~Chapter 1: School Hard~

The school bell rang loudly, signaling the end of six period with its forceful sound. Students started shuffling about, grabbing their books and pencils, while chatting incessantly about typical
high school things like the last rumors or what they were gonna do for the weekend. Mr. Pratt stood by the open door, grabbing the pop quizzes he had just assigned to the thirty odd American
History students from their hands as they left the room.

His light blue button-down dress shirt, and black slacks were a extreme contrast to his shockingly platinum blonde hair, but he wore it well. At the age of thirty-two, he had yet to completely
outgrow his high school punk fashion that had been all the rage in 1980’s when he had come into his own.

The high chiseled cheek bones that shaped his handsome face seemed to defy gravity, and lead the path straight down to his very strong jaw line. His skin held a hint of tan, yet the paleness that existed there underneath still seemed to shine through, causing him to look almost flawless in appearance, and showed a slight contrast to his full lips that were now curved up into a open smile.

The most notable feature about his appearance was his eyes, however. Which were a dazzling shade of bright azure that seemed to change in color depending on his mood. Right now, they were so light in appearance, they almost looked supernatural.

“Remember your essays are due Monday.” He reminded them, rearranging the stack of papers in his hands. “No exceptions this time, Mr. Abrams.”

Parker smirked, stopping to hand over his quiz. “That was a one time deal, Spike. I totally respect your deadlines. You know you’re my favorite teacher.”

The older man gave him a disbelieving look, and proceeded to correct him. “It’s Mr. Pratt, Parker. And I wish you’d show that much enthusiasm about before the bell rings. Maybe I’m being to easy on you. After all, I am your favorite teacher. Should I have assigned something
more for my favorite student?”

“Don’t like you that much, dude.”

“Didn’t think so. Have a good weekend.”

Parker shrugged, then patted Spike on the shoulder friendly. “Have a nice weekend, teach. Go out, have fun. You should really look into getting laid too.”

“That’s enough, Parker. I’ll see you on Monday, with your Civil War essay complete and ready to hand in.” Spike gave him a stern look, which was only met with an amused chuckle, as Parker and the rest of the class poured out.

Spike looked over the papers briefly, checking the various answers absentmindedly, looking up suddenly when he noticed someone stop in front of him. “Mr. Giles. Was there something you needed?”

The older British man gave him a sorrowful look, taking off his thin-wired glasses to rub at the furiously, while looking anywhere but in Spike’s questioning blue eyes. They stood there in silence for a moment, the rumbling sounds of moving feet and horseplay
surrounding them.

Spike was completely confused by Giles’ regretful demeanor, thrown for a loop as to what could be so upsetting as to warrant such a dramatic response from the normally calm and collected librarian. He moved to let the older man enter the room, nodding in the direction toward his desk.
Giles placed his glasses back on his face, and followed behind, coming to a stop a few feet away from the old wooden desk, that was neatly organized. Spike put the quizzes into his bag, and turned back to the other man expectantly.

“Everything alright, Giles? You look like a bloke who’s puppy just bloody died.” Spike smirked, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“Mr. Pratt, this is a very serious matter!” Giles told him, his voice raising an octave or two.

Spike knew something was severely wrong now. In all the years that he had been working here, just down the hall from his closest colleague, Rupert Giles had only resorted to using his formal name when forced to. In times when it was needed to drive a serious point home.

Giles was like a father to him, someone who had always stood by him, when even his real father had not. They had formed a friendship immediately, but men bonding over the obvious that they were fellow Brits. The tweed-wearing librarian had been the one to teach him the ropes on his first day of class seven years ago. They had remained friends from then on out, and Spike knew that Giles never got upset unless it was very was important.

“Well, it would help if I knew what they bleedin’ hell the matter was, now wouldn’t it?” He narrowed his eyes.

Giles met his eyes head on, and grimaced. “I’m deeply sorry, William. There was nothing I could do. I tried to put in a good word. Told them you would never do a damn thing like this, but Snyder was very clear on the matter.”

“On what matter?” Spike questioned, his own voice raising now in his angered confusion. “Giles, please tell me what the bloody hell is goin’ on?!”

Giles ignored his questions, continuing on as though the blonde man had never spoken.

“William, you have to understand. Once these accusations are made, there is nothing that can be done. The school board was very upset. They didn’t even want to allow you to finish out today. I was able to get Snyder to wait until classes were through, so that none of your students would have to be witness-”

Spike cut him off, growing increasingly upset. “Witness to what?”

Someone cleared their throat across the room, and both Englishmen looked up sharply. Snyder stood in the doorway, a sickened expression of his rodent-like face.

