely private – there were no other houses in view at all. Buffy couldn’t begin to imagine what this estate would be worth on the open market. It was like something you would expect a movie star to live in.

The yard was massive and beautifully landscaped. There were areas of shade, and areas of sun. Large expanses of yard surrounded by flowers of every description. And in the middle, as promised, a large natural looking pool, complete with its own waterfall and a charming pool house.

“Care to go for a swim, pet?” Spike had seen her eyes light up when she saw the pool. He couldn’t blame her; it was one of his favorite spots too. “Why don’t you go back inside and put on your suit and we can enjoy the sun before lunch? Sound good to you?”

When Buffy stepped out of the house dressed in her suit it was his turn for his eyes to light up. Spike had quickly changed into navy blue trunks, and had been giving Jonathan last minute instructions about lunch when she appeared in the doorway.

He had to admit, he had been looking forward to seeing her clad only in swimsuit. He had imagined some barely there bikini which left little to the imagination, but what he saw was so much better. So much more Buffy.

She had chosen to wear a one-piece suit with a high neckline, denying him the glimpse of flesh and cleavage he had been so looking forward to. But as if to make up for it, the suit was in a natural tone that almost exactly matched the color of her skin. Swirls of white were strategically placed to cover certain areas; if it weren’t for that, she would almost have looked nude.

As it was, she reminded him strongly of Botticelli’s masterwork, The Birth of Venus, which depicted the goddess rising from the sea. He felt a desire he hadn’t felt in a long time. If he could get her to agree to it, he wanted to paint her. Here, this afternoon, in his own backyard. He wanted to paint her so that he could keep her forever.

“You look beautiful, pet.” He could barely take his eyes off her. “Do you want to swim before lunch?”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Spike smiled at her kind words. Next to her golden skin he was pale, and he knew he looked half-dead. He had spent more time slathering on lotion than he had planning their lunch, and would have to reapply the sun block in another hour or two or risk a bad sunburn. Idly he wondered whether he could convince Buffy to help him put lotion on his back, and for the first time ever he was grateful for his fair complexion.

Plunging into the pool quickly, the cool water helped Spike to regain his composure. Buffy was a bit more timid about getting wet, until finally he literally had to drag her into the water. After that she seemed to melt towards him a little bit. They swam circles around one another until she finally let him corner her against the edge of the pool and kiss her gently. Then she had splashed him, and the fight was on again.

After Jonathan had served lunch Spike convinced Buffy to let him pose her around the garden and take her picture in various poses. Once he finally decided on the spot he wanted her in, he had Jonathan fetch his canvass and paints from upstairs. He couldn’t remember the last time he had painted anywhere except in his studio, but he couldn’t resist. Buffy inspired him.

He had positioned her underneath the waterfall. The rock background blended in with her skin tones and the color of the suit so she almost appeared as if she were made of stone herself. But as he painted her, you could see that where the water splashed over her, it brought the flesh to life – as if she were made of stone and only now becoming flesh.

~~**~~

“It’s so romantic,” Andrew offered. “But I can’t help wondering if he’s going to paint her naked.”

“She’s not naked, she’s still wearing the suit, you nit.” Warren was annoyed, as usual. At least there was some action going on at the big house, but it wasn’t at all what he’d hoped for.

“Yes, but when he fills the painting in later, I bet he’ll paint her naked.”

Warren thought about it for a moment. “I’d rather she was naked now.”

As Jonathan walked into the control room neither of the occupants even turned to look at him. It was a losing battle, but he knew he had to say something. “Guys, you shouldn’t be doing this. Spying on your boss is really not cool.”

“Why not?” Warren replied. “It’s not like he doesn’t know the security cameras are there. If he didn’t want us to watch them, he would have said something.”

“Yeah, Jonathan,” Andrew agreed. “Spike expects the grounds to be monitored at all times. It’s like… it’s our job. What if one of them started to drown or something? What if Buffy took out a gun?” Of course Andrew would go along with whatever Warren said.

“That’s not going to happen.” Jonathan moved as if to turn off the video feed, but Warren caught his arm. Still trying to make his point, Jonathan continued, “You two shouldn’t be watching that. It’s private.”

“Well, not yet its not.” Andrew sounded disappointed. “But they’ve kissed a couple times, so we’re hoping if we keep watching we’ll get to see something better.”

“You guys are perverts. Don’t you have anything better to do than sit around fantasizing about someone else’s love life?”

“No.” Andrew answered truthfully. “Do you? Besides, we used to do it all the time when Anyanka was here.”

“The good old days! Wish I could have gotten me a piece of that ass.” Warren whined. “That Anya was hot.”

“Yeah. Right. Like you had that kind of money.” When Andrew wasn’t being overly romantic, he was surprisingly practical. He knew it was more and more unlikely that any one of the three of them would ever wind up with a beautiful girl like Anya or Buffy.

Preferably one like Anya. Buffy was turning out to be a bit of a prude. She hadn’t even worn a two-piece.

“Yeah.” Warren was already off in his own fantasyland. “If I had that kind of money, Anya would have been all over me and dropped Spike like he was diseased. Just like Buffy would.”

“Hey, Buffy is not like that.” Jonathan countered.

“I think she and Spike are in looove. They look so great together.” Andrew obviously saw nothing at all wrong with what they were doing. “Hey, maybe we could make copies of this and sell it on the Internet and get rich that way!”

“Cause they’re not doing anything, Bozo, that’s why.” Warren thought the other two were losers, and he didn’t mind letting them know it. “Besides, I have my own plans that will make me richer than Spike’ll ever be. Once production gets going, the sky’s the limit. Maybe then I’ll hire Anya and Buffy to come and live with me. That’d teach Spike who’s the better man.”

“Warren, you know that Spike’s said no to your idea,” Andrew reminded him. “I don’t think he’s going to change his mind.”

“Yeah, Warren, be realistic, it’s never going to happen. And even if it did, you could never hire Buffy. She’s not a whore – you know that.”

“They’re all whores, Jonathan.” Warren was quite sure in his opinions about women, despite rarely spending time in their company. “Every last one of them wants something. Buffy’s just more expensive than most. She wants to get Spike so besotted that he’s willing to marry her just to get some, and then she’ll turn around and divorce him so fast it will make your head spin.”

“I think you’re wrong, Warren. Theirs is a love that will never die. It’s like destiny or kismet or something. You know, Romeo and Juliet, Guinevere and Lancelot.”

Jonathan looked over at Andrew. Warren was often cynical, and he was used to that. But sometimes Andrew just rubbed him the wrong way. “You do know that neither of those couples lived happily ever after, don’t you?”

Chapter 19: Another Assignment

Giles was not nearly as pleased with Buffy’s espionage work as she had hoped he would be. He barely looked at the reams of tape she had brought him that showed nothing untoward going on at the Thorndale manor. All he had been interested in was the locked room and missing painting.

Buffy insisted that he drop the investigation like he had promised, but Giles refused. “It’s not like there’s nothing there, Buffy. Either the missing painting or the so-called studio could prove to be important. Add that to what happened in New York, and he still looks suspicious.”

Buffy wasn’t sure exactly what Giles was referring to about the New York trip. Most of what had happened Buffy had kept to herself. Did he somehow know that they had had to defend themselves against thieves, or was he referring to their run-in with Angelus? Both those incidents had been carefully glossed over in her report: she didn’t see what either unpleasant situation had to do with her investigation.

So it was with a little trepidation that Buffy asked, “What about New York?”

“You don’t know? You mean he didn’t tell you? Only that while he was in New York, Mr. Thorndale look a long lunch break from his pressing business to travel clear across town to meet with Federico Joni.”

“So. He’s an art dealer.”

“He’s also a known forger, with strong ties to the black market. And it strikes me as very peculiar that Thorndale would travel all the way to New York if all he wanted to do was purchase a painting. There are plenty of reputable dealers in right here in LA.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, Giles. None of this means anything! Why don’t you just admit you were mistaken and let it go?”

“Because while any single item might not be incriminating, taken all together it still seems suspicious. So far we haven’t come up with anything concrete, but that doesn’t mean we won’t. Now here’s what I want you to do…”

~~**~~

Reluctantly Buffy had agreed to follow her boss’s advice, but she had once again gotten him to promise that when the search came up negative, he would finally drop the investigation. She would do as he had requested and then the entire thing would be over. Buffy couldn’t remember when she had wanted anything more.

This wasn’t something that Buffy was used to doing, and Buffy freely admitted that she was out of her element. Nevertheless, she was never one to shirk from a challenge. Giles had offered to foot the bill for a caterer, but Buffy had declined thinking it would then seem too contrived. Instead, she had attempted the spaghetti and meatballs herself. She was reasonably confident in the salad, and there wasn’t much she could do to ruin the wine since she had the foresight to suggest that Spike bring some as his contribution to the evening’s meal. But she was concerned about the meatballs, and the sauce, and the spaghetti. What if it was overdone? What if it wasn’t done enough? She never proclaimed to be a good cook. Not even a fair cook. In fact, she wasn’t any kind of cook at all. Somehow that was one skill she had never taken the time to learn.

At least her concern over the meal gave her something she didn’t mind being overtly worried about. There was no way she was going to let on that she was worried about having Spike alone with her in her apartment, to say nothing about successfully carrying out her assignment.

To her delight, Spike at least claimed that the meal had turned out perfectly. Spike had even taught her how to tell when the spaghetti was done. They had tried tasting it off one another’s fingers, and playfully he had suggested that another time-tested manner of testing spaghetti’s doneness was to throw it against the wall. That little experiment had ended with both of them pulling spaghetti out of their hair.

After dinner the atmosphere became a little more charged. Buffy had carefully broached the subject of his leaving, but Spike seemed not to hear it. To her utter dismay, he insisted on staying and helping her do the dishes. It wasn’t so much that she wanted him to leave, as she didn’t want him to get the impression that she wanted him to stay. Despite what he may or may not have thought when she had called and invited him over to her place for dinner, Spike spending the night was definitely not part of the plan.

When they’d finished cleaning up her apartment, Spike insisted on the ten-cent tour, as payback for the one he had given her. Dutifully she showed him around the five-room loft. The upstairs area had been subdivided, so that most of the space was used as storage for the gallery below. Buffy was happy to show off the few of her mother’s paintings on display; she liked to rotate the pictures that she still owned so that they always seemed fresh. They were vivid reminders of her mother, and although some of them were technically offered for sale, she wasn’t anxious to give any of them up.

Spike seemed to enjoy poking around her apartment and asking about all manner of things. Buffy supposed it was his way of getting back at her for being such a snoop at his house. One item in particular caught Spike’s eye; the little Egyptian paperweight. It was one of the few pieces that Buffy owned that was actually an antique. For the most part her taste ran to modern art. But the little goddess had been a gift from her mother, and Buffy was never going to part with it.

“Do you know her name?” Spike asked.

“Mom told me, and I meant to look it up, but I never could find it.” Buffy wrinkled up her face as if she was thinking hard. “I never could quite remember the name Mom told me, so I called her Auntie for short. I know she said it was an Egyptian goddess, something that began with an ‘An’, sort of like Ants, or Auntie. It came from a consignment Mom handled years ago. You wouldn’t know anything about her, do you?”

Spike smiled, she was so adorable, his girl. Here she was with a priceless Egyptian statue (well, not really, it was probably only worth a couple of thousand dollars) and she didn’t even know the name of it, let alone take proper care of it. It was clear that she loved the little figurine, but instead of keeping it safe, she used it as a paperweight!

“Are you sure you want to know?” he winked, handing the statute back to her.

“Please. If I could just remember the proper name, I’d have looked it up by now. It’s not exactly like I can call my Mom and ask her.”

Spike tried to ignore the note of sadness in her voice, and answered in a light tone.

“Well, going on your splendid recall and the fact that you call her “Auntie,” my guess is that your Mom probably called her Anat or Antu. Strictly speaking, she’s not really Egyptian although your statue appears to be. Anat was also worshipped in other places under many similar names like Anath and Anant. Seems like cultures traded gods and goddesses back then the same way we trade Euros for Dollars.”

“Really? You’re not making this up, are you?”

“Course not. I wouldn’t lie to you, kitten. The goddess is real enough.”

“Do you know what she’s goddess of?” Buffy was excited now, as if he’d given her a gift. “I asked my Mom when she gave it to me, but she just smiled like it was something funny and wouldn’t tell me. I figured it was probably something dumb like fertility or corn or something.”

“Something like that. She is sometimes a fertility goddess. But she’s better known as a goddess of love, and war. Also justice.”

“Huh. Weird combination.”

“Maybe. When she fights, it’s usually to defeat her husband’s enemies. She’s supposed to be particularly ruthless. Ring any bells as to why your Mum would think it was funny to give you something like that?”

It was probably her Mom’s way of making a joke. She had given Buffy the little goddess when she had been accepted into the Agency’s training program. But what she said was, “Not a clue. Mom always did have a quirky sense of humor.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek by way of a thank you for solving the statute’s mystery, but somehow it turned into more than that. After the first few minutes, Buffy decided she didn’t mind a little snuggling and kissing, what Spike called ‘snogging,’ as long as things didn’t get out of hand. Of all the guys that she had dated (not that there had been that many) Spike was the only one who seemed perfectly content just kissing.

After finishing off the wine and more kissing than she could have imagined, it was more difficult than she would have ever expected to convince Spike (and herself) that he needed to leave. It was only when he offered to rinse the wineglasses as another delaying tactic that she finally came to her senses and reluctantly forced him out the door.

Carefully picking it up only by the stem, Buffy used a napkin to move Spike’s wineglass into a special container she had hidden under her sink. She’d bring it in to Giles on Monday for analysis. The evidence wouldn’t be admissible in court, but Giles would be able to run Spike’s fingerprints through the system and see if they came up anywhere they shouldn’t be. Once Giles had his prints and Buffy saw the infamous studio, this whole awful investigation would be over. She renewed her vow to herself that she was never again going to volunteer to work on another.

Chapter 19: Girl Talk

By the next night Buffy was feeling guilty about what she had done. So she invited Willow so that she could unburden, although ostensibly the purpose of the evening was to commiserate with her friend over Oz’s departure. One day he had just packed up and left. He hadn’t even given Willow a forwarding address, only a note telling her how sorry he was, and that he had to leave. Willow had cried for days. She had even taken time off from work, which was something she almost never did.

“I’m so glad you decided to come over for dinner tonight, Willow. I’m sure it will cheer you up. Just us girls, okay? Just because Oz moved to Cleveland without you doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. He’ll probably hate it there and be back before you know it.”

Willow still wasn’t saying much, so Buffy decided to continue the conversation on her own. “And get this, Willow. I have this really great pasta and sauce leftover, and I made it. Can you believe it? Buffy in the kitchen and nothing got burned. Well, almost nothing. The dessert came out a little crispy, but hey, that’s what ice cream is for. I got all the best flavors.”

“You actually cooked dinner?” The redhead let a tentative smile show around her tears. Cooking was totally not her friend’s style. Something had to be up. “Why?”

“It was work related actually, so I can only tell you about it if I swear you to secrecy.”

Of course Buffy was teasing. Willow’s security clearance was actually higher than hers was. If Willow wanted to pry, she could have access to every report that her friend had filed. But she’d rather hear it straight from Buffy. Besides, she was sure that Buffy was giving Giles the edited version. She wanted to hear all the juicy bits.

“You had Spike Thorndale over, didn’t you?” Willow also wasn’t stupid.

“Yeah. But it was totally Giles’s idea.”

“Right.” Definitely not stupid. “So, that’s what put you in such a good mood! There were smoochies, weren’t there?” For a moment it felt like they were back in school giggling about boys. It was a good feeling. Oz had been great and all, but he had taken up so much of Willow’s time. Buffy had missed spending time with Willow.

“Yeah, you caught me.” She decided to go with it. It seemed to be cheering Willow up. “He’s just so yummy, sometimes it’s hard to resist.”

“Unless of course you come up with the goods on him and have to send him to Sing Sing or some equally horrible place.” Just because Spike was fun to talk about, she didn’t want Buffy to get too attached to him.

“You know I am a firm believer in the Constitution. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. So right now I’m going with innocent.”

“You do know you’re never going to convince Xander of that, don’t you?” Both girls knew she wasn’t talking about possible Federal charges. “Xander didn’t like Spike much BEFORE he learned about Anya. Now he’s likely to kill on sight. Speaking of which, doesn’t it bother you too?”

“It’s a case Willow. I have to keep seeing him. It’s not like I really have any choice in the matter.”

“Now that’s a cop out if I ever heard one. You know and I know that it’s more than a case. You really like the guy – why else invite him to meet the gang at the Bronze?”

“Fine, I’ll admit it. I…don’t dislike him. And for the record, I agree with Anya. It was a long time ago, Spike and I talked about it, he admitted he’s made some mistakes in the past, and it’s not that big of a deal. Xander will get over it.”

“You have it bad, Buffy. Let’s hope you’re right, or Xander may be trouble.”

“And let’s hope that Oz just hates Cleveland. He’ll be back, Willow. I just know he will.” If she was with Spike, it would be nice to go on double dates with Willow and Oz. At least those two had seemed to hit it off okay, unlike Spike and Xander. Despite what she’d just said to Willow, she knew that Xander was probably never going to warm up to Spike.

“I’m not so sure, Buffy. Oz was really torn up about what happened. I mean, that’s a pretty drastic response, to just pick up your entire life and move to another state.”

“But it wasn’t about you, Willow. Oz told me before he left, so he must have told you. It was the job he was running away from.”

“Yeah. Some times I wish we had never gotten involved with the whole Federal investigations thing. I mean, life would be so much easier if all we had to worry about was our personal lives.”

“Yeah, but then those pesky things like bills would become more and more important Willow, without the extra cash to cover them. Or in the case of you and Oz, any cash at all, since neither of you has ever held another job. At least I have the gallery to fall back on. And it looks as if Mom’s paintings are becoming really popular. If that happens, I’ll have enough money that I may quit the Agency all together.”

“I suppose. I still don’t understand why Oz couldn’t have looked for another job right here in LA. If he wanted to quit the Agency, he could have done it without moving half-way around the country.”

“I don’t think it was quite that simple, Willow. You’ve never worked undercover, like I’m doing, like Oz did. It changes you, Willow. Sometimes, you’re just not sure who you are anymore. And I’m undercover posing as myself, investigating someone relatively harmless. I really can’t understand why William Thorndale was on our docket to begin with.”

“You mean I didn’t tell you? The case came down from above. Rumor has it that Ethan Rayne ordered the investigation. That’s why Giles was adamant about it. He’s not going to close that case until he either finds something, or William Thorndale comes out as clean as mountain spring water.”

“Rayne? Isn’t in charge of the real heavy duty stuff, like weapons, homeland security, things like that?”

“Yeah. Rayne’s men don’t usually bother with any crime that won’t get you seriously dead. So you can kind of see why Rayne asking Giles to get someone to tag Thorndale set a bee in Giles’s bonnet.”

“I suppose. Though it kind of upset me that Giles didn’t stand by his own word, Willow. I did everything he asked, came up with nothing, and he still wouldn’t close the case. He made me get him Spike’s fingerprints. That’s why I had to invite him over last night. I feel like such a Judas, Willow.”

“I’m sure Giles had his reasons, Buffy. And to be honest, I don’t see what else you could have done. I’m sure this will all blow over soon, you’ll close the case, and then you’ll be left with a serious case of man hunk, and nothing to get in your way. Then what are you gonna do, if I even need to ask?”

“Willow! Just because I like the guy doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump his bones.”

“Of course not. Just keep telling yourself that. I’m sure it will work.”

“I just feel badly for you, Willow. I hope that Oz gets his head on straight and gets himself back to LA. Sooner rather than later would be good. Have you heard from him?”

Willow frowned. “For a while he called every day, but I told him not to. I mean, a part of me agrees with you, Buffy, and I want Oz to come home really badly. I hope he’ll be unhappy in Cleveland and come back to LA. But another part of me really wonders if this isn’t all for the best. For him, I mean. He never told me exactly what happened, what upset him so much, but it had to be bad. If nothing else, I hope that he finds peace out there in Cleveland, Buffy. He deserves to be happy.”

Chapter 20: Accusations

A few days later Buffy was surprised to by a summons to her boss’s office. As far as she knew, she hadn’t done anything wrong. She had done everything that had been asked of her: she had taken pictures of the inside of Thorndale’s house, gotten his fingerprints, and now the case was ready to be closed. In reality she felt that it should have been closed a week earlier. The fingerprints were SO unnecessary. It wasn’t like they could be used as evidence even in the rare occurrence that something did come up. It wasn’t her fault that William Thorndale was completely innocent.

Buffy knew that Giles would probably be against her desire to continue seeing Spike after the investigation was over, but she didn't think there was very much he could do about it. She wasn’t completely sure that she would even tell him. It was none of his business who she dated or what she did in her free time.

The only thing she could think of was that Giles was going to insist that she go back to the house and get a look at his workroom. She had a pretty good idea how she was going to go about too. She was just opening her mouth to explain how she planned to work it, when Giles cut her off.

“You’re off the case. I don’t want you investigating Thorndale anymore. Effective immediately.”

“What?” Buffy was floored. No way she had seen that coming. She had done a good job. Despite her misgivings about the validity of the whole thing, she had done everything her boss had told her to do. “Does that mean the case is closed? It’s about time! I’ve only been telling you and telling you that there’s just nothing there….”

“It’s not that. Not that at all. Quite the opposite in fact.” Giles removed his glasses, and gestured vaguely with them in the air. “Buffy, I think you may need to have a seat.”

“Buffy, I’m not sure I know how to say this, but my decision is final.” Instead of reaching for a cloth to clean his glasses, he lay then on his desk while he pinched the bridge of his nose. That was probably a bad sign. Cleaning his glasses was bad enough, but taking them off all together? “Buffy, I want you off this case. It’s being transferred to Faith. The reason, well, you mustn’t think its anything to do with you. It’s nothing that you’ve done wrong. Your work has been exemplary. It’s just that…”

It was taking Giles a long time to come out with whatever it was he wanted to say, so despite his assurances, Buffy knew it had to be worse than bad. What if he had found out that her relationship with Spike had gone further than her reports had implied?

“Yes. Well, under further investigation, those fingerprints you supplied us with? Well, they turned up in some rather interesting places. Not where we expected. Nothing to do with art or the black market at all. But it now seems William Thorndale is suspected of quite a bit more than simple forgery. Faith is going to handle the case from here on out, and that’s the end of it.”

Before Buffy could even voice a protest, Giles continued. “You’re not an experienced field agent. You’ve never worked on a major undercover operation – certainly nothing with these kinds of undertones. I’d suggest that you stay far away from William Thorndale. Far, far away. A man like that isn’t implicated for no reason. Where’s there’s smoke, there’s fire, as I’ve doubtless said before. We just need to find some solid evidence before charges can be filed.”

Back to the smoke and fire again! God, she was sick of that saying! She stood to defend him. “What’s William suspected of? Tax fraud?” she sniped. “If every businessman that was suspected of tax fraud was investigated, the Agency would do nothing but.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s guilty of that. It’s the new information that’s just turned up that concerns me. Buffy, those fingerprints you gave me, they’ve found a match. Several in fact. The first that came up was at a crime scene in New York about twenty years ago. Young woman killed on a subway car. Of course there had probably been hundreds of people in and out of that car, so the fact that this particular set of prints was there seemed unremarkable.

“However, I just got another report back from Interpol. Not one, but two more matches, both connected to murder investigations overseas. One in China, and a third in Romania. I don’t have all the pertinent facts of either case yet – they’re both even older than the one in New York, as I understand it. But prints left at three different murder scenes? That’s not coincidental. This man that you’ve been seeing is no longer wanted in connection with art theft or forgery, Buffy. He’s wanted for questioning in connection with murder. Three murders in fact. Possibly four if you count the fact that his mother died under mysterious circumstances.”

Slowly Buffy sat down. She was shaking. Her legs could no longer support her. It didn’t make sense. The man she knew, the man her mother had liked and known for almost twenty years, suspect in a murder investigation?

Sure Spike had his quirks, had made some bad errors in judgment. But murder? He had been friends with her mother! Joyce’s own journal had verified it. Surely Joyce wouldn’t have made that monumental an error in her assessment of his character, would she? Plus, he was friends with Tara. Tara wasn’t an easy woman to deceive, as Buffy knew from experience.

And, to be suspected in the suspicious death of his own mother? How heinous was that! Buffy could have sworn the guy was still undone about his mother’s death, and he was nearly forty! Spike hadn’t said how long ago she had died, but he had intimated that it had been was when he was much younger. Surely he couldn’t have killed his own mother? Surely, he was innocent?

Chapter 21: Time Off for Bad Behavior

Buffy couldn’t stop the trembling all day. She had to go home and lie down. If she had owned any Valium she would have taken it. Stupid Buffy, not to have stopped by Tara’s office – it showed how poor her thinking was just now. Tara was about the only person Buffy thought she could confide in. Tara, she was sure, would be in pretty much the same state of shock as she was. It would be good to talk the things over with someone else, someone who knew what was going on, and who also knew Spike.

Buffy had held firm to the belief in Spike’s innocence for so long; now she didn’t know what to believe. Whatever the truth, Buffy decided that prudence would be a good idea. It wasn’t like she was in love with Spike or anything. They’d only seen each other a few times. No, she’d always been suspicious of him. He was just a case, after all. Now there was a no reason for her to get involved any further. She SO didn’t need to get involved with a psychopath.

It made her wig just to think about how Giles had put it to her. “I don’t think it would be wise for you to stop seeing him suddenly, though. I don’t want him to get suspicious and target you. No, I think it’s best if you go away for a few weeks and let us see what we can come up with without you. If we still haven’t filed charges by the time you get back, you can start to fade out of his life slowly. I assume he thinks that you’ve been dating? If you have to see him from here on, you’re to agree to meet only in public places. If you let me know when and where, I’ll send another agent to back you up, just to be on the safe side. You can appear to simply lose interest, or purposely do things that will make him find you unappealing. It would probably be best if he broke up with you, rather than the other way around. Either way, our top priority is your safety.”

One of the first things that Buffy had done before leaving on her forced ‘vacation’ was to talk to Tara. No one at the agency knew that Tara was friends with Spike, so Buffy had to inform her about the results of the fingerprint search. Tara hadn’t been as surprised about the incriminating evidence as Buffy thought she should be.

In a way, what Tara had said made a weird kind of sense. Buffy thought about her advice the whole time that she was away.

“I know a lot of bad stuff happened when Spike was younger – but I don’t know all the details,” Tara had said. “I think not even he knows anymore, he’s blocked a lot of it out of his mind. But if half of what I suspect is true, then I don’t blame him. In her will, hiss mother made the mistake of leaving Spike in Angelus O’Connor’s care. That’s who you should be investigating, if you ask me.

“His mother died while they were overseas, but I don’t think there was anything mysterious about it. She had cancer, Buffy. That’s what killed her. Spike still feels guilty about it. He feels that if they had never left home and she had continued treatment in Britain she might have recovered. But even Spike admits that it’s not really a rational thought. The whole reason for the trip was because they both knew she was dying. It’s not rational, but he feels like he should have been able to do more for her.

“And I know something else, Buffy. I shouldn’t really tell you this, but consider it a confidence between friends. Spike and I have spoken about the incident in China; the young girl that died. It was her sword, Buffy. The murder weapon. He feels responsible for that too, but SHE was the one who attacked HIM. I believed him when he told me that he really had no choice. It was kill or be killed. As far as the other two incidents – well, maybe you should just ask him. He feels guilty enough about things that weren’t his fault, I can’t imagine what he’d be like if he really did do something awful. You and I both believe that he has nothing to hide, so maybe everyone should just come clean. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if there was a logical explanation for the fingerprints. It’s not proof, Buffy. Not by a long shot. I know Spike. He’s not a bad man, Buffy.”

Three weeks later, when Buffy returned from her ‘buying trip,’ her mind, and the case, were still unresolved. She wanted to call Spike and confess everything, but the tiny suspicion that maybe Giles was right, and not Tara, kept her from doing anything.

By the end of the following week Spike had called her house twice, the gallery four times, and had stopped by once. Buffy simply told him that she was overwhelmed cataloging the new acquisitions, and that it would be a while before she had a chance to see him again. It was breaking her heart to have to fabricate lies, when what she really wanted to be doing was having a heart to heart candid talk, like they had on the plane home from New York. While she had been gone, Buffy realized that she really did miss his company. They had been to one another’s homes, had really seemed to be connecting. She knew he must be wondering whether it was the Anya thing that was still bothering her, or whether he had managed to do something else wrong. She was certain that after the first couple times she put him off that he had picked up on the fact that she was making excuses not to see him.

Meanwhile, Buffy got weekly progress reports from Willow about the on-going investigation. With more than a little bit of glee Buffy was surprised to learn that Faith’s investigation had stalled. Faith had tried getting a job at both his business and home, but had not been successful in even getting a personal interview. She’d tried to hook up with Spike at a club he sometimes visited, but he hadn’t paid her any attention at all. Knowing Faith’s reputation, Buffy was sure that she’d made it clear to Spike that she was available. Apparently Spike wasn’t interested. At least not in Faith.

Seeing the futility of a lost cause, Willow told her that Faith was going to be assigned to another investigation. Part of Buffy was looking forward to going back to work on the case, but another part of her was dreading it. She needn’t have worried. Giles didn’t ask her.

Buffy was briefly disturbed when Willow told her that they had managed to plant Harmony with him, but it hadn’t lasted. As Willow reported it, they had gone out to eat together once or twice, then he had lost interest. Harmony never managed to get close to Spike at all – although there were rumors that they had spent time together in a motel. Either way, Harmony was humiliated. Both she and Faith had failed to obtain their objective.

At long last, a defeated Giles approached Buffy again. After nearly two months of fruitless attempts to obtain more evidence, no one was willing to attempt to prosecute. The fingerprints were almost a quarter of a century old, and circumstantial evidence at best. In the absence of a witness or any other physical evidence, it was pretty clear that no charges would be filed. All that could be proved was that William Thorndale had been in the general area when the murders occurred, not that he had committed them. To Giles’s point, all three incidents taken together certainly seemed damning, but each case on it’s own merits seemed inconclusive.

Giles was a firm believer in Spike’s complicity. His new plan was almost the same as the old one. If they could obtain enough evidence to make a lesser charge, they could probably obtain a warrant to search for any other incriminating evidence. Murderers often kept trophies: pictures, newspaper articles, clips of hair, articles of clothing. Something physical to remind themselves of the successful kills they’d made.

Regretfully Giles told Buffy that the murder investigation had led to a dead end. They were putting the case on hold. Giles’s objective was for Buffy to return to their original goal. All she needed to do was get herself invited back to his house and snoop around. The missing picture was probably long gone, but there might be other suspicious things she could find, especially if she could get herself in to see the locked room.

Unless she was completely comfortable with continuing the investigation, all Giles asked was that she agree to see him one more time. He even promised to have back up close at hand. If anything went wrong, if she felt threatened in any way, another agent, a man this time, would be waiting for a signal just outside the gates to the house. All she had to do was utter an agreed upon phrase, her microphone would pick it up, and help would be there in minutes.

Buffy couldn’t help but feel proud that what for both Faith and Harmony had almost been impossible, for Buffy it was no problem at all. After six weeks of no contact at all, Spike returned Buffy’s call almost immediately, and agreed to have her over to his house again the very next day.

22: Back into the Lion’s Den

She tried not to be nervous on the way back to his house. Nothing had been said as yet about her long absence, or the many excuses she had made not to see him. He hadn’t asked what had happened to drive her away, nor why she had changed her mind. Trying to head off the inevitable questions, she decided to provide the explanation she had devised without being asked.

“The other night. Back at my apartment. I got scared.” She had to remember that Spike had no idea just why she had refused to see him for six weeks. He didn’t know the horrible things others had accused him of, nor the way that she had manipulated him to get what her boss required. He was still just Spike. The same man she had been dating for weeks.

That much at least was real – she was still attracted to him, although now the emotion was infected with fear and self-loathing. She just wasn’t sure yet which emotion should be stronger. If what Giles accused him of was true, she had every reason to be afraid of the man who was calmly driving her over to his house. But if the accusations were false, then she was the one who was guilty of brutally abusing his trust in her.

“Not of you,” she amended. She didn’t want him to think she had any reason to be afraid of him, even though she kinda was, and not just for the obvious reasons. “But of how I lose control around you. I…I wasn’t completely sure that I wanted you to leave, that night, but I don’t think I’m ready for …a more physical relationship. Not yet.” The lie had the added benefit of being true.

Spike’s instant response surprised her. “Gods, I’m a complete bugger.” More than a tinge of guilt passed through Buffy as she saw how quickly he was ready to take the blame on himself. “I sent you to see Tara ‘cause I know you have issues, then I try to pressure you into sleeping with me. Can you forgive me? I promise, I won’t try anything else until you tell me you’re ready. You’ll have to come to me. I swear it.”

“It’s all right. Can we just not talk about it please? Forget it ever happened?”

“Whatever you want, kitten.”

Back at the house, Buffy wandered into his kitchen, surprised not to find Andrew or Jonathan slaving behind a hot stove. Spike laughed. “It’s just us two tonight. I’m doing the cooking.”

Buffy blanched. They were alone in the house together? Buffy was suddenly very glad of the transceiver in her purse. Instead of simply recording what she saw, this time it was set to transmit to a van parked out on the street. If there was trouble, someone would be there almost instantly. He must have seen her face and misread her apprehension. “Come on, I’m not that bad of a cook. We both survived your cooking, I imagine that we’ll manage to survive mine.”

Buffy forced herself to smile as if that had been the reason behind her momentary terror. “I appreciate that you want to return the favor,” Buffy said, “but are you really going to cook yourself? Isn’t Jonathan or Andrew going to do it?”

Spike smiled. “It’s all me. I can do a mean barbeque. So long as it’s nothing too fancy.” He came out onto the patio carrying a plate of steaks. “You just make yourself comfortable and watch the master at work.”

Taking a seat with a view of the waterfall, Buffy tried not to laugh at the flames that came up when Spike put the steaks on the grill. Obviously, despite his claims, he was not an expert when it came to grilling. Satisfied that the flames had lowered to an acceptable level, he took his drink and settled in next to Buffy to watch the play of light over the water. Perhaps he should have invited her over for lunch again – it was just a little too cool for a swim to be really comfortable. No matter. She was here. That was the important part. After six long weeks without her, she was finally here. The first three weeks she had been gone had been torture, and the second three weeks had been worse. Desperate to get his mind off her in case she never came back to him, he had even agreed to a few dates with that horrible Harmony. The sex had been all right, but talking to the girl herself was like listening to nails on a chalkboard. There was no way he could envision himself spending any real time with a girl like that. So when Buffy had finally relented and called him, he hadn’t wanted to give her the time to change her mind. He had hastily arranged for them to be alone in the house tonight, and all that was important was one another’s company.

It was surprisingly comfortable sitting outside chatting, and for once he felt like he could completely relax. Nothing and no one was going to bother them tonight. Unless he burned the steaks and they had to order a pizza, he thought as he once again smelled smoke.

Turning the meat he wondered what it would be like to really have Buffy for his own. To have this kind of companionship every evening would be amazing. Even when he had been married to Dru, life had never been like this. Dru had always wanted to be out doing things, and when she was at home, she often kept the house full of people. They rarely enjoyed quiet times like this.

Although the outside of the steak was burnt and the inside underdone, Buffy complimented it extravagantly. Spike hadn’t complained about her home-cooked meal, so she thought it only fair to return the favor. At least the dessert was good, although Spike admitted that Andrew had suggested the strawberry sponge cake because all it required was assembly. There was absolutely no cooking involved, and hence no opportunity for disaster.

After the dishes were stacked in the kitchen for Andrew to deal with the next morning, it was just about time for Buffy to leave. So far she had made no actual progress towards her goal. She picked up her bag as if getting ready to leave.

As if it were an afterthought, Buffy asked casually, “Before I go, will you show me the painting you started?”

“What?”

“Last time I was here. You started painting my picture by the waterfall. I’d like to see it.” If she was right, the painting would be in the locked storeroom. In order to show it to her, he’d have to open the door.

Spike was both flattered and afraid. He hardly ever allowed anyone to view his work – especially not in an unfinished stage. It was one of the reasons why he kept his studio so private, choosing very carefully those works he would allow the outside world to see. But he was proud of his painting of Buffy. And if he didn’t agree to show it to her, she would probably leave right now. He knew it was foolish, but he wanted her to stay as long as he could convince her to.

“All right.” He took her hand to lead her upstairs, trembling only slightly when they passed by his bedroom on the way to the studio. “But only if you promise to say suitably nice things – I don’t usually let others see my work.”

Buffy nodded. Giles would be so happy, and she would be able to be done with this duplicity once and for all. The longer she was in Spike’s presence, the more certain she became that there was a reasonable explanation for the fingerprints. Giles himself admitted they were just circumstantial evidence. She was doubly certain that she would find absolutely nothing suspicious in his workshop. After being forced to stay away from him for so long, she realized that she had missed him. She was definitely beginning to think that in spite of their rocky start, the two of them might be able to enjoy a more permanent relationship. She wondered if one day she might even admit that she had been investigating him when they had first met. She imagined that he would laugh and say it was nothing.

23: Picture Gallery


The room unlocked with a keypad, and Buffy made a cursory effort to sneak a look at the code. After all, what was the need? He was showing the room to her of his own free will.

The room was larger than she imagined it would be, and situated so that it received natural light from two directions. She could see why he had chosen this room for a studio. It was a working place her mother would have enjoyed.

The side wall reminded her of the storage space back at the gallery. It was designed specifically with the storage of paintings in mind. The wall was lined with racks where she could just glimpse dozens of completed pictures; despite his protestations of lack of talent, Spike must be a very prolific painter. Underneath the hanging racks were drawers, which if it was arranged the way Buffy’s storage was, would contain smaller, older, or more fragile works. The drawers had the advantage that they provided more protection from the elements, while at the same time providing additional security.

An easel was set up near the far end of the room overlooking the pool and the waterfall. The canvass on it was facing the window; an obvious sign that it was still a work in progress. Without hesitation Buffy went over to it and lifted the cloth covering.

Her first reaction was utter amazement. The man could paint. It was definitely her portrait, but the play of light and shadow, the proportions, the colors, and the emotion displayed on her face, were all the vision of the painter; the kind of thing that no mere camera could capture. She stared at it for a long time before she realized that Spike had painted her without benefit of her bathing suit.

It wasn’t immediately obvious, especially considering what she had been wearing. The position she was in, the foliage, and the foam from the waterfall masked the necessary areas that would immediately signify to the viewer her lack of clothes. Buffy colored slightly as she turned to compliment Spike on how beautiful his painting really was, despite the liberties he had taken with her costume.

Spike’s face was also blushing scarlet as he apparently realized what it was that she had seen.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I didn’t mean to paint you without the suit. It’s just that when I paint, my mind shuts down and the brush seems to control itself. It’s kind of like a trance, I guess. I might begin with one thing in mind, and then when I open my eyes again, I find that I’ve painted something completely different. I’ve been trying to learn more control, but it’s slow going. Regardless of the results, I find it relaxing. I’m rather pleased with my effort this time. I hope you like it.”

“Yes, it’s lovely.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the painting. It was almost mesmerizing. But the longer she stared at it, the more it occurred to her that there was something subtly disturbing about it, she just couldn’t figure out what.

Spike had been looking at the painting as if studying it for the first time as well. “Would you like to have it when it’s finished?” he asked, gesturing her towards the door.

“It looks finished now.” She ventured, looking away from the painting and directly at Spike for the first time since entering the room.

“Not at all. Give me another few days, and I’ll finish it up and have Jonathan bring it over to you, if you’d like.” His face suddenly looked paler than usual, and he seemed to be trying to get her out of the room for some reason.

Instead she started to explore the room, hoping to get a good look at what else it held before Spike ushered her out. From a distance, she glanced back at the painting one last time before moving towards the hanging racks that held his other work. That was when she saw it.

If you looked at the subject of the painting, if you looked at Buffy and the waterfall, you couldn’t see it. But if you looked closely at the rock wall she stood against, you could see what had unsettled Buffy about the painting.

Disguised by the light and shadow playing on the rocks behind the waterfall, two tortured faces stared out sightlessly at the viewer. Bruised and bloodied, neither face showed any sign of life. Faces that might have been taken from Rodin’s Gates of Hell.

“Spike?” She called tentatively. She was shaking. Her doubts about the man before her came back trebled. Maybe Giles was right. Who would paint something like this? She tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “Come here. I want to ask you about something.”

“You don’t like it? I can change it around if you want, add your suit back in.”

Something in his voice alerted her to the fact that he knew exactly what she had seen in the painting, even though he was no longer facing it. He just didn’t want to admit to it.

“I want you to come here and look at it with me. Tell me if I’m seeing things that aren’t there. Because…this is not what I remember.”

Spike came and stood behind her, taking her shoulders in his hands he whispered in her ear. “Come on luv, let’s go. When it’s finished you can look at it till your hearts content.”

“Spike. Tell me you don’t see what I see? Why would you paint something like that?”

Heart beating wildly, Buffy realized that she recognized them. They were faces of real people, people that she had met. She knew them only as ‘fuzz face’ and ‘gunman.’ They were the faces of two of the street thugs who had attacked them in New York.

Spike closed his eyes. It was too late to deny it now. “I don’t know why. I told you, sometimes when I paint – it’s not a decision that I make consciously. Sometimes things creep in that I don’t intend. I’m sorry, luv. I didn’t mean to ruin it for you. I meant it to be something beautiful.”

Still shaking in his embrace, she raised her hand to almost touch the canvass. “I know those two. They were in New York. Those are the muggers that wanted your wallet.”

“I’ll get rid of them. I’ll redo the background and you will never know that they were there.”

“But that’s not the point, Spike. Why are they there at all?”

Chapter 24: More pictures

Spike was the one trembling now. “During the fight... I lost control. Didn’t know what I was doing. All I knew was that I had to protect you.” Buffy stepped away from his embrace and put some distance between them. She refused to turn around. She didn’t want to look at him. She could barely hear Spike’s whisper, “I…I’m not sure, luv. How could I be sure? But I’m afraid that…that I killed them. There wasn’t time. We needed to leave…had to get you safe, luv. God, Buffy, I’d die if I let anything happen to you.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to call the police! Spike, you should have said something. We should have done something…”

Her outburst came to an abrupt end as her eyes lighted on something else that she desperately needed to see for herself. Moving swiftly, she swung open one of the hanging rods before he could stop her. The picture facing her was a very high quality copy of a Monet. Even the brush strokes looked perfect. But now that she knew what to look for, it was obvious. Underneath the water lilies, among the flowers, just barely visible, floated the bloated corpse of a young girl. Wildly she pulled out the next hanger, then the next, scanning each picture for what she was afraid that she would find.

“Spike? You’re scaring me. Who are these people?” She could barely get the words past her lips. “Are they…are they all dead?”

She flinched when he went to touch her. “I’m not really sure. Some I recognize, like the thugs from New York, but the rest… I don’t know who they are. Whether they’re real people, or just my imagination run wild, I’m not sure. Like I told you, sometimes when I paint…things just come out. I don’t mean to paint them, but they’re there just the same.”

Buffy moved away from him, backing towards the windows. She considered signaling for help, but instead of being threatening, Spike sank to the floor, head bowed. When he raised his head to look at her his eyes were pleading.

“Please, luv. Give me a chance to explain. After my mother died, they all turned out like this, or worse. I didn’t paint for years and years. Then Tara talked me into it. She said she thought it would help me to come to terms with myself. That my paintings were a form of self-expression, or something.” He looked up at Buffy with tear-streaked eyes. “She told me to paint something beautiful. That’s when I started copying old masters. I thought I was getting better. I could control it more, just paint what I saw in front of me.” He looked so devastated sitting there. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I really am. I should never have brought you in here.”

She had to think this through rationally. Spike was the same man he had been five minutes ago. The same man she would have sworn did not have an evil bone in his body. The man she had been contemplating letting herself fall in love with, before all this talk of murders and fingerprints. Before she had discovered the tortured images that he concealed in his workshop.