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Giles.” The bald man said, walking slowly into the room, as if he ruled the world. His beady little eyes never left Spike, even though his words were directed at Giles. The students seem to have all cleared out. I suspect you have had enough time to explain the circumstances to Mr. Pratt?”

Spike narrowed his eyes at the man, not liking his condescending tone. He spoke as though Spike weren’t even in the room, and suddenly the blonde teacher remembered why had had never liked the little troll.

“Actually, Snyder, I had yet to fill William in as to what the circumstances are, exactly.” Giles replied in a tone that was meant to show Snyder he was not about to shy away from his patronizing manner.

“Well, I think it’s time to get the show on the road. Don’t cha think?” Snyder smiled callously.

Suddenly a police officer appeared in the doorway. Spike took a step back.

“Giles, wha-”

“Mr. Pratt, please let me take this moment to let everyone here know how deeply ashamed I am. I am appalled that something this severe has gone on without my knowledge. I assure you this situation will be dealt with accordingly.” Snyder played up the part of victim, while Spike looked on, confused beyond belief.

“Snyder, I have no bloody idea what you’re on ‘bout. Would someone please exp-”

Snyder cut him off then, putting his hands up to stop anything Spike might have to say in defense. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Once these kinds of accusations are made, it’s outta my hands. You’ve proved too much of a liability for this school. Officer?”

The officer came into the room then, coming to a stop beside Snyder, watching Spike closely.

“Please escort Mr. Pratt here from the building.”

The officer came over to Spike and grabbed his right wrist when he went to move away. “Giles-”

“Mr. Pratt, you are under arrest for the sexual assault of a minor.”

“What?!” Spike asked in disbelief.

“The sexual assault-” He breathed, not able to force the words out. “Giles-”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will be used against you in a court of law.” The officer continued, ignoring Spike, as he cuffed the his hands behind his back listlessly. “You have a right to an attorney…”

“I’m sorry, William. I wish there was something I could do.” Giles told him sincerely, as though he thought Spike had actually committed the crime.

The officer lead Spike by his arm out of the classroom, Giles and Snyder following quickly behind.

“This is all just a huge bloody misunderstanding, Giles. I promise!” Spike told him venomously, trying to crane his neck to see the librarian behind the officer. “I need you to call my sister. Tell her to pick up Dawnie from school. Please.”

Giles nodded, though he knew Spike could not see it. “I will.”

“This is all a bloody mistake, Giles. I didn’t do anything.” Spike called out. Everything was happening so fast, and he felt as though the earth was spinning beneath him. Through the maelstrom of the situation, he was aware that he had been lead outside through the side doors, and was being guided into the back of a cruiser hurriedly, the blue and red lights flashing loudly around him. Closing his eyes at offending beams, he tried to gather his wits and get his breathing under control.

What the bloody hell was going on?

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~Chapter 2: Calvary~

Spike sighed heavily, feeling the tension further rise within him. He looked down at the bright orange shirt and pants he presently was sporting, letting his eyes drift over the bold black letters that let everyone know that he was currently a inmate of the ‘Sunnydale County Police Department.’ The words stared back at him, mocking him with their dirty appearance, and making him feel even more helpless.

“Bloody ‘ell.”

After being through the process of booking for the first time in his life, (he may have been a rebel in his way, but he wasn’t a criminal), he had been given the chance to use his one phone call, and used it to call his sister, Winifred. Following a very confusing conversation on what had just happened to him, Fred assured him that she would pick up Dawn from school, and look after her until this whole misunderstanding had been resolved and he was let go. She even offered to take Dawn out to Pizza Planet for dinner so Spike wouldn’t have to worry about getting her dinner when he came home.

Spike was grateful for that, and promised to make it up to her when he could. He and Fred had always been close, Spike always the one to look after his younger sister. Growing up in a house with two workaholic parents whom they rarely saw, the two siblings had grown to rely on each other immensely throughout their early years, always sticking together at school and on the playground.

When their parents separated seventeen years ago, Spike was fifteen, and little Fred had only been thirteen. Their mother, Trish, had decided to move back to Texas to find a house near her own parents, taking Fred with her. Spike had been devastated to loose his little sister and best friend, and had tried everything he could to go with them. Their father Liam, however, was adamant in the fact that Spike had to go with him. It would have been fine, except Liam dropped the bomb that he was moving his editing business to England, and had to be there to get the company off the ground and up and running.

So Spike had went to England, leaving his mother and sister in Texas. He threw himself into the fast-paced London night life and lived it up. But when he went home to an empty house later, he missed having a sister to confide in.