He hadn’t changed in the last few minutes; only her perception of him had. And she was still an agent on an assignment. It was her job to get to the bottom of this mystery. As much as the girl in her was horrified, the Agent looked at this storeroom of horrors and saw evidence.

It shouldn’t have been difficult to focus her mind on her mission, but it was. What particulars could she look for? What bound these images so strongly to his mind that they would creep out when he wasn’t expecting them to? Were there images of the murdered girls among these pictures? She had no pictures to go with the names. All she knew was that one of girls had been Chinese, another had been black, and the third simply foreign. All three had been young.

She took a step closer to him, still prostrate on the floor. Perhaps Spike himself could help her out. She bent down next to him, as if offering comfort. “The images that you do recognize? Tell me about them. Who they are, why do they haunt you?”

“That’s the word for it, luv. They haunt me, even during my waking hours, because they are dead ….and I’m not.” He gestured vaguely at the pictures hanging on the racks on the wall. “At least half these paintings contain images of my Mum. I told you that I never quite did get over losing her. I tell myself that it wasn’t my fault. But I guess I don’t really believe it.”

Buffy was glad that she had spoken to Tara about Spike. Despite everything he was accused of, she knew that she would have a doubly hard time if she thought that he had had anything to do with his mother’s death. Here was her chance to get Spike’s version of what had happened. And perhaps if he opened up to her about something so painful, he would be open to telling her more. She sat beside him on the floor. “Tell me more about your Mom. How she died.”

He was almost pathetically eager to talk. “She was sickly, my Mum. Had a rare cancer; completely inoperable. She went to all the specialists. In Britain, Europe, and in the States. They all told her the same thing. She wouldn’t accept it though. We thought…we thought maybe if Western medicine couldn’t do anything for her, maybe Eastern mysticism could cure her. Looking back on it, I know it was stupid – and probably mostly for my benefit. I couldn’t bear to see her give up and just wait to die. So we got our things together, and went on a trip visiting every Eastern mystic we could think of. It was all for nothing in the end. She died while we were in China. And I couldn’t help but think that if I hadn’t encouraged her to take that blasted trip, if we’d left for home sooner, that maybe, somehow, she might have pulled through.”

“I’m so sorry, Spike.” The words came out of her lips, and she was sorry for what a younger Spike had suffered. Inwardly she rejoiced that at least his words confirmed what Tara had told her. She could rest her mind that he was innocent of that particularly horrendous charge. “But there was nothing anyone could have done,” she continued. “It was her time. Just like my Mom. Sometimes you have to let go.”

“I know. I know.” There were real tears on his face. It was hard to be suspicious of a man who cried over the death of his mother. “It’s just hard. And things went from bad to worse. The things that happened while we were in China…It was just awful Buffy. I don’t know why we ever went there…”

Without prompting, Spike pulled another canvass rack out from the wall.

It was a more traditional looking portrait. The face staring out of the picture belonged to a young Asian girl, but wearing what looked like traditional warrior garb of some kind. Buffy gasped. Was this the first victim? Was Spike was going to tell her what happened in China?

“I never did learn who she was. It was right after my Mum died. We were still in Hong Kong. This girl, she just came out of nowhere. She had a sword, like in the picture, but she wasn’t dressed like that. Anyway, she, she said something in Chinese, but I don’t know what it was. Then she started swinging at me. I dodged and tried to run, but she followed. In the end, she gave me this scar above my eye, but she…she was dead, Buffy. I swear it was self-defense, but she was dead, and I …I wasn’t. I can’t tell you how many times I wished I’d died there instead. Angelus wouldn’t let me go to the local authorities about it, and then we packed up and left to return to England. I was in such a daze over what had happened, and my Mum being gone, that I don’t really remember much about anything until I got home to England. Of course it wasn’t really home anymore, without my Mum. Not long after, Dru and I came to the States, and I tried to forget. But I guess I haven’t done a very good job of it.”

“Oh, Spike! Why would she do something like that? Attack you? It doesn’t make any sense!”

“I know. Looking back on it, knowing what I do now, I can’t help but think that Angelus had something to do with it. It was obvious we were all traveling together. He must have done something to set her off, and when she couldn’t find him, she settled on me instead.”

She wondered if this explanation of why his fingerprints were found on a sword used to kill a young Chinese girl in Hong Kong in the early 1980’s would hold up under scrutiny. It certainly was easier to believe that Angelus O’Connor had been instrumental in the girl’s death than the man in tears on the floor. Silently she wondered what Giles would think of Spike’s story, and whether he would have just as convincing explanations about the young Romanian girl and Nikki Woods.

Looking around her as a stranger would, and seeing his life’s work as merely a multitude of evidence on display, Buffy knew that this looked so much worse than anything she had imagined finding. Based on what she had seen, she was certain that it was possible that Spike had painted the forged Renoir himself. The almost forgotten forged painting that had started off this whole investigation. If he had somehow managed to keep his personal gallery of horrors out of his work, he certainly had the talent to pull it off. But even worse, his other paintings implied that he was guilty of the murders Giles had accused him of. But would it be enough to convict him?

She was never going to get a better opportunity. The more the girl in her was confused and traumatized, the more Agent Buffy Summers took control. Depending on what she found, she probably never wanted to come back to this house, or see Spike, ever again.

His defeated demeanor and the fact that backup was so close by made her bold. “I’ll stay the night if you like.”

“What?” He wiped his face and rose unsteadily to his feet.

“In my own room,” she amended. “You probably shouldn’t be alone right now. This has been a very difficult evening.”

Once he was asleep she would try to get back into the workroom and take pictures of everything she could. Giles would probably be able to run the images through some kind of computer program, and they might be able to come up with names for some of the faces. Faced with enough facts, they might be able to piece together what was going on here. Or maybe Spike would confess to her. “If you feel up to it we can talk about it more in the morning. Does that sound okay to you?”

“Thank you. I should have painted you with wings, you’re like an angel to me.” He reached out to touch her face and tried not to notice that she refused to allow it. He could understand that she’d be feeling very ambivalent about him right now. He wasn’t too happy with himself. But then he never was.

Chapter 25: Undercover

After it was decided that Buffy would stay the night, she phoned Willow so that she could let her other ‘friends’ know that she was going to be late, and not to worry – code for ‘let Giles know that I’m fine and will check in with him in the morning.’ She wished she could say more, but the risk of being overheard was too great.

After the emotionally exhausting evening, she’d borrowed something from Spike to sleep in, and they both turned in early. Buffy let herself nap until she was positive that Spike was asleep.

Surprising as it might be for a ‘secret agent’ this was the first time that Buffy had ever had to sneak around someone’s house. Until now she hadn’t really been the kind of agent who went on dangerous or deep cover assignments. Her work had been relatively routine. This was far more exciting and far more emotionally taxing.

Of course she felt that since she was on good terms with her suspect, she wasn’t actually in any danger. If she got caught snooping around, she could easily come up with an excuse, perhaps that she was looking for a something to read to help her sleep. Spike, although suspicious by nature, would never suspect her.

Her first goal was the workroom. If only she could examine it at her leisure! She wasn’t supposed to be working on the murder angle, but if the shoe fit…

Of course the door was locked again. Not really being a proper undercover agent, she hadn’t gotten a good look at the key code. Still, she had a good idea of the movements his hands had made. Undeterred, she tried a few combinations that she thought must be close until the panel shut itself down. It must have some kind of internal security to prevent just what she was trying. Sighing in disgust at her lack of ingenuity and foresight, she headed for her secondary objective, the study.

Perhaps he kept records of his dealings in a secret compartment in his desk, or in his computer. Even information contained in his email address book might prove useful to an investigation. She’d seen the room briefly on the tour Spike had given her first time she had been at his house. It certainly looked like a working study. It was bound to contain something useful.

Hoping that she’d be able to find what she was looking for quickly, Buffy belatedly began to realize what this night’s work would mean. She would no longer have a choice. The pictures by themselves might or might not be incriminating enough. And she couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t seen them. Whatever Giles decided to do with the information that she gave him, either way her assignment would be over.

Despite what she had learned about his checkered past, she was conflicted because she had finally admitted that she found him attractive, and that she enjoyed his company a great deal. Without the complications brought on by her assignment, and what she now knew about him, she realized that she might have already done away with caution, and slept with him. Even if it meant nothing, a quick rough and tumble might be exactly what she needed. A guy that she could love and leave for a change.

She knew several agents who would have no qualms about it at all. Including Faith and Harmony. She wondered again if the rumors were true. But Buffy was not Faith or Harmony. The undercover work was hard enough for her now; Buffy wasn’t sure that she’d be able to keep her emotions in check at all if things turned physical.

Unwittingly, her mind pondered the possibility. If the night had gone differently, she might have chosen that route to this same end. Images of satin sheets and silky kisses were interrupted by a dose of reality. If she had been willing to give in and actually agreed to sleep with him, it would have made a convenient excuse to spend the night. But if they actually had slept together, it might have been difficult to slip out of his bed in the middle of the night and go prowling around his house. ‘SO not going that route,’ she vowed to herself. She needed to end this business quickly, before her emotions overruled her sense. Spike would probably be in jail soon, and she would be the cause, and he would never want to see her again, unless it was to get revenge on her for her betrayal.

A search of the desk turned up nothing. The computer was another problem. It was password protected. If Buffy was half the hacker Willow was, it wouldn’t be a problem. But she wasn’t. She had never even received special training in computers. She was sure that the Agency must have something, a program, or a key word, or something that would override security on any PC. But she didn’t know it, and didn’t have the time or expertise to have any hope of getting in to his system tonight. Perhaps once they obtained a warrant, trained agents would be able to hack into his system.

So far she had come up completely empty-handed. Nothing to show for this late night’s work at all. Perhaps if she wandered again she’d spy something that she had missed before.

A picture by the door caught her eye on the way out. She had noticed it before, and it had caught her eye although she hadn’t looked at it too closely. Having seen some of his other work, Buffy assumed that Spike had painted it. Fortunately it lacked the gruesome undertones she had seen in many of his other paintings. She might be out of her element poking about like a super sleuth, but she was supposed to be an art expert. She moved in for a closer look.

She knew the subject of the painting – it was the clock tower from the UC Sunnydale campus. Although unsigned, the painter was definitely William Thorndale. But something else caught her eye. As she inspected the painting closely, she realized that the shadows of the room were off. The painting was hung improperly – she touched it and it swung open, revealing a wall safe behind it. Bingo.

Like computer hacking, Buffy had received no training in safe cracking. She wasn’t supposed to be the type of agent who was sent on “mission impossible” field assignments. She thought ruefully that she might suggest that Agency re-evaluate their training decisions so that all agents would be required to take these types of classes. Perhaps she’d mention it to Giles on Monday.

Now, if she could only remember her rudimentary training! Just as many people used the word “password” or the name of a pet or a child as a computer password, they also used memorable sets of numbers for combination locks. Fortunately, she had memorized enough about Spike to try a few sets of numbers and see if she managed to get lucky.

First she tried his wedding date. No luck. She tried his birth date. The date his company was incorporated. Drusilla’s birthday. The date of their divorce. As she was wracking her brain for other ideas, a thought occurred to her.

The first night they met, at the gallery, Spike had said something odd, and it had stuck in her mind. He had said that he wasn’t really as old as everyone thought he was. He was only ten years her senior – not fifteen. She tried another combination, to no use. At least this safe was old-fashioned enough that it did not have an automatic shut off like the door lock upstairs. She had one more idea to try. Add to the younger birth date the odd birthday celebration in New York… the safe opened.

Chapter 26: Secret Agent Girl


She’d have to remember to ask Giles to check into how Spike could have so effectively erased all record of his real birthday, or if William Thorndale was a false identity all together. In this day and age, that wasn’t any easy thing to do. Not even the gossip rags or journalists had questioned the obviously fictional birth date.

The contents of the safe were much as she had expected. A large stack of cash, some jewelry cases and a few gold coins. Those weren’t what she was after. But at the bottom she found several notebooks. It was a good thing her kit included a camera phone. One of the few pieces of ‘spy’ apparatus she could claim. She’d never have time to read through all of this. Dutifully she began snapping pictures of each page, not even taking the time to read what she was photographing.

The last notebook she came to was the oldest, and was different from the others. Instead of being a ledger or an address book, this small notebook was more like a diary or journal, it had also been apparently used as a sketchbook. By the date of the first entry she could tell that it was approximately the same vintage as the crimes Spike was suspected of. The handwriting looked somewhat different from that in the ledgers, but perhaps that was because it had obviously been used by a much younger William. She wasn’t a handwriting specialist, but she’d stake her reputation that the sketches were made by the same person who completed the paintings upstairs.

Fascinated, she began skimming the entries, forgetting to photograph the pages. Almost every other page contained a sketch or a poem. The first several pages were full of sketches of buildings and train stations, mountains and rivers, and a variety of people in different types of ethnic dress. Often the sketches were accompanied by short poems that weren’t nearly as good as the artwork, but seemed just as heartfelt.

She’d heard about some of his travels first hand from Spike, when they’d sat for hours in that coffee shop. Apparently this was the personal journal of a young William Thorndale. It began after they had left England and described William’s travels with his mother throughout Europe. However, as she skimmed the pages, and read a few of the entries, it became clear to her that this was not a pleasure trip for mother and son. As both he and Tara had stated, Mrs. Thorndale was seriously ill – and was consulting doctors and mystics from all over Europe hoping for a cure. Apparently Spike had been telling the truth about how his mother had died. But she hadn’t quite put it together that this trip was why Spike had seemed so well traveled. If taken for any other reason, it would have been a spectacular adventure.

After mother and son had reached China, the tone of the diary began to change. Instead of pictures and poems about peoples and landscapes, young William had begun a series of sketches of very realistic nudes. Looking more carefully, Buffy realized that almost all of the pictures featured the same raven-haired beauty. Buffy suddenly recognized who she was: Drusilla. The woman she had met briefly in New York, who had been Spike’s wife, and was now his ex.

Looking back at the diary, Buffy noticed that at the same time William started sketching nudes, he stopped describing the fabulous sights and customs of the people he met. His writing also became more …personal. Buffy blushed when she realized what must have happened. Spike had apparently met and courted his ex-wife while in China with his mother.

As she continued flipping pages, other figures slowly found their way onto the pages as well. A well-built man, and what was clearly a different woman. Disturbingly, they were also often depicted nude. She nearly dropped the book when she finally got a glimpse of the man’s face. It was Angelus.

Swallowing hard, Buffy forced herself to turn the next page. It wasn’t what she expected. Instead of Drusilla or one of the other nudes, there was a picture of what could only have been William’s mother. Instead of the warm and vivacious woman depicted in the first pages of the journal, here she was drawn as cold and still, laid out formally in her coffin. As reported, William’s mother had died in China.

Suddenly the nudes were gone, and page after page of the journal was covered with depictions of his mother that he must have drawn from memory. After that, there were no more pictures. The journal returned to words and poems alone.

Her hand paused as she skimmed ahead to the last few pages. She was a fool. The journal probably contained Spike’s own first hand account of what happened in China, and possibly in Romania as well. Would he actually have written about such horrible events? But then, he certainly never expected anyone else to read his journal. He kept locked in his safe after all.

Stupidly she realized she’d been so embarrassed by the dirty pictures that she’d forgotten to take photographs! Hurriedly she brought the camera up again and began snapping wildly. There’d be time to read the entries later – for now she needed to get a copy of what he’d written. And then she needed to get the hell out of here.

Gods. What could he possibly have written? She swallowed. This diary would go a long way towards ending the entire investigation one way or another. It was illegally obtained evidence, but Buffy knew that if he admitted to the crimes in this journal, the Agency wouldn’t rest until Spike was behind bars, one way or another. They’d find some way to legally break into his house and get what they needed to lock him up for a long time, either on one of the murder charges, or something else.

Still Buffy had a hard time bringing herself to believe that the man she knew was capable of any such thing – she wanted to believe his plea of self-defense in the incident in China - but what if he had written something different in his private journal? And Spike’s confession had not even mentioned the Romanian girl or Nikki Woods. If he had written it all down, she would be forced to hand over the incriminating evidence to her superiors, whether or not was admissible in court.

The urge to actually read what she was photographing was undeniable. Surely it wouldn’t take too much extra time, would it? But being caught alone in Spike’s study was one thing; being caught photographing the contents of his wall safe something else entirely. Especially since she now knew what it contained.

Almost as soon as she had the thought, she began hearing sounds of someone else awake in the house.

Getting busted at this point would be bad. Very bad. Unthinkingly, she had left the pickup back with her street clothes in the bedroom. Should anything go wrong, she had no way to signal that she needed help. If she was caught now, she couldn’t call for back up.

Hurriedly she gathered up all the documents she had removed from the safe, and arranged them with the journal at the bottom, just as she had found them. Quietly she returned everything to the safe, shut and locked the mechanism again, and stowed away the camera in her bra.

Incriminating evidence put away, Buffy foolishly worried that she’d feel exposed if Spike found her here clad in only her panties and the shirt he had loaned her to use as a night shirt. Suddenly cold, she buttoned up another button on the shirt, and headed out into the corridor.

27: Who’s There?

Deciding it would probably be better if she surprised the other night wanderer rather than the other way around, Buffy tried to make it look as if she had only just woken up. Stumbling into the kitchen to see who was making this kind of racket before the sun was even up, she had no idea what to expect. Surely the staff didn’t rise this early to begin preparations for breakfast. But what did she know? She had never even been in a house that employed ‘staff’ before.

Instead of the expected Jonathan or Andrew, Buffy was stunned to find a young girl hunting through the cupboards. Relieved that she wasn’t going to be busted, Buffy watched while the indefinable mass that the girl had left sizzling on the stove began to crackle and burn. As Buffy watched, the horrible goo began to give off a foul stench. Very shortly Buffy was sure that the smoke alarms would go off, waking the entire household.

Finally noticing what was happening to the mess in the frying pan, the unknown girl let out a loud squeak. While the girl continued making noise, Buffy took a longer look at what was on the stove, and the girl who was frantically trying to put out the small grease fire. Taking pity on her (and fearing for everyone’s safety if things got out of hand) Buffy had just decided to take action when the girl finally dropped a large lid onto the pan and smothered the fire until it was extinguished.

The girl smiled with satisfaction at successfully managing to avoid a catastrophe, and apparently began looking around for a plate. The girl’s hair was straight and brown, and very nearly falling onto the burner. Buffy ached to take that hair and braid it, or confine it in ponytails, if for no other reason than the girl’s safety around the stove that she obviously had no business using.

As she watched, Buffy began to reassess her first impression. At first she had thought the girl was perhaps 11 or 12 years old, just tall for her age. But as Buffy watched the way she moved, acted, and the sounds she made, Buffy realized that she was older than that. ‘A teenager then,’ she thought. ‘A young teenager, but still, a teen. What was a teen girl doing in this house full of single men?’

At last the girl gave an even louder ‘eep’ as she finally noticed Buffy watching her. For a second she completely forgot the sizzling mess in the pan and nearly dropped it on the floor. ‘No great loss,’ Buff thought to herself. Although someone would have to clean it up, and she really didn’t want it to be her.

The glop in the pan barely looked edible, even if it hadn’t been burnt to a crisp. Up close it appeared to be a conglomeration of mismatched ingredients, possibly with an egg base, although Buffy was sure chocolate, eggs and sausages were never meant to go together – and certainly not fried to a crisp in the same frying pan. Buff knew she was no expert in the kitchen herself, but she was fairly certain that without her timely intervention the smoke alarm would haven awoken entire household. Calmly, since one of them had to be calm, she started to remove the gunk from the hot pan, but then hesitated.

“Do you really want this on a plate, or should I skip that and we’ll throw it straight in the disposal?”

The girl stopped squalling long enough to take a good sniff of the mess she had prepared. Curling her lip in distaste, she quickly agreed with Buffy. “I guess that one goes down as yet another failed recipe. I mean, it sounds good when I think these things up, but the reality never really meets my expectations, you know?”

“If this is the usual result, then I’d have to say you might want to consider dropping ‘chef’ from your list of possible careers. I’m Buffy, by the way. Who are you?”

The teen squealed again, and aside from the puzzle of who she was and just what exactly she was doing there – Buffy was beginning to wonder if she ever did anything besides squawk like a bird and try to destroy the kitchen.

Seemingly excited to meet her, the mystery girl jumped up and down waving her hands.

“I just knew that’s who you had to be! You can’t believe how glad I am to see you. I mean, Spike’s been talking about you for ages, and has been so frustrated because you broke up with him for a while, apparently because you wouldn’t sleep with him, or because he had once slept with someone you knew, he wasn’s sure which. Not that he put it quite that way, but I could tell what he meant. Now he’ll be so much easier to live with, since he won’t have you to bitch about anymore.”

Buffy didn’t know why she was shocked, it was obvious that the girl lived here; she’d known that on some level ever since she found her in the kitchen. Still, it was no reason to make assumptions.

“You live here? Is Spike your relative or something? You seem to know all about Spike and my relationship, but he hasn’t said anything to me about you.”

If the girl was going to answer Buffy’s questions, she didn’t show it. The kid just kept staring at her with this odd grin on her face, like she expected Buffy to burst into song or something. It was making her uncomfortable.

Under the girl’s scrutiny, Buffy felt compelled to clarify. “And by the way, just for the record, I did not ‘spend the night’ with Spike. Spike was upset about something, so I volunteered to stay over. In the guest room.”

Suddenly the girl looked crestfallen. Stranger and stranger. “Well, you’ll come around. I’m sure you will. And you won’t regret it. Spike’s really good in bed,” she gushed.

That couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like, could it? Anya was one thing, but this slip of a girl couldn’t possibly be anywhere near the age of consent. And that meant statutory rape. Buffy’s face apparently spoke for itself, and the girl quickly tried to backpedal. But what had been said could never be unsaid.

A/N: Don't go postal. Leave a few reviews and I'll post the next chappie soon. It will all make sense then.

Chapter 28: Please tell me you didn’t just say that

Of course Buffy would take a statement like that the wrong way. What had she been thinking to make a statement like that? ‘Spike’s really good in bed!’ indeed.

“It’s not what you think. I mean, it is, but it’s not.” This wasn’t making a heck of a lot of sense to Buffy. Either something illicit was going on here, or it wasn’t. She really, really hoped that it wasn’t. “That is, it’s not that I’d know. Personally, I mean.”

The girl’s face was turning crimson, and she was twirling her long hair in her fingers. “But all Glory’s girls agreed, so I guess it’s true.” She sighed theatrically. “You know, sometimes I really wish we’d done it. I lie awake at night thinking about it sometimes. I mean, why not learn from the best, right? And he’s so dreamy. And sweet. Really sweet.” Her eyes took on the faraway expression of a woman in love, or in this case, a teenager with a crush. “I don’t really get why you need to make such a big deal about it. It’s only sex.”

Although she’d said plenty, the girl had yet to answer Buffy’s question. “So, I’m taking from that little hymn of praise that Spike is not your older half brother or something equally mundane. And I am SO not liking what I’ve heard so far.” Who the hell was this…child, who was apparently living in Spike’s house, and SO not his sister?

“Sorry.” She held out her hand then, like she had just remembered something that she had been taught. “I’m so pleased to meet you. My name is Dawn. I live in the pool house.”

Buffy tentatively shook the girl’s hand and introduced herself. “I’m Buffy. But you already know that.” She needed to make a friend of this girl. Needed to get her to confide in her. “Can you tell me just why you live in the pool house, Dawn?”

“Oh, Spike didn’t want me in the big house. At first he said I was too distracting to have so nearby. I think he was afraid that something might happen between us, even though he told me that it never would. I think that when I sneaked into his bedroom that one time I really freaked him out. I mean, at first I didn’t think that he really meant it, you know? Like maybe it was just a game he wanted to play or something. I mean, what kind of guy shells out that kinda money and then doesn’t take advantage? Not like I didn’t know the score.”

The kid barely paused for a breath, and there was no way Buffy could get a word in edgewise, stunned as she was by what was coming out of the teen’s mouth.

“But since you came along, we’ve reached a new understanding; he’s had to come up with other excuses. Like the fact that I might get in the way, by which I think he means I might overhear you two having sex, assuming you ever do have sex, that is. Like I never heard two people doing it before! Still, I know he’s suffering, and I offered to take the edge off, if you know what I mean, but he still said no.” She pouted, but then brightened as if amused by her own thoughts.

“I don’t think that he really wanted for us to meet, you know? Last time he had you over I was on a band trip with school, and tonight I was supposed to be over at Janice’s, only we had a fight, and I walked home. Anyway Spike’s really stuck on you, which is kinda bad if you don’t feel the same way. You will come around eventually, won’t you? I mean, you’re not gay or anything, are you? I mean, if you don’t want him, well, I’m still here and available, so good for me, but I know he’d really, really rather have you. Being second choice isn’t as much fun as I’d hoped it would be.”

With every damning word out of the girl’s mouth, Buffy became more and more stunned. And the kid had spouted a hell of a lot of words. But things still weren’t clear.

What the hell was going on? Who exactly was this obviously underage girl, who blatantly admitted that she wanted to find herself in Spike’s bed? God, she was young enough to be his daughter for crissakes! But she had admitted that nothing had actually happened, hadn’t she?

“Still not answering the question, Dawn.”

The shock was beginning to wear off and Buffy was getting angry. At herself mostly, for thinking of Spike like a human being rather than a criminal. Of course criminals did disgusting and immoral things. Even to young girls.

Thinking of the murders he’d been implicated in, and the journal entry she had not yet had time to read, and the pictures she had seen, she revised that thought. Especially to young girls.

A new thought occurred to her and chilled her to the bone. God, was he intending to murder Dawn? Rape certainly seemed out of the question, since the girl was obviously willing, but still it would be statutory rape nonetheless. It was time to get to the bottom of this.

Her job, the investigation of murders over twenty years old, seemed to pale in comparison. This was happening right now, in this very house, to the girl who was standing right in front of her. Although she was conflicted about the evidence linking Spike to past crimes, there would be no hesitation at all on her part if she once discovered that he had done anything to hurt Dawn. In fact, as she saw it, there was very little choice even if he hadn’t. The girl was obviously no relation to him; she couldn’t stay alone in his house. It wasn’t right. She’d either take the girl home to her mother, or find some other arrangement. Now that she knew about the situation, there was nothing else that she could do.

A/N: Thanks for all your reviews. I am so thrilled that you are enjoying this. Will post more soon. P.S. Am kinda thrilled that you all didn't assume the worst of Spike after the last chapter. I was worried I'd get flamed.

Chapter 27: Setting the Record Straight

“Let’s sit and chat Dawn. I’m beginning to get why he hasn’t said anything to me about you. Tell you what? I’ll find us something that’s actually edible, and we can talk while we eat, okay?”

Nodding, Dawn eagerly agreed to help. “I’ll get us juice. I know I can do that without any ruining anything.”

Rummaging through the cabinets gave Buffy some time to collect herself. The kid obviously had a lot to say, but so far none of it had been useful. What could she ask that would be helpful?

For whatever reason, Dawn seemed happy with the current situation. Buffy didn’t think that she could get her to go to social services voluntarily. At least not without a lot of convincing. And what could she really say? Spike is an unofficial suspect in three murders, and I’m afraid that Dawn is going to be number four? The kid would never believe it in a million years. Heck, Buffy hadn’t really believed it either.

As soon as she’d met Spike she’d found it hard to believe that he could be a criminal. Forging artwork, well, she could believe that, maybe. But murder? Especially brutal murder? She’d read the file on the murders. The middle one, the murder that had happened in Romania, couldn’t possibly be explained away easily by claiming something as simple as ‘self-defense.’ It made her sick to think what had happened to that poor girl. She hadn’t had the time to read the entry from the journal she’d found in Spike’s safe, but at least it confirmed that he had in fact been in the right place at about the right time.

In the shock of meeting Dawn, she’d almost forgotten about the pages she’d photographed, but not read. Would they somehow clear Spike of that most brutal murder, or prove his guilt? Either way, that was in the past. What was going on with Dawn was happening right now, and it was her responsibility to stop it. But what could she do about Dawn, except report her presence to the authorities? Was she a runaway?

Apparently all the eggs were now in a smoking heap in the trash, so Buffy took out two bowls, milk and a box of cereal. Breakfast of champions, and all that.

“So, Dawn, do your parents know you’re here?” Time to get to this straightened out.

“Parent. As in singular. Mom never did let on who my Dad was, assuming she even knows. Personally, I was kinda afraid to find out. Though I did tell her she’d better exclude any possible suspects from the auction. That’d be just way too creepy. That’s another reason I was happy it was Spike who bought my contract. He’s never slept with Glory.”

Huh? “Dawn.” Buffy put her hand over the girl’s, and momentarily stopping the teen’s mad rush to stuff as much cereal into her mouth as possible as quickly as possible. “Just once, could you actually answer the question? Does your mother know where you are?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. Grown-ups could be so dense sometimes. Hadn’t she just told her that? “Of course she does. I talk to her once a week. Of course I lie.” Dawn giggled. “She thinks Spike and I are doing it like bunnies.”

The cereal Buffy had been eating suddenly turned to concrete in her mouth, as she looked around frantically for a napkin. If she didn’t find one soon, this half chewed mess was going to find its way onto the table, and she really didn’t think either of them wanted to see that. Finally she spit the unappetizing mess out, and tried to wretch unobtrusively into the napkin until she could control herself.

“Let me be very sure I’m understanding you, Dawn. Your mother knows that you’re living with Spike. And you want her to think that you’re sleeping with him, although you’re really not. In fact, you’ve never slept with him at all.”

“Yes.” Dawn agreed. “That’s right.”

Thank God for small favors! “Why exactly do you want your mother to think this? Does Spike know that’s what you’re telling her?”

Dawn rolled her eyes again. “Of course he knows. It was his idea. My mom would never let me stay here if she knew the truth.”

“I’m still not following, Dawn. Are you saying that your mother wants you to sleep with Spike?”

“Of course. That was the deal.”

Finally beginning to understand the older girl’s confusion, Dawn finally hit upon the one piece of information that Buffy was missing. “My mother is Glory.”

Dawn could tell that Buffy still wasn’t tracking. “Glorificus? She runs the whorehouse downtown. Spike’s supposed to be my education.”

Buffy still had that deer in the headlights look, so Dawn decided to elaborate. “When I turned fourteen years old, dear old Mom thought it was time that I learned the trade. She hit upon this idea. See, a girl’s first time can be valuable. Some guys like to be the first, you know? So she decided to make an online offering to special clients, kinda like a sneak preview at the movies. I helped her go through her client database, and pick out suitable candidates. Like I said, I wanted to be way sure there was no way I’d end up with anyone who could possibly be my father. Then, we sent out an email, and the highest bidder got me for a whole week. Course it’s been a lot more than a week, now, but that’s not unusual for Spike. Years gone by, he’d keep a girl he liked a couple months at a time. I know. I saw the database. Even remember talking to some of the girls about it. It was an unusual gig, and one they fought over. Even though I was only nine at the time, I remember that. All of the girls wanted to be the one he chose. So you see, as long as she thinks we’re dong it, and as long as Spike keeps paying for the privilege, she’s happy as a clam to have me stay here.”

Buffy shuddered, and it seemed her mood finally carried over to Dawn as well. For the first time Dawn lowered her voice and spoke softly as if she ought to be ashamed of what she was saying.

“I’ll admit I’m kinda scared what’s gonna happen to me once this gig is over. I mean, I’ve gotten used to the good life now. Plus, I know Spike would’ve been gentle. Next place I go, the guy’s gonna expect I know something, isn’t he? Might not be happy to find out I’m still a virgin. That’s why I wish we’d done it. Well, aside from the obvious, of course.” She got that teen crush look again. “You gotta admit, he is dreamy. Can’t always guarantee that’ll be the case either.”

All this was too much for Buffy to process, especially so early in the morning. A mother who sold her daughter’s virtue at auction? Who sent her out to be a whore? That just didn’t compute in Buffy’s world. Sure, she and her Mom had had their problems. And a daughter’s loss of virginity was sure to be a sore spot for any Mom, but this was a twist she had never expected in a million years.

How could her intervention set this right? Social services would either send her back to her mother, or to foster care. And the girl would probably wind up right back where she’d started, only without the fancy backing to find her lucrative ‘contracts’ with wealthy men.

She could only thank the patron saint of wayward girls that something had made Spike hesitate to take this girl’s innocence. It was her job to bring him to justice for his crimes, and if she could have proven statutory rape, she would have to call in the authorities, not only to see Dawn safely taken care of, but to see Spike put away too.

But apparently he hadn’t done anything to Dawn, except insist that she live in the pool house rather than have her own bedroom upstairs by him, or with the other staff. That was probably a smart move on his part. Buffy hadn’t seen any other females in the place at all.

Spike hadn’t touched Dawn. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t going to be a reckoning. Whatever he had or had not done in the past, this was going on right now. And the situation just wasn’t right, whatever had or had not happened between Dawn and Spike. One way or another she was going to put a stop to it.

Chapter 30: Rude awakening

“Hey guys wake up.” Warren’s voice was jarring. “Come on lazy heads, wake up. You’ll want to see this.”

“What? What is it?”

“Is the house on fire?”

“No you nitwits. I just thought you might like to see the greatest thing since the Spike and Anya show. Live. That’s all. You can go back to bed, if you’re not interested, Andrew. And Jonathan. I forgot you don’t like to spy.”

“Oh, oh! Are they finally gonna do it?” Andrew was as excited as a child on Christmas morning. Then a thought occurred to him, “I thought that you said that they went to sleep in different bedrooms?”

“You two are so sick it isn’t even funny. If Spike knew what you two were up to…”

“But he’s not gonna find out, is he Jonathan? Or things could go very badly for you. Maybe I’ll give you a little dose of that powder I whipped up and see what happens? Could be really entertaining. What do you think? Or I could tell Spike about certain other of your nocturnal activities. Do you think he’d be pleased to hear about that?”

“That…that was you, Warren. Not me. I didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly. And that makes you an accessory.”

“But, you, you couldn’t prove it. Not without them knowing it was you all along. You couldn’t…”

“I think you’d be very surprised to learn just what I can do if I put my mind to it, Jonathan. But you’re not gonna find out, because you’re never gonna tell, are you?” It was frightening how quickly Warren could turn from a mild mannered friend to menacing evil scientist.

“Ah, no,” Jonathan was quick to agree. “I’ll never tell. You can count on me, Warren.”

“Good. Cause if I ever do wind up in jail, you can bet your sweet ass that you’ll both be right there beside me. Understood?”

“Yes. No problem.”

“Andrew?”

“Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t threaten to rat you out. It was all him, Warren.”

“Good. Now come on into the other room. I think you’re gonna like what’s happening.”

“You never answered my question. Are Buffy and Spike finally gonna do it? Cause it’s like really early in the morning, and yesterday or last night would have been so much easier for all of us to enjoy.” Andrew could find the strangest things to whine about.

“No. They’re not gonna do it. I told you that already. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Well, if they’re not gonna screw, what’d you wake us up for?” Andrew was not a happy camper, like a child promised dessert, only to find that he had to eat his Brussels sprouts first.

“This is gonna be the next best thing. Buffy’s gonna chew Spike up and spit him out. She met Dawn.”

“Really? Oh my gosh, Spike’s in trouble now - sparks are gonna fly. What’d Dawn tell her?”

“You know Dawn, she’s almost as bad as Anya. Dawn told her the whole story.”

“Well then,” said Jonathan reasonably. “Then Buffy shouldn’t be mad, because Spike didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t think Buffy feels that way. She looked hopping mad to me.”

“Okay, okay. Turn up the sound. I want to hear what she says.”

On the screen, Buffy and Dawn stood at the foot of Spike’s bed; a very irate man stared back at them. Obviously they’d already missed some of the fireworks. But it wasn’t over.

Spike was obviously of the same opinion as Jonathan. That he’d done nothing wrong. It looked like Dawn was siding with Spike. But Buffy wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Pack your things, Dawn. You’re not staying here another night. This is sick.”

“Why won’t you believe us, Buffy? We’ve both told you that absolutely nothing is going on. Okay, so my friend Janice and I sometimes spy on Spike when he’s in the pool, and we might have snuck into his room once or twice to see if we could catch a glimpse of him in the shower, but that’s it. There’s no need to be so upset.”

“Listen to reason, pet. The girl’s happy here and I’m happy to have her here. What’s the harm if her Mum thinks things are different between us? In a few months we’ll have the girls’ school all sorted out and she’ll be off with Janice and her mates, and Glory none the wiser.”

“What?” Dawn was mad now too. “Spike, you didn’t tell me that you were planning to send me away. What if I don’t want to go?”

“Oh, you’ll want to go all right. I was arranging for Janice to receive a scholarship – full tuition, plus room and board. If even half of the things you’ve said are true, her parents would jump at the chance to be rid of her, and shut of those fancy tuition bills. And I know Janice’d be none too sad to see the back of them either. Once she was living on campus, you’d be begging me to send you, Bit. I agree with Buffy, this isn’t the right place for you to grow up. You’d do well there, Bit. Learn to be a proper lady.”

“I don’t need to learn anything, Spike. And I don’t want to leave you here all alone. You hate to be alone. And you’d miss me. I know you would.”

“Yeah, well, that’s where Buffy and I agree. It’s not about what I want, it’s about what’s best for you. And what’s best is for you to live a normal life surrounded by other girls your own age. Not shut up here in a gilded cage with a man old enough to be your father.”

“You are so not old enough to be my father, Spike. Even Janice thinks you’re hot, and she doesn’t even like Johnny Depp.”

“That’s as may be, Bit. But Buffy’s right. You don’t belong here.” He turned his eyes to Buffy. “But does she have to go so soon? Just hold off a mo’, and everything will sort itself out.”

“No, Spike. Dawn is leaving today. Now. With me. I’ll talk to some people about it, and maybe we won’t have to get social services involved. But this ends here, Spike. You can’t just pretend that she’s your daughter when she’s not. I mean, if you don’t mind paying to send her to that fancy school, I am sure that no one would object. But she can’t stay here with you. Not even one more night. Call us a cab. We’ll meet it out in front.” Undaunted, Buffy grabbed Dawn’s hand and started towards the door.

“Fine. Have it your way then,” Spike called after their retreating backs. “But you’ll find the Nibblet is not the easiest roommate in the world. And if you take her with you now, don’t think you’ll be able to send her back to me once you’ve had your fill of her. You want her; she’s yours. But she’s your problem now. Not mine.”

Buffy looked at Dawn with new fear in her eyes. She had almost set Spike’s kitchen on fire when Buffy had found her. Maybe life with Dawn wasn’t going to be quite as simple as she thought it would be.

“Hey, why’s everyone looking at me? I’m the innocent pawn in all this.” Dawn was putting on her innocent act, and it was quite convincing. “Just this once I can say with total honesty, I didn’t do anything.”

~*~

Back in the control room, Jonathan was mad, “Well, that was disappointing.”

“Thanks for waking us up for nothing, Warren.” Andrew whined. “If we weren’t gonna get to see some booty, I at least hoped we’d see some fist action. Although it was kinda cool to see them all standing around in their jammies. Buffy looked hot wearing nothing but Spike’s shirt. And Spike had no shirt on at all. Did you see his abdominal muscles? I’d so kill to look like that.”

“Please. And don’t mention Spike shirtless again. Just the thought of it makes me ill. But I gotta admit, Buffy was pretty hot, even if we didn’t get to see a lot. Still, I’m not sure it was worth the early wake up, Warren. We could have waited and watched it on tape at a decent hour.”

“That so? You think it was disappointing?”

Andrew and Jonathan both nodded. “Well, then. Tell me what you think of this then.”

Warren rewound the tape, then pressed play.

Andrew let out a short ‘eep’ while Jonathan merely gasped. There was Buffy, cool as day, happily photographing the contents of Spike’s safe.

“I think I’ll wait until they leave to bring this up to the boss man. You want to see fireworks? Just wait.”

Mesmerized, the trio watched as Buffy carefully put back the contents of Spike’s safe, so that it looked like it had never been disturbed.

As they watched, something was niggling in the back of Jonathan’s brain. “Warren?”

“What is it now, shit-for-brains?”

“Warren, you knew this was on the tape, didn’t you? I mean, before you showed us, you knew it was there, right?”

“So?” He had been awoken when the keypad to Spike’s workroom had alerted him that it was being tampered with.

“So, if you watched her do it, shouldn’t you have said something earlier? You should have woken Spike and let him deal with it. Called the police in. Something.”

“I wanted to wait and see what she’d do,” he shrugged. “Plus then she never would have met Dawn if I’d done things that way.”

“But it’s what you should have done, Warren. I mean, if you were awake and just watched everything go down, won’t Spike be mad?”

“Who says he’s gonna know? I usually check the tapes for activity around seven. I’ll wait until seven thirty and then go up to the big house with a copy for the man. I can’t wait to see his reaction. He’s gonna explode. But right now you creeps need to get out of here. I got something I gotta do.”

Without further protest, Andrew and Jonathan went back to their own rooms. But Jonathan couldn’t help but wonder, what was it that Warren needed to do that was more important than taking this information to their boss?

As he snuck back towards the control room, he could hear Warren’s side of a conversation. He was obviously on his cell phone.

“Yes, sir. She’s just leaving now. I knew you’d want to know.” A pause.

“I don’t know.” Another long pause.

“No, Buffy Summers. You might be able to get more info than I can. I just got her on tape taking pictures of documents that were in Spike’s safe. No, I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet. I wanted to let you know of developments. Thank you. No problem. I’ll be in touch should anything else happen. Oh, and by the way, she’s still untouched. They haven’t slept together. Got it on tape, from her own mouth, so I’m pretty sure its true.”

Jonathan quickly ducked back around the corner before Warren could catch him eavesdropping. Who had Warren been talking to? As far as he knew, there was no one in the world Warren called ‘sir.’ And just who exactly had they been talking about? Buffy and Dawn, obviously, but which one? And why?

Chapter 31: Repercussions


“Bloody buggering fuck!” was the first of a long line of curses to come out of his mouth. It was almost five minutes before anything more coherent could be discerned. Finally Spike turned to Warren.

“Find out who she is. No, scratch that. I know WHO she is, I know she hasn’t been lying about THAT. But find out WHAT she is. Who she works for. What she was hoping to find. If she pees I want a report on how long it took and what she drank. Got it?”

“No problem. I’ll find out. One good thing we do know, she’s not a thief. She wasn’t the least bit interested in the cash or the jewelry.”

“Yeah, great. All that proves is that she was looking for something else. Only thing that makes any sense to me is that she’s working for Angelus, but I can’t believe that. I saw how devastated she was in New York. No one is that good an actress. Damn!” Spike crossed over to the safe, and quickly dialed the combination. How the hell had she gotten into the goddamn safe in the first place? But that wasn’t what was important now. “Do you know what she looked at?”

Spike had the safe open and began throwing the contents out on his desk. Warren stopped him when he got to the pertinent notebooks.

“Those two ledgers. And the book at the bottom.”

“Damn!”

Buffy had taken pictures of the private books for Thorndale Pharmaceuticals and an earlier ledger which outlined the details of the secret formula for Thorndale’s flagship energy drink. But those two hardly concerned him at the moment. It was the contents of the third book he was worried about. He had forgotten he had even kept a journal back then. His hands were shaking so hard he was afraid to even touch the book. Instead he gestured to Warren and made him stack everything back securely in the safe.

“It doesn’t make any sense.” Spike watched Warren carefully to make sure that everything made it back where it belonged. “What does she want from me? As soon as you find out anything, Warren, anything at all, call me. I’ll be in the basement. Until then, I don’t want to be disturbed.”

In the basement, Spike stripped down to his boxers and began to train. He began with a few stretches, and then moved on to the free weights. After than came a long session on the treadmill, followed by several rounds with a punching bag. None of it made him feel any better. It only made him tired.

Determined to take a short rest and then begin the cycle again, Spike slipped into the steam room. He’d relax for a few minutes, then get back to his workout.

~*~


Buffy had the cab take them directly to Tara’s. It was so early in the morning, that she knew that Tara would still be at home. She needed someone to confide in, and she needed it now.

Calling from the cab, Buffy filled Tara in on what to expect.

As Dawn emerged from the car, Tara hugged her. Buffy was nonplussed. “You two know each other?” She had thought Dawn was Spike’s dirty little secret, no matter how innocent the two of them tried to make it sound.

“Yeah. Tara’s almost like my Aunt. We met months ago, when I first came to stay over at Spike’s. Tara and I talk at least once a week. So you see, I did have someone else looking out for me.”

“And you were okay with this arrangement, Tara?” She crossed her arms and glared at the older woman. “You do know how Dawn came to be in Spike’s house, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I just didn’t see how my getting involved would help things any. I’m sorry you have to hear me say it Dawn, but her mother is totally irresponsible, and if I were to bring it up to the courts they’d either want to send her back to her mother or put her in foster care. Instead I was the one who thought of the private school arrangement. That way, by the time anyone questioned what was up, Dawn would already be placed where she’d be happiest, and the court would likely let it stand. I thought it was a good solution. Apparently you didn’t.”

“No. It’s totally inappropriate for her to stay at that house. She thinks…she was supposed to…” Just because Dawn and Anya apparently had no trouble talking about these types of things, didn’t mean that Buffy could. Her mouth just couldn’t seem to form the words.

“I know what was supposed to happen.” Tara reached out a hand to try and calm her friend. “But it didn’t. Even Dawn will testify as much, won’t you Hon?”

“What, that Spike wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole?” Dawn seemed engrossed in playing with the gravel on the driveway. She refused to look up at either of the two women who were now in control of her fate. In her experience, women meant trouble. Men, she could manipulate to get whatever she wanted. Well, mostly. But that wouldn’t work on these two - and they were going to decide her fate between them. She was sure that she would be given very little choice in the matter.

Finally she looked up at Tara. Spike had said nice things about Buffy, but she didn’t actually know her. So far, by Dawn’s estimation at least, Buffy hadn’t seemed to act too reasonably. The only good thing she’d done so far was to turn to Tara for advice.

“Yeah, I suppose I’d have to admit it if it came to that. Still pure as the driven snow, that’s me. But, boy my Mom would be mad as hell if she found out how we’d lied to her. But if it would help Spike, I’d swear on a stack of Bibles, take a lie detector test, anything.”

Without too much fuss Tara had moved the trio into her kitchen, which was sunny, bright and inviting. Without being asked, Tara had started coffee brewing and had begun making scrambled eggs and toast.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to let social services in on it now, since you feel so strongly about it, Buffy. I’ll give them a call and get things started this morning. I take it you’re willing to let Dawn stay with you until things get sorted, or do you want me to take her down there with me?”

Seeing the frightened look on Dawn’s face, Buffy knew that she would have to take responsibility for what she had done. “Fine, fine, she can stay with me. But you and I have some other things we need to discuss.”

After they had finished their breakfast, Tara sent Dawn outside to play with her cat. She poured them each more coffee, and waited patiently for the other woman to begin.

“I saw Spike’s paintings last night, Tara. You do know that he is seriously disturbed, don’t you?”

“Well, I’m not so sure about the ‘seriously’ part, but I know he has issues. I’ve seen his paintings; I know what they contain. But I also know that they’re a manifestation of his guilt, Buffy, but that does not necessarily mean that they’re proof of anything.”

“What do you mean? Of course they’re proof.”

“Not necessarily. They mean that he feels guilty, not that he necessarily *is* guilty – at least not in the legal sense of the word, or even necessarily in the moral sense. I mean, most of the pictures in that collection contain images of his mother. There is no way that Spike actually had anything to do with her death, even though he still feels guilty about it. It’s like survivors of a disaster, who feel guilty because so many people died and they didn’t. Doesn’t mean they caused the disaster. It’s just human nature to feel that way. And I’ve heard all about that poor girl in China, and I still don’t know what instigated that chain of events. Giles or somebody down in legal would know better whether it would take to make a charge stand up in court, but I don’t think it’s likely to be prosecuted at this late date.”

“But there were other pictures as well. People that Spike couldn’t identify. As well as two that I could. Two of the men we ran into in New York, the ones that tried to rob us, they were in his picture of me.”

“Ah. No wonder you’re so upset.” Tara took a sip of her coffee, and brought a small plate of biscotti over to the table so she and Buffy could still nibble while they talked. She knew that sharing food was a good way to diffuse a confrontation.

“I know that Spike thinks he may have killed those men, Buffy. But I don’t think he did. Did you know he told me about it when you got back, along with all the other horrible things that happened in New York? After that discussion, I used Agency resources to check his story. No police report on the altercation, which we knew. But also no bodies with injuries fitting those described. No matching corpses in the morgue that night, or the rest of the week. I even used Agency resources to check hospital records. I couldn’t find a trace anywhere. So either their gang was unusually thorough in cleaning up, or they weren’t injured that badly.”

“Why didn’t you tell Spike that?”

“For one thing, it probably wouldn’t have helped. The guilt that he feels isn’t really rational. Just because I told him it wasn’t so, doesn’t mean his feelings about it would change. Plus, when it comes right down to it, I really didn’t want him questioning how I got so much information about events on the other side of the continent. He’s pretty smart – he can put two and two together pretty well. Does this make you feel any better?”

“Maybe. I’ll have to think about it. But there’s something else.” Buffy pushed her chair away from the table and stood. She made her way over to the coffee maker and poured herself another cup, but she didn’t drink it, biting her lower lip instead. “While I was there, just before I ran into Dawn, I got into the safe in his office. Photographed some documents and stuff. Most of it, I’ll hand over to Giles. But I also took pictures of a notebook he had – more of a diary really. I just glanced at it while I was taking the photographs, but the more I think about it, I’m afraid to read it.”

Moving back over to their table, Buffy set the cup down, but she didn’t sit. “If I give it to you instead of Giles, will you read it and let me know what I should do? I mean, if it does say he killed those girls, I’ll have hand it over to the proper authorities. But if it doesn’t - well, it looked really personal. I’d feel uncomfortable reading it, and I don’t think I want my boss to see it either. I mean, for some reason, Giles really has it in for Spike. I don’t want to give him any ammunition that he doesn’t need. I mean, not if Spike really is innocent, like you keep telling me.”

“No problem, Buffy. I think I have a pretty good idea what may be in there. But if you were in his safe, there’s something else you need to know. Chances are better than good that Spike knows by now that he’s been had. His security at home is pretty tight – you may have gotten out of there without a confrontation, but don’t assume for a second that he doesn’t know exactly what went down in his house last night. Without knowing what’s in the documents you copied it’s hard to judge how he’ll react – except that he’ll know that you took advantage of him – betrayed his trust. I would be much more cautious from here on out. He may try to pretend he doesn’t know what happened, and maybe you can use that, but I’m almost sure that does, or he will, soon. So I think it’s important that I take a look at what you’ve given me, and that you get the rest of that file over to Giles as soon as possible. You are going to give the other documents to Giles, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I don’t see how I can not. I don’t know what Giles will make of any of it. It’s all too twisted for me. I don’t know what to think about anything. I can’t really tell whether Spike’s one of the good guys or one of the bad guys. I wish things were simple.”

Tara followed Buffy’s eyes to where she could see Dawn playing on the lawn with Ms. Kittyfantastico. “With any luck, we’ll be able to keep things simple for Dawn. You’re right about one thing. I think she should be our first concern right now. She’ll stay with you for a few days, a week or two at most, then we’ll send her to St. Cecelia’s for full time boarding. I’m sure if the request comes from me, Spike won’t have any problem paying for it. I think he really cares for Dawn. And we’ll all be able to visit her – even her mother if she wants – but we’ll all know that she’s safe there – that she’ll be allowed the opportunity to grow up just like any other little girl. And assuming that everything just blows over, she’ll never have to know that Spike was under investigation.”

“That’s a low blow, Tara, and you know it. Dawn will be fine whatever happens.”

“Will she, Buffy? She knows that her mother is dirt, and right now she thinks that Spike is her own personal guardian angel. What do you think would happen if she learned that her knight in shining armor is really the devil in disguise? That he’s murdered little girls not much older than she is now. Add to that her two most trusted female friends both turn out to work for a secret government agency? Do you think that she’ll believe that any of us really had her best interests at heart? Trust can be such a fragile thing. Once broken, it can almost never be repaired.”

A/N: I have decided that whenever there is a dream sequence, flashback, or journal excerpt in a chapter I am going to highlight ALL the WARNINGS. As you might expect, these glimpses into Spike's past and psyche are not pretty. However, they will always be clearly marked, and if you wish to skip the more graphic descriptions you can be assured that you will still get the gist from the remainder of the story.

Chapter 32: Shattered Dreams

Sitting alone in the sauna, Spike was also thinking about trust. He had trusted Buffy with his home, and his secrets, and his heart. It seemed that she had betrayed all three. Hours had passed, but the news of Buffy’s complicity was still raw. He wasn’t used to being taken for a fool and he wasn’t sure yet just what he planned to do about it.

It barely seemed possible to him, that someone he had trusted so easily could turn out to be so false. Of course it had all happened once before…


************************Dream Sequence*******************************

He was back in China, but no longer in Beijing. He had gone on a trip with Angelus, Darla and Drusilla into one of the outlying provinces. His mother hoped that being around people more his own age would be good for him. She was going to one of the many temples for a cleansing ritual that would last many days, and hopefully leave her healed.

It was the hottest part of the day, and Angelus was lying in a hammock outside while Darla sat nearby. Drusilla was upstairs taking a bath to help her cool off, and William was carrying out cold drinks to share with his friends. The ice was a luxury here, like almost everything else.

“Angelus,” Dru’s voice floated out the open window and down to her friends assembled below. “Angelus, I need you.”

Sipping his drink and smiling at William, Angelus made no move to reply. The call came again. Still he continued to relax in his lounge, leaning back and closing his eyes.

A fourth time his name rang out. “Aren’t you going to answer her?” William asked.

“No,” Angelus smiled. “She doesn’t know where I am, I’ll just tell her I didn’t hear her call. I don’t feel like getting up right now.”

“But…but whatever she wants…What if she needs something?”

“There are servants here. Let them see to it. I’m resting, and don’t want to be disturbed.”

Angelus leaned over towards Darla and kissed her full on the mouth. It was one of the hardest things William had had to get used to. In his native England, people, at least the people he knew, were never so public with their affections. Ostensibly Angelus and Darla were husband and wife, and Dru was in their care. But recently William had discovered the truth of it. Neither Darla nor Drusilla actually held the title of wife, though both women fulfilled that function. Occasionally at the same time.

His mother would be scandalized if she knew, and that would be the end of his socializing with them. And since they were the only English speaking people he knew who were anywhere near his age, life here without them would be intolerable. Not for the last time did he wonder why he had ever thought this journey would be fun. But of course that wasn’t the reason they were here. They were in China to try to help his mother get well again. The warm climate was good for her, even if the shamans were as little help as the doctors at home had been.

Dru’s cry rang out again, and William flinched. Angelus had his hand down Darla’s dress, and didn’t even seem to notice.

Blushing red, William stood to leave. It was obvious that he wasn’t wanted here, and he knew from past experience that his presence in the garden would not deter either of the two lovers. It was time for him to leave.

“I’ll just go and see what she wants, then.” Even as he heard himself speak the words, a part of William was hoping that he could find an excuse not to. For the life of him, he couldn’t think why – but he couldn’t shake the thought.

Darla moaned, “Yes, why don’t you do that then. Drusilla has been ever so tiresome lately. Why don’t you go see if you can make her happy?” Darla smiled at her lover and shooed Spike away.

Tentatively, Spike knocked on the bathroom door. He shouldn’t be here. Somehow he knew that something bad was about to happen, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was as if he wasn’t in control of his own actions.

“Finally.” Drusilla sighed. “Come in, come in.”

William opened the door a sliver and called out, “It’s me Dru. What can I do for you?” He desperately did not want to go into that room. He could almost hear the music swelling up around him, warning him that something momentous was about to happen.

Drusilla smiled. “Well, you can’t do it from there, silly boy. Come in.”

“I can’t Dru. You’re not decent.”

“Of course I’m not. I’m in the bath.” Dru knew he was going to be stubborn about this, but that just made it more fun. “Don’t be such a prude, William. I’ve seen you starkers.”

Blushing furiously, William stammered, “You have?”

“Yes,” she answered, although it was a lie. But Angelus had seen the boy without his clothes, and he had told her that Spike was absolutely delicious looking. In a shy and virginal way, of course. One had to fancy that sort of thing. But of course, Angelus did. Dru tended to admire rough and wicked herself, but turning the one into the other – that held its own appeal.

“All right then, I’ll get up. Wait there.” She moved as if to climb out of the tub, then deliberately slipped and slid back into the water with a cry. In seconds, William was by her side, helping her out of the water and into a towel. All thoughts of impending doom fled from his head as a near naked and dripping Drusilla clung to him prettily as he helped her hobble across the floor and to her bed.

“Are you all right, Dru? Shall I run get Angelus?” Maybe this was what he had been afraid of. Was Dru was seriously hurt?

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just twisted my ankle a bit. Could you get a brace for me?”

Anxious to be of help, William ran back to Angelus’s room and got the med kit. Angelus, Darla and Dru were all experienced travelers, and they had told him that they found it wise not to travel without adequate medical equipment. A short look found the promised bandage among the other paraphernalia. He presented it to Dru triumphantly.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to put it on for me. I’m not very good at these types of things. And I’m afraid I’m still wet. Could you get me another towel?”

When he came back from the bathroom he could see Dru perched with one foot in the air, trying to dry herself with the soggy towel. Of course that left the rest of her body uncovered. He swallowed hard as he realized that she was even more beautiful than he had imagined, and tried his best not to look. The nonexistent music filled his ears again.

“Well, bring it here.” Drusilla eyed him as if she was looking for something. Her voice sounded as if from far away. “Have you never seen a woman naked before, dear William?”

Shaking his head, he handed the towel to Dru and began to back out of the room. Something was telling him that this was his last opportunity to get away safely. And yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her naked body.

“Well, don’t go now. I still need you to wrap the bandage.”

Abashed that he had forgotten, he looked down at the floor, biting his lip. When he looked up, Dru was sitting on the edge of the bed holding her foot up to him, both towels completely forgotten.

Swallowing, he knelt at her feet and began to wind the bandage. It was a wonder he could hold the pose at all, his cock had never ached so much. He had to get out of here.

“That feels so much better, William. Thank you. You have gentle hands.” She bent and kissed him on the cheek, leaning into him so abruptly that her breasts brushed his shoulder before he had a chance to move away.

Involuntarily he let out a small moan at the unexpected contact. He needed to get out of here, fast, and get back to his own room before he embarrassed himself. Privately he considered it a small miracle that he hadn’t already ruined his pants. He started to rise again, but Dru called him back.

“Could you get me my book, on the table?” She lay back on the bed and raised the bandaged appendage. “And maybe an extra pillow. I believe an injury like this should be elevated, isn’t that right?”

Walking was agony by this point. Yet he brought the requested book and placed the pillow under her petite foot, trying not to stare at what she had inadvertently revealed to him between her legs. He had seen pictures in books, but pictures were not the same thing at all. Unbelievably, his cock throbbed so hard he almost cried out aloud.

Guilty at being caught looking where he shouldn’t, he didn’t even question it when Dru asked him to sit beside her and read. Carefully he faced away from her on the edge of the bed as he fumbled for the page, trying desperately to hide his huge erection.

At first Drusilla’s hand lay innocently on his knee. He was helpless to stop it as it caressed further and further up his thigh. When her fingers finally brushed against his rock hard cock his teeth drew his own blood as he bit his lip to keep from crying out as he spurted all over his pants. Drusilla’s fingers didn’t seem to notice. She unfastened his buttons and continued to stroke him until he was hard and aching again.

The book was long forgotten by now, and Drusilla carelessly threw it aside as she wrapped her hands around his naked flesh and pulled him away from his sodden clothes. He moaned as she continued to caress him, all thoughts of modesty gone.

“Would you like to know what it feels like, William? I know you’ve listened to us, all alone in your room at night. Tell me, do you touch yourself when you hear us making love? Wouldn’t you like to know what all the fuss is about?”

He turned to look in her eyes then, unsure. She wasn’t his. He could hardly speak. The best he could do was croak out one word and hope that she understood. “Angelus?” Gods, what would Angelus do if he found them together? Spike knew the big man could crush him with one hand if he desired.

“Is busy with Darla,” Dru replied. Spike knew it was true. They had already been necking in the garden when he had left. Still, he was unsure, but all worried fled as Dru held him firmly and pulled him down on top of her. Whispering softly she cooed in his ear, “It’s time for the boy to become a man.”

******************************End Dream********************************


Disoriented, Spike woke with a start, shivering in the sauna. He tried unsuccessfully to clear his head. With all that was going on, with all the thoughts on his mind, why had he dreamed of Dru?

And why that day? The day that he had lost his virginity? In the way of dreams, it hadn't been entirely accurate, but it hadn't been that far off either. That had been one of the best days of his life. Why then, in his dreams, had it seemed like a nightmare?

As he exited the sauna he realized that he was being paged over the intercom. It had to be Warren. He must have found out something. He hurriedly dressed and returned to his office, half in anticipation and half dreading to know what Warren had found.

Chapter 33: Reactions

“What’ve you got?” Spike asked sharply as he entered his office.

“Stupid bitch downloaded the pictures on her home computer. I’ve still got a tap into it. She sent a copy of both ledgers to a guy with the unlikely name of Rupert Giles. I’m still checking on him to see how he fits into all this.”

“Good. Keep me informed. But didn’t we decide that there were three notebooks? What about the other file? The…the journal?”

“It’s not there. Maybe I was wrong about her photographing it. But I don’t think so.”

“Re-run the recording. I want to be sure. And if she did take the pictures, I want to know where the hell they are. In the meantime, dig up everything you can about this Rupert Giles. I want to know what he’s looking for – why he’s interested. And if there’s any way we can scare him off. And check out Buffy’s angle as well. I want to know why she’s involved. Whether or not she’s being forced somehow. Let me know what you find out. And tell Gunn I need to see him.”

“No problem.”

Hours later, his lawyer, Charles Gunn, was just leaving, and Spike felt marginally better. He had assured Spike that there was very little evidence that could be used in an American court, should Buffy want to testify against him. Even if he had confessed to the murder in China, the United States had no jurisdiction over something that had happened on foreign soil. Spike hadn’t even been an American citizen at the time. And paintings containing possible images of the dead were not at all the same as photographs. The former could easily be dismissed as twisted fantasies, while the latter tended to provide more solid evidence that real people and events were in fact involved. Without any identification, without some other evidence connecting Spike to a particular crime, all they were was morbid pictures.

Gunn was more concerned about the documents that Buffy had photographed. Spike had patently refused to give him more than a general guideline of what each notebook contained, so Gunn took the three ledgers home with him to study so that he could assess their vulnerability. Of course a lot depended on who exactly had this information, and what their aims were. For example, a corporate spy might want the secret formula, but it was more likely they were after something else. A rival corporation would still have to bottle and market the drink as a new product, and it would be almost as easy just to come out with their own similar drink than to go to such elaborate lengths to steal the formula. So chances were good that whoever was behind this was after something else.

~*~

Across town, Giles stood while he explained how he saw the night’s work. For her part, Buffy thought it was best to sit quietly and not argue while she was being berated by her boss. There was no way he would even listen to what she had to say until he was finished with his own recitation.

“That was unbelievably stupid of you Buffy. Even though you had backup waiting in the van, there was no need for you to go wandering around his house in the middle of the night like you were a character in a James Bond movie! What were you thinking? He could have easily caught you before you could signal for help.”

Buffy hadn’t told him the fact that she had left the transceiver behind during her nocturnal wanderings. She figured that she was in enough trouble that she didn’t need any more. And Giles was no where near finished ranting. He was normally calm and quite rational, but once he got a good harangue going, he was hard to stop.

“If nothing else, if you’d been caught that would have forced us into moving precipitously and revealing our hand. Your cover would be compromised, Spike would know he was being investigated, and you’d be of no further use to us as an Agent! And for what? A handful of documents about the founding of his soft drink empire and the disposition of some medical supplies! Hardly worth risking your cover for! And if you’d been caught, anything could have happened. Even three minutes is a long time to wait for help when you’re in fear for your life, Ms. Summers.” He stopped for a breath and held the bridge of his nose. “But I suppose it’s my own fault. I knew you weren’t really ready for this type of assignment.”

Finally Buffy thought it was safe to speak. “But it totally worked out okay. Plus, I was able to meet Dawn and get her out of there. And what about his confession, and all those freaky paintings? We can do something with those, can’t we? So it’s all good.” After the lecture she’d just received she wasn’t sure that she should mention Tara’s idea that Spike’s security would have a record of her tampering. If she was ever going to volunteer to do anything like this again, which she wasn’t, she would have to get more training first. She had done too many things wrong. She should have known that it wasn’t that easy.

“Even if we had it signed and notarized, Spike’s confession is worthless. Since I talked to you this morning, I've been in contact with some Chinese government officials. The consensus over there is that they don’t want any publicity about the nation’s legal system so close to the Olympics. This is a big event for them, and they hope to convince the world that they are ready to become a major international player. They don’t want to spark any protests about their record on human rights, or their system of government. A big name case like this would just serve to focus the world’s attention on things they don’t want to remind them of. So we may as well drop that angle entirely, because nothing will ever come of it, whether he’s guilty or not.”

~*~

By the following morning, Warren had everything on Rupert Giles that there was to know. And the most damaging piece of news was that he didn’t work for Angelus or a corporate rival – he worked for a government agency that investigated crimes involving forgery and counterfeiting. Part of a larger network that covered everything from narcotics to homeland security. And Buffy was one of his employees.

Spike called Warren back in. He had more work for the spy techie. “I want to know what the Feds are planning on doing with this information. I need to know what or who started this investigation in the first place, and why. What they’re looking for, what they hoped to find. I’ve been in LA for years now – if anyone was really interested in my affairs, I’d expect to have learned of it sooner.”

He leaned his desk chair back as he thought out loud. “I suppose that it’s barely possible that Angelus has a contact inside the Agency. Someone that he put up to it. It seems unlikely, but I want you to check it out anyway. I’m trusting you to find out Warren. I’ve no idea what they thought they were after, and less of an idea why.” Spike leaned forward in his office chair and rested both elbows on the desk. “But if I’ve got an enemy out there – I need to know who it is.”

Angelus was the only enemy he knew of, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was behind it all. He and Angelus had hated one another ever since their confrontation in England, when Spike had used the legal system to his benefit and tricked Angelus out of stealing his inheritance. But that was water under the bridge now. What could have gotten him riled up against him now, prompting this new assault? What had changed?

After Warren left Spike sighed and sat back, running his hands through his hair, and finally covering his face with both hands. It had been a hell of a few days. Everything had changed so quickly. Things had been going great - and now he felt like the world had fallen apart beneath him. Nothing was solid anymore. Nothing was sure. He trusted Gunn to do his job, but even the whisper of a thought that he might wind up in jail made him tremble, although he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was with rage or fear. What made it even worse was the knowledge that if he were convicted of something, it would be because he had been betrayed by one or both of the two people he loved most in the world; Dawn and Buffy.

Privately he admitted that finding out that Buffy was involved in this plot against him was the worst part of the whole thing. He had little doubt that the official investigation would come to nothing in the end – they obviously had no real idea what they were looking for, and Gunn thought it was unlikely that they could prove anything really damaging. But the harm had already been done. His relationship with Buffy was ruined, and she had taken Dawn with her. If he never was allowed to see Dawn again, that would be punishment enough for all his sins. Nothing would ever be the same again. As for Buffy, well, she had made her choice. The only real friend he had left in the world was Tara.

Chapter 34: Still Life

The evening at Buffy’s house hadn’t gone well at all. Dawn had not been happy to be there, didn’t appreciate Buffy’s efforts to clear a space for her, and hadn’t offered to help with anything. All Dawn did was make disparaging comments about Buffy’s apartment, her lifestyle, and her forcing her away from what she had known as home for the last several months.

“How do you expect me to get anything done, stuck here in this tiny apartment with you? It’s not like I even have anything with me; I’m like a refugee or something. No clothes, no music, not even any school books, nothing! I know, I’ll just sit here and contemplate my navel until you finally decide to release me from this prison and let me go back to Spike’s. Even my Mom’s would be better than this. At least I know people there.”

“It’s not that bad, Dawn. We’ll have Tara arrange to get your stuff first thing in the morning. And you’ll get to meet my friends Xander and Willow – I think you’ll really like them.”

“Why’s that? Because they’re not like you?”

“That was uncalled for Dawn. Xander is really sweet, and I’ve known him like forever. And Willow too. Willow’s the brainy one – she’s really great with computers. I’m sure you’ll get along fine.”

“Right. I’m sure we’ll chat together about Kingdom Hearts and all the really cute boys at school, just like I do with my friend Janice.” Dawn rolled her eyes and glanced over at the bulky old computer on Buffy’s desk. “Can that old dinosaur even IM or download music? I bet it can’t even run any of the new software.”

“Hey, that was my Mom’s computer, and it works just fine, thank you.”

“No need to get huffy about it. I didn’t realize you were personally attached to it or anything. But it was your Mom’s, so I guess I get that. I don’t need to use it.”

Dawn slumped off to the spare room where Buffy had hastily made up a bed, and Buffy didn’t see her again for the rest of the night.

In the morning Dawn flatly refused to go to school. “What am I going to wear? I don’t have anything but the clothes I was wearing yesterday! Plus, no books and no homework, all add up to a really lousy day for Dawn. I know, maybe I should tell my teachers that I was kidnapped by aliens! It wouldn’t be that far from the truth.”

Finally Buffy relented, and called Xander over to watch the Gallery (and not coincidentally Dawn) while she went in to work for a while. She didn’t want to give the girl any ideas, but she wasn’t entirely sure that if she left Dawn alone she would still be there when Buffy got back.

At least the meeting with Xander had gone well. Buffy had suggested that he bring over some movies, some video games and game console, and the two had immediately bonded. Buffy didn’t want to think what it meant that her grown friend, all of twenty-eight years old, watched the same TV shows and played the same games as a fourteen-year-old. She was glad that she had stopped by the grocery store the night before and stocked up on junk food. She figured the two of them were set for the day.

The first thing she did when she got to work was to ask Tara to call Spike about Dawn’s things. It made sense that she would use Tara as an intermediary. After all, Spike had been the one to introduce them to each other.

Buffy was also anxious to ask Tara what she had found in the journal she’d given her to read. If it was something that she needed to let Giles know about, it was probably best to do it right away, while she could still claim it was an oversight. If there was nothing in there that Giles needed to see…well, she was still halfway to her goal of getting Spike in the clear. The Chinese girl had turned out to be a non-issue, at least in the legal sense, and nothing else had seemed to catch Giles’s attention. She was beginning to hope that Giles was as tired of the whole cloak and dagger routine as she was.

She tried to convince herself that Tara was wrong, and that Spike wouldn’t find out who she was and who she worked for. She probably should have mentioned that theory to Giles, but she’d felt bad enough after his tirade that she didn’t want to give him any more ammunition. Still, a part of her understood that if she and Spike were to ever have a real relationship, she would have to come clean about everything. Of course it would probably be better if she actually told him, rather than let him find out on his own.

By early afternoon Buffy had already spoken to Xander twice more and discovered that Andrew had arrived at her apartment with Dawn’s belongings. Apparently he had decided to spend the afternoon with them eating potato chips, watching movies and playing video games. She had also gotten a promise from Xander that both he and Dawn would keep well away from the stove.

It wasn’t until afternoon that Buffy had the opportunity to sit down and talk to Tara. “Well?” Buffy asked. She was not looking forward to this conversation.

“It’s not pretty. And you’re right, it was very personal. But no, before you go ballistic, I don’t think it’s something Giles needs to see. The journal ends before he gets to New York, so there’s no mention of Nikki Wood, and it basically confirms what he already said about the death of Mi Ling Chan. So the only problem is with Emra, the girl in Romania. And I won’t lie to you Buffy, she is mentioned in the journal. He doesn’t give the details, but it implies that Spike was there when she died. Of course he also claims to be innocent of having any part in actually killing her.”

“But then…” This SO was not good news.

“I know what you’re thinking, Buffy. That would make Spike an accessory, or at least a witness. But he doesn’t remember any of it. He and I have both known for a long time that he is subject to ‘blackouts,’ periods of time where he has no conscious memory of events. I know this is a conflict of interest, and if I was merely an agent, and not personally involved in all this, I would probably recommend that we turn the journals in as evidence and try to prosecute the guilty parties. Names, first names at any rate, are mentioned in the notebook. But that would present a number of problems, not the least of which is that we have no legal right to this evidence at all. Then there’s the complication that with no memory of these events, Spike isn’t competent as a witness to corroborate his own story, or to testify against the others. As a therapist, I have to mention that forcing him to remember something that he’d obviously rather forget could be potentially damaging. He’s probably as unstable now as he’s ever been. This could push him over the edge. So I think a compromise would be best all around. I think that we should tell Giles about the journal, and let him make the decision.”

“I know you have Spike’s best interests at heart Tara. You’ve been a good friend to him, and somehow I think he’s needed that. I’ll go with your opinion. I just wish there was a way to end this whole ordeal once and for all.”

“Well, I do have an idea that might work to everyone’s advantage. Of course we’d have to convince Giles and Spike to both cooperate, and I don’t think that’s going to be easy. But if it does work, I think the outcome will be to everyone’s benefit. What did Giles say when you told him I thought your cover had been compromised?”

“I kinda didn’t mention that part. I figured I was in enough hot water as it was. Giles was not pleased that I’d done some extra-curricular snooping.”

“Well, we’ll have to remedy that. For this to work, every one is going to have to agree to put their cards on the table. That will be easier for Giles to do if he knows that Spike has already figured you for a plant of some kind. But it won’t be easy. Both men are stubborn, secretive, and like to be in control of everything around them. They’re neither of them going to like a situation that brings about a fair trade of information from both sides.”

Chapter 35: Truth and Lies

In the end, it was Spike who was harder to convince than Giles. Once Tara told Giles that Buffy’s midnight escapades were certainly caught by surveillance, Giles realized that his investigation had already been hopelessly compromised. He had nothing left to lose by agreeing to Tara’s plan, and at least he would be able to write the case down as closed rather than failed.

Not surprisingly Spike was bitter and skeptical when Tara approached him. He knew that Buffy had not been what she had appeared, but he was further hurt when Tara revealed that she worked for the same agency. She explained her plan in great detail, and after flying into a hysterical rage and spending a few days sulking, Spike finally also agreed, provided that Giles would agree to meet his terms once everything was said and done.

The two parties met at Tara’s Agency office, a place that Spike hadn’t even known existed until recently. Giles went over the particulars one last time.

“All right. Let’s be sure we are all in agreement as to how this will work. Our polygraph expert will ensure that Mr. Thorndale is properly prepared and will monitor the results using a standard lie detector. We will ask you a series of yes or no questions, which you must answer truthfully. If you lie we will know it. If you refuse to answer a question put to you, we will take that as evidence of your complicity and all deals will be off. Any final questions?”

“We been through it already. S’long as you agree that you’ll meet my terms once I’ve passed your bleeding tests. Unlike some people,” Spike paused and gave Buffy a scowl, “I’ve got nothing to hide. Done some things I’m not proud of, but nothing worth this type of trouble. We get that cleared up, then you tell me who’s been pulling your chain. Why’d you even start this whole blood mess. Surely you’ve got to know by now that this has got “frame up” written all over it. Second, there’s the Nibblet. Wouldn’t bother to put myself through all this if it weren’t for her. Let you all just twist in the wind with your suspicions and half-proofs, and see where that gets you. But you’ll make sure I get to see her whenever she wants. No strings, no supervised visits. Plus, you put all those computer data banks of yours to good purpose for once, and find out what you can about her. Run a DNA test through your files and see if you can come up with a match for Dawn’s father. Forewarned is forearmed and all that. She doesn’t look forward to some Mafia boss somewhere showing up and deciding to lay claim to her. She wants to know, and you’re gonna do everything you can to find out for her. If you’re willing to do all that, then I am willing to jump through your hoops for you. Maybe it will show you that you lot don’t know everything you think you do.”

He turned and looked at Buffy again. It wasn’t a pleasant look. “And last, I think turn about is fair play, luv. I do this, then I want you to answer a few questions for me. I’ll drive you home from here. Alone, in my car. I pass your tests, then you trust me, right? So, we’re agreed?”

“Wouldn’t you rather hook me up to that thing?” Buffy looked at the machines in question with distaste. Even if Spike ‘proved’ his innocence tonight, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to be alone with him.

“Nah.” He looked her right in the eye as if defying her to question his judgment, “I trust you. You won’t lie to me, will you?”

“No, Spike. I won’t lie to you.” Spike was gratified that she looked ashamed. Perhaps there was something of their relationship that was salvageable. If there was ever anything there that was real to begin with. But they’d have to start by telling one another the truth. “But I can’t promise that I’ll answer everything you ask. Girl’s got to have some secrets, right?” She was trying for coquettish, but it didn’t come off that way. There was already too much between them for him to ever take her capacity for duplicity lightly. The only thing that made him tolerate it was that he was pretty sure that Buffy had lied to herself at least as much as she had lied to him.

“Shall we begin? Just a few questions first, to establish the baseline. Is your name William Thorndale?”

“Yes.”

“Do you reside at 123 Crawford Place?”

“Yes.”

“Are you President and owner of Thorndale Industries? Give us a negative this time.”

“No.” The polygraph jumped, clearly indicating the lie. Then they ran a series of slides past him, most were of paintings that he knew, some were of paintings he currently or had once owned. He wasn’t quite sure what the point was, but he didn’t comment, and neither did they.

“Fine then. We’ll start with the easy questions, and work our way up. Tell us about the painting – the one that you sold to the Janus Group. Was it a forgery?”

Spike refused to give a yes or no answer. “That’s for the experts to decide, isn’t it? When I sold it, it was subject to approval by the buyer and team. It’s not my fault if after the deal was done he finds another so-called expert who gives him a different opinion.”

Achieving no satisfaction, Giles decided to move on to the more damaging issues. After an hour and a half, Giles figured that he had about everything that he was going to get, even if it wasn’t half what he wanted. Of course, he had to admit, that Thorndale wasn’t fool enough to submit to this testing unless he knew for a fact how it was going to turn out. Which either meant that he was innocent and had nothing to fear, or that he knew how to beat the polygraph.

As Spike had already told Buffy, he admitted that he had killed Mi Ling, although he hadn’t known her name, and he swore, and the lie detector confirmed, that it was self-defense. For reasons that he didn’t understand, Mi Ling had attacked him with an ancient family heirloom, which he had been lucky enough to turn back on its owner. The murder weapon had been her own sword.

“That’s probably sufficient.” Giles wasn’t happy, but he knew it didn’t really matter. Of course he hadn’t wanted to tell Spike that until this part of the interrogation was over. Giles believed in getting to the truth, regardless of consequences. “Since this all came to light,” he explained, “I have been in touch with the Chinese government. With the Olympics scheduled to be held in Beijing so soon, they do not wish the world’s attention to be focused on their system of justice. I was told quite plainly that they are uninterested in a case a quarter century old, and have no desire to pursue it even if we had evidence that was incontrovertible. Therefore, we may never know why this poor girl felt she had to attack a complete stranger, but must needs accept Spike’s explanation of these events. Let’s move on, shall we? What about Nikki Wood?”

“Hold on a minute, then. What was the point, if you knew nothing could ever come of it?”

“The point, young man, was to see whether or not you would lie to us about it. If you knew you were in no danger of prosecution before the questioning began, that would void the entire results. But as I said, tell us about Nikki Wood. How does a young girl die on a moving subway car of an accident that involved no blood or other injury? I know the coroners have always assumed that she was strangled.”

Spike admitted to the fight in the subway station, and to witnessing Nikki’s death, but not to actually killing her. According to his story, Nikki had first turned violent and later died on a NY subway as a result of an overdose of drugs. He, Dru and Nikki had all ingested the same unidentified substance. Nikki was the only one who had died of it.

“The three of us were together, Nikki, Dru and me,” Spike said. “We’d gotten high on sum’at, and Dru got separated from us somehow. Then things started to really go wrong. Nikki got violent. She started to shake, like she was cold. I didn’t know what to do. No one else was on the car, and I wasn’t thinking too well either, you know? I was too messed up. Then she just finally shook herself so hard she fell over. I wasn’t sure until the next day, but I thought she was dead.”

“But the coat. Why did you take her coat?” Witnesses had claimed that the motive for the murder must have been theft. It had never made sense to Giles. Who would kill a girl over a coat?

“Well, we’d all taken that drug. Whatever that pusher was hawking. And I was starting to get worried I was going to go the same way. I was starting to get cold, just like Nikki had before she keeled over. So I took the coat. Figured maybe if I could keep myself warm, I’d be all right. I’d be able to find Dru and make sure she was safe. I knew it wasn’t right to just leave her – but I wasn’t thinking straight, like I said. And when I did think, all I could manage to think of was Dru, out there alone somewhere. Never did find her until next morning, she came home all by herself. We left town next day. Headed for California. Didn’t want to get involved. Was afraid Angelus would find us if I got my name in the papers. Never did think they’d want me for murder, though. Bird just up and died. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“What do you think?”

“Needle never moved,” the tech answered. “That’s how he remembers it. But of course the machine isn’t meant to be used like this. It’s supposed to be yes and no questions only. But I’d say his account is accurate. You should pull the medical files. See if his story holds up. There was a lot of stuff on the streets back then. Couldn’t always be sure you were taking what you thought you were taking. It’s possible they could have gotten a hold of something that caused those symptoms. Hell of a way to get high though – not too may repeat users if it kills one of every three who try it.”

Buffy started to breathe a little easier when the death of Nikki Wood was also neatly explained. Forensics would have to verify his statements, but it seemed plausible that the coroners at the time had misread the cause of death.

Then there was the final accusation. The murder of the young girl in Romania. This was the only accusation for which Spike did not have a ready answer. Spike answered every question they asked the same way. He wouldn’t give a yes or a no, insisted instead that he “didn’t remember.”

Giles looked over at the technician. “He’s not supposed to say that, is he? It’s supposed to be only a yes or no.”

The technician shrugged, “Perhaps he doesn’t remember. The machine’s not telling me he’s lying, so draw your own conclusions.”

Giles was so close he could almost feel it. He wasn’t about to give up now. He held up the photo again. “Did you kill this girl?”

Spike looked from one face to the other. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything. Why would I kill these women? What would I have had to gain from any of it?”

“This is all wrong. He’s supposed to say yes, or no. I don’t see where “I don’t know” gets us. How can he not know?”

“The machine says he’s telling the truth. He really doesn’t know.”

“Can I suggest something that might help?” Again Tara was the voice of reason. “I’m sure that you all know by now that I’ve known Spike for a long time. We’ve discussed his lapses of memory before. It’s not a new development. If we can establish that the event you are talking about happened during one of the periods I’ve already documented, we can verify that he is in fact telling the truth when he says that he doesn’t remember.”

“Fine, Tara. Let’s see. Thorndale, do you remember being in Romania in June of 1982?”

“No.”

“Do you deny that you were in fact there?”

“No. I’ve told you, I don’t bloody remember any of it until I was back home in London.”

“You claim to have no memory of your return to England at all?”

“No.”

“Extraordinary. You remember your mother’s death in China, the death of the young girl, but absolutely nothing else until you returned to England?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s pointless to question him about it then. He doesn’t remember anything at all! It’s pointless to continue to pursue this in this manner. Without further evidence, or a witness, we can’t even attempt to establish guilt or innocence. I guess that’s as much as we’re going to get out of this.” Giles turned to the tech for the last time. “You can unhook him.”

“That’s all I get? Not even a thank you?” Spike virtually ripped the offending wires off himself. “Don’t forget what you promised me. You’ll back off and leave me the hell alone, after you tell me who it was that set you lot onto me in the first place. They’ll be no restrictions placed on my seeing Dawn, and you’ll run the DNA test as soon as possible?”

“Don’t worry. I keep my word. Although we didn’t get all the answers we were looking for, I’ll still honor my end of the bargain. From here on out, we’ll leave you alone. pending any new information, our investigation is officially closed. But as to who instigated the investigation in the first place, all I can say at this point is that it wasn’t me. The orders came down from above, as they sometimes do. But I promise I’ll look into it. And I’ll contact you if I get any positive results on Dawn.”

Giles wasn’t happy, but then he was a man of his word. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your candor, Mr. Thorndale, it’s just that I didn’t want to see my agent get hurt. From our discussion, it seems she is determined to go against my wishes that she no longer associate with you. All I can do is hope that you are in fact the innocent in all this, even if I still don’t quite believe it. Just with what you’ve told us here tonight, I’d still advise her not to associate with you too closely. But I have no cause to forbid it. And so good night, Mr. Thorndale. I hope that you sleep well at night, because I know that I won’t, not while Buffy continues to associate with you. Rest assured that you will be watched.”

After everyone else had left, Buffy and Spike left the building together without speaking a word to one another. They were already in the car on the way to his place when she finally broke the silence, “So what did you want to ask me?”

“That first night, when we met at the gallery? That wasn’t a set up, was it? You didn’t agree to go out with me, deliberately leading me on so you could spy on me, were you?”

Buffy wiggled in her seat. “No, Spike that first night wasn’t a set-up. I didn’t know anything about you until a few days later. And I never deliberately led you on. I kept telling you and telling you that I just wanted to be friends, but you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“But it, it’s not…”

“Spike, I never lied to you about that. Yes, I used you, and your attraction to me in order to investigate your house and get your fingerprints, but everything that happened between us, well, anything that happened between us was because that was the way I felt. And believe me, I tried not to feel anything for you. I tried not to make this relationship get personal, not until I knew you were innocent. That was always my intention, Spike. To prove to Giles that you were innocent, so I wouldn’t have to feel guilty, because I do have feelings for you, Spike. I never lied about that.”

The ride was over. She needed some time to think about what she had just learned, and what it might mean to their relationship. Was it possible that there was still something worth saving, after everything they had been through? She’d like to think there was, but it seemed overly optimistic. At least this long worrisome investigation was finally over with, and they’d both be able to move on with their lives, one way or another.

She was feeling better and better about her life as she put her key in the lock and began to contemplate bed. Clicking on the light as she dropped her purse by the door, she caught a glimpse of a shadow in the kitchen.

Quietly retrieving her purse and pulling out her cell phone, she moved stealthily forward. She needn’t have bothered. As she rounded the corner to the kitchen she saw a figure sitting calmly at her breakfast table drinking coffee. She hadn’t seen him in years, but she would never forget him. Her first real boyfriend. It was Riley.

Chapter 36: Remember me?

“So who was the guy in the fancy car that brought you home?” Riley wasted no time on pleasantries, and it ticked her off. It had been years since she had last seen him! Who did he think he was, calmly sitting in her kitchen and drinking her coffee as if no time at all had past since they had last talked?

“Just a friend, Riley." Since when did she actually think of Spike as a friend? But more importantly at the moment, " What are you doing here? Last I heard from you, you had to go back to Iowa because your father was ill. After that, I don’t hear from you for years, and then you suddenly show up drinking coffee in my kitchen and prying into who I spend my time with? I don’t think so, Riley.” He looked good. A little tanner maybe, but perhaps that was just in comparison to Spike who always looked so pale. “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

He shrugged, and took another sip of coffee as if it wasn’t any big deal. She’d forgotten how insufferable Riley could be sometimes. “It’s not important.” Riley gestured toward the only other seat in her kitchen. The one where Willow usually sat when she came over. The one where Dawn had sat earlier this morning, complaining about her lot in life, and how Buffy had made her life harder. Apparently the younger girl slept like the dead, or at least had the good sense to pretend that she was still asleep while an intruder made himself at home in her kitchen.