So after graduating high school at the top of his class, Spike returned home to California to study history. Trish had remarried some time ago, to a rich advertising CEO named Roger Burkle, who had moved the middle-aged woman and her teenage daughter to Los Angles. Fred had just turned sixteen, and was very excited to have her older brother and idol back to look after her.

The time that had passed had changed the two siblings, and the had both become strong independent people, never relying on their parents for anything. Spike had become a strong willed man with a natural charisma that made people drawn to him. Fred had grown into a mature young woman who was timid, but very charming. She had even managed to capture the heart of Spike’s long time lawyer, and best friend, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.

The sound of a metal door opening could be heard throughout the holding cells, where Spike was sitting. The blonde’s head snapped to attention immediately, his body straightening as he craned his neck to see down the empty hallway. A male officer came into view, and Spike recognized him as the older captain of the Sunnydale Police force, Mr. Lockley.

“Let’s go, Pratt.” Lockley called out, fishing through the set of keys in his hand until he found the right one to unlock the door.

Spike rose to his feet, walking quickly over to the opening cell door. “They cleared this thing up then, mate. Found that all this was a stupid bloody misunderstanding, an’ I’m free to go?”

Lockley laughed, like he had hear everything Spike was saying from somebody else before. “Like hell, Pratt. You’re lawyer’s here.”

Spike ran a shaky through his already mused hair, separating the gelled back curls and giving him a disheveled look. He still had yet to be told exactly what the charges were, opting himself to wait until Wes got here to help clear the matter up. But the other Brit was good at what he did, having won many cases since passing the bar exam.

If anyone could make sense of this whole situation, it was Wesley.

~*~*~*~

The interrogation room was fairly small, the long steel bars of the cell doors serving as walls for two of the four sides. The other two were of white dry-wall, with two small windows in the middle letting a stream of bright sunshine in. The beam shone down on the single metal table with a white tabletop and two chairs on either side of it that stood in the middle of the room.

Spike sat in one of the chairs, idly tapping his fingers on the tabletop, his head throbbing and his stomach in knots. He wasn’t sure if it showed, but he was scared beyond reason right now. After hearing that Wesley had indeed shown up, and the charges were not being dropped as he had been sure they would, Spike was really starting to wonder if something was wrong. The officer that had brought him in had told him that he was being charged with sexual assault of a minor, and now after having time in a very cold and musty cell, Spike thought he may have figured out what was going on. The only real thing it could be was-

The doors were opened then, and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce strode into the room purposefully. His crisp black suit, white dress shirt, and leather briefcase gave him the impression of a hard-dealing lawyer that wasn’t in the mood to negotiate. He had thin glasses that added to the appearance of a book smart man who knew the who’s and what’s of law. The expression on his face showed that he was ready to get down to business.

A young woman followed him into the room, carrying her own briefcase, and a stack of papers cradled in her right arm. She had long honey blonde hair, that was pulled back into a neat bun, a few stray hairs escaping their confines to fall around her face. She had a modern gray suit on, consisting of a fitted jacket that was held together in the front with a single button, and a knee length skirt with a small slit up the right side. Black pumps added extra height to her petite form.

“William, what in God’s name is going on?” Wesley asked, sitting his briefcase on the table and taking a seat. His normally classy British Accent taking on a roguish, deep tone.

“Funny. I was about to ask you the same bloody thing.” Spike replied, leaning forward on his elbows. “Wes, I am beyond confused right now. I need to know how the hell I ended up in here.”

Wesley sighed heavily, looking away for a moment as if to collect his thoughts. Turning back to his friend, he met his eyes and pursed him thin lips.

“You’re being accused of sexual assault, Spike.” Wesley leveled with him, not bothering to use his real name.

Spike blinked, shaking his head slowly. “I got that, Wes. They told me when they brought me in. What I don’t understand is why.”

“A student of yours came forth with a story. Told her father that you were helping her with her studies and took advantage of her.”

“A student-” Spike stopped himself, all of the pieces falling into place. His first assumption had been right after all. “Dru.”

Wesley nodded, looking behind him at the blonde girl, taking the manila folder she offered him and turning back to Spike. He opened it and looked over a sheet of paper. “A Drusilla Rayne, sixteen years old, a sophomore in your Advanced American History class. She says that you offered to help her with an assignment after school. She says that when you made an inappropriate pass at her, she tried to leave, and you stopped her and proceeded to assault her.”

Spike stared at him in disbelief.

“Are you bloody kiddin’ me?!” He shouted, jumping out of his chair to pace in front of the table. The guard standing by the closed door went to sit him back down, but Wesley put up his hand in protest. He backed off, but kept a watchful eye on the pacing man.