“What is important is that I thought that we should spend some time together, catch up with one another. It looks like I’m going to be in LA for a while.” Riley set down his cup and reached for her hand, but she managed to pull it away before he could get a hold of it. “I never would have left you, Buffy, if I’d had any choice in the matter. I would have married you.”

“Yeah, right.” Buffy moved further away. She didn’t want to let Riley touch her. “That’s as may be, Riley. But, that was then and this is now. Why should I want to say anything to you, Riley? You’re the one who left me, as I recall. I haven’t heard from you in years. You can’t just waltz back into my life, into my apartment, and try to pick up where we left off! Life doesn’t work like that, Riley.”

“Is it the fancy car guy? It better not be. I know what he is.”

“What do you mean by that? And it’s not him, Riley. This just isn’t right.” She had forgotten how intractable he could be sometimes. He got an idea in his head and you just couldn’t get it out again. She didn’t want to have to call the police on him, but if she couldn’t convince him to leave on his own, she admitted that she might have to. “You don’t just go around breaking into people’s apartments in the middle of the night and asking questions you have no right to ask. No matter how close we used to be.”

“I didn’t break in.” Something small and shiny was sitting unnoticed on the table next to his teaspoon. He held it up for her inspection. “I used my key. You gave me a key to your mother’s apartment a long time ago. I didn’t hear she had passed until I came back here to LA. I’m so sorry, Buffy. I know that must have been a hard time for you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here for you.”

“Grrgh! If she hadn’t done such a good job bringing me up, I’d slap you one, Riley. I don’t care if you have an old key. Since you won’t take the hint, I’ll tell you straight out, you’re not welcome here anymore.”

“So it is Mr. Flash then.” Of course Riley would never believe that it was simply himself and his actions that Buffy found unwanted. “I know who he is, Buffy. And why you’ve been seeing him. I came to warn you, Buffy, that guy’s bad news. Whether or not he’s passed a lie detector. You should stay away from Spike Thorndale.”

How could he possibly know about that? They had just come from there, minutes ago!

“We’ve already been through that Riley, Spike’s innocent. All charges are being dropped.” She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what it was she had ever seen in him. “And how do you know all that? Have you been stalking me? That’s just creepy.” Way creepier than anything Spike had ever done. Riley was seriously beginning to give her the wiggins.

“I’m not stalking you, Buffy. I don’t have to stalk you. And I know everything there is to know about Thorndale. More than you do, Buffy.”

There was that smug expression on his face again, like he knew everything, and she was still an ignorant little co-ed. “Did you know that Thorndale spent time in that same mental hospital where he sent his ex-wife? And wasn’t that a nice thing to do to her, just because she was talking about leaving him? Yeah, he’s a great guy! And you’re precious Spike didn’t check himself in there just to dry out either. Oh, no. He was a patient, Buffy. Under twenty-four hour psychiatric care. The guy’s unstable, or hadn’t you noticed that while you were busy making time with him?” Riley was on a roll now. He pushed away from the table and stalked towards Buffy, invading her personal space.

“Oh, the guy’s got money, Buffy. There’s no doubt about that. But he has serious mental problems. And I mean serious. And in all the time you’ve been playing Mata Hari didn’t it ever occur to you to wonder about the more mundane criminal activities he might have been up to in order to get that rich?”

“How do you know this? How do you know any of this?” Somehow with his size, proximity and his know-it-all attitude Riley intimidated her. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time. She didn’t like it. She didn’t think she ever had.

“Come on, Buffy. I thought you were a pretty smart girl. Smart enough to be recommended for a special government training program. Graduate school, I think you called it. Didn’t you ever wonder how you and Willow both managed to get tabbed by the same government agency?”

“What…what are you saying, Riley?”

“I’m saying, Agent Summers, that I know all about Spike because it’s my job to know. You and I are working on two sides of the same case. You work for Rupert Giles, and I report to Maggie Walsh. But we’re all part of the same big happy family. Because I put you there. I’m the one who put a word in the right ear so you and Willow were both recruited. I’m the one who got you the job you have now. So when I tell you to stay away from Thorndale, you can well believe that I have a good reason. Just because your little investigation didn’t work out, doesn’t mean that mine won’t. I’m close, Buffy. Real close to putting that monster behind bars where he belongs.”

*~*

No sooner had Buffy finally convinced Riley to leave than Dawn padded out into the kitchen wearing her Happy Bunny pajamas and fuzzy slippers.

“Real charmer. If I hadn’t heard him myself, I’m not sure I’d believe that they actually built egos that big. And what’s with the breaking and entering? Isn’t that a crime anymore?”

“I’m sorry he scared you, Dawn. I’m sure that he didn’t know that you were here.”

Strangely Riley had seemed to know everything else about her current life, up to and including the results of the polygraph that had just been taken. If he was that well informed, he should have known about Dawn as well. Maybe he just wasn’t interested in anything except her relationship with Thorndale. It seemed pretty clear that Riley had been hoping that they’d get back together. Although from how she reacted to him tonight, she knew that that was never going to happen. She just wasn’t a young impressionable co-ed anymore. She was no longer impressed by what Riley assumed was his superiority. “I hope you weren’t here alone with him in the house too long before I came home. I am sure he never dreamed that anyone else would be here. But he didn’t break in – he had a key.”

“Right. And you so expected him to just show up unannounced some day! I can’t understand why you’d defend him – especially when all you’ve ever done to Spike is make accusations. Spike is a way better person than that Neanderthal will ever be.”

“That’s enough Dawn. And for the record, you may be right. Spike did something tonight to prove himself to me, and to Giles. I’ve just been so blinded by what everyone else says that I haven’t been able to think for myself.”

“So what about Mr. Big Double Agent and his ‘I’m gonna put Spike behind bars where he belongs?’ Are you gonna warn him? ‘Cause from what I just heard, conspiracy theory is starting to sound like the sane explanation.”

Recap: I know it’s been a while since I have updated this story, but I haven’t abandoned it. It’s been a pretty long wind up, but here’s a recap of what has happened so far.

Buffy meets Spike Thorndale, a rich businessman, at a retrospective showing of her late mother’s work, where they both admire Joyce’s rarely displayed painting “Girl with Stars.”

The attraction between the two is immediate, but Buffy is more than she seems – in addition to running the gallery, she works for a government agency as an art investigator. Buffy soon realizes that Spike is also a man of mystery. While he claims to have known her mother for years before her death, Buffy can’t remember Joyce ever mentioning Spike.

Buffy tells her long time friend and co-worker Willow about the man she met, and Willow warns Buffy that Thorndale is suspected of connections to a criminal art forgery ring. Hearing that the two have already met, Giles (Buffy’s boss) assigns the normally behind the scenes art investigator to work clandestinely to try to find evidence against him.

While undercover, Spike and Buffy grow closer. On a trip to New York, the two run into some street thugs and Spike is afraid that he may have used more force than necessary to dispatch them. The pair also run into Angelus and Dru, Spike’s ex-wife. It turns out that Angelus wooed, debauched and then dumped Buffy back when she was a teenager in Sunnydale. As a result, Spike arranges for Buffy to get counseling from his friend Tara, who as it turns out (and unknown to Spike) works for the same government agency as Buffy.

Another friend they have in common is Anya. When he was first divorced by Dru, Spike went through a long string of women, including both one night stands and prostitutes. He was closest to Anya, a retired pro who is now engaged to Xander.

At long last Buffy finally gets a good look at Spike’s house and has almost convinced herself that he is innocent, until Buffy sees his paintings and learns some very disturbing facts about his past.

In addition to the more mundane crimes he was originally suspected of, Spike’s fingerprints implicate him in the long ago murders of three young girls, one in New York, one in China, and one in Romania.

Buffy decides to spend the night in Spike’s mansion, and using the information only she knows about Spike, manages to figure out the combination to his wall safe. She photographs some documents that she passes on: some to Giles and one personal journal to Tara.

That same night, Buffy discovers that Spike has been living (platonically) with Dawn, a not so naïve, but innocent fourteen-year-old whose contract he purchased from the whore house he used to frequent. Learning of the arrangement, and that Dawn is the daughter of the house madam (Glory), whose plan was for Spike to ‘educate her’ for professional life, Buffy takes Dawn home with her.

Spying on the night’s events using Spike’s own security cameras are Spike’s three assistants, Jonathan, Andrew and Warren, who may not be as loyal to Spike as he thinks. Later a polygraph test seems to clear Spike of the murder charges, and since nothing can be proven either way, Buffy decides to give him the benefit of the doubt (at least provisionally).

That is until her old college boyfriend, Riley, shows up in her apartment. Riley claims that he works for Maggie Walsh, who, like Giles and Ethan Rayne, each head up one division under the overall direction of Quentin Travers.

Riley warns Buffy to stay away from Spike Thorndale, and although he somehow knows that Giles has cleared Spike, he and Walsh plan to indite Thorndale on unrelated charges.

Autnor's Note: Whew! I think that was the highlights of everything important so far. Sounds like a soap opera, doesn’t it? Since the actual chapter is quite short, I’ll try to post the next one quickly. Also I am trying to move this story along a little faster. Thanks for hanging in there, those of you who are still following this story. As you can tell, the plot is a little more complicated than most of these fics, and there are many more twists and turns still to come. (It’s been a bit of a bear to write.) But I am getting closer. Reviews would help.





Chapter 37: Choosing Sides

“You really think I should warn Spike about Riley?” Buffy queried.

“Of course.” Dawn rolled her eyes. Buffy could be so thick sometimes. “I heard what you told Riley, everything checked out fine with Spike’s story. He’s been the victim in all this – not the criminal. And I think Spike deserves to know that your ex-boyfriend seems to want to reclaim his territory – and thinks that the way to do it is by putting the competition in jail.”

“Dawn, if you’ve been listening to me at all you know that there is no way that I am ever getting back with Riley.”

“Yeah, well, the question isn’t whether or not I was listening, it’s whether or not you got through to Mr. Meat for Brains. Was he always so full of himself? What did you ever see in him?”

“I’m not sure. You should go back to bed, Dawn. A growing teenager needs lots of sleep.”

“I know you just want to get rid of me. But you will think about what I said? About warning Spike?”

“But if he’s innocent, there should be no reason to warn him.” Buffy was nothing if not stubborn.

“But he’s being set up, Buffy. I don’t for one minute believe that Riley is above planting false evidence on him. And with everyone already suspicious, well, who would believe Spike?”

“Fine, Dawn. I’ll warn him. I’ll call him in the morning and tell him that my evil ex-boyfriend is plotting against him and that he should be careful. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the heads up.”

“If you don’t do it Buffy, then I will. He needs to know. I just think it would be better coming from you. It might make forgiving you a little easier.”

“Forgiving me?”

“For lying to him. Betraying his trust? Turning him in to the Feds?”

“But that was my job! If he was innocent, it shouldn’t matter. And if he wasn’t, well, it was his own fault. And anyway, it didn’t amount to anything.”

“I’m pretty sure that it didn’t feel that way to Spike. Finding out that you were spying on him the whole time you pretended to date him? He’s not going to forgive that easily.”

“It’s not like I care what he thinks of me. The case is over, and I’ll probably never talk to him again.” Dawn started to protest before Buffy continued. “Except for when I call him in the morning to tell him what Riley said. Besides, if you’re right, he probably never wants to hear from me again, either.”

“Sure. Good night, Buffy.”

“Nite Dawn.”

In the morning, Buffy decided to have a chat with her boss before calling Spike. Giles needed to know that Maggie Walsh’s department was interested in Spike. At least it wasn’t Ethan Rayne’s division. Buffy had only met him twice, but that guy seemed seriously power mad. And he dealt in heavy duty stuff. Maggie’s division was probably interested in Spike because of his association with the prostitutes who worked for Glory. That was easy to explain away.

Unless, the thought came to her, Giles already knew that Walsh was investigating Thorndale, and just hadn’t bothered to tell her? Surely Giles wouldn’t leave her in the dark like that.

She also wanted a formal record of Riley’s actions. She didn’t remember him as being so obstinate and possessive. It had been creepy. Buffy wanted it on record that Riley had broken into another Agent’s home, even if he did have a spare key she had given him years ago.

It was only Giles’s desire to avoid an inter-departmental incident that reluctantly convinced Buffy not to file a second report with the regular police. She wanted to be sure that Riley stayed as far away from her as possible. She’d get a restraining order against Riley if she had to.

Chapter 38: Invitations

“I already told him that we’d both be there,” Dawn quipped, as if that settled matters.

“You had no right to do that, Dawn,” Buffy snipped. “Not without even speaking to me first.”

As much as Buffy had come to really care for Dawn over the past few months, she was also frustrated with the girl. Try as she might, Dawn insisted on being her own person, which often included a stubborn streak that just irritated the hell out of Buffy. But then, Buffy was frustrated just on general principle, and she couldn’t be sure how much that colored her judgment when it came to the teen.

Although Spike had done everything Buffy had asked of him, they were no longer even friends. At best, their relationship could be described as frigid.

Spike had come through the polygraph without incriminating himself, and both he and Dawn had each insisted that Buffy and Giles honor their part of the bargain that allowed Spike to spend time with Dawn. Regular visitation times had been set up, as if in a divorce situation. It wasn’t far from how Buffy felt, and she sometimes wondered if it were possible that Spike felt the same way.

As a result of the visitation schedule, Buffy was forced to talk to Spike every Friday evening and Sunday morning, which were the times when he picked up Dawn. She tried to avoid him as much as possible when he dropped her off at home again Friday at eleven and Sundays at eight. He was never late for either appointment.

When it had started, Buffy had hoped that Dawn would gradually begin to lose interest, and at least occasionally choose to spend Friday nights with other teens from school. So far that had yet to happen.

So while Spike and Dawn’s friendship continued untarnished, the lack of any personal relationship between Buffy and Spike continued. Their conversations were of necessity strained, and centered mainly on when Dawn would be home and where she would be in the interim. Although Buffy felt totally justified in everything that she had done, Spike was cold and business like with her, and it was painful to talk to him as if they meant nothing to one another. He obviously only put up with her presence because seeing Dawn of necessity included seeing Buffy. That made it doubly difficult every time she spoke to him.

And then there was Dawn. She always came back home on time and both happier and more talkative than she had been before she left. Inevitably she spent the next several hours chattering about the dinner she had had, the play he had taken her to, or other fun things that she had done with Spike. On those rare occasions when she was being introspective and honest with herself, Buffy admitted that Dawn’s carefree relationship with Spike made her feel jealous. She knew that wasn’t really fair to either of them, but she couldn’t help it. As the weeks had passed, she found that she missed Spike’s friendship, and began to put a tentative effort into trying to rebuild their relationship.

It was rough going.

Despite her more pleasant attitude, Spike was still cautious of Buffy’s intentions. He had been hurt, and hurt badly. Buffy had abused his trust, and that was hard to get past. It was going to be a long time before he was willing to trust her. But at least the two of them were talking again, more than business required, which was something.

From what Dawn told him, it was obvious that the teen thought that Buffy still cared, although she tried to hide it. Although he wasn’t ready to take another chance on her, Spike was wise enough to realize that although he was angry and mistrusted Buffy at the moment, they weren’t finished. As much as he hated what she had done to him, he also loved her. He knew that if she still wanted him, he would eventually find it within himself to forgive her.

He knew that he was in love with her – he had no choice.

Nevertheless, it hurt that although Spike knew that Buffy pretended to believe in his innocence, she still harbored doubts about him. How could she not? She had seen his paintings: Spike was worried that even if Buffy decided that he wasn’t guilty of the crimes he had been accused of, she might think that he wasn’t completely sane.

Some days he wasn’t too sure himself. He’d scheduled formal appointments to talk with Tara twice a week so he could prove to Buffy (and himself) that he wasn’t completely round the bend. He hated to admit how perilously close to losing it he really was. Neither of his girls needed a man who had gone completely starkers, and although he knew he was on edge, and had been for a while, he knew that Tara would help keep him grounded.

Being such good friends with Tara helped to keep him from breaking down entirely, as he had done after Dru had left him. Another way that the formal sessions with Tara had proved beneficial, was that Spike thought that he knew what it was that he wanted from Buffy.

He just wasn’t ready to do what had to be done to get there. He was not going to swallow his pride and take a chance trying to woo a woman who had already shown her callous indifference by betraying him. Yet that still left him alone.

The only good thing to come from their newly established cease fire, was that Buffy had told Spike – through Dawn - that Giles hadn’t found anything else incriminating in the two notebooks that Buffy had stolen and photographed. He wasn’t going to say another word about the matter, not even through Dawn, although Spike knew that Buffy had taken photographs of three journals, not two.

Tired of being used as a go-between, dutifully Dawn had reported back Spike’s stoic reaction. If possible, Dawn was even more frustrated with the current state of affairs than the other two. She felt that she had been put unfairly in the middle of a situation that had not been her fault. As far as she was concerned, the two adults were acting like children. So they had quarreled. Each of them had said and done things that they later regretted. Especially Buffy.

If it wasn’t for her stupid Agency job, Dawn figured that Buffy and Spike would have been happily married by now – or at least living together. Because even though Buffy wouldn’t admit it, Dawn knew that Buffy was suffering without Spike. She lived with the woman. Studied her face every time that Spike came to get her, noticed the way that Buffy tried to avoid him, and she understood what that meant, even if Spike refused to. After all, Dawn could watch Buffy’s expression as she recounted in great detail all the things they had said and done together. There was no doubt in the teen’s mind that Buffy was still in love with William Thorndale.

Today, Dawn had finally had enough, and decided that she was going to take matters into her own hands and do something about the situation. She and Tara had finally prevailed upon Spike to make one small gesture towards reconciliation, and she was going to let Buffy know exactly how she felt about it, and what exactly was going to happen next.

“I don’t care, we’re going!” Dawn stomped. “You two have been nothing but bitchy and deceitful towards each other from the beginning, and it’s time for it to stop. Yes, you should be ashamed for what you did to Spike, Buffy. I don’t doubt that you both did and said some things that you regret. But none of that changes the fact that you are in love with him, or that Spike has been head over heels in love with you Buffy, from the very beginning. ”

Buffy sighed. Dawn always thought that everything was easy. She had been happy these past several weeks with Buffy, and Buffy liked to think that the two of them had become friends. It had helped that Dawn got along well with Xander and Willow, and Tara had started a tentative friendship with Buffy as well.

The psych stopped by at least a few times a week. At first Buffy wasn’t sure how much Tara’s presence could be attributed to the woman’s desire to make sure that Dawn was being well cared for. But it was nice that the more mature woman hadn’t bowed out of Dawn’s life once Dawn was no longer staying with Thorndale. And she had turned into a genuine friend.

These past few weeks had probably been the most ‘normal’ home life the child had ever known. Family services had never been called, and everyone was hoping that the situation would remain stable until Dawn reached her majority. Glory certainly didn’t seem to care about her daughter, as long as her money appeared on time, and Spike hadn’t said a word about stopping the payments. Dawn still called her mother regularly, once a week, and the conversation was more like a progress report than a call home. Buffy had stopped listening in after the first time. The lies that Dawn could spin made her feel faintly ill.

As far as Dawn was concerned, the only thorn in her side was Buffy’s relationship with Spike. Buffy knew that in her child’s mind, she thought that because she loved both of them, that they must love each other. She was too young to know that the world didn’t work that way.

“He’s not in love with me, Dawnie.” Buffy struggled to explain it in a way that the teen could understand. “We hardly even know one another. Not really. Behind all the lies we’ve told one another.”

“I don’t think he’s lied to you, Buffy,” Dawn countered. “You were always the one with the undercover agenda. He’s just a normal guy who happened to fall for Mata Hari.”

“What?” There was that stupid name again. She should have looked it up after Riley called her that. At least Buffy knew that the ritzy private school Thorndale was paying for was doing a good job. Dawn constantly talked about things that Buffy had only a hazy knowledge of. She had thought herself very well educated, what with a Master’s degree and all, and it irked her that a fourteen year old high school student, as well as her corn fed ex-boyfriend, seemed to have a more well rounded view of the world.

“Mata Hari? The spy?” Dawn countered, as if it must be something that Buffy already knew. “Gave meaning to the term ‘femme fatale?’”

When Buffy did this kind of thing, Dawn assumed that the older woman was putting her on, testing her. Really, who had never heard of Mata Hari? It wasn’t the type of name one easily forgot.

“She was a famous female spy in… well, one world war or another,” Dawn continued as if answering a question for her history professor. “She was famous for seducing military secrets from her lovers.” She couldn’t resist adding the last little bit, “She was eventually shot and killed for it.”

Buffy didn’t see herself that way at all. “I did not seduce any secrets from William Thorndale. I mean… I didn’t seduce him at all.” She didn’t know why Dawn continued to romanticize their past relationship. “We were just friends, you know that Dawn.”

“Yeah, right,” Dawn huffed. “Friends who stay up all night making out on the couch, in the pool, in the backyard…”

“We did not make out in backyard…”

“Gotcha,” Dawn crowed, taking Buffy’s comment for the admission that it was. “So, you missed the backyard. But you got my point. You were more than friends. And despite everything that you’ve done to him…don’t give me that innocent look, Buffy. It’s always been you who did horrible things to him, never once has it been the other way around. But in spite of all that, I am sure that he is willing to overlook the past and give it another chance. He misses you, Buffy. And despite what you may say, I know that you miss him too.”

Buffy heaved a great sigh. Perhaps it was time to come clean. Sometimes it was exhausting talking with Dawn. She got you off on tangents that seemed to have nothing to do with anything, and the next moment you were giving in to whatever Dawn asked. It wasn’t fair really. It was like Dawn had some super power or something.

“You’re right, Dawnie. I do miss him,” Buffy admitted as she put out the breakfast things. “Even though I was playing a role, I really wasn’t, you know. But William has a lot of baggage. Things that you don’t know about.”

Buffy hoped that she didn’t know about. She shuddered as she remembered some of the images she’d seen in his locked workroom. She still wondered if Tara’s explanation really explained things. Those paintings were definitely not something for innocent eyes to see. Again, she searched for words that the teen would understand. “He’s…troubled, Dawn. There’s a reason he’s good friends with a psychoanalyst.”

“You’re friends with her too, you know.” Dawn snipped. “Does that mean that you’re troubled?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Everyone has problems, Buffy,” Dawn supplied. “And it’s not his fault if he’s felt so overwhelmed that he’s had to have some professional help from time to time. Lots of people see psychs. That’s why it’s a profession. But I think you could help him with his issues, Buffy. Make him feel safe.”

“Safe?” Of all the things that Dawn could have said, this seemed the most astounding. “I think after what’s happened between us, I’d be the last person that could make him feel safe. That’s what he has all that surveillance and security for.”

“Not that kind of safe, Buffy. Emotionally safe. I know it sounds weird to you. You think what the two of you have been through was such a big deal. But he has nightmares. All the time. Even from before the big ‘break up.’ They used to wake me up at night, when I slept across the hall from him. That’s one of the reasons that I agreed to move into the pool house. Even so, I was awake and prowling around the house enough at odd hours of the night that I could still hear him cry out in his sleep from time to time.”

Vaguely it seemed to Buffy somewhat incongruous for the teen to be talking about things that could make a grown man cry out in terror in the middle of the night while Dawn had cereal in her mouth. As much as she seemed to insinuate that Buffy was the one who was ignorant, Buffy couldn’t help but wonder if the teen had any idea what it all meant.

“He needs someone, Buffy,” the teen continued, eating and talking at the same time. Buffy and Tara had both tried to tell her, each in their own way, that the habit was really gross, but Buffy didn’t have the heart to mention it just now. “He’d like it to be you, Buffy. That’s why he’s invited us, both of us, to this party he’s giving. I think he’s trying to come to terms with what happened. With what you did. He wants to be friends again. Maybe something more if you’re willing. You owe him at least that much Buffy. He’s made a gesture that indicates that he wants to put the past behind him, you should be mature enough to accept. It's not that he’s asking for much. It’s a party, Buffy. A big corporate-y type function. They’ll be dozens of people there. It’s not like the two of you will be alone. Heck, if you don’t want to, you probably wouldn’t even have to talk to the guy. But you should put in an appearance, show him that you’re willing to try to be civil. Isn’t that what you always tell me, that good manners are important? That’s what this would be. Good manners.”

“You know Dawn, maybe you should consider a career in sales.” Taking a few more sips of her coffee, Buffy looked up at the eager teen and decided she may as well give in now as later. “All right, you’ve talked me into it. We’ll go. But I’m not making any promises, to you or to him, about where this relationship will go from that point. I’ll go to the party, and we’ll see how things go from there. Happy?”

“Yes. Very happy,” Dawn squealed, jumping up and down. “I have to go and figure out what I’m going to wear. It’s black tie, you know. That means it’s fancy, and we’ll both have to dress up. I don’t think I own anything that dressy,” the teen lied. She had lots of dressy clothes in her wardrobe, but they were all working clothes, hand me downs from the girls in Glory’s stable who had worn them before her. Dawn had vowed never to wear them, and was waiting for an opportunity when she was unsupervised so she could set them on fire. “You’ll have to lend me something of yours, or you’ll have to take me shopping. Please, Buffy, please say you’ll take me shopping. I promise that I won’t buy too much – I’ll only shop the bargain racks, I promise. I’ll even wear the same dress to prom if you want.”

It pleased Buffy that the teen realized that she had financial constraints that Thorndale did not. Even if such problems had become more academic recently. With recent sales, she was suddenly better off than she and her mother had ever been. The first thing she’d done was talk to a lawyer about setting up a fund for Dawn’s future. After all, there was no guarantee that Thorndale would continue to pay off her mother for the next four years. If he ever changed his mind on that score, things could get ugly. Fleetingly she wondered if they should start formal proceedings to have Dawn removed from her mother’s care, but the thought vanished almost as quickly as it came.

With Dawn jumping up and down around the kitchen, Buffy couldn’t ignore the exuberant teen’s demands for long. And apparently the only thought on Dawn’s mind now, was what she would wear to the gala event.

“Geesh, if I’d known this was going to cost me a fortune, I’d have held out longer,” Buffy teased. If the money were really a problem, she knew that Spike would probably be only too willing to finance Dawn’s wardrobe. But for once Buffy wanted to be the one to do something for the girl. Besides, it would be fun to spend so much quality time together. Most weeks it seemed like Dawn saved all of her free time to spend with Spike.

Startled, she realized that it wasn’t just that she was jealous of the time Dawn spent with Spike. She was envious of the close relationship the teen had with him. She wished that Dawn would trust her more, talk to her about her problems at school and such like. Either way, whenever those two were together, Buffy felt left out. Perhaps Dawn was right and it was time to try to mend some bridges in their relationship.

Buffy made a great show of her acquiescence. “Fine, we’ll go shopping. But that means that I have the final say on the dress. Nothing too low cut, or too short, or too see through, or too tight…”

“Yes, Mom.” Secretly Dawn was thrilled. That was exactly what she wanted. And it was fun to call Buffy ‘Mom.’ Her real mother, Glory had never wanted to be called ‘Mom,’ and had certainly never given a damn about what she wore or didn’t wear. Glory had never taken her shopping so she could pick out her own clothes, or really done anything that Dawn knew mothers were supposed to do for their daughters. As soon as she had been old enough, she had often wondered why her mother had even bothered to have a child. She knew that the other working girls all took precautions so that they wouldn’t get pregnant. Surely her mother knew what to do? And if something went wrong, if they somehow did conceive a child despite their precautions, well, there were ways to eliminate that problem too. So Dawn wondered why she was ever allowed to be born. It wasn’t like her mother seemed to care about her one way or the other.

It was nice to have someone who at least seemed to care, even if she wasn’t a blood relative. Not that that was any guarantee of anything. Dawn knew that most people would have treated a dog better than her mother had treated her. And as for her father – whoever he was - he hadn’t even cared enough about her to acknowledge that she even existed.

As far as Dawn was concerned, she had a whole new extended family now. Xander, Willow and Tara were favorite Aunts and Uncles. And Buffy and Spike…all she had to do was get them back together, and she’d have the Mom and Dad that she’d always wanted. Like the families that she’d seen on TV.

39. Invitations - 2

Anya wished that Xander would turn off the television. She loved the fancy apartment that they had been able to move into once they were each contributing towards the rent. But she couldn’t understand Xander’s fascination with large screen televisions. As far as she was concerned, one set was more than enough.

And why Xander insisted that they had to have one of those things in the bedroom was beyond her. Unless they used it to watch dirty movies, which they sometimes did. Other than that, Anya didn’t see any use for it. It was just a distraction from what the bedroom was supposed to be used for: for sleeping and for sex. Only just now they weren’t doing either of those two things anyway. They were having an argument.

“I don’t know why you have to be so negative all the time, Xander. It’s just a party.”

Even worse than the television, Anya didn’t like to be bothered with conversation while she was getting ready for bed. She was busy planning out what she wanted to do once she got her lover between the sheets. She preferred quiet. Really, any conversation at this point just got in the way.

Xander looked at his fiancée as if she had grown another head. Why was it so difficult for her to understand that he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with that man, ever?

“Only that it’s being given by the man who used to pay for your services by the hour like a whore,” he sputtered.

They had argued about Thorndale for weeks after their chance meeting at the Bronze. Despite Anya’s suggestion that he would probably buy them a really nice gift, Xander flat out refused to allow Anya to invite him to the wedding. Eventually he had won out by convincing her that it would be too awkward to have him there - she’d have to re-work all the seating arrangements. And it wasn’t likely anymore that Buffy would bring him as her date, as apparently, Xander informed her, the two of them had had a falling out. Anya, as usual, was the always the last to know.

Anya had thought that the acceptance would finally put an end to the argument. But Xander just never would let things go.

Putting her hands on her hips should be a sure sign to her betrothed that his last comment had made her angry. As she waited patiently for him to apologize, she wondered if he paid any attention to her at all. He was watching that stupid TV show again. Now she was really mad. So much for the two hundred dollar negligee. Xander hadn’t even noticed that it was new. Even worse, it was obvious that they weren’t going to get much enjoyment out of it now.

“I was a whore, Xander,” she explained one more time, exasperated. “You knew I was a whore. I told you so, right from the beginning. In the general usage of the term, that means that I slept with men and in return they would pay me money.”

Anya thought for a moment. She really didn’t like to be so blunt, even though everyone assumed that she did. It was just that some people never took a hint easily, and had to be hit over the head with things before they could really grasp even the simplest concept.

Still, she wanted to soften the blow to her lover, at least somewhat, so she continued, “It was never by the hour, though. Usually it was an entire night, or no deal. Spike was my best client. He paid by the week. Like he does with Dawn. He liked it that way. If it wasn’t for him I would never have been able to buy out my contract with Glory or open up the Magic Box. You know all this, Xander. I don’t understand why you continue to hold it against Spike. Besides, it was like years ago.”

“I really can’t stand to hear you go on about how well he treated you, Anya. Not again. He treated you like a whore. A thing, a possession, something to be bought and sold.”

“That’s not true. He did treat me well, Xander, even if you don’t want to hear about it. He knew I was afraid to pick up new clients while that LA Stalker guy was still on the prowl, so he let me continue to work for him. I stayed far longer than any of the other girls, Xander. He didn’t have to let me do that, but he did.”

Anya couldn’t help it if she looked back on her time with Spike with fondness. Really, of all her clients, he had been both the most fun to sleep with, and the most generous. Sometimes she wondered if things might have turned out differently. It really wasn’t surprising that Xander was jealous. She should try to make allowances. If only he understood what Spike had meant to her.

“He was good to me, Xander. When I told him that was I planning to get out of the business, he negotiated with Glory to buy out my contract. Not only that, he loaned me the money to open the Magic Box. Without him I never would have gotten away from that life so easily, and certainly wouldn’t have been able to become a successful business owner so quickly. And if I hadn’t opened the shop, I never would have met Willow, and she never would have introduced me to you. So really, in a way, you should thank Spike for everything he’s done for us.”

She knew immediately that she’d gone too far when he snapped off the television he’d been trying to focus on. Xander would never see things the way that she did. “I can’t stand it Anya. Why do you even want to talk about him? Can’t we just forget it ever happened and go on with our lives?”

Anya tried again. “It’s not such a big deal as you’re making it out to be, Xander,” Anya wasn’t a patient woman by nature. Ever since they had run into Spike with Buffy, it had been a bone of contention between them. It was beginning to wear thin.

“I’m trying to point out to you the fallacy of your thinking. I mean, if Spike wanted to pay me to sleep with him now, well, that would be wrong. I’m no longer a working girl, and I’m engaged to you. So I would never do that. But that doesn’t mean that it was wrong to do then. We were two consenting adults who made a business deal. It wasn’t this big thing like you think it was.” Anya could only hope that would put the matter to rest once and for all. Still, a little reassurance wouldn’t hurt. The male ego could be so fragile sometimes. “Besides, all he has eyes for now is Buffy.”

“Buffy!” The TV completely forgotten, Xander was out of the bed now. Any sex plans that Anya might have had in mind were crushed as Xander raced to defend the woman that he considered one of his best friends. “That’s just another reason that I will always despise William Thorndale. I’m glad that he and Buffy broke up. But can he let it be? No. It’s clear to me from this invitation to his house that he’s trying to get chummy with her friends so she’ll consider going out with him again. Well, it’s not going to happen. I was never so happy as the day that they broke up, and if I never have to see or hear about him again, I’ll die happy. That guy is just bad news.”

“But he’s not,” Anya protested. “And just because they broke up doesn’t mean that they’re never going to get back together again. I know, because I’ve seen how he looks at her. If there’s one thing that I know, it’s that William Thorndale can be a very persuasive man. How else would he have gotten Glory to agree to let me leave her? And aside from being rich, he has a lot of good qualities that most women admire in a man. He’s kind, attentive, he’s a considerate lover, and believe me, I’ve had more than my fair share of –”

“Don’t!” Xander yelled, throwing hands up to cover his ears. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about any of your former lovers, and I sure as hell don’t want to hear about your ‘relationship’ with that lecher William Thorndale. For what he’s done to Dawn alone he should be in jail as far as I am concerned.”

“He didn’t do anything to Dawn.” Really, the entire evening was already ruined. Anya didn’t know why she continued to argue when it was obvious that Xander wasn’t really listening to a word that she said. But still, she had to give it one more try.

“All he did was take Dawn away from a situation she had no control over, and allowed her some time to make her own choices. That was very noble of him, Xander, not something he should be punished for. In fact, I’m a little ashamed that I never thought of poor Dawnie myself. And that’s partly your fault. You kept telling me to forget about the past, and to cut all ties with anyone I ever knew from that life, so eventually, I did. But Dawn and I, we used to be close when she was little. She always wanted to hear about the men we’d met…”

“Please stop Anya. I can’t stand William Thorndale, and I will never be able to tolerate being in the same room with him, and I will never, ever, ever enter his house willingly. And aside from the fact that I can’t stand what he did to you, I’m worried about his motives with Dawn and I am afraid of what he might do to Buffy. I knew that I didn’t like him from the moment I saw him.”

“Because he was flirting with Buffy!” If Xander could only see himself the way that she saw him. “You have to get over your obsession with her, you know. You and I are going to be married, Xander. Not Buffy. And not Spike. You don’t need to bring them to bed with us every night, Xander.”

“Bring them to bed….What are you talking about?”

“Like now. Here we are. In bed, together. Alone. Or at least we should be. But, no, what are we doing? Are you giving me orgasms like a good boyfriend should? No. We’re arguing over something that neither of us have any control over.

“What’s the point, Xander?” she continued. “You can’t change the past, and as much as it might hurt you for me to say this, you can’t change what is going to happen between Buffy and Spike, either. That is for them to decide. Not you or me. Personally, I think that they would be good for each other, but I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.

“Have your way, Xander,” she finally capitulated. “If you don’t want to go to the party, then we won’t go. Now go to sleep, Xander. I don’t think I am going to have sex with you until you stop being an ass and whining about things that have nothing to with you. Turn out the light.”

“But Anya.” Xander didn’t understand why his girlfriend never saw reason. But she was right about one thing, they shouldn’t let their disagreement about William Thorndale interfere with their personal life. One of his favorite things about his girlfriend was how truly inspired she was in the bedroom.

“No, Xander. You should have thought about that before you brought up the subject of Buffy and Spike while we were getting ready for bed. If you were suggesting a foursome or maybe a swap, that would be different. I know you’re still fixated on her, and maybe if you finally got to see that she’s flesh and blood just like any other girl, you’d finally grow out of it. It might take some doing to get Buffy to agree, but I am sure that I could convince William…” she could tell by Xander’s face that she had said something unfortunate again. Well, too bad for him. “Since you’re the one who’s against group sex… well I don’t think it’s very fair of you to expect to get any when all you really want to do is argue. Go sleep on the sofa.”

“But Anya…”

“Good night, Xander.” Anya replied, very firmly pushing Xander out the bedroom door and locking it behind him. Really, Xander could be very thick headed sometimes. She thought that a good menage might be just what he needed to regain his perspective. Life was all about give and take, making compromises, keeping others besides yourself happy. That seemed like a lesson Xander still had to learn.

40. More Invitations

On the outskirts of town, another couple as also arguing about the same party. This time it was two women, and although it was starting to get cool, they were discussing the situation outside, in older woman’s garden.

“I think you should come with me Willow,” Tara said for the second time. “I think you’d like William Thorndale if you got to know him. You might even enjoy yourself. We really should make an effort to get out more.”

“With all those stuffed shirts?” Willow wasn’t going to be easily convinced, it didn’t sound like her type of event at all. She’d much rather spend an evening at the Bronze, or home alone with Tara. “I don’t think that I’m a black tie kind of girl.”

Tara smiled shyly. Willow was still so cute that sometimes Tara thought she couldn’t stand it. Together, the two of them had each helped the other to be more outgoing.

“Well, you never thought you’d be a girl’s kind of girl either,” she teased, taking the red-head’s hand in her own, “and look how that turned out.”

To some extent at least, Thorndale’s party had been Tara’s idea. Ever the matchmaker, she hoped that it would help Buffy and Spike get comfortable with one another again. Tara had made certain that Buffy had spoken to Spike directly about the possible threat from Riley. She hoped that would be another part of the cement that might some day glue the couple back together. No matter what had happened between them in the past, Tara firmly believed that Buffy and Spike had a future together.

Much like herself and Willow. She couldn’t believe that her new, almost official girlfriend, was saying that she didn’t want to go to the event that Tara had helped plan.

It was almost as frustrating as the fact that Giles had made very little progress determining just who had requested that Thorndale should be investigated, or who might be trying to have him framed. Tara tried not to blame her friend Willow for the fact that Giles had made even less progress on his promise to Spike to use the Agency’s resources to try to determine Dawn’s father. At the request of Giles and Tara, Willow had run the search several times, with no possible matches. Try as Tara might, the universe refused to be shaped to her desires.

Of course, both investigations were still on-going, so Tara tried to be grateful that Giles had at least honored the part of the bargain that he could, and finally closed the investigation into Thorndale’s affairs. As far as she was concerned, that in itself was worthy of a celebration.

“Yeah, about that,” said Willow, reddening. “What if they find out? I mean, Buffy still thinks I’m all mopey over Oz leaving. And…and frankly I think she’d be rather shocked.”

They had talked about this before. Tara couldn’t really understand what Willow was so worried about. If the people she thought were her friends really were her friends, then they would accept her, whatever lifestyle choices she made. Tara had tried to give Willow time to adjust, but even her legendary patience was wearing thin. “She has to find out sooner or later, Willow. I don’t really think that we can hide our relationship much longer. I mean, not with all this talk of you moving in with me.”

“Couldn’t we tell them we’re just sort of roommates or something? I mean, this coming out of the closet stuff is a big step, and I’m just not sure that I’m ready to make it yet.” Tara thought that Willow worried too much about what her friends thought, but she wasn’t going to push the younger girl.

“That’s okay, sweetie,” Tara agreed. She knew that her friend wasn’t ready to commit to the true nature of their relationship choices just yet. After all it wasn’t a relationship that she had sought out or had expected. It was just something that had kind of happened. As the two of them had become good friends, they became more than that.

Compromise was usually a good strategy, so Tara decided to go with that. If it needed to be fought, there would be plenty of time later to fight this particular battle.

“We can just go to the party together as friends. We don’t have to let on that there’s anything else to our relationship. Girlfriends… I mean friends who happen to be girls, go to parties together all the time. Besides, I think that Buffy could use your support. Anya told me that Xander refuses to go, and she agreed to stay home with him to avoid further trouble. But Buffy is feeling awkward enough about considering starting up a friendship with Spike again, so I think it would mean a real lot to her that we both attend. It would show that we support them both. Separately, or together.”

“I guess,” Willow acquiesced, “You really do think he’s one of the good guys, don’t you?”

“Totally.” Of that one fact Tara was quite sure. Whatever else might have happened in the past, she knew without doubt that William Thorndale’s heart was in the right place. It was that mysterious past that made people nervous. And what had happened with Drusilla had taken a long time for him to get over. No, it would be foolish to deny that bad things had happened. And they had helped to shape the man that he was today.

She tried to explain her feelings to Willow. “I mean, I know that some really awful stuff did happen in the past. Despite the appearance of success, Spike has not had an easy or trouble free life. He’d be the last person to deny that. And I suppose that he has done some questionable things, but he would never hurt anyone he loves. And he loves Buffy, even if he hasn’t said so in so many words.”

“Really?” This was news to Willow. “And what’s Buffy’s take on this whole thing, oh marvelous Houdini?” From Willow’s point of view, Buffy was first and foremost Willow’s friend, not Tara’s. Willow didn’t like the idea that Tara might know more about Buffy’s feelings than she did.

“Well, aside from the fact that Houdini was really an escape artist and not a fortune teller, I think she’s in love with him too,” Tara explained. “She’s just scared. She hasn’t had the best luck with men either, so even leaving out all the work complications, it was already destined to be a pretty tough situation.”

“Huh. Do you think any body really has good luck with men?”

“Of course not. That’s why we’re together,” Tara joked. “You do know that’s not true, don’t you? I would pick you whether you were male, female, or from the planet Ork. You are the best thing to ever happen to me Willow Rosenberg. Even if you do want to keep me as your big dark secret.”

Willow wasn’t quite sure how to react to that. Not that she didn’t totally feel the same way. But still, the relationship was still so new, it was hard to say that Tara was “the best thing ever.” I mean sure, she wanted her to be, but that couldn’t really happen until they had let all their friends know about their relationship. Maybe Tara had a point.

Ignoring the subtle probe, Willow returned to the main point of the conversation. Just how had they gotten so off topic anyway? “So, you really think the party will be fun? It won’t be full of evil nerds who terrorize unescorted females trying to pick them up, only to seduce and abandon them?”

“Of course not. And if there are, you can practice shooting them down. You’ll love Spike’s house if nothing else. We can run around placing fig leaves over all the naked male statues.”

“There’s naked statues?” Willow was intrigued. She had heard Buffy talk about how wealthy Spike was, but she couldn’t really imagine what his house must be like.

“Not really,” Tara admitted, smiling. Willow was such fun to tease. “But the house kinda gives you the impression that there might be. I will personally guarantee that you will have a great time, or I promise to drive you home myself and make it up to you. I’ll put that in writing if you want.”

“Umm,” Willow pretended to consider. “Is that a guarantee backed by a promissory note?” Willow queried, finally giving in to Tara’s silly mood. “Or do you have other collateral, Ms. McClay?”

“How about a kiss? Is that enough collateral for you Ms. Rosenberg?”

“I’m not sure, maybe I need another one. Just to be sure, so long as that is not a problem? I mean, you won’t be running out of kisses any time soon, will you? It might permanently damage your credit rating if that was the case.”

“Really?” Tara feigned innocent doe eyes as she undid the top button of her blouse. “It’s awfully hot in here, Mr. Loan officer. Are you sure that there isn’t any way that I can guarantee this promissory note?”

“I’m sure that the bank will come up with something, Ms. McClay. As long as you keep your account here with us, that is. There is to be absolutely no banking anywhere else.”

“Not really a problem,” Tara whispered as she kissed her lover.


~*~

That same night, yet another couple was having a discussion.

“We’ve got a problem. We need to talk.” The voice on the cell phone was thin and tinny, but Glory could tell right away who it was.

“Just talk?” Glory’s voice was studiously seductive on the phone. It was the one talent she had that wasn’t getting old. But she always needed to be careful when talking to this particular gentleman caller. He was a dangerous man, and she never forgot that, not for an instant.

She refused to ever give him the impression that she was as interested in seeing him as he was in seeing her. She always put him off as long as possible. Would never let him know that she waited for him to come to her. Despite how she might feel about their arrangement, there was no way she would ever allow him to get the upper hand.

“Well, probably not.” Glory could hear his grin through the speaker as he admitted it. “But it’s important. You’ll want to meet soon.”

“Its always important – to you.” Two times out of three she turned him down, refused to see him. That’s what kept him asking.

“This is different. This is important to you,” the voice claimed.

“How so?” She was bored with conversation, and began rearranging the pillows on her bed. It was becoming obvious to her that this wasn’t one of those time when she could afford to invite him upstairs. He always tried to push her to do things on his time frame rather than hers. It was a game that they played, each trying to maintain the position of power.

“It’s about Dawn.”

“Dawn?” That somewhat sparked her ennui. “What’s that brat done now? I thought she was finally properly situated. Learning her trade, as it were.”

“Yes, I knew you thought that.”

That got her attention. “You implying that it isn’t so?”

“I’m not implying anything. He’s been sending her to school – St. Cecelia’s.”

She immediately misunderstood. “Oooh, just think of those little school girl uniforms. He must love it. I bet she’s making a tidy profit on schoolboys on the side too. How remarkably entrepreneurial of her.”

“It’s not like that,” the caller informed her. “It’s an all girl’s school. She pulling down A’s.”

“Well,” Glory huffed, refusing to be impressed. Let her irritating daughter could do as she pleases, as long as Glory was getting her cut. “As long as she’s pulling down her panties for her homework, I suppose that I don’t care.”

“That’s just it, she’s not. It’s not like that at all.”

“What do you mean?” Really, that the man would pretend to know more about her personal business than she did, it was insufferable. He needed to be taken down a peg or two. “I talk to Dawn every week. I know exactly what’s been going on. I’ve made her describe it to me in full detail, because I wanted to be sure that he was covering all the basics. I wanted to know what he’s been teaching her. I get a complete report.”

“No doubt you enjoyed hearing her tell you all about too,” he laughed. “But it’s all been lies. They’re deceiving you, Glory. Laughing behind your back.”

“That’s impossible,” she huffed, getting angry now and pulling out the red fringe on the pillow sham. “The money’s good. Believe me, I’d have known long before now if there was any problem on that end.”

“I never said he wasn’t paying for her.” The voice on the other end of the line was starting to get impatient. That usually wasn’t a good sign. “I said he hasn’t been using her. At all.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Glory still didn’t believe him. How could the man possibly know that? She said as much. “You can’t know that. Besides, that’s a lot of money to throw away for nothing. Why would a man do that?”

“I’m not sure why, but I know it’s true. I have a man in the house.”

“You always have a man somewhere,” she groused. Then thought about it some more, “Actually in the house?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he could be wrong.”

“He’s not. He does surveillance. Including Thorndale’s bedroom.”

“It could have happened elsewhere.”

“It didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“If you don’t believe me, I have it on tape, right out of the girl’s mouth. She outright admitted that she’s still a virgin. I believe her.”

“So, when do you want to meet?” Finally, Glory was taking him seriously. Really, she ought to have known by now that he was never wrong about intelligence matters.

“Now,” he smirked. “I’m downstairs.”

“Well, then, come up.”

41. House Party

Spike had spent the past several weeks burying himself in his work. When he wasn’t at the office, he was locked in his studio, studying his latest acquisition. The only time he was happy was during the few hours that he was allowed to spend with Dawn each week, and even that was always painful, beginning and ending with reminders of Buffy.

Eventually he had decided that he had had enough of bitchy Buffy, and at Tara and Dawn’s urging, he had invited Buffy to a party at his house, as a sort of peace offering. To make the event seem less personal, he’d also invited assorted other employees, clients and friends. He’d given an invitation to Anya and her new fiancé, in the hopes that they could bury that hatchet as well, but William wasn’t much surprised when the newly engaged couple declined the invitation. He could certainly understand Xander’s position. If he were about to get married, he wouldn’t want his fiancée hanging around an old flame either. Of course, he wasn’t exactly an old flame, but that only made it worse.

The evening of the party the house was filled by people in a way that it hadn’t been since before Drusilla had left. Of course the house felt empty until the moment Buffy and Dawn arrived. The other guests were inconsequential when compared to these two.

Ostensibly, the purpose of the evening was to show off Spike’s newest acquisition, which had finally taken its long prepared place in the media room. Immediately after the buffet dinner, Spike asked the guests to gather there.

The painting was covered in a white cloth so it was hidden from view. Saying as few words as possible (public speaking still made him feel uncomfortable), Spike removed the veil that covered the small canvas with a flourish.

The painting did look marvelous in the spot that he had chosen for it. It complemented the room perfectly. Nevertheless, Buffy’s eyes began to tear as she gazed at the painting before her. It was her mother’s painting. The one they had both been looking at the first night she met William Thorndale. The painting of her as a young child. Girl with Stars.

After the others had all drifted off, but Buffy remained transfixed. Her eyes were so teary that she barely noticed as Spike came up besides her, and put his hand gently on her shoulder. With a wry smile he noticed that at least she had finally stopped flinching when he touched her.

“Do you like it, pet?” he whispered, offering her a real cloth handkerchief for her eyes. “I knew you were fond of it – it took bugger all to get the stubborn bloke that owned it to sell. I’m afraid I over paid for it a bit. Not that that it matters. But the more I got to know you, the more I was sure I had to buy it for you. I want you to feel free to come here anytime you like, to look at it.”

He didn’t tell her that he had originally intended to give it to her as a gift. But after he had found out about her true reasons for spending time with him, he had changed his mind, but he had already negotiated the purchase. Seeing Buffy’s reaction, he was once again glad that he had taken the trouble to buy something that would please her. Besides, if things went the way he was hoping that they would, if they could maybe get around the past and start over, well, he could always give her the painting later.

“Oh, Spike!” was all that she could think of to say, still not looking at him, as she rested her head on the strong shoulder behind her. She did love this painting. It was a very sweet and romantic gesture, his buying it. Of course she knew that he had begun negotiations to buy it a long time ago, before any of the badness between them had been exposed. Still, he had continued to pursue the painting, even after everything that had happened. That meant something.

Buffy couldn’t possibly explain to Spike how much this gesture had cost him.

The fact that he had contacted Federico Joni in New York (a man known to have underground connections) had raised Giles’ suspicion. Then Buffy had reported the empty space where a painting had once hung and Giles had immediately assumed that Spike was hiding something that he hadn’t wanted Buffy to see. He had never even considered Spike’s explanation that he had moved around his personal art collection in order to make room for a new acquisition. If not for those two facts that had raised Giles’ suspicions all those months ago, Buffy’s investigation might have been long over. Closed for lack of evidence.

Buffy bit her lip as tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“What’s that pet?” Spike turned her so that she was facing him, and wiped at the tears in her eyes with the handkerchief she had neglected to take. “I meant for it to make you happy.”

“I am Spike. I am happy,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

She vowed to herself that she would never let Spike know that she was the ‘stubborn bloke’ who hadn’t wanted to sell this particular painting. All throughout their personal turmoil, she and Spike had unknowingly spent months in negotiations through his broker in New York.

In hindsight, she really should have guessed. Who else wouldn’t balk at paying over ten times the fair market value just to own this particular painting? She already missed it, even though she had kept it in storage since the day it had come down from the display. For Buffy the painting had already been laced with bittersweet memories. Now there were more of them.

Drying her eyes, she gazed at herself immortalized in that one moment of her youth. Looking at it now, she thought that she could catch a slight sadness about the mouth and the eyes that she had never noticed before. Perhaps it had taken more careworn eyes to see.

She didn’t know what she had left to say to Spike. Didn’t know that there was anything left to say between the two of them. Didn’t know if there was anything real between them that they could use to try and start over.

Stunned and more than a little sad, Buffy dried her eyes and gave Spike an enouraging smile before she drifted away to find her friends.

Although it was too cold to swim, Tara, Dawn and Willow had gathered outside around the pool, and were running around like little children, each trying to collect as many different kinds of leaves as they could find, and throwing them into the pool to watch the wind blow them across its surface. It was nice to see her friends acting so carefree, and Buffy joined in the spirit of exuberation until they were all too cold to remain outside.

Warming up inside after their illicit exploits in the garden, Buffy found herself actually enjoying the party. She had a chance to catch up with Jonathan, and found Andrew more than slightly amusing, although she didn’t remember him from high school. It was also good to know that her own friends, Willow and Tara and Dawn, were here as well. She was starting to feel more hopeful about the possibility of her and Spike putting aside their tumultuous past.

Until William pulled her aside, to introduce her to someone she hadn’t met yet.

“Buffy, I’d like for you to meet one of my newer employees. Richard is in charge of South American import/export. He’s spent the last several years living down there, and promises to be a great asset as far as expanding the company’s interest in South American emerging markets. Buffy, this is Richard Fine.”

Buffy offered her hand to the tall young man in front of her. “It’s nice to meet you…”

Looking up at his face for the first time she realized what should have been obvious even from a distance. His skin was starting to lose the dark tan, and his hair had returned to its natural shade, and he had hidden his clear blue eyes behind unattractive dark-rimmed glasses. But it was Riley Finn.

Riley Finn, who had broken into her apartment and warned her away from Thorndale. Riley Finn, who had been her boyfriend in college. Riley Finn, who was obviously still working undercover to trap Thorndale. Riley, a.k.a. Richard Fine, who had somehow inveigled himself into a high level position in Spike’s organization.

“Ri…” She stopped herself before the whole name came out. She still worked for the Agency. She wouldn’t blow his cover. At least not until she had given it a fair amount of thought. Spike deserved to know just who it was he had working for him.

“You mean Richard.” He interrupted her. “I can tell I seem familiar to you. You may not remember me, but I knew you slightly back at UC Sunnydale. You used to date a fraternity brother of mine, Riley Finn.” It was a good cover. It would explain a lot, if it was ever necessary.

“Riley and I lost touch some years ago, when he went back to Iowa,” Buffy replied sharply. If Riley got the subtle jibe, he didn’t even flinch. She didn’t like being put on the spot, forced to make a judgment call between her loyalty to the Agency and her loyalty to Spike. He was just starting to trust her again. Was she going to throw that all away for an agent who may or may not be following his own agenda? “But did I hear correctly that you’ve been in South America?” Maybe she could figure out his angle, what he was looking for.

“Yes. For three years. I’m glad to be back in the States though. Gives me a chance to correct some unfinished business. Renew old acquaintances, that type of thing, if you know what I mean.”

Unfinished business? Renew old acquaintances? Was he flirting with her? Again? Did he really think that she was just going to fall all over him when he decided to ride back into her life?

“You know,” he continued, “Riley told me that he never would have left you if he had been given a choice. But I’m sure you know what that’s like, sometimes you have very few choices in life. You do what is necessary, rather than what you want. I know that if he had been able to stay, he was thinking of asking you to marry him. I don’t know that he’s ever gotten over you.”

God, he was pathetic. That line hadn’t worked the first time. Did she think she hadn’t heard him correctly, or was he stupid enough to think that if he kept hinting about it that she would change her mind and suddenly want him?

“He also said that he recommended you for a special program before he left. A graduate program that could lead to a whole new career for you. I guess that that worked out well for you.”

There he was, taking credit for getting her hired at the Agency, all her accomplishments, really! He was so infuriating, even if it was just the tiniest bit true.

She had tried to block out her earlier meeting with Riley under the theory that the less she thought about him the better. But now he was more than a possible threat. The danger to Spike was real. He didn’t know that he had a spy in his midst. Of course, the part of her that was pure government-issue continued to whisper that if Spike had done nothing wrong, then he had nothing to worry about.

For all his talk of unwanted assignments, Riley must have been undercover even when she knew him back in college. But why had he been at Sunnydale? And perhaps more importantly, why was he back? What did he think he could find to convict Spike on? What was he looking for – and worse, would he be able to find it? Her whole world swung on its axis. Suddenly she wasn’t sure of very much any more.

What if what Riley had said was all true? What if Thorndale really was a crook? Would she want Riley back in her life again? Having a boyfriend who knew about her dual life, who understood her commitment to her work, would be a real bonus.

Recently, her feelings for Riley had not been of the warm and fuzzy kind. She had even questioned whether she had ever loved him at all, or whether she had merely been flattered that he was so obviously devoted to her.

Besides, having work in common was not at all a guarantee that the relationship would go smoothly. Look at Willow and Oz. Everything had seemingly been going along fine, when Oz unexpectedly picked up and moved out of state. What was up with that?

Needing time to think, she made her excuses to them both, and headed off to look for Dawn and Tara. If she could have just a few minutes alone to talk to Tara or Willow in private, that would probably help her get her priorities straight.

Chapter 42. Coming To a Decision

On the way to find her friends, Buffy literally ran into Warren, almost spilling her drink. Tara had told her a long time ago that of all of Spike’s associates, she found Warren the most unsettling. Buffy had to agree with her. The man was far too obsequious for her tastes. Whereas both Jonathan and Andrew could be placating servile, something about Warren just rubbed her the wrong way. His attitude always seemed slightly off, like he was laughing behind her back.

Even tonight his smile seemed too wide, his manner too conciliatory.

“Oh, Buffy. Sorry, I didn’t see you there. Are you enjoying the festivities?” Buffy had to remind herself that Spike had allowed his staff and employees to attend the party as guests. She had talked to Jonathan earlier, and he had explained to her that although he and Andrew had made all the decisions, Spike had hired a catering service to actually prepare and serve the food. It was a gesture that Warren didn’t seem to appreciate.

“Warren. The party is lovely. You can tell Jonathan and Andrew put a lot of thought into planning everything. Have you seen Dawn anywhere, or Tara?” She wasn’t completely sure that Warren knew who Tara was, but Dawn had lived in Spike’s house for months. He couldn’t possibly have missed her.

“Sure, Buffy, Tara and that red-headed girl she came with were just in the kitchen. Dawn’s looking awfully tired. You might want to suggest that one of them take Dawn home early. Then you’ll be able to just relax and enjoy the rest of the party.”

Buffy just smiled as she walked off, sipping her wine. Aside from running into Riley, everything really was going incredibly well. That is, besides the crying fiasco when Spike had unveiled the painting which had caught Buffy off guard. And the fact that she really needed a few minutes to get her head together and decide where her loyalties lay.

She wasn’t sure that she even liked Riley anymore, but he was a co-worker, and her terms of employment were very specific: she should NEVER under any circumstances, compromise another Agent’s cover. But she really felt as if she should warn Spike that “Richard Fine” was trouble. Maybe that was enough of a warning. She could tell him to be careful, without being specific or having to give away state secrets. That seemed the easiest solution. She would make a point of talking to Spike about it before she left the party.

Spike had certainly been the perfect host, and the event seemed to be a huge success. She ought to take Warren’s advice and let herself unwind a bit. But she agreed with his sentiment that that would be hard to do with Dawn looking over her shoulder every minute. Maybe she would try to send the girl home early. Certainly Tara and Willow wouldn’t mind.

Observing from the doorway, Buffy saw that Warren was right. Dawn was yawning as she entered the kitchen.

“Buffy. How are you holding up?” Tara inquired at the same time that Willow piped up with her own question, “Are you glad that you came, Buffy?”

“I’m good, Tara.” Buffy smiled. She knew that her new friend had had a major role in getting this whole party idea going. But it seemed to be working. She was feeling happier and more at ease with Spike every minute. It felt good.

She nodded over at her oldest friend. She and Willow had known each other since freshman year in high school. It was a great relief to have a friend that knew her so well. One that could relate to both sides of her life. “And yeah, Willow,” she answered her friend’s question, “I think I am glad that I came. It’s about time Spike and I both tried to get over the past, let bygones be bygones, that kind of thing. What about you two and Dawn? Are you having a good time?”

Tara turned to the young teen, “Are you just bored, sweetie, or are you really that tired?”

“Well, its not like it’s any big excitement to me to see Spike’s house. I did live here for months until I was forced to move in with Buffy. And Spike is too busy playing host to spend any time with me, and Buffy’s busy making goo-goo eyes at him…”

“I am not making goo-goo eyes!” Buffy protested. “I’ll have you know I have behaved in a totally respectable manner all evening. It’s just that – well, I never mentioned it – but that painting Spike is showing off? He only bought it because of me. That’s the painting we were both looking at when we first met. He went to a lot of trouble to get that painting, and it was a very sweet gesture.”

“Yeah, sure. Now he’s sweet again.” Dawn rolled her eyes. Sometimes Buffy could be so frustrating. “I really wish you would make up your mind one way or the other Buffy. Either you like and the guy and you trust him – or you don’t. You know where Tara and I stand.”

“I’m working on it, okay?” Buffy grumbled. “You know you really don’t have to stay Dawn. I’m sure Tara and Willow would be glad to take you home, and you could spend the night with one of them.”

Willow was the first to sputter out a “Sure, no problem,” as an indefinable look passed between the two women. Buffy couldn’t put an emotion to it, but if she were forced to choose she would probably say that Willow was embarrassed and Tara was disappointed. Neither of which made any sense.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want us spying on you love birds,” the teen teased. “Not that I’m complaining. Not in the least.” Dawn grabbed Tara’s hand, “I’m totally ready to go. You don’t mind, do you Tara?”

“Of course not, sweetie,” Tara winked. “Have fun Buffy.”

Buffy stayed in the kitchen by herself for a long time, sipping her drink and thinking. It looked like both Tara and Dawn were in favor of her rebuilding a relationship with Spike, a real relationship this time, based on mutual trust instead of lies, while Willow was being cautious and reserving judgment as usual. That was pretty much as good as could be expected. And that must be a good thing, right? And she did miss him. It was becoming more and more difficult to have to listen to Dawn chattering about events going on in Spike’s life, but not be able to really talk to him.

Before she had started to get to know him, she hadn’t realized how empty her life had been. And now that events had torn them apart, she was coming to see how much he had meant to her. She almost wished that things had happened differently, that she had been a different person. Maybe then they would have gotten it right the first time.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, but you look lovely tonight,” the soft voice issuing from the doorway startled her out of her thoughts. “Mind if I join you for a minute, pet?” Spike’s voice continued in that soft, intimate way he had sometimes. With Dawn, Tara, and Willow gone, just now, there was no one else; she was alone in the kitchen with William Thorndale. How very domestic. Smiling, Buffy realized that the party really had been a good idea. She was finally beginning to relax around him again. And he really was a vision standing there in the what was probably the same suit he had been wearing the night they had first met. Things had seemed so much less complicated then.

“So do you.” At his raised brow she elaborated, “You look lovely too. Or I mean, handsome, I guess.” Smiling wider at seeing that he took her simple compliment so well, she continued, “Did I tell you that the painting looks terrific where you hung it? I hope you are enjoying your party.” She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop herself. There was something important that she had wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t remember it just now. The way she was feeling, she could barely remember her own name, but she didn’t particularly care.

All she could think about was how very sexy he looked tonight, and how much of a mistake it had been to let this relationship end. Maybe if she had fought harder to keep them together, maybe if she had explained herself better… All she knew was that, suddenly she wanted him more than she had ever before.

Spike could tell that the evening was looking up. Buffy hadn’t complained about his touch earlier or, nor about his nearness now. Back in the media room, she had laid her head on his shoulder, and eh had felt closer to her than he had in a long while. Just now, she was looking at him like she had months and months ago, when he had taken her home after she’d gotten drunk at that restaurant. Eyes wide and vulnerable, as if she really cared for him.

Spike was in heaven. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he decided to take a chance, “It’s better when you’re at my side,” he whispered.

Although he still harbored lingering doubts, as well as twinges of anger towards the blonde, it was becoming apparent to Spike that although he meant to hold a grudge against Buffy, his heart didn't agree. He couldn’t help it. He was going to have to capitulate and admit to himself that he was in love with her. And if there were the slightest hope that she would accept him back into her life again, he would take it, despite the consequences. The girl was the queen of mixed signals, but so far tonight she hadn’t seemed to mind his attentions. And once again her smile as she looked up at him brightened the room.

Without any protest from her at all, Spike slipped beside her and gathered her into a breif embrace – as if they were friends making up after a fight.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” Buffy smiled and turned around in his arms. “Would you dance with me?”

He hadn’t expected that enthusiastic a response. Not one to complain when things were going his way, Spike held Buffy closer and began to sway gently to the soft strains of the music just barely discernable drifting in from the other room. Catching her in his arms more tightly, Spike pulled her close. Since he had known her, Buffy had never been much for dancing.

“Have a bit too much to drink again, pet?” He wondered at the sudden change in her attitude towards him. This was more like the woman he had first met – sweet and vulnerable, and not at all suspicious that his motives were anything other than the obvious.

“What? No. This is my first glass, and it’s only half empty,” Buffy declared. “I just decided that I owe it to myself to have a good time tonight. It’s a party, and I want to celebrate.”

Leaning in close as he swept her around the kitchen floor, Spike whispered in her ear again. “What are you celebrating?”

“Me. I’ve come to a decision.” Flipping her hair back in a way known to women since before hairspray was invented, she looked in his eyes and plunged forward with what she needed to say before she lost the nerve, “I want to be with you.”

He had to remind his feet to keep moving. It couldn’t be what it sounded like, could it? “Pet?”

“Now, Spike. We’ve waited long enough.” She was blushing crimson as she looked him in the eyes and pursed her lips. They both swallowed hard. “I want you to take me upstairs. To your bedroom.”

Flabbergasted, Spike let himself be let away from the kitchen and towards the back stairs. His guests would be just fine without him. On the way he managed to catch Jonathan’s eye, and knew that the younger man would make his excuses to anyone who asked for him. There would be damned few. Everyone was happy to enjoy his hospitality, but there would be only a handful who would actually notice his absence the rest of the evening.

As she whisked him up the back staircase, Spike wondered what had finally gotten Buffy to change her mind? Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to question it. She had made him the happiest man on earth.

Chapter 43. Pillow Talk

In the broad red bed, she lay curled around her lover, playing idly with the hairs on his chest. Despite the beginnings of gray, it was still a strong chest, and she stared at the picture they made in the mirror on the ceiling. He always made her feel lazy after. Like she didn’t have a bone left in her body. Not many men could do that to her. Even fewer bothered to try. If she wasn’t so sure that letting him know that she was available whenever he wanted would have made him want her less, she would have liked to have spent more time with him.

But playing hard to get made the having all the more worth striving for. Certainly with this man. Though it wasn’t a half-bad tactic to use on herself. It made them both want it more.

“I have to think of a suitable punishment,” she pouted. “A girl shouldn’t lie to her mother.”

“Ummm,” he muttered, also sated. “Let me take care of Thorndale. I’ve already got plans for him. That’s why I waited to tell you.”

“You’ve known for a while then? You shouldn’t have waited to tell me. I’m going to make you pay for that,” she said, switching seamlessly from annoyed to seductive.

“You always do,” he smiled down at her, kissing her forehead in a gesture that were he another man she would have called tender. From him, it was merely possessive, and perhaps a little bit patronizing. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“No,” she smiled, already making plans, “You really shouldn’t. But I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt too bad. As long as you promise me that it will be me that gets to punish the brat for what she’s done. I’m her mother after all. I know you too well. I can tell you have something in mind for Dawn already.”

“I never could hide anything from you, could I?”

Warming to his subject, he sat up in bed. As he talked, Glory watched as he became hard again. He didn’t often do that anymore. He was getting old. They both were. But the thought of what he was suggesting obviously excited him.

“Do you know what Dawn is afraid of? I mean really afraid of?”

Glory pouted but didn’t answer. Dawn ought to be afraid of her, but she wasn’t. Glory was smart enough to know that.

“Her father,” he answered.

Glory couldn’t believe it. “Her father? She doesn’t even know who he is.”

“Exactly. He could be anybody. He could be me. Should have been me.”

She smiled then. After all this time, he still hadn’t given that up. She had guessed right, and over the years she had become more and more sure of it. The fact that she hadn't initially picked him for her lover, that she’d chosen someone else over him, that’s why he still kept coming back to her. It tied him to her in ways that softer emotions never could.

In her business, she had found that most people’s capacity for love was severely over rated. But there were those people whose capacity for hatred and jealously knew no bounds. She knew that her lover was one of them. The knowledge that he had been her second choice had eaten away at him over the years, until the hate was strong and so long established that nothing would ever dim it – not even the long anticipated revenge for the imagined wrong. Sweetly she smiled and turned the knife, “That still bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “How could you have picked that ignorant rube over me?”

“He was very dashing when he was younger. Very gallant too.” Oh, how she loved to rub it in, all the things that he was not, and never had been. She never admitted to him that those qualities had never attracted her at all.

“He was goddamned useless,” he swore. She’d gotten him riled up now, like she knew that she would. “You seduced him, and then he went running with his tail between his legs, and never spoke to you again. What was the point?”

“I have his daughter,” she explained patiently. They had discussed this very thing a hundred times before. She knew it just made him hate them both more – the daughter that he felt should have been his, and the man who had fathered her. The hatred bound him to her even tighter. “At some point she could have been useful to me,” Glory continued. “I could have blackmailed him with the knowledge.”

“Ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Besides, it’s going to come out soon anyway. Thorndale’s asked for a DNA test to be run. It’s awfully amusing watching them all scurry about seeking furtive answers. They’ll eventually figure it out, and I wish I could be there when they tell him. I’ll have to see if I can find a way to arrange it. But I still don’t understand why you would feel the need to try to blackmail the idiot for anything, when you have me to protect you. I’m worth ten of him.”

“Well, I didn’t know that I’d keep you interested for so long, now did I?” Glory huffed. Of course that had been part of her plan all along, but she wasn’t fool enough to say it. It had been a long shot at best. She’d been amazed at how well it had worked. “It’s been fifteen years. I might have suspected that you would be interested in someone younger by now. After all, there’s been plenty of girls here to choose from. And you did sample some of them.”

That had made her angry, yet she had let it go. She had long ago made sure that none of her staff would ever fully satisfy his needs unless the request came through her. She didn’t say any of this, but continued on a more cheerful note. “Yet you still come back to me. Tell me, do you love me?” She said it mockingly, as if she knew that that couldn’t possibly be the answer.

“Love doesn’t exist,” he said flatly. He too had learned that lesson long ago. “I would have thought that you, of all people, would have known that. But I suppose you’re just teasing me. You know what keeps me coming back to you.”

“Yes,” she admitted, and decided to be honest for once. “You need to prove that you are the better man. That you would have been the better choice. Tell me, how would it change things if you really were Dawn’s father? Would you… would you… care?” She said it like it was a dirty word. “Or would you be obsessed with her just as you are now?”

He looked over to the woman on the bed, surprised. He thought that he had hidden his interest in the child very well over the years, although it had always been obvious that he hated her father. He felt that he had been amazingly patient waiting until the girl turned fourteen. By all rights, he should have had her then, only Glory had gotten greedy. After all, she only had the one daughter to sell. He had been forced to watch while Glory had made the deal with Thorndale. It had been an amazing piece of luck that the millionaire bachelor didn’t want her. Of course in the end, it really wouldn’t have mattered.

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s obvious, from the way you look at her. From the way you’re acting now.” She stroked her hand over his hard phallus. “You never get that hard a second time, at least not without some work on my part. Just thinking about the girl excites you. I want to know why. Is it because you could have been her father?”

“What? I am not Dawn’s father, and we both know that.”

“No, you’re not her father. Her father has forgotten that anything ever happened between us, and he likes it that way. If what you are telling me is true, he has blocked it from his memory to the point where he can’t even see what’s right in front of his face. I am sure that you find no end of pleasure in that fact. But you – you’re still looking after her, in your own way of course, and you’re still here with me – almost fifteen years later.”

“You mean to say you planned it all this way?”

She shrugged, and decided that she’d tell him just a bit. What did it matter now? His feelings weren’t going to change after fifteen years just because she admitted that she wanted him to feel that way.

“The ties of jealousy and hatred are so much stronger than lust. If I’d given in to you then, you would have forgotten me too. Besides, this way I had two potential allies in high places. I had no way of knowing how things would turn out, now did I? I hoped that you would protect me because of our association. But he would be forced to protect me also, even if he didn’t want to, because of what we had created together. And if that wasn’t enough, I could always have blackmailed him with the proof. His career would have been over. And if even that wasn’t enough, I could have threatened to hurt the child, and then he would be compelled to do whatever I asked.”

“You always were a clever girl,” he intoned, clearly both impressed and aroused.

“Yes, I am,” she answered, pushing him back on the bed. “So, tell me, what do you have in mind for the girl?”

He nuzzled her hair and bit her ear lobe. All this pillow talk was making him want her again. “Let Dawn think that I am her father – it wouldn’t be hard to convince her. She knows I’ve been sniffing around you for years.”

“And then?”

“You know what comes then. It’s what keeps her up at night. Gives her nightmares.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t want the girl too traumatized. After all, the point of all this from my viewpoint is that the girl needs to be able to work. She owes me, after all those years of cleaning diapers and runny noses. To say nothing of the fact that I allowed her to stay untouched until she was ready. I don’t want her ruined. Besides, I don’t think I really like the thought of you with my daughter.”

“Really? Becoming possessive in your old age?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “Either way I expect a good payback for all the years of effort it has taken to raise a child. To say nothing of the nine months I spent with her in my belly. She can’t possibly ever earn enough to pay me back for that.”

“I suppose it was uncomfortable,” he agreed. “But you could have terminated the pregnancy. I always wondered why you didn’t.”

“I just told you why I didn’t. I thought the child would come in useful. But it didn’t work out that way, because instead of needing him to protect me, I had you.”

“And now you expect Dawn to work off her debt to you? You know this isn’t a very promising beginning. Thorndale’s already all but ruined her. She thinks she’s a person now. Thinks she has rights, and choices. It may be difficult to convince her to choose the path you want her to. Remember Anya.”

“Anya? Of course. The girl was a gold mine. Insatiable appetite, for men and for money. I should have never let her go.”

“Yes. And it was after being with Thorndale that she decided to quit. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. And to add insult to injury, he was the one who convinced you to let her go. Just wanted to remind you that you still owe him for that. Aside from the fact that he may be ruining your daughter. You wanted him to train her, and look what he’s done instead. Turned her against you, to the point where she is telling you lies.”

“But he is paying.”

“Yes, but you’ve just said that you want more than a few months of work out of the girl. What if after he gets tired of paying for nothing, she refuses to go to anyone else?”

“She wouldn’t dare.”

“She might. Besides, Thorndale has powerful friends too. He hasn’t done it yet, but he might get the girl taken away from you. Get social services involved. They’d put her in foster care, and you’d have nothing for all your hard work.”

“That’s what you’re for,” she cooed. “To see that I am left alone. To see to it that things like that don’t happen.”

“I might not be able to stop it. Not social services. At least not easily.”

“So, what are you suggesting?”

“I am suggesting, my dear, that there are men other than Thorndale. Men whose tastes are more similar to mine. Men who don’t want a pliant plaything, and are willing to pay for the privilege.”

“You have a particular someone in mind? Someone who would be willing to pay the kind of money Thorndale does?”

“I might. But if I give you the name, then I’d deserve a finder’s fee, wouldn’t I? You know what I want.”

“You want the girl,” she really shouldn’t feel jealous that he wanted her own daughter. Besides, she had an idea of what he wanted her for- it wasn’t something she was personally interested in experiencing. Not unless she was getting paid a hell of a lot of cash – up front. Even then, she’d have to think about it. “Wouldn’t that decrease her value?”

“Not necessarily. Not if I find you the right buyer.”

“You know that’s of tantamount importance to me. Well, that and that I’d like to see the brat get what she deserves almost as much as you do. Thorndale’s been far too lenient with her – I am sure that it has given her an exaggerated feeling of her importance. It’s not like the world is going to end just because one little girl loses her virginity.”

“No, it’s not, is it? At least, not our world. Since she decided to defy your wishes, she might find it a little less pleasant than the alternative would have been. But, that doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Why should it? I’ve already done more for the little ingrate than she had any right to expect. Starting with the fact that I allowed her to be born in the first place. She’s been nothing but an inconvenience to me ever since.”

“Good. Because if things go as I suspect they will, I don’t imagine that she’ll be calling you on the phone to tell you how things are going. Should I collect her?”

“No. Wait until you have a client and I’ve negotiated the deal. Then, let’s say you can have her for a night, before we ship her off. That sound fair?”

“A month.”

“Too long. What if he won’t wait? Two days.”

“Not enough time to instill the proper attitude. It has to be longer.”

“All right then, a week. But only if he’s willing to wait.”

“It’ll do.”


_______________
A/N: Sorry if that wasn’t the chapter you were expecting. What can I say? I’m evil.

Chapter 44: A Private Party

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Buffy locked it. Moving quickly, she placed her wineglass on the nightstand, and turned back to look at Spike still standing uncertainly by the door. What was it with the man? Now that the moment for decisive action had arrived, he hesitated.

Buffy thought it was adorable. He had wanted her forever, and now that she had consented, he wasn’t sure what he should do. No doubt he had envisioned himself as the aggressor, not the other way around. She grinned. She liked the thought of keeping Spike off-balance.

Moving in for the kill, she pressed her body close, sliding her cheek against the rough skin on his chin and pressing herself against him hard, until there was no space at all between them. She ground herself against him, feeling him harden with the contact. Letting up slightly, she smiled before she attacked again, nuzzling and licking his neck and his ear lobe, while pressing even harder against him until she heard the creak of the door behind his back, as they collided against it again. When she heard a moan escape his lips, she knew she had him at her mercy, and finally let her lips meet his in a bruising kiss.

Seeing his eyes widen in surprise before closing, she smiled into the kiss and slipped her hand in between them, cupping his manhood. Closing his eyes and enjoying the ride, Spike allowed it for a moment, before whirling them around and slamming Buffy’s back to the wall, rattling the picture that was hanging nearby. He returned her smile with a grin of his own, as he moved to kiss her lips again.

Less hurried, and somehow more sensuous, as the kiss deepened, Buffy could feel his hardness pressing into her, as his hand rose to caress her breast. It had been a long time since Buffy had been with anyone, and his obvious ardor enflamed her.

Forcing Spike to switch their positions yet again, determined to take control, Buffy pushed herself away from his embrace until she held Spike at arm’s length, once again pressed against the protesting door. Blowing him a kiss, she smiled as she let him know exactly how things were going to be between them.

“Don’t you dare move,” she whispered the order, while she sauntered past his bed towards the music player. Turning the sound up, she began swaying her hips to the music, moving her body seductively to the sounds of My Chemical Romance that drowned out the chamber music from below.

Without even looking at him, she growled over her shoulder, “I told you not to move. If you don’t want to do what I tell you, I can always go back downstairs to the party.”

Spike swallowed. The last thing he ever wanted to do was give her an excuse to stop what she had begun. He had waited for this night for far too long to take a chance on ruining it before it even got started. If Buffy wanted to be the one in charge, what did it matter? So long as she wanted this, so long as she wanted HIM, he was content. It was all he had ever really wanted, since the first night he had met her.

Turning so that she could look into his eyes, Buffy danced closer. Spike’s eyes nearly crossed as she shrugged her shoulders so that one sleeve of her dress fell free. It didn’t fall far – just enough so that he could see the crest of her bra and the swell of her breast where the fabric had fallen away. Spike forced himself to stillness but couldn’t suppress a moan as Buffy’s eyes found his. Watching him intently all the while, Buffy allowed her other sleeve to fall, catching the bodice of her dress before it could slip all the way down. Smiling so broadly he couldn’t hope to stop it, he realized that Buffy planned on making him watch while she stripped for him. The ache in his groin was unbearable, and he didn’t know how long he would be able to hold out before simply throwing her on the bed and ravishing her. But because she wanted it, he was willing to try and last her out.

Spike groaned, as with a flash of her eyes, Buffy turned again so that she was facing away from him, shimmied, and allowed the fabric to fall over her hips into a heap on the floor. Gracefully she stepped away from the garment, clad only in her underwear and high-heeled shoes. Swallowing hard again, Spike held himself still as he watched her bend over and move the silken heap onto the chair in the corner, taking in the garter belt and the stockings that ended at her thighs, as well as the scant panties that left her ass bare, and the smooth line of her bra. ‘Must clasp in the front’ was Spike’s last coherent thought as he found himself suddenly facing the half-naked woman of his dreams.

The thought didn’t last long as he allowed Buffy to slowly unfasten the buttons of his dress shirt while she finally maneuvered him away from the door. Buffy was still dancing, as he tried to steer her towards the bed, but she would have none of it. Instead, he found himself suddenly pushed down into his desk chair, his opened shirt and suit jacket pressed down over his arms and the back of the chair, effectively binding him place.

He could probably maneuver his jacket over the back of the chair, or simply rip the thing in half, or he could sit back and enjoy the show Buffy was giving him. He tried to suppress a grin. He never would have figured Buffy for the wild and forceful type. But he was willing to give it a go if it was what she wanted. Next time he promised himself, he’d be the one to give Buffy a show of his special talents.

His stupid grin didn’t last long as he began to learn that Buffy was more than a bit of a tease. Just where she had learned those moves, he really didn’t want to know, but as far as he was concerned, it was going to be a night he would remember forever.

~*~

Yawning, Buffy tried to remember getting in from the party late last night, but her mind drew a blank. She wasn’t surprised though. Early morning was not her best time of day. And somehow her bed seemed more comfortable than normal this morning. The sheets were soft and warm, calling her back to sleep, but an odd scratching kind of noise in the background was forcing her slowly back to semi-awareness.

Her next thought was that she hadn’t slept so well in years. She must have stayed out later than she had intended. She had never been an early riser, and certainly was not a fast one. She was never quite herself until after a long shower and two or three cups of coffee. But this morning her lethargy was worse than usual. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to open her eyes, but her insistent bladder and the annoying sound made it impossible to resist too long. She’d just get up for a minute and take care of those two irritations and then hopefully slip back asleep without too much trouble. It was Sunday after all, she could afford to sleep in late if she wanted. She’d get up in a minute. As soon as she could make her body move.

Her first indication that something was terribly wrong was when she tried to stretch. The feeling brought back memories of starch hospital corners, that she remembered from an extended stay in the hospital when she had been twelve. The too tight sheets constricted her movements in a way that her slowly waking mind found unpleasant. The second problem came when her outstretched fingers rapped sharply against the headboard. Her bed didn’t have a headboard.

A brief peek revealed what she had been afraid, but almost certain, that she would find. She was not in her own bedroom.

As she began to recall the details of the night before and Spike’s party, it occurred to her that she must still be at his house. The only question left to answer was whether or not she was in the guest room.

Trying to build up the courage to open her eyes and check, she tried to vainly struggled to recall what had happened after Willow and Tara had taken Dawn home, but her mind was empty. She remembered the party well enough, and talking to Spike in the kitchen. She even remembered the conversation they had had, but after that her mind was a blank. If she had actually slept with William, which with each new discovery it was becoming clearer that she had, she didn’t remember any of it.

Peeking just the tiniest bit, she could easily make out his form on the other side of the bed, still sound asleep. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, that she found herself just watching the rise and fall of his chest. He was beautiful, and completely nude, the sheets having been kicked aside until they just barely covered his hips.

That answered the question of what had happened last night. She wished she could remember what had happened. How they had wound up in bed together. She wanted to let him down easily, and it would be better if she had at least some memory to go by.

At least she was wearing something – probably one of his t-shirts – but with nothing underneath.

Their clothes from the evening before were scattered haphazardly all over the elegant bedroom. She fervently wished she could remember the circumstances that had made her decide to finally do the deed, as well as the actual event itself. Here she hadn’t had actual sex in ages, and when she finally did, she couldn’t even remember it! Quietly she slipped out of bed and made her way softly to the bathroom.

She needed time to think.

45. Nightmares in the Morning


Somehow even in his sleep Spike realized that Buffy had slipped from his bed, and began to thrash through the bed covers, searching for the warmth that had left him. In his sleep he began to dream.

It was the old nightmare. Even asleep he recognized it, knew what was coming, and that it was going to be bad. As he watched, his mother’s warm and loving face turned cold and lifeless, and he stared helplessly at sightless eyes, forever closed to him. He had just come from the gravesite. Now he was completely and utterly alone. He hated the thought of being alone.

He was surrounded by foreign faces that didn’t really seem to understand the depths of his grief. They accepted death as part of life more readily than he. Even in his dream he knew that they didn’t really understand. Would never understand. They all had large extended families, so that the death of any one person, even someone as dear as his mother was to him, did not leave a person so dreadfully alone.

William knew he was alone in the world now. He had no other family to turn to – except possibly a few distant relatives he didn’t know, who would be more interested in having control of his wealth than in taking care of the child Anne had left behind.

He was dreaming about the very first time that the dream had come to him. The night of her funeral. Somehow, knowing that it was a dream about a dream made it seem even more terrifying. He was dreaming about the first night that he had this dreamed.

He had barely slept at all,, visions of her sweet form encased in its casket being lowered into the ground filled his brain so that he tossed and turned. Towards dawn, just as he was starting to finally dose off, Drusilla had come to him. Crying in her arms like a babe, all William wanted to do was hold her. That was where the dream usually ended. But not tonight. Tonight there was more.

Dru’s hands were insistent as always, and his body responded where his mind would not have. Heartbroken, he finally gave in. He knew it was the only way that Drusilla knew to give him comfort. The warmth of her embrace should help keep the dreams away.

Traitorously the thought came to him now. Now that his mother was gone, there was no one to stand in the way of him being together with Dru the way he had always wanted. When they got back to England he would be invested with his lands and estates, and he would be able to convince Dru to leave Angelus and marry him. The two of them would settle down and begin a new family.

Closing his eyes dutifully, he was surprised when he felt her wind a silk scarf across his brow and bind it tight so that he couldn’t see. A second scarf wrapped around his wrist, and he felt it tied tight and stretched towards the edge of the bed. Experimentally he gave it a light tug, and found that he was caught fast. This was something new. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his dark goddess, but only that he had no idea what to expect.

He felt bereft as she ceased her attentions to him, as suddenly as it had begun. He called out as he felt her slight weight shift from the bed.

“Shh, love,” she answered. “Hold still and enjoy it.”

He relaxed fractionally as he felt her weight sink down on the mattress once again, only this time it pressed down further, as if she had brought something heavy with her into their bed. What could she be doing? He called again, “Dru? Take the blindfold off. I want to see you.”

He began to panic then, struggling against the bonds which held him far too firmly in place. Something was going on here – something bad was about to happen. He was sure of it.

Before he could quite figure out what was happening in his dream, Spike woke up with a start, the feeling of foreboding still strong. It took less than a second to realize that he was back in the present, in his own home, completely safe, and longing for another woman entirely.

Drusilla was no more than a bad memory, a chapter in his life that was long over. He was with Buffy now, and it was clear to him what the dream had meant. He needed Buffy in his life. Permanently.

“Buffy. Luv, come back to bed. I miss you.”

As she returned to the bed, wearing nothing more than his t-shirt, Spike smiled up at her lazily. Was it too soon to tell her that he loved her? Of course she must know it. He must have said it a thousand times last night. But still, it would sound different in the morning. If only she would get under the covers with him again he’d show her in a way that she couldn’t mistake. Besides, he owed her from last night, didn’t he?

Peering down at her lover’s smiling face, Buffy wondered what was the appropriate thing to say? She couldn’t very tell him she didn’t remember anything from the previous night, and that she wasn’t at all sure that she liked the turn their relationship had obviously taken.

Could she? She’d have to lie and say that there was someplace that she needed to be…

She was a fool. Of course he would want to pick up where they had left off the night before. She should have been thinking of some excuse to give him so she could leave gracefully instead of wondering about inconsequential things like what she was wearing, or what had been making that annoying sound.