“I assure you that I’m not, Spike.” Wesley told him seriously. “Now, this is a very serious crime you’re being accused of. The school board is very put out that such a thing could occur right under their noses, and will be willing to testify against you in court to save face.”

“Testify?” Spike whispered, not feeling very well. “It’s going to trial?”

Wesley nodded slowly. “Of course.”

Spike stopped pacing for a moment to look down, bringing his hands up to run through his hair nervously. He felt faint, like he might fall over if he tried to moved, and worried that words would not come if he tried to speak.

“Spike, please tell me you weren’t helping Drusilla Rayne this past Tuesday at two o’clock.” Wesley pleaded in a fevered whisper, leaning forward.

Spike raised his head to look at him with tears in his blue eyes.

“She said that she needed help with an essay I assigned to her class. Said she wasn’t clear on the topic. So I offered to stay after with her to explain it better; help her get started with the first paragraph.” He confessed, knowing that he was in serious trouble.

“Oh, dear lord, Spike.” Wesley breathed, hanging his own head.

“I helped her with her bloody paper, Wesley. But that’s it. I would never-” He stopped himself, obviously over with distress, his blue eyes going wide. He suddenly started pacing again, watching as his feet moved quickly along the grimy tile.

Wesley watched on, feeling helpless to alleviate the state his friend was in. He looked up to his assistant and gave her a pointed look. She immediately pulled out another file, and handed it to the lawyer. Wesley took out a longer sheet of paper, and a fancy pen, sitting them on Spike’s side of the table.

“I’ve put together a statement that proclaims your innocence. You have a hearing tomorrow morning at eight o’clock. At which time I’ll make a plea, and a bail will be set. Once the bail is met, you’ll be free to go until the trial, which gives us time to put together our case.” Wesley told him.

“What does the statement say?” Spike asked, not stopping his pacing.

“What I figured you say before I talked to you. That you didn’t do it.”

“‘Course I didn’t bloody do it.”

“I never thought for one second that you did, Spike.” Wesley said honestly. “But all the evidence does point to you.”

“Point to me?” He asked incredulously, stopping his pacing then. “Point to me?! Wesley this is-” His voice caught in his throat.

“Wesley, they’re trying to accuse me of rape!” His voice rose to new heights and the blonde girl jumped from her spot behind Wesley, her hazel eyes widening. Spike’s eyes immediately went to her petite form, and noticed for the first time how pretty she was. He shook his head then, trying to clear his head of all those crazy thoughts.

Yes, hit on the paralegal who’s helping you get off on charges of SEXUAL ASSAULT, you bloody git!

“Spike, I will fix this. I promise you, I will. But you need to stay calm and try to keep a level head about this. You didn’t do this, and I will be damned if they try to put you away for something you didn’t do.”

Spike finally let his eyes leave the captivating hazel ones he was drawn to, and turned his attention back to the man helping him out. He nodded softly, sitting back down and looking over the statement. Looking up as a new thought came to him, he frowned.

“This means I spend the night ‘ere, then?”

“Yes, it does.”

Spike nodded, looking back down briefly before meeting Wesley’s understanding eyes. “Will you an’ Fred look after Dawnie for the night?”

“‘Course. We’ll be glad to have ‘er.”

Spike nodded, letting a small smile cross his face when he thought of his little girl. “She doesn’t have school tomorrow, and usually gets up ‘round nine. She’ll want pancakes, pro’lly the funny shaped ones with chocolate chips in ‘em. She likes to take bubble baths on the weekends, so you have to have extra bubbles. And make sure you get her, her Barbies from home, ‘cause she takes them in the tub with ‘er. And be sure t-”

“Spike.” Wesley stopped him, smiling. “I got it. Fred knows everything. Dawn’ll be just fine. We’ll take good care of her.”

Spike hesitated for a moment, then nodded softly, reaching over to grab the pen that Wesley had laid out for him. He signed the statement and slid it back without saying a word.

Wesley gathered his papers then and handed then back to the blonde silently. “Spike, I assure you, that this will all be taken care off accordingly. Dawn will stay with Fred and I for the night, and tomorrow we will go before the judge. I assume you will be making your own bail, then?”

Spike nodded, a gesture which Wesley returned.

“Okay, then. I will see you tomorrow morning.” Wesley stood, grabbing his briefcase, and turning to go.

The blonde girl hung back for a moment, a deep frown mirroring her features, as she gazed at Spike, watching him stand.

“Buffy? Are you coming, dear?” Wesley called, turning back to look at her.