Or whether he had used a condom. She hadn’t seen one in the bathroom, didn’t see one now.

“Spike…”

“Mmmh,” he mumbled. “I want you here, Buffy. All the time. Everyday of my life.”

“Spike…” she didn’t want to get back into the bed with him. Didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.

“Let me look at you, pet,” he murmured, turning on to his side to get a better view. “You’re beautiful in the morning. Anyone ever tell you that, pet? You birds always go on about ‘my hairs a mess,’ and ‘I’ve got no make up on,’ but it never seems to occur that men might like you that way. You look well loved, and like you might be ready for another go. What’d you say, luv?” His smile was so charming that she was actually considering his offer, “You about wore me out last night, but I’m game to try if you are.”

She could lie to him, but she wasn’t very good at it. He’d figure it out, and she didn’t want to hurt him any more than she already had. Any more than she needed to. It was probably best then to put a stop to this right away.

“Spike…I don’t think so…I know whatever happened between us last night might lead you to…expect… certain things. But I’m not a casual sex kind of girl. You know that.”

Spike snorted. “Nothing about last night was casual, pet.” He leaned to kiss her gently on the shoulder, but she moved away at the last second, leaving him struggling with the sheets. Kicking aside the irritating bedclothes he reached for a robe.

She couldn’t ask him, but she had to.

“Spike?”

“Buffy. Love,” he stood beside her and nuzzled his head in her hair and he could feel her tense at his touch. Something here wasn’t right.

“Spike, about last night…” Not having to actually look at him while she spoke should make this easier, right? It didn’t seem easier.

“Best bloody night of my life, pet. I never would have figured you for…”

Just blurt it out. She was good at that, wasn’t she? “Did you use a condom, Spike?”

Letting her go for a second, Spike pursed his lips. The sound alone let her know what his answer would be, and she tensed even more.

“Didn’t seem like you wanted to stop, pet. But, not to worry. I’ve had myself checked out. One hundred percent disease free, so put your mind to rest.”

Put her mind to rest? Was he crazy? “Spike, I’m not on any birth control,” her voiced sounded strident in her own ears. She hadn’t come here meaning to sleep with him. Still wasn’t sure exactly what had occurred that allowed this to happen. Panicked, her hands went to her stomach. She didn’t feel nauseous, did she? How long would it take to feel nauseous if he had made her pregnant?

This was worse than she thought. Her heart was pounding, her mind racing as she tried to control her breathing. She was almost afraid to put the thought into words, as if speaking her fears ,ight make them true. “Spike, what if I’m pregnant?”

His hands had slipped possessively down to her navel and rested there just over her curls. Maybe that was what the dream had meant. That he needed to make his own family now. He had just needed to find the right woman to do it with. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?” he murmured.

“What?” she was screeching now. What kind of weird male point of view was that?

Realizing that he must have said the wrong thing, Spike quickly tried to sooth over his mistake. “I mean, if you’d rather we wait a while, that’s all right with me. Whatever you want, Buffy. I’d be the last man on earth to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do with your own body. But if you’d wanted me to use a condom last night, you should have said something. Not like I could do anything about it with my hands tied to the headboard.”

Buffy gasped and repeated what he had said, “Tied to the…”

That couldn’t be right. She wouldn’t do anything like that – would she? She reflected on her brief history of dating and assumed that he had to be teasing her. She had never done anything remotely like that with any of her prior boyfriends. Even so, the joke was in amazingly bad taste.

Turning a stunned look in his direction, she realized that Spike was entirely serious.

But it didn’t sound like her at all. She must have had too much to drink, and things had gotten out of hand. That was the most plausible explanation. It could even explain the fact that she couldn’t remember any of it. But not what had made her act so out of character, even if she were under the influence.

“Spike…” She was almost shaking now, although the room wasn’t cold. This was just too much for her to take in all at once.

“Look, Buffy, Luv, don’t be scared. Maybe I’m just not explaining myself very well. I want… Buffy, I want…Hold on a minute pet, let me get something. Make this clear to you. I’d wait for a better moment, but you look like the deer that has seen the headlights and doesn’t know which way to jump. I’ll be right back,” kissing her on the forehead he looked into her eyes and said the two words that would make her melt, “I promise.”

Surprised but grateful for the respite now that he had left for a moment, Buffy started to collect her clothes. This wasn’t good. Not at all. She had just gotten to the point where she felt that she and Spike could become friends again, and wasn’t sure how she would be able to get out of this new entanglement. She most definitely was not ready to begin a romantic relationship with him.

She must have been drunk. Very drunk. That was the only explanation she could come up with. But she only remembered having a half glass of wine…

A glass that was even now almost half full on the nightstand. It must have been pretty powerful stuff to have had this kind of effect on her. Kinky unprotected sex? That didn’t sound like the sensible woman she knew herself to be, even when three sheets to the wind.

She went over and sniffed the glass. It was wine all right – not some weird Long Island Ice Tea concoction that could have knocked her on her ass. She forced herself to take a sip, just to be sure, but spit it out before the liquid touched her lips.

On the other side of the glass, running down from where her lipstick had stained the rim, was just the faintest trace of white powder. What the hell?

She ran her fingers over the stain, and sure enough rough granules came away on her fingertip. She knew she hadn’t been drunk.

Her drink had been tampered with.

Heart pounding, she decided she’d have to wear Thorndale’s shirt and made a grab for her purse and her shoes – anything just to get out of here. Making a mad dash for the door, she collided with Spike mid scramble, making him drop whatever it was he had gone to fetch.

“Pet? Where you off to in such a hurry? Dawn is at Tara’s don’t you remember?”

“No, Spike. I don’t remember,” she snapped. “I don’t remember any of… this. I thought I had only the one half glass of wine last night – and I was right. I can’t believe that you’d stoop to this. I’m going home, and I hope to never, ever see you again.”

“Buffy, luv? What are you going on about?” Holding her shoulders he tried to keep her from walking out the bedroom door. “Maybe you didn’t plan to do it – maybe the wine had as much to do with it as anything – but now that we’re together, I’m never going to let you go. I…”

“Oh god,” she was starting to hyperventilate now. “You are a monster, if you think you can keep me here against my will.”

“Against your will? Why would I want to do that? You want to take a step or two back and give it some time, well, I guess I can respect that. We don’t need to rush into anything right away. But I…”

“Rush into anything? Spike, you drugged my wine so that I would sleep with you. Why would you think that I want any kind of relationship with you?”

“Drugged?” Spike’s face turned ashen, but Buffy hardly noticed. “No, pet. This was all your idea…”

“Right. And the sediment in my wineglass? What is that – aspirin? I know enough about drugs to know it when I see it, Spike. What was it you slipped me? Some kind of date rape drug? What I don’t understand is why you bothered – if you wanted to rape me, you should have just held me down and done it. Not put on this elaborate charade trying to make me think it was all my idea.”

“No! I would never…Buffy, you have to believe me…I would never…”

But it was too late. She was already out the bedroom door and halfway down the stairs. She wasn’t listening to him. Had already dismissed out of hand any defense he might give. It was too late. He had lost her.

46. Any port in a storm

Once she was out of the house she didn’t stop to put on the shoes she was still carrying. They were high heels anyway, and would probably only cause her to twist an ankle. Eschewing the uneven surface of the cobblestone driveway, she ran lightly along the grass at the edges.

The slippery footing forced her to slow down and think for just a moment. She’d either have to stop at the gatehouse and ask Jonathan to call a cab for her, or try to flag down a passing motorist. Glancing at the items she was carrying, she realized that she had grabbed up her bag with her shoes as she’d fled. She’d meant to put her cell phone in her bag last night. She prayed that she had.

Finally out of sight of the house, she fumbled with the drawstrings to the purse, her phone tumbling out onto the dirt before she could catch it. Clutching it to her as she continued her jog down the long driveway she considered who she ought to call.

Tara was the first thought that came to mind, but then she remembered that Dawn had gone over to Tara’s for the night. She didn’t want Dawn to see her like this. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this – but then she had little choice in the matter.

Like Buffy, Willow wasn’t much for driving, so that left Xander. Xander would blow his top if he saw Buffy in this state, but she didn’t know who else she could call. Cradling the phone in her hand, trying to summon the courage to dial, she started as it began to make that weird whirring noise that had woken her as it began to vibrate in her palm. Forcing herself to look, she made certain that it wasn’t Thorndale’s number. There was no way she wanted to talk to him. Ever again.

“Hello?” she answered tentatively.

“Oh, god, Buffy. I’m so glad that you’re all right. When I didn’t see you leave the party, I was worried about you.”

It took her a minute to place the voice. She hadn’t been expecting his call. It was Riley.

“Look, Riley, now is not a really good time…” That was certainly an understatement.

“You are all right, Buffy? Aren’t you? I tried calling earlier, but you didn’t answer. I even checked your house – you never came home. I wasn’t going to wait too much longer before I came up with some pretext to case out Thorndale’s house.”

“I’m fine Riley. Really. I can take care of myself.” Yeah, whispered that voice in her head. Just like I did last night.

“Of course. It’s just, if there’s anything you need…you’d let me know, wouldn’t you?”

“I…” what was stopping her? Riley was offering his help, and help was so what she needed right now. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask. She was coming up on the gates to the estate. She needed to call Xander. Get him to pick her up as soon as possible. If she had to wait here too long, Jonathan or Andrew, or even that creep Warren might see her out here. Or even worse, Thorndale might take it into his head to chase after her. After all, if he had been willing to drug her, what else might he be willing to do?

“Look, Riley, I need to make another call…” she explained, stepping closer to the stone pillar of the gates so she wouldn’t be so obvious standing there dressed in a t shirt and nothing else if any one happened to look out the gatehouse window. Of course that only made her more obvious to any one driving by.

“Shit,” she shrieked and dropped the phone just as the only car on this god-forsaken road came gliding to a stop just in front of her. Scrambling to recover her phone once again, she suddenly knew what she would find when she looked up.

The driver had leaned over and opened the passenger door. Of course it was Riley. He looked her up and down but didn’t say a word. Just sat there, with the door wide open waiting for her to get in.

Cringing, but accepting the inevitable, she slid in beside him, pulling down the t-shirt and folding her arms over her breasts to hide the lack of a bra, as if he hadn’t seen enough already. They drove back towards town in silence for a while. Finally Riley couldn’t stand it any longer. Here he had been worrying about Buffy all night, and she had obviously not been thinking about him.

“So, is that a new look I don’t know about, or did things not go exactly as you’d planned?”

“I really don’t want to discuss this with you,” she snipped.

“It’s just, well, I told you stay away from him. Doesn’t much look like you listened,” his superior attitude was so infuriating. “What happened, he throw you out in the morning?”

Why would he think that? Of course, it was better than the actual truth. No, wait, it wasn’t. Nothing that had happened had been her fault. She had been drugged and taken advantage of. She shouldn’t be ashamed of that. It could have happened to anyone.

Riley was right. The only thing she should be ashamed of was ever having trusted Spike Thorndale in the first place.

Still, she didn’t like Riley’s tone. He had no right to comment on anything she chose to do. They hadn’t been a couple for a long time now.

When she still didn’t say anything, Riley chanced a longer look at her. This was not the Buffy he remembered. Something else had happened last night. Something he didn’t understand. But he was beginning to.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he Buffy?” he asked, his voice full of the concern that had been missing earlier. When Buffy didn’t immediately answer, he drew his own conclusions.

“Look, I know we haven’t been close for a while now. And you might not be comfortable talking to me about this. But I’m going to take you to someone you will feel comfortable with. And I’m not going to take no for an answer Buffy. Have you ever met Fred?”

Uncertain, Buffy caught his eye, “Fred?”

“Don’t worry. She works for the Agency, same as you and me. And yes, Fred is a girl. Winifred Burkle. She specializes in cases like this.”

“Like this?” Buffy asked again, trembling. “Nothing happened, Riley.” The lie came easily. She didn’t know what prompted her to tell it. But she did.

“Then you can explain that to Fred. But you come out of the suspect’s house early in the morning, looking, well, looking like that. And I think you need to see Dr. Fred. She’ll help you, Buffy. She’ll make sure that you’re all right. No, I know. You say you’re fine. And if you are, that’s great. So we woke Fred up a little early on a Sunday morning. No big deal. But if you’re not fine, if you’re just the slightest bit of not fine – she’s the person to see. Okay?”

“Fine. Whatever you say. I don’t have the strength to argue about it.”

“Pretty much proving my point.”

**

It was the slamming of a car door that woke him. That, and the sound of the car speeding away. There was rarely any traffic on this quiet road, and the unusualness of a car speeding by so early in the morning was enough to drag Warren out of bed. He wasn’t fast enough to catch of glimpse of the early morning roadster, but he had an idea who it must be.

Grinning, Warren headed back to the security room. Last night had been his magnum opus. He had enjoyed himself more than he would have thought possible. The little minx had certainly put on a show for him. And he was sure that he would be treated to another round this morning, when he ran back the tape. He could hardly wait to see how Buffy had reacted when she woke up in Spike’s bed, after what had obviously been a vigorous night.

It felt good to finally get a little of his own back. Of course, it was only a small payback for what Thorndale had done to him. If not for his interference, Warren would still be with his wonderful Katrina. His life would have turned out so differently if Katrina were still alive to share it with him.

Returning to his room momentarily, he rummaged through his closet in search of her sweater. One cashmere sweater was all the he had left of the woman he had been destined to spend eternity with.

Excitedly, he speculated on what must have happened between the not so happy couple in order to precipitate Buffy’s hurried departure from outside his window. Although he hadn’t seen her, he had absolutely no doubt as to who was in the speeding car. It must have been even more of a row than he had anticipated. William Thorndale had always been such a gentleman about seeing that his trollops got home safely the morning after. Even if he had customarily delegated the task to one of his underlings.

He couldn’t wait to see what had occurred already this morning in the Thorndale bedroom. It almost made the long dry spell worth while. Different scenarios went through Warren’s head as he searched for the right spot on the recording. If the slammed door and the speeding car were any indication, it hadn’t ended too well for Spike. And that was just too darned bad, wasn’t it?

47. Damage Control

As it turned out, Fred was already up and at the clinic where she worked weekends. As soon as she saw the pair, she ushered Buffy into an examining room and sent Agent Finn on his way. From the few times she had met him, Finn seemed like a nice enough guy, if slightly slow and a bit insensitive. If what happened was what she thought had happened, Buffy didn’t need to be around any more men right now. Not even well-meaning colleagues. At least he had had the good sense to bring Agent Summers to her.

Putting on her best reassuring smile and southern accent, Fred gently questioned the girl. “You wanna tell me what happened? Just between us girls – and then I’ll just take a quick look see to be sure that you’re all right. That be okay?”

Buffy was mortified. Was it that obvious? She should have just made Finn take her straight home. It startled her a bit that she hadn’t even thought to question Finn’s decision. It was how she used to act around the knowledgeable grad student. She realized now that she should have argued, and it was a sign of how rattled she was that she hadn’t. It had been easier just to go along, and do what she was told. She was beyond the point where she felt confident making decisions on her own. And Fred looked like someone she could trust. And she was a fellow employee. It was just that Buffy wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Would it be easier if I asked you questions, or do you just want to tell me in your own words what happened? Were you on a case, working with Finn?”

Buffy wasn’t even sure how to answer that question. Officially, she was no longer investigating Thorndale, even though Riley obviously was. She realized that she hadn’t ever gotten around to telling Spike that he had a spy on his payroll. Now she was glad.

“It’s okay, hon.” Fred stated when Buffy remained silent. “I got all day. Doesn’t start to get busy here until way after noon. Even then, you can stay here in the exam room if you’d like. No one’s gonna make you do anything you’re not ready for. How about I get started with the exam first? Make sure that you’re all right.”

As Fred gently eased her back onto the table and helped her place her legs in the stirrups Buffy protested gently. “It wasn’t like that. At least, I don’t think it was. I really don’t remember at all.”

Fred sighed in relief. Once they started talking, they usually didn’t stop. “That’s probably a good thing then. What do you remember? Do you know who did this to you?”

“No. I mean, yes.” Buffy stared up at the ceiling as she spoke. It was somehow easier that way. “I don’t know what I mean. We were friends. Dating, I guess. But I didn’t mean to sleep with him. But apparently I did – but I don’t remember it at all. And then I woke up, we woke up, and he was all with the wanting seconds, and I didn’t know what to do. And then I asked him and he admitted that we hadn’t used a condom…”

She shuddered as she recalled Spike’s answer ‘not a lot I could do about that, pet, with my hands tied to the headboard.’ Gods, she wished she knew what had happened.

She sure as hell wasn’t going to pass on that little comment to this sweet gentle Southern Belle of a woman. Instead Buffy stammered on, trying to clarify events in her mind as she spoke.

“I thought I’d gotten drunk, only I hadn’t drunk so much, and there was this sediment in my glass. And I was afraid that it was… that he’d drugged me… but he denied …”

“Of course he denied,” Fred whistled, patting her hand companionably and helping her to sit up again. “They all deny it, but it happens. At least that way he didn’t do any internal damage. And it would explain the memory loss. Here, you can sit up now. I’m going to take some blood. Check for STD’s, also see if we can find a trace of whatever he used still in your bloodstream. It will come in handy if you decide to bring him up on charges.”

“Charges?” Somehow she hadn’t gotten that far in her thinking yet. Perhaps coming here had been a bad idea.

“You take your time and think about it, okay. I know it’s sometimes hard in cases where you know the guy, but take it from me, if he used Ketamine or one of its cousins he’s not your friend. Take just the right amount, it makes you pliable. Makes it easy for him to do whatever he wants. But take too much, and it can make you dead.”

“Dead?”

“It’s rare, but it happens. Like any drug, you can have an unexpected reaction. Without treatment, that can be fatal.”

“I can’t believe he would do that to me.” She remembered the look on his face earlier this morning. How happy Spike had seemed to have her there. How destroyed he looked as he had watched her run away.

Was she wrong about what had happened? She couldn’t be. She had seen the white powder in her glass. Had felt it on her fingers.

“Will the blood test be conclusive? Will it tell me what… what, was in that glass?”

“Not necessarily. It depends what it was, how much you had, and how long ago you took it, how quickly your system metabolized it. Sometimes these things work their way out of your bloodstream pretty fast. So if we don’t find it, that doesn’t prove that it wasn’t there. But if we do, then we’ve got the proof you’ll need to take him to court.”

One look at Buffy’s face and Fred knew this girl wasn’t ready to think of pressing charges. Not yet at any rate. If they found the proof they were looking for, that would probably make her decision, as well as winning the case, that much easier. But those were questions for a lawyer to answer. Not her.

“Look, Buffy, you should probably talk to one of the Agency psych’s about this. Even if it isn’t exactly company business. I hear Tara McClay is one of the best. And you might consider talking to a lawyer. Just to know what your options are.”

Buffy was hardly listening any more, as she climbed off the table and pulled down Spike’s t-shirt so it looked more like a dress.

“I keep some extra clothes here, if you’d like? Not that it looks too bad,” Fred lied, “but some gym shorts would go awfully well with that, don’t you think? Is there anyone I can call for you?”

“No, thanks Fred. You’ve been very kind, I’m sure.”

As Buffy turned to leave the examination room, Fred’s hand on her arm stopped her. “One more thing I should mention before you go. You might want to consider stopping by a pharmacy and picking this up. Used to be I had to write a prescription for it – but it’s over the counter now.”

“What is it?”

“Some insurance. You just had unprotected sex. If you want to be sure to keep from getting pregnant, I’d suggest you take it immediately.”

“Wouldn’t it already be too late?”

“Not necessarily. These things take time. If you’re already pregnant, it won’t hurt the baby. But if you’re not, not yet, at any rate, it will prevent conception from happening. It’s designed to be taken after the fact.”

“Really? Well, thanks. When will I know…”

“About the blood work? Tomorrow, day after at the latest. About being pregnant – not for a couple weeks. Take the pill, Buffy. It’ll put your mind at ease.”

“I’ll think about it. And, about the other thing too.”

“Good. Talk to you tomorrow.”

48. An eye for an eye


Warren’s grin widened as he replayed Buffy and Spike’s argument. As usual, Spike didn’t have a clue what was going on. It was almost too funny. He laughed out loud when the bit came out about the condom. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility that Thorndale might get the traitorous bitch pregnant, but really, it was better than she deserved. If he had his way, he’d force the bitch to carry it to term too – it really was too bad that abortions were legal in California.

Then again, if that news ever got back to Spike, (and Warren would make certain that it would), well, if Spike learned that Buffy had aborted his child, it would just about kill Spike. A child was the one thing that Dru would never give him. Had never even considered. And Warren knew Spike well enough to know that at this stage in his life he wanted a child desperately.

Nevertheless Warren sobered up immediately when Buffy noticed the powder staining her glass. It hadn’t dissolved completely. That hadn’t been part of the plan. He hadn’t expected that.

It was something that he would have to work on. But it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he reflected. It made the fireworks the morning after that much more explosive. Buffy railed even more against Spike, instantly assuming that he must have been the one to put the chemical in her wine. Warren giggled as he stroked Katrina’s sweater. Really, the two of them were made for each other.

He watched with glee as the little ingenue streaked out of the house wearing nothing but Spike’s shirt and clutching her shoes and bag to her chest. She must have called some one to come get her – and that was the sound he heard outside his window.

Gazing raptly in anticipation, he wondered what Spike would do now. He tried to hold back his giggles as he watched Spike wallow in despair. His little harlot was gone, and she wasn’t going to come back. Even Spike knew it was true this time.

Good riddance, was all Warren could bring himself to think. Though he would have enjoyed watching the two of them fuck each other silly several more times, it was better to have the bitch out of the house and out of their lives. She was far too dangerous to keep around.

He tensed as he watched Spike examine the wineglass himself, sniff the powder on the rim. He could almost see the instant when his face hardened, and Spike came to his own conclusions.

He wasn’t wallowing in grief anymore. No, he was determined as he quickly and efficiently slipped into his jeans and boots, then opened the cabinet next to his dresser. It looked like another armoire, but it wasn’t.

Warren began to sweat as he watched Spike peruse the various implements the case contained, and finally settled on a wicked looking hunting knife.

Realization finally dawned. Warren heard the slam of the front door downstairs. He’d been so engrossed in watching the tape, he’d forgotten that it was pre-recorded.

Thorndale was already downstairs. And he was pissed.

It was too late to run. Too late even to pretend that he was still sleeping. All he had time to do was stop the playback and pocket the disc. No need to have his employer find out about his private video collection. It was going to be next to impossible to deny any involvement, but if he played his cards right, maybe he could convince Spike that it hadn’t been malicious.

If only she hadn’t have noticed the glass!

One look at his employer’s face and Warren knew that he would be lucky not to be flayed alive. The little bitch had figured out that something was up – and after that it wasn’t hard for Spike to figure out that Warren must be behind it all. After all, Warren himself had made the pitch to Spike about the possibilities of his new wonder drug.

Sold as a legitimate pharmaceutical, a female Viagra, the drug was a potential gold mine. And there were other possibilities as well. Sold in larger doses on the black market, the drug had great potential as well. Either way the inventor of the drug stood to make a not so small fortune. Warren couldn’t understand why Thorndale was sitting on it.

So far Warren had conducted only private tests, and as far as he could tell the drug was virtually fool proof and free of nasty side effects. This was the first time the girl in question had noticed anything amiss.

If Spike had had any sense at all the drug would have been in production already. Then there wouldn’t have been a need for Warren to see how well it would work on Buffy. Except of course as a tool to get rid of the interfering harridan.

Putting on his best innocent face, Warren turned to face his employer. “What’s wrong?” he lied. “Are their intruders on the premises? I heard a car not too long ago.”

“You bloody well know what’s wrong, you little pissant. Decided to play your games on my girl – did you? I don’t find it amusing. You can forget about that fortune you were so set on – I don’t need another new drug to make me rich. I’m rich enough as it is.” Spike smiled and looked at the knife in his hand. It wasn’t a nice smile at all. “Won’t do me a bit of good where Buffy is concerned, though, will it? You made certain of that. She’ll never believe that it wasn’t me.”

“You’re unhappy?” Warren deadpanned. “Did the drug not work well? I’ve never had it fail, Spike. I promise you. Not once. I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? You thought I’d be happy?” Warren began to reassess his options as Spike menaced closer. “I ought to slice your prick off for what you’ve done to me – what you’ve stolen. Did it never occur to you that Buffy might not be pleased in the morning to find out she’d been as good as raped? Or is that a concept you don’t understand?” An evil glint replaced the rage in his employer’s eye, and Warren wasn’t at all sure that it was an improvement. He ducked and tried to slip past the hunting knife and make a break for the door, but Spike caught and held him easily. Whispered into his ear, “Well, you’re gonna understand, boy. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

Brandishing the knife threateningly, Spike pushed Warren back into his own bedroom and against the headboard. “Where do you keep it? Where’s your stash?”

Afraid for his life now, Warren could barely speak, let alone think.

“What?” was all he managed to stammer out before the point of a very sharp knife drew a bead of blood just under his left ear.

“Listen very carefully, Warren. You’re gonna hand over your stash of the drug to me, and then I’m gonna watch as you swallow a double, no a triple dose. We’ll call it a test, see how you react. That was always the question, wasn’t it? How far someone would go under its influence? Would it only enhance the attraction, the desire, or would it create it? Hmm? Well, we will see what happens, using you as our guinea pig.”

He thought for a few moments. “We’ll wait for dark. Give you some time to think about what’s gonna happen to you. Then, after I’m sure that you’re under the influence, I’m gonna have your mates drive you to that bar down by the packaging district. Time was, I used to go there a lot, but I hear their clientele has changed. I’m sure some passing bloke will take a fancy to you and take you home for a bit of the heave ho. And see, it won’t really be rape, because you’ll be the one asking for it. And if you ever do wake up and come to your senses, if you EVER show your face around here again, I will kill you.” It was cold the way he said it. Like it wasn’t even a threat at all, just a statement about the weather. “Any questions? No, good then.”

49. Consequences



How Buffy managed to get herself home from the clinic she really wasn’t sure. The first thing she did was take a really long hot shower. She stayed in the tub until the water ran so cold that she was forced to get out.

Then she dressed in her most comfortable sweats, and then pushed herself to eat something. She should probably call or go over to Tara’s but she didn’t really feel like it. At some point, she knew that she had to get Dawn, and she wanted to feel more like herself before she did. If it got late enough, Tara or Willow would bring Dawn home on their own.

If she was lucky, she wouldn’t actually have to talk to either of her friends. But she would have to see Dawn. Buffy was pretty sure that she wasn’t going to say anything to anyone about what had happened. Not until she had more time to come to grips with it herself. She settled down to her chicken noodle soup with crackers, and determined to pretend as if nothing had happened.

~ * ~

Aside catering to a different crowd, the bar they remembered had gotten seedier than Jonathan and Andrew remembered. More run down, and a lot scarier. As instructed, they left Warren, and headed back for the safety of home.

Spike had told them that Warren wasn’t to be allowed back onto the estate for any reason. They were to pack up his stuff, and wait to see if he called either of them with a forwarding address. If a week went by without hearing anything, he told them to call the good will people to come and pick it up.

Jonathan had protested at first, but when he heard what Warren had done, he figured he would have fired him too. They were both grateful that Spike hadn’t found out about Warren’s clandestine collection of tapes. If Spike had, Jonathan knew he would have had a hard time explaining exactly why he and Andrew had known about it, but had not informed their employer. He had a feeling that Warren would not have been the only one on Spike’s hit list. As soon as they dumped off Warren, Jonathan was going to head back to the gatehouse and destroy (or at least hide) all the tapes he could find. As soon as possible, he was going to dismantle the camera feed from Thorndale’s bedroom, so Spike would never find out what his loyal employees had been up to. They had been lucky so far that Spike’s rage was confined to Warren. Jonathan didn’t want to know what it would be like to be on the receiving end of it.


~ * ~

“Got some fun going on out back tonight, if you’re interested.” The voice was not entirely unexpected, but it always grated on his ears. After all this time, he had become used to a more refined way of speaking.

“What kind of fun?” the large man replied, feigning disinterest. “Another cock fight?” The seamy bar could almost always be counted on for a good time, not all of it strictly legal. Sometimes there was a high stakes game out back, and then Angelus knew he could make some quick cash – or get a few of the unlucky into his debt. That always worked out well for Angelus, even if the cock fights were more fun.

“Not exactly. Some rummy new kid showed up tonight stoned as hell and wearing some kind of pink sweater. The boys are making him feel real welcome.”

“Really? Sounds like a fraternity stunt gone sour. Nobody was with him?”

“Nah. Two dudes that dropped him off left pretty quick. My guess is that they wanted him to get what’s coming to him.”

“Huh. Didn’t have the stones to do it themselves I wager. I trust he’s being shown a good time?”

“Oh yeah. If it wasn’t for his pals knowing where they dropped him off, he might not last the night. Even so, if he’s stupid enough to actually go home with one of the regulars – well, I didn’t see nothing.”

Angelus grinned, slipped the bar owner a hundred. “Let me have a look, then. Make sure the boy’s enjoying himself.”

“That’ll put you at the front of the line,” he announced, pocketing the money quickly. “Come right this way.”

The alley was even more grimy than the bar it backed, used as a dumping ground for all the legal and not so legal establishments that lined this part of the city. In this one instance, the stench of the rotting garbage was almost over powered by the smell of sex. They must have been back here for a long time already.

The boy in question was badly bruised and bleeding from a cut over his eye. It was hard to make out his features, because his head was being held by a brute of a man who was forcing his cock into the boy’s mouth. All that Angelus could tell was that the boy was thin… and young.

A second man was ramming into the unfortunate youth from behind. Several others stood on the sidelines cheering them on. It wasn’t clear if they were waiting their turns or if they had already had a chance at the newbie, and were simply enjoying the show

The boy’s pink sweater lay in tatters on the dirty ground, but Angelus was surprised to notice that the boy still wore an expensive looking wristwatch. No one would try to steal it while the others were watching – but if anyone managed to get the boy alone – silently Angelus agreed with the barkeep’s assessment. He didn’t think much of the boy’s chances with any of these thugs.

Intrigued, Angelus stepped into the light cast by the single streetlamp that illuminated the dingy alley, making his presence known. A few of the onlookers scattered, word traveling quickly that a bigger fish had finally arrived.

The two who were working the boy continued on, oblivious.

“I think you’ve about finished,” Angelus stated quietly.

He was used to being obeyed, and he wasn’t disappointed. The man in front thrust once more and came in the boy’s mouth, the cum dripping unnoticed from the youth’s slack lips. The man simply dropped the boy’s face, did up his trousers and began to walk away.

Without the support of the man in front, the boy nearly fell face first into the refuse pile, and would have if not for the second man’s grabbing his hips and continuing with a last few brutal strokes. Amazingly, Angelus noted that the boy himself was hard. Was it possible that he was enjoying this? Taking in the bruising and the cuts, he doubted it.

Now it was just Angelus and the barkeep alone in the alley with the exhausted youth. Angelus pulled him off the refuse pile and examined his face. His pupils were clearly dilated, his breathing uneven, but that could have been the rough treatment. Idly, he wondered what the boy was on that he didn’t seem to care what happened to him. It wouldn’t be much fun to abuse the boy further – he was already filthy mess. He was about to turn and head back to the bar when a sound caught his ear.

“Angelus.”

Was it possible that the boy knew his name? Taking a second look, Angelus swore he didn’t know the kid. Yet it wouldn’t be in his best interests if all the boy remembered of this encounter was HIS name. It might bring ugly questions out, even if Angelus hadn’t even touched him.

“How do you know me?” He asked the youth, weighing in his own mind what he needed to do depending on the answers the youth gave.

“You are Angelus?” The boy began to giggle hysterically, which turned into a series of coughing fits. When the coughing passed, Angelus could tell that at least a little bit of sanity had returned to the man. He wasn’t as young as Angelus had first supposed, but then he didn’t think anyone was about to start complaining.

“Take me with you.” The man stuttered. “I’ve got something you want.”

Angelus scoffed. “I hardly think that’s likely. If I wanted what you’re offering, I could get it from any of a dozen men inside, who aren’t quite as well used as you are today.”

“Not, not that,” the boy winced. “I can help you. I know what you want – and I can help you get it.”

“Really? And how could you possibly know what I want – and even supposing you did, what makes you think I would want your help? You weren’t in any position to help yourself tonight, were you?”

Angelus turned again to walk back into the club, but another name stopped him cold in his tracks.

“Spike.” The boy called after him. “William Thorndale.”

As Angelus turned back around again, the boy positively glowed with glee, even lying broken, beaten and naked on a pile of filth. “You want Thorndale. Want to see him destroyed. I can help you. You need me more than I need you.”

“That so?” Angelus was beginning to like the insolent tone that must be the boy’s natural way of speaking. Every minute he seemed to be coming back more and more into himself. And besides the obvious, what could the boy possibly offer that he didn’t already have?

“Yes. I can get you anything you want. The codes to his office, his house. His daily routine. Access to someone still on the inside. Whatever you want.”

“And just how would you be privy to all that information?”

“Used to work for him. Lived in his house. I can help you, Angelus.”

Angelus thought for a moment.

“Why would you want to? What would you get out of it?”

“Same as you, revenge. Who do you think put me here?”

That did surprise Angelus. He didn’t think that Thorndale had it in him. Whatever the boy had done to earn him such treatment must have made quite an impression. But Spike had made a crucial mistake. If he was going to throw away such a valuable asset, he should have killed him outright. Not left a disgruntled former employee free to plot his own revenge. Especially if he had any of the inside knowledge he claimed to.

“Fine. We’ll talk in my car. But if I find you’ve been lying to me, if you have nothing of worth to offer me, you’re gonna find that this was just a walk in the park. Betray one master, you may betray another. So you’d better make yourself useful – understand?”

“Of course.” Rising, Warren was forced to stop again to vomit into the pile of garbage he had just crawled out of. Grabbing what was left of his clothes, he followed Angelus out of the alley and into his gleaming new car.

“I’ll have to have the car fumigated after you’ve been in here. And if you vomit in my car, the deal’s off, no matter what you have to say. Got it?”

“Yes.” Feeling the pocket of his jeans, Warren was relieved to find that the little video disk was still there. “I understand perfectly. But I think you’ll like what I have to say, regardless.”

“Really? You think your information is worth that much?”

“I think it’s worth more. But I’ll let you be the judge.” Warren lay back on the leather, trying to find a position that was comfortable. “Just get me somewhere I can shower and something decent to wear, and we can discuss the details over a cup of coffee. I’m starting to feel more like myself, but it may take a few more hours to get the drug completely out of my system.”

“That must have been one hell of trip. What were you on, anyway?”

“That’s one of the things we need to discuss. I think I’ll wait and see how our relationship goes before I share all my cards.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, are you?” Angelus sneered. The punk had balls, that was for sure.

“Yep,” Warren glanced over at Angelus so he could gauge just how his revelation went over. “See, I invented the stuff. I knew it was pretty powerful, but then I never expected to be a test subject myself.” Swallowing hard as he closed his eyes and tried to relax his jaw, he continued, “Just one more in a long line of grievances I have against Thorndale. He’s the one who did this to me. So you see, we have a common goal. After this, killing the man isn’t near good enough. That’s why we need each other. I know what will hurt Thorndale most, and between the two of us, we’ve got the connections to actually do it.”


A/N: Not really my favorite chapter, but it wasn't going to get any better sitting on my hard drive. Now we can all move on.

50. The Day After


Monday arrived far too soon, and Buffy dragged herself to the gallery in a daze, grateful that she didn’t HAVE to report to her other office if she didn’t want to.

She wasn’t sure anymore why she was doing anything. Wasn’t sure whether it was all worth it, or whether she should just let the waves break over her until they dragged her down. But Dawn was her responsibility now, and she couldn’t let despair take over her life. The teen needed her – needed something stable in her life- but it was killing Buffy that she dared not share the weekend’s events with the girl who was as fast becoming like a little sister to her. It was obvious to her that Dawn still idolized Spike, and she didn’t want to shatter the child’s innocent faith that just because he’d been good to her, that meant that he was a good man.

Still that didn’t mean that she was ever going to let him near Dawn unsupervised again. She’d come up with some excuse to put him off if he ever dared trying to see Dawn again. She didn’t really want to, but she was saving the threat of bringing him up on charges. That should get him to back off if nothing else did.

Work dragged on, but she couldn’t get into it. She still had plenty of new acquisitions to research and restore, and put up for sale. Today it seemed boring. Like something she couldn’t imagine spending every day of her life doing. But the idea of facing Giles and her friends at the Agency was even worse.

It didn’t help when two dozen white roses arrived with a note from Spike. She didn’t even bother to read it. Just threw everything in the trash.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone rang.

“How are you feeling, Buffy?” Fred’s too cheerful voice was glaring in its intensity. If the woman herself wasn’t so inoffensive, Buffy might have taken exception. As it was, she let it go.

“The good news is, you’ve got a clean bill of health. As long as the AIDS test checks out, I think you can assume that you’re perfectly fine. Physically, that is. Have you made an appointment to speak with Tara?”

“No,” Buffy coughed. She wasn’t sure yet just what she was going to tell Tara. Like Dawn, Tara thought of Thorndale as a friend. But Tara was a grown woman, she didn’t need to be protected from the truth.

On the other hand, Tara had been William’s friend before she even met Buffy. Would even Tara believe her story? Buffy was beginning to doubt herself her own interpretation of events. Maybe she really had just gotten drunk and let things go a little too far. Buffy really hoped that the doctor was about to give her the proof that she needed before she said anything about Spike to Tara.

“Well, that’s the good news.” Fred continued. “Not so good news is, there was no trace of the toxin used. That happens sometimes, like I said. Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen the way you say it did. Doesn’t mean there was no coercive agent involved, it just means we weren’t fast enough to catch it.”

“So there’s no proof then.” Buffy replied woodenly. “If I were to take him to court, it would be my word against his. And that’s all. No physical evidence of any kind?”

“Well, if there’s no drug, the physical evidence doesn’t really matter. All that has to happen is that he admits to having sex with you, but claims it was consensual. After that, any physical evidence you can bring forth can be countered by the objection that it was your choice. But I’m not a lawyer, Buffy, you shouldn’t take just my advice on these matters. I suggest that you go find a counselor to talk to about it. If you don’t want to talk to Tara, there are plenty of others out there. After you’re feeling a little bit better, you might want to talk to a lawyer too. Decide what you want to do. Too many of these cases go unreported, and that just leaves men free to prey on other women. But it’s your call, Buffy. You need to do what your conscience tells you to do. But you shouldn’t decide these things on your own. You need someone to talk to. If you don’t want to go to a professional, then try a friend.”

“All right,” she lied. She was getting much better the more she did it. “Thanks for everything, Fred. And I will think about everything that you said.”

~ * ~

After a day’s worth of sleep and a chance to shower and change into some of Angelus’s spare clothes, Warren felt more human again. Who would have thought that the drug would have such a kick to it? Still, he was glad that Angelus had allowed him to sleep off the rest of the drug’s affects before the questioning began.

Warren wasn’t entirely sure whether his ‘rescue’ by Angelus O’Connor was a good thing or a bad thing. So far at least the man had been nothing but hospitable. Still, he wasn’t sure how his other employer would react to his new associate. At least he and Angelus had one thing in common – they all hated William Thorndale. Idly he wondered if he might not be able to broker a new, much more powerful Trioka. Jonathan and Andrew had always been worthless. But Angelus might be a good ally to have. He couldn’t fool himself enough to believe that he would be the leader in this new partnership, but there were good sides to that. Besides, once he started seeing profits from his invention, the power would even up a little.

“So, you gonna tell me what you got against Thorndale?” Warren startled as Angelus interrupted his stream of thought. He wasn’t used to being interrupted while he was thinking – neither Jonathan or Andrew would have dared.

“I thought that was obvious,” Warren snapped. “He’s the one that did this to me.”

“No, Warren,” Angelus explained quietly. “I mean before that. You had to do something to piss him off, right? He didn’t just decide to set you up like that because he felt like it.”

“I don’t know. Noting specific I guess,” he lied. It was easy to come up with excuses to hate Thorndale. “I just don’t like the guy. It’s all so easy for him. He loses Drusilla right, well, its not like she’s the only fish in the sea, you know. No offense. First he gets all morose about it – and then he decides he’s gonna drink and sleep away his sorrows. So he goes out for a shot or two, and every single goddamn night he comes home with a different woman. Easy as sin for him. And the funny thing is, he doesn’t even care. Doesn’t even remember their names in morning. Doesn’t even fucking talk to any of them – but has me or Jonathan take them home while he fritters off to work to sleep it off at the office until it’s time for him to go out and pick up another trollop.”

“I’m sensing that it is not the mistreatment of women that you are concerned with, but your own jealousy at his success in doing so,” Angelus pontificated. “Am I correct?”

“Well, it doesn’t help that he treated them all like dirt, but I could live with that. It was kind of funny in a way. They’d be all like, ‘tell him to call me,’ and we’d know that that was never, ever going to happen. Then one night he came home with the wrong girl.”

Angelus was sharp enough that he wasn’t buying it. Warren was going to have to tell him at least part of the truth.

“That’s when I lost it. He brought home my Katrina. We’d dated for a long time, and then she just suddenly dropped me cold. Next thing I know, there I am looking at her unmentionables in Thorndale’s bedroom. The stupid bitch didn’t want me, but she let that piece of crap pick her up for a one night stand?”

“So what did you do?” Angelus was very quiet. He knew enough to let the boy have his say. Knowledge was power. And he was listening to this tale very carefully.

“To Thorndale? Nothing. Not then. He never even knew I’d known her.” Warren clearly remembered what had happened between him and his ex-girlfriend. It was a morning that had changed all of their lives forever.

If Angelus picked up on what hadn’t been said, he didn’t ask. Another thought had occurred to him. “How did your miracle drug fit into all this?”

“It didn’t.”

Angelus wasn’t convinced, but let it go. There was something else he wanted to know more. “Did you really invent the stuff?”

Was he better off to admit the truth? Angelus probably wasn’t as easy to fool as Thorndale had been. Plus, he was less likely to care. “Nah, not really. One of the chemists at the lab came up with it. Guy named Knox. But he won’t be complaining about the patent.”

Interesting. That made two unexplained loose ends. Not that he was going to question Warren too closely about either of them so early in their relationship. There would be time enough for that later, if he needed a hold over Warren.

“So, how long ago did all this happen? I’d like to know that there won’t be any trouble.”

Warren remembered each day. Each moment. Knox had been first, but Katrina had had special meaning for him. He still regretted the way things had turned out. But he wasn’t about to admit that. “About five years ago. Few months after Dru left the house.”

Angelus whistled. That was unusual. “So, you waited all this time to get your revenge?” That was surprising to Angelus. Patience was an uncommon virtue.

“There’s an old Klingon saying about revenge, perhaps you’ve heard it?”

God, the boy really was pathetic if he talked about Klingons as if they really existed. Numbly, Angelus shook his head no. Even if he had seen a few movies, he would never admit it to this loser.

“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” At Angelus’s blank look he elaborated. “I’ve been waiting for just the right sort of revenge. I needed the right opportunity to present itself. Not that I didn’t have a good back up plan. But I needed to find the right moment, the right girl, so that my revenge would be even more devastating than what he did to me.”

“And was it? Was it worth the wait?”

“Oh yeah. I waited until the moment when he thought that he was gonna have everything he ever wanted. The very moment when he was most vulnerable, and then watched while it all fell apart around him. He won’t forget this as quickly as he forgot my Katrina’s face. He won’t forget this for a long time. And the best part – it’s not even over yet. I’ve crushed him, stolen the one thing he desired above all else, just as he stole my Katrina from me. Now I’m gonna let him watch while what he’s done destroys the two people he loves most in the world,” Warren crowed as he fingered the small diskette still safe in his pocket. “It’s justice, pure and simple.”

“Thought this was just about some girl.”

“Two girls, actually, not counting my Katrina, who’s beyond revenge now. And really, why not destroy the man utterly? He certainly deserves it. And he’s made it so easy.”

“Good thinking, I suppose. You have a plan to do this?”

“Oh, it’s more than a plan. It’s already started. Gonna go pretty much the same way as my revenge on Thorndale. See, right now the girls, they’re all happy and secure, well, for the most part anyway. When the axe falls, its gonna fall on both of them. Hard. Buffy won’t know what hit her.”

“Summers?”

“I thought you knew. Spike’s girl – that’s your former, Buffy Summers. Heard a bit about that, earlier. Spike never could stand to be silent when he had an audience, you know. When we’re done, Thorndale’s gonna moan the day he was born.”

Angelus wasn’t born yesterday, and he didn’t miss a trick. And he wasn’t about to just let this one go. He narrowed his eyes and prodded the youth. “Who’s this ‘we’? Is there someone else involved in all this you’ve been plotting then?”

“I think that you two are really gonna like one another. You think the same way, and you have common foes. I’ll introduce you if you like. He’s a very influential and powerful man.”

“Really? More powerful than me?” Angelus didn’t like the sound of that.

“Yes,” Warren replied honestly. “Does that bother you? He’s one of the most powerful men around as a matter of fact. But he doesn’t have anything near the kind of money that you do. Or if he does, he’s afraid to show it.”

“And what does he have against Thorndale? Or Buffy for that matter?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.” If he had the nerve to say that to his face. “Maybe I’ll ask, see if he wants I should set up a meeting.”

“Why don’t you do that,” Angelus purred. Warren was starting to catch on. Angelus was at his most dangerous when he was being quiet. “I’d like to meet this man whom you claim is more powerful than me. By the way, whatever happened to your girl, Katrina?”

“It ended badly, as these things usually do. She’s not around any more.”

“Ah, that’s a shame really. The love of a good woman does such wonders for a man. You can’t even imagine how much Drusilla’s coming back has meant to me. But not nearly as much as seeing Spike laid low. I think you were right for once, and I’ll admit I was wrong. I think that you are going to be very useful to me. And I am good to the people who help me. I think that you’ll find that I can be a very rewarding boss, Warren. Whatever or whoever you want, just be sure you let me know.”

Warren grinned his acquiesce. “Sure thing partner. I think things will work out beautifully between us. And once the three of us get together, we’ll have a triumvirate that is unstoppable. A new Trioka. This, this is gonna be great.”

51. Confession is good for the Soul


By the end of the day Buffy had had enough and decided that Fred was right. She needed to talk to someone, but she wasn’t sure whether Tara was the right person. Willow was still upset about Oz leaving her, but she was dealing. She and Willow hadn’t had a real heart to heart since that day in the restaurant. But she needed to talk to someone uninvolved and get their opinion, before she could make up her mind about how she felt.

A restaurant was out of the question for the discussion that Buffy wanted to have with her friend, so she decided to invite Willow over to the gallery for some Chinese take-out. The apartment was no good either. She didn’t want to take a chance that Dawn might overhear their conversation. She’d simply let Dawn know that she was going to be working late – maybe ask Xander to take Dawn to a movie or something.

By the time Willow arrived, the dinner was ordered, and the gallery was closed for the evening. Of course the first thing that Willow noticed was the smell of the roses that still permeated the back room.

“I smell flowers, but I don’t see them anywhere. What’s up?”

“I threw them away.”

“Why? Buffy, they’re gorgeous. Why would you throw them away?” She looked at her friend suspiciously. “Did you and Spike have another fight or something? It looked like you two might get back together, or something.”

“Or something. Look, Willow, I asked you here because I need someone to talk to. I know that we haven’t been as close as we used to be lately. And I’m sorry for that. But something happened at Spike’s party, something bad, and I don’t want Dawn to know. Only I’m not quite sure how to keep her away from Spike after that deal we made with Giles. I don’t know what to do.” She began to cry.

“What happened, Buffy?” Willow was instantly contrite. Buffy had been her best friend for ages. Just because she had started avoiding her when she began dating Tara, didn’t change the history between them. “You can tell me anything, Buffy.”

Pulling herself together Buffy confessed to her friend. “He raped me Willow. He put something in my drink, and I really don’t remember any of it. But I woke up with him the next morning, and I knew. I wasn’t drunk Willow, really I wasn’t. I hardly had anything to drink at all. And then, after he left the room, and I found this white powder sediment in my glass – and Willow, I don’t know what to do.”

“I do,” exclaimed an angry voice from the shadows. “I know exactly what you should do. You should go to the police and have him arrested. You’ve been far too forgiving of his crimes until now, Buffy, but this is something that no woman should have to put up with. And to think – that he claimed to love you, and he would do something like this. He should be behind bars, Buffy.”

“Xander.” Buffy gasped. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

“Too late now, isn’t it?” His voice was cold. He sounded like someone that she didn’t know. “I told you from the beginning that the guy was bad news. But no one ever listens to Xander.”

“Please don’t tell Dawn,” Buffy pleaded. “I’m trying to figure out what to say to her. She’s been through so much already.”

“I don’t know why you are acting as if this was your fault, Buffy. It’s not.” A little compassion crept into his voice as he came out of the shadows and took her hand. “It’s the scum that did this to you. And Dawn needs to know that Thorndale is not what he claims to be. If he would do that to you, Buffy, what’s to stop him from doing it to Dawn? Who’s to say he hasn’t already, and she just doesn’t remember it?”

“No.” Buffy was horrified. It was one thing to drug her – but Dawn? Spike would never hurt Dawn. But then she had thought that she would never hurt her either. How had everything gone so wrong?

“I think Xander’s right on this one, Buffy. If you’re sure you just weren’t too drunk to remember, if you’re sure that Spike put something in your drink, then Dawn needs to know. I can understand that you might not want to press charges, despite Mr. Gung Ho here. Taking him to court would not be an easy thing to do. But you have to protect Dawn.”

A niggling feeling of doubt made Buffy hesitate. How could she know with absolute certainty, despite the Doctor’s findings, that there had been something in her drink, while at the same time she knew with just as much certainty that Spike would never hurt Dawn? It didn’t make any sense.

At the same time that she wanted to protect Dawn, she still wanted to protect Spike. How weird was that. More and more confused, she let Xander and Willow continue talking about it as if she wasn’t even there.


~ * ~

“I’ve bollocksed it up good, this time Tara. She’ll never bloody speak to me again.” Spike didn’t know where else to turn. Tara had no idea what had happened after she left the party, but Spike knew that he had to tell her – or Buffy would. “I swear, it’s not my fault. I swear it. The thought never even crossed my mind.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning, and tell me what happened, Spike.” Tara was always the voice of reason. He wished he had his own personal Tara to carry around with him and give him advice all day long. He might need one after Tara heard the story he had to tell. “Did you and Buffy had a fight after Dawn and I left?”

“No,” he replied immediately, then had to take it back. “Well, not at first. She’d been nice to me all evening, and after you left we talked for a bit, and then we danced in the kitchen. It was so nice to hold her again – I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“Gone? What happened?”

“Well, we kissed. And then she said that she wanted to go upstairs. She wanted us to be alone. It was her idea, I swear it was. But in the morning…in the morning it was like she’d forgotten everything we’d said, everything we’d done. She ran out so fast, I didn’t get the chance to explain.”

“So, you had sex, and then Buffy regretted it in the morning. It’s not the end of the world, Spike.” No one knew better than Tara that Buffy had her own demons to deal with. She’d probably just gotten scared. “She’ll come around.”

“You don’t understand, Tara,” Spike objected. “She found something in her glass. She…she thinks I drugged her. She thinks… gods, I can’t even say it.”

“What do you mean she found something in her glass?”

“Some powder. It’s, it’s something Warren came up with. Something from the lab that we’re working on. He must have put it in her drink, because I know it wasn’t me. I just can’t figure out why.”

“So she was drugged? There really was some date rape drug in her drink?”

Spike looked defeated, then shrugged. “Yeah, there might have been. But that’s not what it was, or not what it was meant to be at any rate. And I swear I didn’t know. I told her, I’d never push her. And I meant what I said. If I could take it all back now, I would.”

“Is Buffy okay? I mean, she was fine the next morning, right?”

“Except for the hating me forever part. It shouldn’t have had any lasting effects. It’s something Warren came up with. Its affects are…different.”

“And you were planning on manufacturing a date rape drug?”

“Told you, it wasn’t like that.” Gods, he had been stupid. That was what Warren had probably made it for. Perhaps even used it for. He should have gotten rid of Warren a long time ago. Should have known the man was unstable.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that. I thought maybe, a female version of Viagra. Taken in the right dosage, by someone who wants its affects…it could have been a great benefit to millions.”

“Ummm.” It was obvious that Tara wasn’t convinced. “What exactly are the affects?” Tara asked quietly.

“Well, not that I have any first hand knowledge other than as a chemist, but those other drugs out there, they make someone passive, compliant. This doesn’t work like that. It’s more like the real version of the mythical Spanish Fly. Makes whoever takes it feel randy as hell. I should have known that Buffy wouldn’t be like that normally. I should have suspected that something was wrong. She’s been so reluctant all along, I should have known that when she finally came around it wouldn’t be like that.”

“I guess I really don’t want to know.” She’d already heard more than she was comfortable with. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t believe Spike’s innocence, but how he could be so blind about Warren, when he obviously had KNOWN that the man had something like that….“But the question is now, what do you think Buffy is likely to do?”

“Like I said, I don’t know.” Spike’s eyes were haunted as he continued, remembering what had happened only yesterday. “Once she saw…once she suspected that she hadn’t just been drunk, she ran out of there in nothing but my t-shirt. I called a taxi to pick her up at the gates and take her home, but the taxi driver said she never showed. I’ve tried to apologize, tried to explain, but she won’t even listen to me, and I don’t blame her. I can only hope that as time goes by she’ll soften a little bit, but I don’t think its gonna be any time soon. This has to have just killed her, Tara. I mean, she had so little faith in men to begin with, and only the slightest bit of faith in me. I don’t think we can get over this, Tara, but I don’t know how I am going to live without her – especially not now. Not after I’ve seen what it could have been like between us.” His hands were balled into fists, and her pillow wasn’t going to be able to be saved. “Never wanted to kill anyone so much in my life. Probably should have. Would have done the world a favor to take that slime ball Warren out of it.”

“Are you sure he did it? Not that he wouldn’t be my first suspect.”

“Oh, he as much as admitted it. Said he thought I would appreciate it. That he did it as a favor to me. I think he just wanted a human subject to test it out on, although now that I think of it, I wouldn’t be surprised if Warren had drugged other girls before. He didn’t like the fact that proper trials and FDA approval would take years, perhaps even decades. He wanted his fortune now. I offered to buy the patent from him – but it wasn’t enough, he said. He wanted it all. I should have given in – given him whatever he wanted. But I never dreamed, I never thought he’d actually use it. I should have known better.”

“So what did you do to him? You didn’t kill him, you didn’t turn him in to the police, did you? That would be a bit hard to explain.”

“No. I did what I thought was fair. I sacked him, of course, but then gave him a triple dose of his own medicine and had him taken and dropped off at a gay bar just outside of town. Let him see what it feels like to be on the other end of that equation. He’s probably coming to his senses right about now. I only wish the drug didn’t have memory lapses as a side effect. If I could have, I’d make sure he’d have to live with the memory of what he’d done forever.”

“I think you’ve made yourself another enemy. Spike. Warren will never forgive you.”

“Think I care? Seems like I’ve got worse enemies than him – though he’s dealt me the worst blow I can imagine. I just can’t think how I’ll ever get Buffy to believe that I am innocent. Not after all the other things that have happened between us. But you do believe me, Tara. Don’t you?”

“Yes, Spike I do. But that isn’t going to help you any. I am not the one that you need to convince. And I agree with you – Buffy isn’t going to come around any time soon, no matter what you or I tell her. She’s been hurt too badly in the past, and she’ll see this as just one more in a long line of betrayals and abandonment. Let’s just hope she doesn’t decide to go to the police. You’ve had enough trouble along that line lately, and you don’t need any more.”

“God, I hadn’t even thought if that.”

“You should have. Do you still have the glass? If we can find Warren’s fingerprints on it, that would help your case if you have to defend yourself in court.”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention to details like that. Firstly I was concerned about Buffy, and then I wanted to get even with Warren. It could be that the glass is still sitting on my nightstand, or it could be Andrew’s already put it in the wash.”

“You let Andrew and Jonathan stay? Aren’t they friends of Warren’s?”

“Yeah, they are. Or they were. But they’re basically harmless. Warren might have been able to talk them into something evil, but they’d never come up with it on their own. They seemed pretty horrified when they’d heard what Warren had done. Jonathan especially was a friend of Buffy’s. I can’t imagine them hurting her.”

52. What are friends for?


“You’re getting a promotion and a raise. And so am I.”

“What’s that Jonathan? Aren’t you a little old to go to the Prom?”

“Not Prom you nitwit, I said promotion. As in a better job. Both of us.” Jonathan stuck his head into the bedroom the two of them shared, but it was empty. “Where are you Andrew? I need to tell you what’s happened.”

“I’m in here Jonathan. In Warren’s old room,” the blonde stuck his head out the door down the hall and waved at his friend.

His first thought was that they’d both be in big trouble if Warren caught them in his room, before he remembered that Warren wasn’t likely to cause problems for them anymore. Still, it was an odd place for the other man to be. “What’re you doing in there?” Jonathan puzzled.

“Warren called, and asked me to pack his things. He’s gonna send someone over to pick them up later.”

“Well, then you’d better put them down outside the gate then. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. With Warren gone, Spike, I mean Thorndale, needs some new to head up security. That someone is me and you.”

“Me? Jonathan, I don’t know anything about security. Mostly I’m just a glorified housekeeper. Like Mr. Belvedere, or, like Jeffrey from Fresh Prince.”

“Yeah, well not any more. Thorndale said he didn’t want to hire someone he didn’t already know. So we’re it. Between the two of us, we watched most of what Warren did. I mean, I have so ideas of what to do. We’ll manage. And the first order of business is that Warren is not getting back inside this house ever again, for any reason. I already called the locksmith to change all the locks and combinations in the house. I’m serious, Andrew. If Warren wants his stuff back, he’s gonna have to pick it up from outside the grounds."

“He’s gonna be mad, Jonathan. I’ll tell him you made me.”

“Fine. Whatever. So long as he doesn’t get back on the grounds.” Jonathan finally looked at the odd assortment of stuff Andrew had spread out on the bed. “What is all this stuff, anyway?”

“Women’s clothes,” Andrew giggled. “I mean, who ever would have thought Warren would have all this freaky stuff in the back of his closet? I wonder what he did with it.”

“I don’t care. He hurt Buffy, and that’s all I need to know. She was always nice to me, even back in high school when I was the class zero. Give him back his stuff if he wants it, but you’re not to see him again, Andrew. It’s too dangerous. I thought he was our friend, but he’s not. And he’s liable to do anything to get back at Spike. No matter who he has to hurt in order to do it; including us.”

“If you say so, Jonathan. Still, I don’t think Warren would ever do anything really, you know, bad.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention. The next thing we need to do is wait until Spike goes out and get rid of the cameras in his bedroom. All Warren’s tapes need to go too. We should burn them. I don’t want Spike to ever find out we knew about any of this. In the mood he’s in now, we’d be lucky if all he did was fire us. This is our chance, Andrew. Our chance to show how smart we are. Let’s not screw it up.”

“If you say so,” Andrew prevaricated. “Do you think maybe we could keep one or two of the tapes? Just, you know, to watch in private?”

“No. No way. It all goes. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Spoil sport. Do you think Warren would miss it if I kept one of his girlie outfits?”

“I don’t care what you do with his stuff. I’d just as soon burn it all too, but there’s too much of it.”

“Oooh, how to choose. Do you think I would look good in the blue dress, or should I stick with basic black?”

Shaking his head in disgust and amazement, Jonathan headed off to the records room to gather up the surveillance records that he wanted to destroy. They had gotten away with it until now, so it seemed unlikely that Spike would catch on at this late date, but Jonathan had learned early on that somehow Warren was able to get away with things that he never could. With his luck, Spike would inspect the surveillance room first thing, and he and Andrew would get blamed for Warren’s indiscretions. That was not going to happen. This was the first time he had ever been entrusted with anything really important, and he wasn’t going to screw it up.

~ * ~

At Rayne’s suggestion, the three men met at Glory’s establishment. That way the meeting could be put down to chance, should anyone ever question it. Of the three, Warren was the only one who had never been there. He lacked the funds necessary for the type of high priced hookers Glory employed.

Rayne met them at the bar, setting his whiskey down hard on the table between the two younger men.

“I hear we have interests in common,” he began.

“Somewhat. Warren tells me that you are interested in the girls that Thorndale shelters. I’m interested in Thorndale. So it seems that our interests align but do not coincide or conflict. If I help you destroy the girls, Thorndale suffers. I’m not quite ready to put him out of his misery yet.”

Rayne smiled. “Warren is correct. We do think alike. I too have another target in mind, and the girls are merely a means to an end. It is so much more satisfying, when the pleasure is drawn out as long as possible. When each little twist of the screw hurts just a little bit more, until the man you’ve been plotting against for fifteen long years is finally utterly destroyed, almost hoping for death.”

“Fifteen years? It’s been longer for me. Not that I haven’t had my pieces of revenge over the years. Stealing back his wife – that was nearly enough to drive him over the edge, but not quite. Somehow I don’t think he’ll survive it a second time. And Dawn, if the child is really as dear to him as Warren tells me, that’ll probably be enough right there. You help me get my hands on either of his women, and I’ll make sure that he knows what happens to them. Did I tell you that I already popped the blonde’s cherry? It was years ago, but I am sure that he knows it by now. Sometimes the best laid plans are the longest to come to fruition. But I don’t mind.”

“choSuvchugh ‘oyIlj Daghur neH.” When the other two looked at him like he’d suddenly gone insane, Warren translated the Klingon saying, “Struggling only makes it hurt more.’’

The random ramblings in Klingon had gotten worse over their short acquaintance. Maybe Warren thought he was impressing someone with the gibberish, but it was hard to tell. Warren was turning out to be a very strange lad – but it seemed like he certainly had his uses.


~ * ~

It only took a few days for Buffy to figure out what Xander had done. Dawn had been sullen and upset for days, but it took her until Sunday to figure it out. Buffy had refused all William’s phone calls and messages, but she still expected Dawn to meet Spike as usual. She had even asked Willow to make sure that she was available to go with the pair to chaperone. She didn’t process what it meant about her feelings that she was willing to let Spike see Dawn at all after what had happened.

Buffy was stunned as the day progressed and not only did William fail to appear, but Dawn didn’t complain about his being late.

“What’s up, Dawnie? You’ve been all bad moody lately.” She hadn’t been feeling too well herself lately, and having to deal with Dawn’s moodiness was just the last straw.

“You’re one to comment. You’ve barely spoken two words to me all week – not even the ones you should have.”

“What do you mean?”

“Spike. I told him that I had other plans this weekend, he didn’t seem surprised. You didn’t tell me about Spike. What he did to you. You were all set to let me just go off with him, and not even warn me!”

Then, in one of those weird twists of logic teenagers are so prone to, Dawn did a complete about face. “Well, you know what? I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that anything happened at all! I think you made the whole thing up.”

“How did you hear about…” A mortified Buffy turned to her best friend, “Willow, you didn’t say anything, did you?”

“No. Neither of you did!” Dawn huffed. “Some protectors you are. It was Xander. He told me all about it. How Spike supposedly put something in your drink …well, I’ve decided that it’s all a lie. You made it up because your relationships with men are so sucky and you don’t even know how to handle the fact that you actually gave up the blushing virgin act long enough for him to touch you, and now you regret it. I’m sorry I even bought your lame excuse for one minute. I’m leaving, and don’t you dare send Willow after me. I’ll get a cab to take me over to Spike’s house. That’s right, I’m going to visit him at his HOUSE. Not some lame safe place like the zoo, with Willow along as a chaperone, as if I were five. I know what you were planning. Well, I’m not going to stand for it. I’m going to his house, because I trust him. And nothing you can say can stop me.”

Staring at the door slammed in their faces, the two girls looked at each other for a few minutes before speaking.

“Well, that went well.”

“You do think she’ll be all right, won’t she? I mean, it’s hard to say what to expect. But if you really think he raped you, shouldn’t we go after her?”

“Now you’re doubting me too? I know what I saw, Willow.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not really acting like it. You claim that he raped you, and then you just calmly sit there and let Dawn go off to find him?”

“I didn’t let Dawn do anything, Willow. She did it. I couldn’t stop her if I tried. Have you missed the fact that she’s taller than me?”

“No, but you’re not even really that upset about it. About what you say happened, or about Dawn leaving to go see him. I mean, you haven’t spoken to a counselor, or a lawyer, and it sure doesn’t look like you’re thinking of pressing charges. Sometimes it is kinda hard to know what is going on in your head.”

“It’s not easy for me either, Willow. I mean, sometimes I really like Spike. I admit, I do. But then other times, times like this, I’m just not sure that he’s trustworthy. I mean, he seems to have a good excuse for everything. But that’s just the problem. If he was really who he appears to be, he wouldn’t need to have excuses. I’m almost afraid to talk to Tara, because I am sure that if I do she’ll tell me whatever pat excuse Spike has this time, and I’m afraid that I’ll fall for it again. That I’ll just accept it because somewhere inside I really want to believe that he is innocent. But really, you’ve got to think that there’s something going on. I mean, the art investigation, New York, the creepy paintings and mysterious journals, to say nothing of those poor dead girls that he conveniently explained away. At the risk of sounding cliché, Giles isn’t far off with his “smoke and fire” remark. I can’t keep on doing this, Willow. It’s killing me.”

53. Blood is thicker than water

“Buffy,” Willow called, “Before you go see Giles this afternoon, I need to talk to you. I found out some information about Dawn." Willow looked unusually chipper, and a little shy. Buffy immediately jumped to the conclusion that her friend had finally solved the mystery of Dawn’s parentage. Either that, or she’d finally found a clue as to exactly who was trying to frame William Thorndale. Well, it wouldn’t matter too much at this point anyway. Spike probably deserved whatever he got.

“That’s great, Willow, did you find Dawn’s father? I thought you had run into a dead end. I have to keep reminding myself that at least something good has come of this whole fiasco - Dawn. If I hadn’t met Thorndale, stayed over at his house, I never would have met Dawn, and who knows what would have happened to her. What did you find out? Who is he?”

“Let’s go into the conference room and I’ll show you the paperwork. It may make more sense that way.”

“If you say so, Wills, you’re the expert, but you know this computer stuff makes no sense to me.”

“That’s okay, Buffy. I’ll explain it. You really need to see this for yourself.” Once inside, Willow closed the door behind them, and spread her papers out on the conference table.

“Fine. Whatever. Just go slow, okay. How did you finally find a match? I thought you said that the search came up blank?”

“It did,” Willow replied. “In fact, I ran it several times. First through our database, and then I cross-referenced the search with the international data base, just in case. It still came up blank.”

“Okay, then how did you find a match? Someone new we just got data on?”

“No. Not at all. See, what we were thinking… what we all thought… was that I should search for a DNA match in our criminal data base.”

“Yeah, I know. We just went over that. I may be slow Willow, but I’m not deaf. Foreign and domestic, you said you came up with nothing. Zero, zilch, nada. Only now you put these papers in front of me like they are supposed to mean something. So quit with the suspense already and tell me what you found.”

“Well, the DNA match wasn’t in the criminal database.”

“It wasn’t?” Buffy still wasn’t catching on to what Willow was trying to tell her.

“No. But eventually I realized that by limiting the search to just the criminal database we were automatically excluding a whole other population that we have data on.”

“Spill, Willow. I am getting impatient. I do have my own work to do.”

“It wasn’t in the criminal database. The DNA match, Dawn’s father, was in the Agency’s own database. They keep records on all of us, you know. Used to be just fingerprints, but nowadays it’s everything. Dawn can rest easy. Her father isn’t a crime lord. He’s one of the good guys. He works here. In fact, you even know him.”

“Geesh, Willow. Out with it already.”

“It’s Giles.”

“Giles?” That made no sense. Buffy blinked. “As in, head of the division and also our boss, Giles?”

“Yep. That’d be him, Buffy.”

“Giles? You mean Giles and Glory?” She found it hard to imagine a more unlikely pair.

“Apparently. I don’t have the details, but Giles did come up through the ranks working in vice. Giles and Glory must have crossed paths at some point.”

“To say the least,” she deadpanned. “Do you think he knows?”

“No. I don’t think he’s that good of an actor. Besides, he knew what we were looking for. If he wanted to hide the fact that he was Dawn’s father, it would have been easy enough for him to falsify the data. Or simply pull his own profile. He’s been an Agent so long, it’s completely believable that they might not have updated his records yet to include a complete DNA run.”

“Wow. I can hardly wait to see his face when you tell him the news,” Buffy grinned. It wasn’t every day a girl got to shake her boss’s world. “He’s gonna flip.”

“Umm, Buffy? That’s not all.”

“Not all?” What else could there be?

“No. There’s something else. There was another match.”

“Another match? Willow, I may not be a computer expert, but even I know that Dawn can’t have two fathers.”

“No. She can’t. But she can have a sister.”

“Glory has another child?”

“No. Not Glory. But Dawn does have a half sister. They have the same the same father. Giles.”

“Again? You know Willow, I find it hard enough to imagine Giles with Glory, yet alone that he impregnated some other unfortunate woman. But I suppose that Dawn deserves to know that she has family. Who is it?”

“You.”

“Me? What do you mean, me?”

“I mean that according to your personnel records and DNA file, that Rupert Giles is your biological father. You’re Dawn’s sister.”

Sitting back down in the chair she had just vacated, Buffy shook her head. “That can’t be right. My parents had already been married for two years before I was born.”

“At a guess, I’d say that your mother had an affair.”

“With Rupert Giles?” It seemed even more unlikely than the involvement with Glory.

“He was probably very different then. It would have been nearly 30 years ago, Buffy. Maybe back then he was exciting enough for a young bored wife to have a fling with. Your Mom and Dad did eventually get divorced, you know.”

“Of course I know. I was there. But I was like, almost fifteen at the time. My Mom was definitely not having an affair with Rupert Giles.”

Willow looked apologetic. “Unfortunately, we can’t ask her. But we can ask Giles. It’s possible that he doesn’t know. On the other hand, maybe he is the reason you were offered the opportunity to work here in the first place. Maybe he was the one who put your name forward, and got you accepted into that graduate school – not Riley.”

“I need to speak to Giles right away. I take it these papers are the proof of what you’ve been telling me?” At Willow’s nod Buffy collected them in a huff and began to storm off. “Giles has some explaining to do.”

54. The more things change...

The idea that Hank was not her real father was surprisingly easy to take. It made so many of the things she remembered from her childhood seem much more easily explained. The way she and Hank had never really connected. How they’d never spent any real time together other than at the skating rink.

More difficult to swallow was the notion that the man she had only known as her boss, was really her father. The question uppermost in her mind, was whether Giles knew. She agreed with Willow’s assessment that Giles would have said something if he had ever thought that he might be Dawn’s father, but she wasn’t so sure about herself. For the first time since she had come to work here nearly four years ago, Buffy was nervous.

Gile’s office was as stuffy and messy as she remembered from her prior visits, but Buffy was looking at it with different eyes. Suddenly she wondered if the eclectic art work was something that her mother might have admired, if Giles really had been the kind of man who could have had an affair with Joyce, and then left the young bride and her illegitimate child. Staring into his puzzled eyes, Buffy wondered what traits they had in common, if any. Would she eventually need glasses too? Did she get the hazel of her eyes from her father?

“Ah, Buffy. I thought our meeting was scheduled for this afternoon?”

“It was. But something important came up. Something that couldn’t wait?”

“You found something more on Thorndale then? I have some news on that front as well.”

“No. It’s not about Thorndale. It’s about Dawn.”

“Dawn? Good news I hope. Last time I spoke to Ms. Rosenberg about it, she told me she had reached an impasse. Tell me, what did you find?”

“Willow found her father. He wasn’t in the crime file databanks, like we were thought. But apparently there were records of him.”

She searched Giles face to see if there was any hint of recognition. Any suspicion of what she was about to say. Finding none, she pressed on.

“He’s not a criminal. Quite the opposite. He works for the Agency as a matter of fact. That’s where Willow found the DNA match. In our office, right here in LA.”

Slowly she noticed understanding beginning to break on his face. Predictably, Giles took off his glasses and began cleaning the lenses.

“The paperwork is all here. It doesn’t make much sense to me, but Willow swears by it. Says its proof positive. You are her father, Giles.”

Giles was silent for a long time. The glasses lay abandoned on his desk as he stared with blurring vision out the window behind his desk. “I…I never really imagined it was possible. I mean, why would a woman like that have my child? We never… it was a long time ago. It was only the once. She never, she never said anything to me about it. We…Ethan and I, we finished the undercover case we were working on, and moved on. I never really thought about it again. Except of course to think that it should never have happened. She’d caught me in a moment of weakness. It was a very unprofessional thing to have done. I should have found a way out of it – should have refused. I knew that. But I never for a moment thought…”

He looked up at Buffy then, something else gleaming in his eye. “Perhaps Glory doesn’t know. Certainly I wasn’t the only person she slept with. She was younger then. It could have been anyone, really.”

“But it wasn’t anyone, Giles. It was you. These computer records prove that you are Dawn’s biological father.”

“It’s just, just that it is a lot to take in all at once.”

“I understand. It’s a shock, but there’s more.”

He turned back around and faced Buffy then, searching blindly for a moment to find the abandoned glasses. Where before his face had been red with embarrassment, now it was white. He obviously knew what she was about to say next.

“You know what else Willow found, don’t you?”

Giles merely stared, mute, giving Buffy time to continue.

“Another close relative, also employed by the same Agency. A half sister. She’s my sister, Rupert. You are both our fathers.”

“I didn’t know, Buffy. I swear, I didn’t know.”

“How can you say that? It was written plain as day on your face just now. You knew exactly what I was going to say before I said it. So don’t tell me you didn’t know all along. Don’t lie to me Rupert.” She supposed she could call him Rupert now that they both knew that she was his daughter.

“It’s not a lie. I suspected. I wondered. But I didn’t know.”

“So was my Mom an after thought too, like Glory? Someone that you slept with once and then promptly forgot?”

“Buffy, that’s unkind. I was in love with Joyce, and I thought that she loved me. When she chose to stay with her husband instead of file for a divorce, I was devastated. When I heard later than she had had a child, I just assumed that it was Hank’s and that that was why she hadn’t wanted to leave him. I never dared hope that the child, that you, were my daughter. After she went back to Hank, we never spoke again. Even after the divorce, she never tried to look me up. Never tried to contact me. I thought she wanted it that way, so I stayed away. I didn’t know until later how hard a time the two of you had making it on your own. If I had known, I would have tried to come up with some way to help. Your mother, Buffy, was a great lady. And I was prepared to love you for her sake alone. But to know that you are mine? That is the greatest gift that anyone could have given me.”

This time it was Buffy’s turn to be quiet. She thought back through the years for any clues that her Mother had been in love with another man, and clues that Hank might have suspected that he was not Buffy’s real father. It was certainly possible that Hank had known. Certainly he had seemed to want nothing to do with her after her mother’s death – and had pretty much been out of the picture for most of her adolescence. She had always put that down to the fact that the divorce had been so bitter. She had never even thought of the possibility that she was not Hank’s daughter.

Finally it was Giles who broke the awkward silence. The normally stolid man had taken off his glasses altogether and was standing awkwardly holding out his arms. Crying, Buffy rushed in to his embrace.

“We should celebrate.” He finally managed to choke out. “Call Dawn, and we’ll pick her up early from school and we’ll all go out somewhere together, and I can explain matters to her. You girls pick the place. Wherever you like. It’s not every day that you learn that you have a family when you thought that you had no one. I want to be there for you, Buffy. Whatever you need. You and Dawn both. My girls.”

“Dawn will be thrilled,” Buffy added. “Any excuse to get out of school early. Only well, you know, she is Dawn, so it’s hard to predict how she will react to anything. But she’s had a really rough time of it, especially lately, so I am sure that she will be overjoyed with anything that hints at future stability along with chocolately ice cream goodness.”

“I do hope you are right, Buffy. Dawn is a bit…volatile. I’m not so sure that she will be as pleased as you seem to be Buffy. You are pleased, aren’t you? I know that I am. Immensely pleased, to have both of you in my life. It’s only when I have to tell her what I know about Thorndale, I fear the mood will be quite lost.”

“Then let’s not talk about him. I don’t want to ruin this moment with unpleasantness.”

“You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that, Buffy. I am so glad that you seem to have gotten over this girlish infatuation you had for the man. I only wish that I could say the same thing about Dawn. She thinks the sun rises and sets in his eyes, and she’ll be crushed to learn that it isn’t so.”

This was a subject Buffy was still sore about. They had simply agreed to disagree. Anything else would have made living in the same house too painful. So Dawn had her opinion of Spike, and Buffy had hers.

She only hoped that Giles would be able to talk some sense into the girl. Without her actually, you know, having to confide in Giles what had actually happened between her and Spike. Cause you know, father or no father, talking about something as personal as that with Giles was just … ewww.

55. Perchance to dream


Groggy from an uncomfortable night’s sleep, Spike tried to piece together the pieces of his dream before they faded away. All he could think was that his current circumstances had inspired a dream about being in even worse straights than he was now. Back when he had been with Drusilla. He shivered and leaned back against the cold stone walls. Dreams about Drusilla never boded well.

The floor was hard and cold against his back, but it hardly mattered. His body ached everywhere. The pain from his hand was the worst. It felt like all 27 bones were shattered. With something resembling relief he noted vaguely that it was his right hand, not his left. If he ever recovered from this, he would still be able to write, to draw. “Just like the stupid bitch to never even notice that I use my left,” he thought darkly, only the words "stupid bitch" actually escaping the dream to be muttered aloud.

They had turned on him. Angelus, and Darla. They had lied to him – gods they had lied, and now he was left to pay the price. He had been a fool from the beginning, and that was almost as hard to take as the betrayal. He could only hope that he would never wake, that he would die in this place, and that would be the end of it. He deserved it, he knew. By his own actions he had brought this on himself. He didn’t deserve to live. Not when she…he hadn’t been able to save her. Everything he had done had been in order to save her… but it hadn’t been enough, and now he was doomed to die here cold and alone. It was fitting. He wouldn’t fight it.

The scene shifted and he was on a bed now, with two people hovering above him. He could barely make out the words. The man, obviously foreign, spoke only broken English. The other voice…the other voice belonged to his Drusilla. He had thought she was dead! Or had that been some other girl?

“The leg, it should heal. He should not try to stand too soon. The break was very bad.” The male voice was telling Dru that he had set the hand, and that his leg had been broken in three places. He recommended cold compresses for the bruises, and left her some pills for the pain. “If there was hospital, I would take.” He promised. “But is too far. Best to stay. If bleeding inside, trip too hard. Not good. If still alive by morning, maybe then we go. Understand?”

He could hear Dru thanking the man for coming, thanking him for keeping the matter private. He imagined that he could hear the clink of gold changing hands, and the man protesting that the payment was too much. He wished that Dru had saved her money. He didn’t want help. He wanted to die.

He didn’t want to live. He’d tried again and again to tell her, but Drusilla never listened to any advice but her own. Her lucid spell had apparently passed and she was back to being her old self again. Just his luck that she would be clever enough to find him a doctor, but mad enough not to follow his advice.

He could feel her lift his body up as if it was nothing, and helped him struggle into clothes that hurt his skin to wear. Somehow, she got him down the stairs, and the next time he awoke he found himself in the back of an old station wagon, jarred back and forth every time the car passed over a pothole in the rough terrain that passed for a road hereabout. Eventually, the sounds and motion eased, and he was starting to fall back into an exhausted sleep when he heard a voice whisper in his ear.

“Don’t leave me, William. Don’t go away. If you do, I will be alone. They always leave me. You may think I don’t need you, but I do, William. Please don’t leave me.”

As the dream form of Drusilla melted and was replaced with an image of Buffy, reluctantly, dream William agreed that he would try. His girl needed him to survive this, whether he wanted to or not. So he would do his best, even if he wasn’t at all sure that he was up to it.

Struggling to make sense from nonsense, Spike shrugged off the parts of the dream that felt like memory, or premonition. No doubt the physical discomfort of the evening he had just spent was responsible for the entire episode. Still, it seemed more than real in the cold confines that surrounded him, and his right hand was throbbing with remembered pain. Almost as far back as he could remember his hand had never been quite right. In the dream he remembered that Darla had smashed it with a wooden chair leg. But that was only a dream, wasn’t it?

The cell he was in was cold, and the mattress more uncomfortable than he remembered sleeping on in a long time. With any luck, his lawyers would manage to get bail set and get him out of here before he had to spend another night in this horrible place. He knew that some one had been trying to get him locked up for some reason or another for the last several months. He just hoped that his high paid lawyers would pull some trick so that they wouldn’t be able to make the charges stick. He couldn’t really imagine living for any length of time behind bars like this.

Sure, he’d lived rough at some points in his life, but that had been a long time ago. He was used to the finer things in life now, even if that didn’t always include everything he would have wanted, good food and a comfortable bed in which to spend the night were highly under rated.

The cops who’d come to arrest him hadn’t been gentle, even though he knew better than to put up any resistance. Still, he was sore in places that he hadn’t even known were places until today.

But the physical discomfort wasn’t nearly as troubling as the thoughts of what was to come. The police had read him his rights, but they hadn’t told him what crime he was accused of having done. Formal charges conveniently would not be filed until morning, making it impossible for him to do anything but spend the night in the inhospitable cell he’d been shoved into.

The thought that Buffy might have decided to press charges was almost more than he could stand to think about. Surely, she would have told him first? Or Dawn would have. He’d explained himself to Dawn as much as he could, and he had hoped that Dawn would be able to convince Buffy of his innocence. But perhaps that idea had backfired, and caused Buffy to file charges instead.

It wasn’t right that that due process should take so long. His lawyers should have sorted things out long before now. It didn’t bode well that he had spent the entire night in jail without the benefit of counsel.

If it came down to it, he knew that his defense that it had been someone else who had drugged Buffy’s drink would sound weak at best. Without any evidence to back him up, his case wasn’t looking good. Unfortunately, the tampered wineglass had been efficiently washed and put away before he’d had a chance to check it for prints. Then again, even that probably wouldn’t have helped him – Warren had been part of the crew that had set up the party – of course his prints might be on some of the glassware. No, neither Buffy nor the Judge was likely to believe his innocence.

~ * ~


Waking refreshed and renewed, Buffy smiled at remembering what she had learned just yesterday - that she and Dawn were really and truly sisters. All of which made the whole hard to get along thing seem much more natural. Buffy was still a little uncertain about how it felt to know Giles was her Dad, but the old man had been right – it was comforting to know that she had some family, that she wasn’t alone in the world anymore.

Humming on her way into work, her good mood lasted until she arrived at her desk at the Agency and found a note from Riley. Determined that she wasn’t going to let that oaf destroy her new found happiness, she determined to put off calling him for as long as possible. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing he could say that she wanted to hear.

What she hadn’t expected was that when she hadn’t returned his call immediately, Riley took it upon himself to appear. There was no reason for him to be on this floor except to see her, so it wasn’t like she could hide herself among the cubbyholes and hope that he would go away. Determined to not let him ruin her good mood, she stood and greeted him outside her office door.

“Sorry I didn’t get around to returning your call yet,” she lied. “It’s been such a busy morning.”

“That’s okay, Buffy. I’m just happy that you’re happy. I wanted to check for myself and see how you were taking it, but I guess I should have known. You won’t have to worry about William Thorndale ever again, Buffy. I promise.”

“What are you talking about?” she hissed, pushing him inside the office and closing the door. This so wasn’t a conversation she wanted to become general office gossip. It was bad enough that Riley had come down to visit her – let alone bring up personal matters that she never ever wanted to think about again.

“You haven’t heard?” Riley snickered. “I assumed that was why you were in such a good mood. William Thorndale was brought in on charges late last night. Smuggling drugs. The evidence is pretty solid, and I imagine he’ll be spending quite a few years behind bars. And you won’t have to do a thing. I know the prospect of airing all that dirty laundry out in court was bothering you. Cases like that are never easy to prosecute, and Fred told me that the results of her exam turned out inconclusive. This way, you get the result that you want without having to go to trial.”

If Riley knew her at all, he would know that she felt sick, not elated at the news that William was in jail. Sick, and angry. What business did Riley have sticking his nose into her affairs? And worse, what if… “You didn’t… Riley, tell me you didn’t plant evidence on him just so you could get back at him for something that I never even told you he did.” Outwardly she hoped that she appeared calm, although she was seething on the inside.

“You didn’t have to tell me, Buffy. I saw what you looked like that morning. I saw what you were wearing, and how wild you looked. You didn’t even protest when I dropped you off at Fred’s clinic. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what must have happened. And I don’t blame you for not filing charges immediately. Rape cases like that are hard to prove. But I believe you, Buffy. I was there, and I know what Thorndale is capable of. He tries to make people believe that he has a conscience, but I know it is all nothing but lies.”

“Riley, you didn’t answer my question. Did you plant false evidence on him? Is this a frame up?” She had a pretty good right hook when she needed it, but knocking Riley out cold in the middle of the office was probably not a very good idea if she didn’t want to call attention to herself.


“Of course not.” Riley protested. “Not that I wouldn’t if you wanted me too. But I caught him fair and square. Red handed as it were. I don’t see how he can possibly get out of it. The courts don’t take these things lightly these days.”

“What is he charged with, Riley, what did he do?”

“Thought I told you. You must not have been listening, Buffy. He was smuggling drugs. He’s going to be out of your hair for a very long time, Buffy.”

Riley might have said more, but Buffy couldn’t hear it. She felt vaguely faint, and a white noise had replaced any sounds from the outside world. Riley’s mouth was moving, but she didn’t hear it. Finally, getting no further response, Riley clomped off back to wherever he belonged.

Taking herself in hand, Buffy made a beeline for Giles’s office. It was still hard to think of him as her father as well as her boss, but she was making an effort to do so. This was just the latest in a long line of complaints she had against Rupert Giles and the way that he ran his department. She should have been the first person that he informed. It was unconscionable that she had had to find out through a personal friend in another division.

As she threw open the door she was surprised Giles deep in conference with one of the Agency lawyers. “I want to make provisions for Dawn as well,” was all she could make out before all conversation came to a stuttering halt.

“Sorry,” Buffy allowed peremptorily. “Giles, I need to talk to you. Now. It’s about Spike.”

“Oh, then you’ve heard. I hope you don’t mind, but you did tell me not to tell you about him last night.” Giles didn’t look the least bit guilty, only slightly perplexed as the lawyer hastily shuffled his papers together and back into his briefcase. “I thought you’d be happy.” He waved the lawyer out of the way. “I think we’re done here, Lindsay. If you would make the changes we discussed, I’d be ever so grateful. Thank you. Buffy?”

With the door firmly closed behind him, Buffy finally had a target for the rage that was unaccountably growing stronger by the minute. “How could you not tell me! You knew last night, didn’t you?”

“Yes, well, we were all so happy, and to be fair Buffy, you did say that you didn’t want to know.”

“You should have known I didn’t mean it that way,” she countered, hoping that the guilt she felt could be so easily fooled. “Not if it was something so important. You knew that we’d been close.”

“Yes, but I also knew that you had finally heeded my advice and had recently broken things off. Or was I wrong about that?”

“No, but still you should have told me. Professional courtesy if nothing else. Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know the particulars. I know that you thought that you cared for William Thorndale, Buffy. But you have to realize that the man that you thought he was - that man does not exist. He never did. Now there’s no more mystery. Now we all know what kind of man he really is.”

“You’re sure?”

“Quite sure. Ethan Rayne himself told me that the evidence against Thorndale was air tight.”

“Rayne? If it was a drug charge, if Riley was involved, wouldn’t Maggie’s men have brought him in?”

“Quite right. But this case is very high profile, Buffy. Thorndale is a rich and powerful man. Ethan thought it wise to get personally involved before anything hit the papers. Make sure that we have all our facts straight and papers in order – because you better believe that if we don’t Thorndale’s lawyers will exploit it as far as they possibly can. Men like that do not go down quietly. I’m just glad that in light of recent circumstances that you and Dawn do not have to be involved.”

“But that’s just it. Without William, we never would have found Dawn, never thought to check the Agency database, we never would have known we were a family.”

“Coincidence. Thorndale had nothing to do with it. Just let it go, Buffy. The courts will decide what type of punishment is appropriate for his crimes. Let the system work, Buffy. Our job is done. It’s up to the legal types now.”

Chapter 56: Intervention

Even with the warning from Riley, when Giles confirmed it the news was a shock. However it had happened, Riley had made good on his threat, and Spike had been arrested. Buffy assumed that the evidence against him must have been pretty solid, because he was behind bars. But she couldn’t have been more surprised at the charges. She could scarcely believe the man that she thought she knew selling drugs. But that was the problem, how much did she really know about William Thorndale? Everything about him was so confusing. Including what had happened that night at his house.

She couldn’t get the thoughts of Spike out of her mind; knew she wouldn’t be good for anything until she got some closure. With new resolve to put the entire Thorndale episode out of her mind, she decided that she had to confront him one last time. After all, the man was behind bars. What harm could he do her?

~*~

By the time she arrived at the holding cell she was beginning to doubt her decision to do this. What could she possibly have to say to him? Of course with Spike, that wasn’t usually a problem. He was perfectly capable of holding the entire conversation himself with only the smallest input from her.

“Surprised to see you, Pet,” he snarked. Spending the night in jail hadn’t improved his disposition. “Come to tell me you’ve decided to add to the charges against me, or just to gawk at me – rub it in?” Spike didn’t act glad to see her.

Trapped behind bars, unshaved, without a shower and wearing the same clothes he had obviously slept in, he was surprisingly almost appealing. Except eww, at the very least, he had taken unfair advantage of her, and possibly much, much more. But she didn’t want to think about that now. If nothing else, she didn’t enjoy thinking of herself as a victim.

“No Spike. That’s not why I came.”

“Why then? Finally got what you wanted, didn’t you? Make you feel good, does it? Job well done and all that?” He came closer to the bars, emphasizing his captive state. It occurred to Buffy that it must be torture to the normally hyperactive Spike to cage him in such a small space with absolutely nothing to do.

“No. I didn’t have anything to do with this.” She protested. “You did this to yourself.”

“Right.” He didn’t have any smokes with him either, although he unconsciously patted himself down looking for some.

“It’s true.”

“Fine.”

“Why’d you do it? I didn’t think you were like that. I cared for you. Well, until recent events anyway. I tried to protect you…”

Spike seemed to think that it was Buffy who had turned him in. He hadn’t spotted Riley, the other, the real, undercover agent, the one who had actually gotten the goods on him. She should probably have been more specific when she warned him to be careful. At the time, she hadn’t wanted to blow Riley’s cover. Later, it wasn’t exactly at the top of her mind. And after that – well, she had no reason to do him a favor.

“Funny, in all our time together I never did figure out what a right lying bitch you are.” She never seen Spike quite this angry. Not even when they had been attacked in New York. “Quite the actress as it turns out. I didn’t think you were like this – cold, unfeeling, reveling in someone else’s misery…”

She tried to protest, but he wasn’t listening. “Me? What about you, prattling on about art and pretending that you really cared for me all the time planning to slip something into my drink so you could finally get what you wanted.”

“Now there’s the pot calling the kettle black! Not like you didn’t want it, Buffy, even if you were too stubborn to just come out and admit it. If they decide to extradite me, I’m as good as dead, you know. And there you stand, cool as a cucumber. But you know what – I’m still better than you. Least I never pretended to have feelings I didn’t. Never pretended that I cared when all I really wanted was to find evidence to put you behind bars.” Turning his back to her, Spike really hoped that she’d take the hint and leave.

Of course Buffy did the opposite, and approached until she was gripping the bars from her side. “It wasn’t like that Spike. I wanted you to be innocent. I always hoped that you were. And I never pretended with you, Spike. Never. I just didn’t tell you everything - but I couldn’t. But I did feel for you – that was real, Spike. Until I found out what you really are.”

Spike snorted and stood still with his back to her. “Well, you’d best leave before your virtue gets sullied any more from being in the same room with me.”

“I can’t believe your attitude! Aren’t you the least bit sorry?”

“Sorry I got caught, you mean?” he asked, whipping around so that they were standing nose to nose on either side of the bars. “I suppose. But given all of it to do over again, I’d still do the same.”

“How can you say that?” Buffy protested.

“Not everyone enjoys the same privileges we do, pet. Granted, there’s different points of view on the matter – but I’d rather leave that up to the individual and her conscience.”

“Different points of view? What are you talking about? There are no points of view here. You’re despicable. You’ve ruined lives, destroyed families…”

“So pure, so bloody righteous. I’m sure you’re as pure as the driven snow, sweetheart. In all your lame excuses to put me off, you never once used that line, so don’t tell me now how innocent you are.”

Buffy was confused. “Drugs? No, I’ve never used drugs, Spike.”

Finally something she’d said seemed to register with him, and she could tell Spike was actually thinking about what she had said by the way he titled his head. Her Aunt’s poodle had sometimes worn a similar expression. She used to think it was endearing, now it was just annoying.

“Pet, what do you think we’re talking about here?”

“You got caught smuggling drugs,” Buffy shrugged, as if all her past boyfriends were guilty of heinous crimes. “I didn’t ask what kind.”

“Yeah, I suppose I was at that.” Fleetingly, a look of hope crossed his face. “Buffy, who told you that? Told you I was smuggling drugs? It’s not what you think. I swear it’s not.”

“Right. They locked you up for no reason then? Criminals always claim to be innocent.”

“It wasn’t illegal drugs, Buffy, I swear. I wasn’t smuggling illegal drugs into the United States, Buffy. I was smuggling drugs out. Pharmaceuticals, luv. Not heroin, not cocaine. Everything I’ve been charged with is perfectly legal here. All perfectly legal in the good old USA – but that’s not true everywhere, pet. I know there’s some equate birth control and abortion with murder – but you’re a modern American girl – grew up in LA. I’m betting my life here that you don’t see it that way, Buffy.”

“You’re not making sense, Spike. What are you talking about?”

“Contraceptives, luv. I was smuggling contraceptives overseas to countries where they’ve been banned. Not cocaine, not heroin. Just simple things you can get at any drug store.”

Buffy still wasn’t sure. “Not drugs?”

“NO love. Contraceptives. I own a pharmaceutical company, remember. Lawyer came down here just a minute ago to tell me, pay the bail so I can go home. Thought you were Gunn, ready to take he outta here. Go ask if you don’t believe me. Or ask yourself one question, who was it told you otherwise?”

“They didn’t. I mean, I didn’t ask, and they just let me assume… Why would Riley try to mislead me like that?”

“Riley? As in former boyfriend Riley? Maybe he thinks he has something to gain by getting rid of me, pet?”

“He wouldn’t do that!”

“Wouldn’t he now?”

“I have to go. I have to tell Giles. Maybe he can do something. This isn’t right. He owes you, Spike. For what you did for Dawn. He owes you big time. That’s what I came to tell you.” At last she had an excuse for why she had felt the need to come down here and see him. “The paternity test you made him run on her? We got the results back. Giles is her father. I never would have believed it, but Willow ran it through the computer half a dozen times. Dawn’s DNA didn’t match any of the criminals in our database, but then Willow had the idea to try to run it through the entire database. She came up with two matches. Her mother may be that bitch, Glory, but her father is Rupert Giles.”

“Didn’t know the old man had it in him!” Spike smirked. “Wonder how that happened to come about, and why that whore decided to keep the child?”

“Giles came clean when Willow and I announced the news. He claimed it must have been while he and Ethan Rayne had been working undercover in vice. I guess he got a little too close to his work.”

Spike snickered, then considered everything she had said. “But you said there were two matches, pet?”

“Yeah, that was the other surprise.” Buffy wasn’t looking at Spike now. “As it turns out, Dawn is my sister. It’s no wonder Hank always hated me. He must have known that he wasn’t my real father. That my Mom had an affair with Rupert Giles. He’s not only Dawn’s father – he’s mine too.

“If it hadn’t been for you, he would have never have known about Dawn, and although he suspected that he was my real father, he probably never would have told me the truth if it hadn’t been forced out of him. Plus, what you did for Dawn, getting her away from Glory… under whatever pretext. He owes you, Spike. And you don’t deserve to rot away in prison in some third world country I’ve never even heard of for selling condoms and birth control pills, even if it is illegal in outer wherever. Someone, probably someone right here at the Agency has something against you, and they’ve been trying to frame you with something for months. But this charge is ridiculous, worth a few fines at most. Giles owes you big, Spike. It’s time he paid you back.”

~*~
Buffy was exasperated. After her big speech back at the jail about how much they owed Spike, Giles was being difficult. Unfortunately, Giles didn’t see things quite the same way that she did.

“Giles, he wasn’t smuggling heroin! He was smuggling contraceptives. Into South America, or some where. That’s not the same thing at all!”

“It’s still illegal, Buffy.” Admitting that he was her birth father hadn’t changed their relationship at all. Giles was still implacable, intractable and over protective. As bad as Hank had been, she had the uncharitable thought that she was probably better off that she hadn’t been raised with him as her father.

“Yes, it is, but it’s not the same and you know it. You lied to me, Giles. You knew what I thought and you let me believe it was true.”

“That’s unfair, Buffy. It was obvious that you were conflicted about your feelings for Spike. You accepted what Riley told you without question, and that seemed to be the end of it. I thought it was rather a good end to things. You didn’t have to be involved in the take down, and yet a dangerous criminal was out of the way.”

“Oh yeah, and contraceptives are sooo dangerous.”

“You do realize that there were more than just prophylactics in that shipment? The pill is only the most mild form of birth control. That packing crate also contained what is commonly referred to as Plan B, as well as drugs used to actually cause an abortion. Some people would equate that with infanticide.”

“I know that, Giles. But they’re not illegal. At least not here. Plus, well, I’ve spent most of my life in LA, and I know that what people can’t get legally they’ll try to get any other way they can. If contraceptives aren’t available, they’ll settle for abortion. And if safe abortions aren’t available, well, they may turn to whatever witch doctors they can find. Shipping those drugs where he did may be illegal, but it’s a far cry from murder. In fact, it might have saved some women’s lives. If his actions stopped even one woman from doing something desperate, then it was worth it. If he were charged with something else, something, I don’t know, something evil, I might not ask this. But he just shipped pharmaceuticals, prophylactics and drugs that are perfectly legal here. And they were going to a clinic, not some dictator or drug lord. Besides, it proves my point. If someone went to all these pains to bring him in on such trumped up charges, it proves that Spike’s being set up. Someone powerful wants him brought down, and that’s who you should be going after. Not Spike.”

“Buffy, just because someone else wants to see him behind bars, doesn’t mean that he is not in fact guilty of the things he’s been charged with. You and I both know that this is only the tip of the iceberg of his probable illegal activity. He’s guilty, and as such he deserves to be punished. That’s the law.”

“It may be the law, but you owe him Giles. If it wasn’t for him, you never would have known about Dawn. Never knew that you had two daughters. And he protected Dawn, when there was absolutely no reason for him to. At great cost, and from her own mother I might add, for no other reason than that he’s a nice guy who didn’t want to see a young girl forced into a life that she didn’t choose. So, no, I don’t think it’s asking too much to see if you might be able to find a reason to convince the Powers that Be to let this one go. Turn a blind eye, make a deal. I don’t care. But Spike doesn’t deserve to go to prison, Giles. Not for this. If I didn’t know there must be someone else behind the scenes pulling his strings, I’d be tempted to say that Riley set it all up. He was so smug about it when he told me. And he made sure to phrase it in such a way that I was certain to misunderstand. But he’s not smart enough to come up with this whole operation on his own. Someone else is behind this – and I think it’s important that we find out who.”

“Fine Buffy. You win. As a favor to you and because of what he did for Dawn, I’ll see what I can do.”

A/N: Not being well versed in legalese, I can’t say much about US laws regarding extradition, most of what I could find was concerned with extraditing U.S. criminals from other countries to stand trial in the U.S., not the other way around. My justification for those that want a more accurate approach is that and even if it may not be a likely response for the crimes Spike is charged with, the mere threat could be used as intimidation. And of course we are talking about powerful and unscrupulous people here – could be they’d find a way to circumvent inconvenient legal truths if they wanted to. However, it is a fact that many types of contraceptives are illegal in parts of Central and South America (as well as other places) so it seemed plausible. Mostly, I wanted to show what an ass Riley is, and how easy it is for him to make Buffy believe the worst about Spike. Also, I don’t mean to take any particular political stand here, tried to be sympathetic to all points of view, and go back and see above re Riley being an ass by purposely trying to mislead Buffy into thinking something that is entirely not true. For any of you who are counting coup – this was my take on the demon eggs episode.

57. A cake in the oven

“Something smells in here,” Dawn was wrinkling her nose as she walked in on Buffy in the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m baking a cake.”

“You can’t bake a cake. You’re a worse cook than I am, and that’s saying something. Besides, I’m pretty sure that you don’t put diet coke in a cake mix. You’re supposed to follow the recipe on the back of the box.”

“I’m not making that cake. I got this recipe from Willow. It’s a diet cake. Less fat in it this way.”

“Right. You save calories because it tastes like barf, so no one eats it. I get it. But why are you baking in the first place? It’s not a very Buffy thing to do.”

“I want to have Giles over for dinner. After all, he is our father. Besides, I want to thank him for what he did for Spike.”

“He didn’t do anything. The whole thing was stupid anyway. Who goes to jail for selling condoms?”

“It was illegal, Dawnie.”

“This isn’t the dark ages. Women are not chattel. I can’t believe anyone would send a man to prison for selling birth control.”

“Not everywhere is the United States, Dawn. Some cultures have different laws, different views on things. If they’d sent him overseas it could have been bad. I’m just happy it didn’t come to that.”

“Then you should tell Spike, not Giles.”

Buffy dropped the spoon, and looked at her sister before replying. “I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet.”

“I don’t understand why you and Giles assume that Spike must be some kind of monster. I just don’t get it at all. I lived with the guy for months. He never as much as looked at me, let alone touched me, and believe me, there were times when I really really wanted him to. I don’t know what happened between you two, but it wasn’t that.” Dawn reached over and dipped her finger in the batter to taste it, made a face, and wiped the rest off on a napkin before looking up at her sister thoughtfully. “Besides, Giles doesn’t even know about that, does he? I mean, that’s not really the kind of thing you tell your boss… or your father, is it? If you had told him that little story, I am sure there is nothing in heaven or earth that could persuade him to help Spike.”

“No, Giles doesn’t know about that. He doesn’t trust Spike because of something else.”

“What Buffy? If there’s something else I need to know about it. Because I just can’t believe that he would put something in your drink. In the first place, he wouldn’t need to, cause you’ve been crushing on him something bad for months. If he’d pushed, you’d have slept with him sure. And in the second place, its not the kind of thing that he would do. Ever. You keep forgetting that I lived with him. Even though he owns a drug company, he like, doesn’t even take aspirin. It was kinda weird. So tell me what Giles has against Spike, so I can tell you the truth.”

Buffy considered Dawn’s request as she poured the batter into the pan and put it in the oven. It really did look kind of disgusting. But she knew she had followed Willow’s recipe exactly. The cake should turn out fine. It was her sister she was worried about now. She was right, she needed to know all the facts.

“Have you ever seen Spike’s studio? Have you ever seen him paint?”

“Paint? No, I knew he was interested in art. Didn’t know he painted himself. Is he any good?”

“That’s how all this got started. He sold some paintings that turned out to be forgeries, and I was supposed to investigate. Turns out he’s a painter as well as a collector, and some of his paintings are just well, creepy. But when we ran his fingerprints through Interpol, we found something much worse. Somehow, oh, years ago, he was involved in something that left three young girls dead in three corners of the globe. No charges were ever filed, but why would the same fingerprints be at three different murder scenes if he didn’t have anything to do with it?”

“Surely you didn’t leave the investigation there. What did you come up with?”

“Not much. The Chinese didn’t even really want to talk about it. They’re heavy into the Beijing Olympics, and couldn’t be bothered.”

“Chinese? Boy when you said three corners of the globe, you really meant it. But I take it none of it ever came to anything, or it wouldn’t be selling contraceptives he’d be in jail for.”

“No. It was all circumstantial evidence. Nothing that would hold up in court.”

“And what did Spike have to say about it? Did you even ask him? Maybe he was trying to save those girls. Did that ever occur to you.”

Realizing she had forgotten to turn on the oven, Buffy turned the dial up as far as it would go so that it would warm up quickly. She’d turn it down again in a minute or two.

“Yes, Dawn we asked him.” She decided to leave out the part about the lie detector.

“We? As in not just you,” Dawn humphed. “Well, what did you find out?”

“Not much. Nothing to prove conclusively that he is guilty or innocent…”

“But if there was, Giles would have locked him up right then. Giles WANTED to lock him up. If he didn’t, that must mean that Spike is innocent.”

“It’s not quite that simple, Dawn. I mean, what are the chances, three different girls in different parts of the world? Even if we can’t prove that he did it, it’s just too much to be coincidence. And then there are the paintings. There are dead and tortured peoples in his paintings, Dawn. That’s not normal.”

“For some people it is. Rodin, Bosch, Bruegel.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Artists. Famous artists. They painted really disgusting things sometimes. No one called them murderers because of it.”

“Dawn, this is entirely different.”

“Is it?” Dawn narrowed her eyes at her sister. “YOU think he did it, don’t you? That’s why you can’t bring yourself to like him. You think he killed some girl who knows how long ago, and you let that belief color everything else you learn about him. Buffy, he’s not like that. I don’t know what else happened in China or wherever else he is supposed to have been, but I have faith in Spike. I know the man, and whatever the evidence, I don’t believe he is capable of such a thing.”

“He as much as admitted it. The girl in China…”

“You just said there was no proof.”

“Let me finish, Dawn. The girl in China, he admitted that he killed her, but he said it was self-defense. And admittedly, it probably was her weapon. But why she would attack him with a sword, he said he didn’t know. And the girl in New York, he said it was drug overdose. Giles had the autopsy results pulled, and it fits. Or at least it could. But the third girl, the most brutal of the three. He said he didn’t even remember being in Romania, let alone the girl who died there.”

“And Giles let it go?”

“Yes. Tara confirmed it. She’s known about the gaps in his memory for years. It’s one of the reasons he first started seeing her.” For whatever reason, she was still hesitant to share the whole polygraph experience with her sister.

“So, you still don’t know for sure. That’s what you’re saying. You believe the circumstantial evidence, even if you think that a jury wouldn’t.”

“I’m saying I’m not sure. Even before…before this incident at the party… Well, taken together, there’s too much there for me to trust him, Dawn. And if I’m not sure if I can trust him…”

“Then how can you love him?”

Dawn just smiled as Buffy looked shocked. “Please. Even I know what this is all really about. But you have it backwards, Buffy. You just have to decide - if you love him, you have to trust him. And if you don’t love him, then it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

On her way out of the kitchen, Dawn turned the oven back down to a reasonable temperature. Just because the cake was going to be inedible, didn’t mean it should be burned to a cinder. She figured that she’d have to be the one to take it out again in an hour too, her sister had some thinking to do. If she could save her any more disappointments in life she would, but Buffy was going to have to work this one out on her own.

A/N: The cake recipe is real. I am told it is a weight watchers trick, to replace the oil and egg that usually go in a cake with diet soda, and then replace the frosting with diet jello poured into (not on top of) the cake. Sounds really nasty to me. I haven’t tried it. If you’re brave (or foolish) enough to try it, let me know how it turns out.

58. Disappointments and Promises


The garden outside Tara’s house was quiet in the middle of the night. During the day, you could hear the lull of the passing traffic going by not too far away from the other side of the bougainvillea bushes. But at night, the garden could have been anywhere.

They hadn’t spoken in a while now, and the cool of the night was beginning to make this non-activity uncomfortable. Laying a sisterly hand on his shoulder, Tara leaned in close to whisper, “You gonna be all right, Spike?”

“Sure, Tara. I’m fine,” the lie was so ingrained now, it was hard to respond any other way. Gunn could have driven him home, but he’d decided to stop and visit Tara first. A short stay had somehow turned into something much longer, although nothing much had been said until they found themselves alone in the garden as night was beginning to fall. It just wasn’t something he felt comfortable talking about with Red hanging out, listening in the background.

He just hadn’t had the heart to go home. Somehow the big house just seemed so much more lonely now that Dawn no longer lived there. And the memories he had of his night with Buffy were still too raw to consider. He tried to shrug his recent troubles away. Really, the little stint he’d just spent in jail was the least of his worries now that everything was sorted. It was Buffy’s reaction to him that he still found puzzling. He didn’t know whether to love her or to hate her, mostly because he wasn’t sure whether she loved or hated HIM. “Just a little of the hard tackle trying to scare me. Never did have any teeth behind it.”

Tara smiled, but her eyes were kind. “I’m sure it didn’t feel that way while you were spending the night in a jail cell. That must have been traumatizing.”

“I’ve been worse places,” he shrugged. “Still, wouldn’t say no to a cuppa tea.” She was too sweet to say anything, but he could tell that Tara had had enough of the great outdoors. Once upon a time he’d been able to share his troubles with Joyce over a cup of hot chocolate, and he’d loved that as well. Of course in both cases it was the company more than the warmth of the liquid that he craved.

Bitterly, it occurred to him to wondered if Buffy had her mother’s secret chocolate recipe. Other than at the coffee shop, he and Buffy had never had the opportunity to talk in the kitchen over a warm beverage. If he had it all to do over again, he’d have forced her to sit in the kitchen with him that night, rather than letting her take him upstairs. Sharing a cuppa in the kitchen was a highly under rated pleasure. He sighed over his cup and let the steam warm his face, determined to leave all the unpleasantness behind him. “It’s all over, fine’s been paid. No harm done. Best to move on.”

“Moving on is good,” Tara agreed, cupping her hands around the warm bowl and letting the warmth seep into her soul. She knew what they weren’t talking about as much as what they were. “But I’d hardly agree that no harm was done. Aside from the personal injustice, there’s the money, which was not inconsiderable, especially when you add in the fact that you’re forbidden to do business in any of those countries for the next five years. As if that wasn’t enough, the scandal was in all the papers.”

“Scandal’s good publicity. Besides, some people are coming down on my side. Think I did the right thing. It’ll blow over.” He smiled into his cup, “Not sexy enough to keep the public’s attention that long.”

“You mean you’re not sexy enough, or the crime isn’t?”

“You know I mean the crime. I’m a right sexy bloke. If you didn’t turn the other way, we’d have been an item long ago, whether you won the Client/Patient Ethics Award or not.”

“You know I’m seeing someone, Spike.” Willow had been there all afternoon. They were practically living together now. She was waiting upstairs for her now, probably already asleep.

“Yeah, I know. I’d best be going then, leave you two lovebirds alone. Thanks for the cuppa and the conversation. You're a good friend, Tara.”

“You know I’ll always be here for you Spike. Any time.”

He was glad that Tara had finally found someone that seemed right for her. It was late, and he had his own home to go back to. He should let his friend enjoy her new lover. He had no doubt that Tara would always make time for him whenever he needed her. But it was time to go back to standing on his own two feet. Buffy would have to come to her own decisions. “Ta, luv. Thanks.”

~*~


“You stupid, worthless piece of shit!” Angelus held Warren by his shirt and was breathing into his face. Really, in a physical contest between the two, there was no uncertainty about the outcome. “What do you mean telling me he’s out on bail? I thought you said that English ponce had clout. A fucking day and a half and he’s out?” If Warren hadn’t been scared shitless, he would have complained about the fetid smell of Angel breath and spit that escaped his mouth as he yelled.

“Angelus, calm down.” If Warren thought that he could have avoided the big man’s wrath he would have tried to scamper away. As it was, he knew it was hopeless. All he could do was try to reason with the behemoth. Yeah, as if that ever worked. But when it was all you had left, you had to go for it.

“You’re not listening. That wasn’t the big finale. Not even close. Just an appetizer, a little tease before the big one so he’ll have had a taste of what its going to be like when he’s put away for the rest of his life. Remember the plan?” As Angelus eased up, Warren extricated himself and tried to straighten his sweater. “Thorndale hasn’t suffered nearly enough yet. Before he’s shut away, he needs to know, needs to see everyone he ever cared about destroyed. Just like Drusilla, that’s what you said. In order for that to happen, he needs to be free. This little indictment was never part of the plan anyway. Things need to happen slowly, in order, just like we discussed.”

“I could kill you, you know.”

“Yes,” Warren gasped, his tongue suddenly felt like concrete in his mouth. It’s not even like Rayne would care. “But you’re too smart for that. You know I could still be useful.”

“Useful,” Angelus snorted. “Like a bag of dog shit. Still, I bet you’d make a great flaming pile of crap if it comes down to it. Send the old man a message – deliver it right to his office. That’d make an impression. What do you think?”

“I think you’d do much better not to piss Mr. Rayne off. Keep things civilized. Give it a day or two, and if you’re still unhappy, I’ll arrange another meeting and you two can hammer it out. But if things play out the way they’re supposed to…I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” Warren wasn’t really privy to his master’s plans, but he had to say something. It sounded good, didn’t it? That is, he knew Rayne was planning something big, he just didn’t know what form it would take.

“I don’t like this cat and mouse. Why won’t you just tell me what you have planned?”

“I’m sorry, if I knew the details, believe me, I’d tell you. All I know is that Rayne claims he has a way to handle Ms. Summers. First Buffy, then Dawn. There’ll be nothing Thorndale will be able to do to help either one of them. And believe me, I’ve been around Rayne long enough to know that he means what he says. Just wait for it. Then, after he’s gotten to the girls, Rayne will go for Spike. Something that will really stick this time. Something he can’t wriggle his way out of with a smile and fine. I’m sure of it.”

59. Sex, Lies and Videotape


Ethan waited as long as he could, but he was too excited to let too much time pass. Everything had worked out even better than he himself could have imagined. Oh, Warren had done his part, but it was what Buffy and Spike had done to themselves that was going to be the icing on the cake. Really, it was too delicious. And the best part of that was that he hadn’t had a hand in it at all.

Finally, it was all beginning, he could hardly keep himself from whistling.

Ethan Rayne smiling was a rare enough sight that those who knew him stayed well out of his way. Ethan Rayne smiling as he walked into his boss’s office, Quentin Travers’ office, was so unheard of that gossip started spreading immediately.

No one thought that any good could possibly come of such a meeting. Although Travers was the man in charge, everyone knew that Rayne was the man to be afraid of. It seemed like Rayne had finally found something to hang over Traver’s head. Scuttlebutt was that it was something that could necessitate a change of command.

Wishing that she could be a fly on that particular wall, Lydia Chalmers let Rayne into the inner office. It didn’t go unnoticed that he carried a DVD case in his hand. It didn’t seem likely that it was a rental from the local blockbuster. Perhaps there had been a major breakthrough on one of his cases, and Rayne had the proof on tape. The other thought that flickered through the secretary’s mind was that the surveillance tape contained possible blackmail material. And she wondered if there were any credence to the rumors that she was about to get a new boss.

Hurriedly she wondered if she had always been cordial enough to Rayne? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t care for him personally, but then she was enough of a professional not to let her personal feelings show. No, there were only two things that worried her – and she was afraid that if she didn’t get one, she’d be stuck with the other.

Either Rayne would fire or demote her if he took over, moving in his own personal assistant and his own staff, or even a worse prospect, he would keep her in her current position. There were rumors about Rayne and his personal staff. Rumors that she had never wanted to know the truth about. Staunchly she made up her mind that if it came to that, she would simply quit.

Aside from the fact that she didn’t want to sleep with a man that she found personally distasteful, from the rumors that circulated the office, Rayne’s tastes were somewhat, unusual. No, she would much rather lose her job than submit to a man like that. On the other hand, even if she did quit, that didn’t mean that Rayne would necessarily let her go quietly. There were all manner of things he could still do to her – preventing her from getting another job was the very least of the things that she could think of. She’d have to speak to Travers as soon as this meeting was over to see if she could get a sense of how the wind was blowing.

If it looked like the old man was going to be tossed out on his ear, she’d make a big stand and go with him. That way she wouldn’t have to admit that her real reason for leaving was to escape Rayne’s attentions. Travers may be a pompous arrogant fool, but at least he wasn’t completely evil.

~*~


Contrary to her expectations, when the door opened again, both men were smiling and laughing like they had a good time together. She couldn’t understand it. She had been so sure that Rayne’s grin had been one of malicious intent. Perhaps she had misjudged the man all together. Perhaps they all had.

“I think I need to see Ms. Walsh next,” Travers ordered. “I need to see her just as soon as she can get up here. Oh, and in case I forgot to mention it – I’m not to be disturbed for any reason during these meetings. Right now this is all still very confidential. An internal matter. No doubt you’ll figure it out in good time, Lydia, along with everyone else. Now get Maggie on the phone. There’s a good girl.”

Lydia was tired of Travers supercilious attitude. He may be head of the Agency, but nobody had died and made him God. Besides, he wasn’t fooling anyone with that tripe about “Ms. Walsh.” It was common knowledge just what exactly Ms Walsh had done in order to earn herself her job title. What she continued to do. What she was probably going to do for Travers in his office right now.

It’s not like the two of them even cared for one another. The whole thing smacked of a business arrangement, pure and simple. Lydia determined to put on a headset and do some dictation so she wouldn’t have to hear any stray thuds or grunts and groans. Plausible deniability was what she needed right now.

Even so, she couldn’t help but glance at the time when Maggie left the office with a self satisfied grin. She had been in with Travers more than twice the time it had taken him to have the same meeting with Rayne. Something was definitely up between those two, and she really, really, did not want to know any of the details.

The flip side was that Travers was always much more pleasant to deal with after he’d spent some private time with Ms. Walsh. Where before he had been short tempered and touchy, now he was far more forgiving. It was almost scary, if she didn’t know the reason for it.

“We’re agreed what has to be done. I suppose I need to see Rupert Giles next, and let him know what we’ve decided. It involves one of his operatives. Tell him he needs to come up here right away. I have something that he needs to see.”

“Of course, sir,” she replied, even more surprised than before, but a bit pleased. If Giles was going to be brought in on whatever it was, she might have a chance of finding out for herself whatever it was that had so pleased the two older men, and inspired Quentin to call his lover up for an afternoon quickie. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen Travers so pleased with himself. Not even after he’d been with his mistress.

And so it was again with puzzlement that Lydia watched as Rupert Giles stormed out of Traver’s office less than five minutes after entering. Instead of looking pleased, his face was red and he was wiping his brow with the handkerchief he still always carried, although it was an incredibly old fashioned thing to do.

“No,” he stormed back over his shoulders at the beaming Travers. “I will not watch it, and neither should you, you old lech. It proves absolutely nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Oh, come on Giles. Just because the girl works for you doesn’t mean you have to wear blinders. She’s obviously been lying to you all along. How else do you explain what’s on that tape? To say nothing of the half million dollars recently deposited into her account. The girl is quite a looker, I’ll say that, but she’s obviously as guilty as sin. Even if you don’t want to see the whole tape, that much should be pretty plain just from the first bit that you saw. If someone was being raped on that tape, it sure as hell wasn’t Buffy Summers.

“Maybe after she’s canned she’ll get a job at a nightclub, and we could all go by and help support her in her new career. Except I suppose she won’t have to, what with the half mil Thorndale paid her off with. I’m guessing the fuck was just a perk.

“I’ll have Rayne’s division work on the internal investigation. I can understand how you wouldn’t want to handle an indictment of one of your own. If you want, I’ll let you tell her she’s under investigation, though I think the resolution of the case if a foregone conclusion. Still, I suppose it’s only fair to see what she has to say in her own defense. You never know, if faced with the evidence she may come clean right away in an attempt to save her job. Either way I want her out of here – but it would save us a lot of trouble if you could find out what she’s really been up to all these months. Something more is going on here than we know – I’d stake my reputation on it.”

Giles huffed and stormed out of the office. He couldn’t imagine what he’d tell Buffy. Despite what the other men thought – Giles trusted Buffy Summers. Would have trusted her even if he hadn’t recently discovered that she was his daughter. Buffy was a good person, and unlike others at the Agency, she didn’t have a duplicitous bone in her body.

That was why she had been such a good undercover agent. When she was with Thorndale, it hadn’t been an act. She had genuinely liked Thorndale. He understood that now. Understood how difficult it had been for her to spy on a man that she cared for.

He still didn’t understand why she had slept with him, and how she had been stupid enough to let him record it. Maybe that was how she had been able to get a look at the contents of his safe? From Travers comments, he gathered that there had been less than subtle bondage involved. Maybe she had tied him up and… He didn’t want to think about it. Really didn’t want to think about it.

He would have to call Buffy in to his office and tell her that she was on permanent leave pending the outcome of an internal investigation. He paled as he thought of trying to explain what evidence they had against her.

He still didn’t understand why Buffy had apparently gone to see Fred Burkle the next morning, and had a rape prep done. It was clear that there was a lot going on in this case that she hadn’t seen fit to share with him. Was the whole physical exam merely to cover her tracks in case it became known that she was sleeping with Thorndale?

It wasn’t his preferred method of working undercover, but Giles knew, intimately, that sometimes it was unavoidable. But Buffy hadn’t wanted to admit that the two of them were intimate, and instead had laid the groundwork for claiming that she had been forced. What would motivate her to do that? And how did the supposed half million dollar pay off work in? Was the pay off for something? Surely not for getting him off the drug charges. That had been ludicrous to begin with.

But perhaps it had been for something that had happened earlier. Had Buffy some how rigged the polygraph to show that Thorndale was innocent when he really wasn’t? But then why would they have left so many loose ends about the incident in Romania? One key bit of information he didn’t have was the timing – when had Buffy begun sleeping with Thorndale, and why?

There was nothing left for it. He was going to have to confront Buffy, and tell her the bad news.

It was a measure of how perturbed he really was that it didn’t even occur to him that he should inform Travers of his personal relationship with Buffy Summers. That by not coming forward, and telling Travers that Buffy Summers was his daughter, he was opening himself to possible allegations.

60. Supposition

Travers decided to play it cool, and see if the girl would incriminate herself before he even began his questioning. Some of the agents these days were so stupid, and Buffy Summers looked like she’d fit right in with the blonde and brainless set. He really must pay more attention to recruitment.

“Ah, Ms. Summers. I am so glad that you could come and see me today, since this is not your normal day to be with us. I understand that you have been investigating a certain William Thorndale. I’d like to know how your investigation is going.”

Annoyed, Buffy snapped back at the pompous supervisor. She really didn’t want to be thinking about any of this right now. She had planned to take a few days off and spend them with Dawn. “Not to be rude, Mr. Travers, but I’ve already filed all my reports with my supervisor. Is there any special reason why you need to speak to me about the case?”

“Actually, yes there is. And I have seen all of your official reports. What I’d like to know is your unofficial report. For example, is the investigation worthwhile, or do you feel that it is a waste of government time and resources? I’d like to have your assessment, your feelings as it were. Also, if there are any details, anything that you may have left out of your report – I need to know that as well.”

Buffy’s heart started beating harder. “Does that mean you are considering dropping the case entirely? Has Spike been cleared?”

“Spike? Not ‘Mr. Thorndale?’ Not even ‘William’? Tell me, is that the way you think of him, Ms. Summers?’”

Buffy blushed, but didn’t answer, so Travers continued.

“I know that agents, especially female agents, sometimes feel that it is a useful tactic to be, how should I put this delicately…umm… intimate with their target. They feel it makes them seem more trustworthy, and puts the target in a state of mind where he is likely to reveal things that he might not otherwise. Tell me, Ms. Summers, are you that type of agent? Is that why you refer to him as “Spike?” Because you have been… close?”

Blushing, Buffy could barely get the words out. “No, Mr. Travers. But…it’s not like that. I mean, we were friends. I thought we were friends.”

“Friends? With a suspect? That’s quite frowned upon, you know.”

“I’m new to all this undercover stuff. Plus, he found me out – I got caught snooping through his things and he figured out who I worked for, well, sort of. Surely you already know all this, Mr. Travers, if you’ve read the reports.” This was getting worse and worse. She was not about to start discussing her private life with this old geezer.

“Of course I do, my dear. Like I said, I just want to get a sense of your relationship with the man. As you said, you were friends. Meaning that you are not anymore?”

“No,” she whispered. “No, we’re not friends any more. Something happened and I …Well, that is to say I still think that he’s innocent of everything he’s been accused of, but, no, we’re not friends anymore.”

“I see. We’ll come back to that in a moment. Is there anything going on in your personal life that you feel I should be aware of?”

“What do you mean, my personal life? I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Alarms were starting to go off in her head. This whole interview was strange, everything seemed off.

“But it is, if it impacts on your work or calls into question your integrity. Now answer the question Ms. Summers.”

Standing, Buffy confronted Travers directly. “What is all this? Why am I being questioned? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Laying his cards on the table, Quentin admitted, “That is what we are trying to ascertain. Quite frankly, things don’t look too good for you right now. In fact they look very bad indeed, so I suggest that you start telling me what I want to hear, or you may find, young lady, that you are the one being brought up on charges.”

“Charges? What am I accused of? I have a right to know.”

“Nothing as of yet. I’m waiting to see what you have to say before I decide whether or not to suspend you and order an internal investigation. So tell me again, before I have to draw my own conclusions. What is your relationship with the suspect, William Thorndale?”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “What do you want to know?”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning and continue until the present day.”

“But you know all this!” she protested.

“Indulge me. Please. From the beginning.”

“Fine. We met before he came under suspicion. That’s how I got assigned to the case in the first place. You must know I usually work in the office – I’d never done undercover work before, had no desire to really. My specialty is in art and art history. What with all the rash of recent forgeries and thefts, never mind trying to trace ownership of famous works that were stolen my the Nazi’s and that are only now emerging, well, it’s been busy.”

“And were you happy in that line of work? You didn’t yearn for something a little more, exciting, perhaps.”

“No. I was quite content. But after I met Thorndale, everything changed.”

“You started to fall in love with him, is that what you mean? A young impressionable girl like you spending time with a handsome and rich bachelor like Thorndale. I’m not surprised. You thought maybe becoming Mrs. Thorndale would be the better job, is that it?”

“What? No. It’s complicated. Like I said, we were friends. But it was hard, because he was still a suspect, and sometimes I’d be worried that maybe he really was a bad man and that he was just pretending to be nice.”

“And did you in fact find that that was the case?”

“He…it was frustrating, for both of us. He…I…that is to say, when I went over to his house last week, I think he put something in my drink.” Travers continued to look at her with disdain, “Yes? Go on.”

“I think he put something in my drink. I don’t know what. Ketamine, GHB, something that shouldn’t have been there. There was a white residue on the glass in the morning.”

“In the morning? As in you were there all night?”

“Yes. I was there all night. But, it wasn’t my choice. I was drugged.”

“I see. And tell me what happened next. You do know that whatever the outcome of our little chat, this will be part of your permanent record. Not only did you allow it to happen in the first place, but then you deliberately left out any mention of this incident in your formal reports. So I need you to be very honest with me, Ms. Summers. Your job is at stake here – perhaps more.”

Swallowing hard, Buffy struggled to continue. “In the morning, I was upset. I left in a hurry, and I ran into Agent Finn. He saw that I was upset and made me go see Dr. Burkle. They can both confirm everything I’ve said, if you don’t believe me.”

“Of course. Both Finn and Burkle filed the necessary paperwork describing the encounter.”

Buffy winced. Of course they would. What had she been thinking? Everything she did with Thorndale was part of the investigation, or at least that was the way Travers was likely to view it.

“What I am wondering,” Travers continued, “is why you didn’t? And, if as you claim, Mr. Thorndale drugged you, why did you not even pursue the option of pressing charges? Ms. Burkle suggested that you seek legal council, did she not?”

“Yes. But – I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to… There was no proof.”

“No,” Travers sighed. “No proof at all. Do you want to know what Ms. Burkle’s report found? Nothing! No bruises, no evidence of a struggle…”

“But I told you, he put something in my drink…”

“Did he? She did a blood test. Negative. The drugs you described would have still been in your system, Ms. Summers. There was nothing. Not even an elevated alcohol level.”

As Travers began shouting, Buffy started trembling. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t.

“Do you want to know what I think? I think you and Thorndale have been intimate from the very beginning. That the two of you have been plotting something together, and that this was all some elaborate scheme to cover your tracks should you in fact ever come under investigation. You’d be able to cry ‘rape’ and everyone would come to your defense. Well, it’s not going to happen that way, Ms. Summers. If you were going to claim foul play you should at least have tried to make it look convincing. A few rope marks around the wrist for example might have added an air of realism to the proceeding. Or a few bruises, at least. Something other than this lame cry of “he put something in my drink.” Really, Ms. Summers, how stupid do you think we are?”

“What makes you say that? You have no proof! Nothing. At the very worst, it is my word against yours.”

“Not entirely, Ms. Summers. I have in my possession a recording of what went on in Thorndale’s bedroom that night. Would you like to see it, Ms. Summers?”

As Buffy blanched Travers pressed on. “My senior staff and I have already viewed it, and we’ve come to the same conclusion. No date rape drug in history could have produced the effects that we saw on that tape. No, Ms. Summers, you were a very willing participant of the evening’s activities. Actually the instigator as it was. Being so quiet and, I never would have guessed that you had more than a bit of the dominatrix in you. It was quite a show you put on. But it was not, by any stretch of the imagination, rape.

“Do you know how I see events, Ms. Summers? Let me tell you. You are friends with William Thorndale, and somehow get yourself assigned to his case. While pretending to collect evidence against him, you in fact warn him about possible angles of investigation. We even have one such conversation on tape. When certain evidence comes to light that you are not able to suppress, you help him to broker a deal with the Agency, even somehow bribe or sabotage the polygraph so that he is able to pass the lie detector test. Then, when Agent Finn finally does come up with some solid evidence against him, you again try to broker a deal for him with your supervisor. When all goes as expected, and Mr. Thorndale is released, he rewards you with a payment of nearly one half million dollars. Tell me, Ms. Summers, what do you think of my scenario?”

“It was a painting,” she whispered, although she knew that Travers wasn’t really listening. “He bought one of my mother’s paintings, through a broker in New York.”

“Yes. And no doubt you thought you were being clever, didn’t you? But a man doesn’t pay a half million dollars for a painting generously valued at only one fifth of that. The most expensive of your mother’s paintings sold for far less than that, and it was a far larger and more significant piece than the little portrait Thorndale bought. Oh yes, I know a bit about Art myself, Ms. Summers.”

Not much, Buffy thought inconsequentially, if he somehow thought that the a larger painting was automatically “more significant” and therefore worth more. There wasn’t going to be any good way to explain to Travers that the painting had had personal significance to them both, and that was why she had sold it so dear. She hadn’t really wanted to sell it at all. Now she wished that she hadn’t. It just made Travers accusations seem that much more plausible.

“Consider yourself under suspension, Ms. Summers. At the conclusion of the internal investigation you will find out if you’ve merely been fired, or, as I rather suspect, criminal charges will be filed. I think you’ll find that we don’t treat traitors, gently, Ms. Summers. Not in this day and age. Oh, and I wouldn’t try to cross any state boundaries if I were you. No doubt you’ll be hearing from us shortly. Should you at any point in time change your mind and decide that you are willing to cooperate with the investigation, please be sure to let me know. You may go. Security will escort you downstairs.”

“I…Don’t I get to say goodbye to my friends? Get my personal things?”

“I rather think not. As of now, all your personal effects are part of the internal investigation. Good day Ms. Summers.”

Lydia watched in cool satisfaction as the coy Ms. Summers was escorted out of the office. She didn’t approve of anyone getting too close to the subject of an investigation, and if the rumors she had heard were true, well, she deserved whatever she got.