She looked up sharply at him, then back to Spike, who stared at her blankly, too worn out to form a thought. She gave him a small, shy smile, and he could tell it was meant to set him at ease.

Spike nodded softly, returning her smile. She turned to go, stopping behind Wesley.

“Oh, and Spike.” Wesley called out, waiting until Spike looked up, and giving him pointed look, at which Spike nodded.

Then they left.



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Chapter 3: Up Close and Impersonal

Court went reasonably well. It was an informal session, and neither Drusilla or her lawyer were present for the hearing itself. Wesley didn’t have to do much, just sit and wait for the judge to set bail, and then post it when necessary. The judge set the court date for three months from now, giving them enough time to gather their defense. No doubt they had a lot of work ahead of them, and Spike dreaded it with everything he had.

He was let go after that, changing his clothes quickly in the back, and then getting out the building as fast as he could. Wesley was waiting for him outside, and gave him a ride back home. Fred was going to pick up his car from the school parking lot on her way to bring Dawn home. Spike had been ordered to stay off of campus until further notice.

He still didn’t understand how any of this could have happened. What would possess someone to make up such a terrible lie? Especially one that could lead to Spike spending a good portion of his life in prison. Lies like this ruined reputations. Whether they were true or not, people would always look at you differently after everything was said and done. Spike was almost sure that no matter the outcome of the trial, he would never be allowed to teach at Sunnydale again.

Throwing his keys in the near vicinity of the end table, Spike treaded up the stairs jadedly, feeling completely drained. He didn’t sleep for more than two hours in his hard excuse for a bed last night, his mind too occupied on trying to prove his innocence, and how he was going to explain where he had been to Dawn when he saw her next.

Dawn was the little spitfire who had bright eyes so blue they rivaled her father’s and a temper that equally matched his also. Her long brown hair and pale skin guaranteed that she was one of the most beautiful little girls in her kindergarten class. She had just turned six a few weeks ago, and had Spike wrapped around her little finger, a fact she played to the ‘T’ when asking for birthday presents. Spike showed her no limits in what she deserved, showering her with gifts and surprises whenever he saw fit. Fred always said that he was trying to make up for their absentee parents by making sure that Dawn had the very best of everything.

That was probably true.

But Spike was always sure to be there for her too, knowing that material objects could never make up for the love and affection that a parent was supposed to bestow upon a child. He had never missed any birthday, holiday, school play, or any other event that had occurred in all six years of his daughter’s life, and was confident that he never would.

At least, he was until yesterday afternoon.

Now he was worried that he might miss every birthday, holiday, and school play that occurred from here on out. He could do serious jail time for a crime of this magnitude, and little Dawnie would be forced to grow up without a father as well as a mother.

Slipping out of the same clothes he had worn to work yesterday, Spike sighed with relief as the hot jets of water massaged his skin, letting the frustration bleed from his pours and flow with the water down the drain.

When the hell did life get so complicated?

~*~*~*~

He tried to fix himself something to eat, but almost threw up when he bit into it. The nerves in his stomach were making him feel even more queasy, and Spike wasn’t sure he could consumes any kind of nourishment until they settled.

Checking his watch, he sighed when he realized that Fred would not be arriving with Dawn for another two and a half hours. That meant he had nothing to do but worry about his future constantly for all of that time. He ran a hand through his still damp hair and got up to throw the uneaten piece of microwavable pizza in the trash. Standing at the sink for a moment, he contemplated hurling the ceramic plate at the wall, wondering if it might quell his anger, but decided against it when he thought of the mess he’d have to clean up if he did. Setting it softly into the sink, listening to clink it made when connecting with the hard metal, and feeling like he wanted to cry- something he hadn’t done since his parents’ divorce.

The sudden sound of the doorbell ringing loudly throughout the house, shook him out of his depressing thoughts, and he was glad for the distraction. Walking slowly to the door, he glanced around his empty living room, frowning softly. The house just wasn’t the same without Dawnie there to make noise. Spike thought that it was just too quite without her there.

Opening the door, he was surprised to find the pretty blonde from yesterday waiting on his porch with her briefcase and another arm full of papers. She was looking at her shoes when her first opened the door, but quickly looked up when she realized he was staring at her questioningly.

“H-hi.” She smiled politely, shifting her weight nervously. “Wesley called me and asked me to stop by. He seems to think that it would be in the best interest to start on your case as soon as possible.”

“And you are?”

She gave him sheepish expression. “Oh, sorry. I’m Buffy. Buffy Summers. I’m a paralegal at Wesley’s firm. He usually assigns me to his tougher cases.”

Spike frowned at that.

“And that was me showing you how much I love to put my foot in my mouth.” She looked down, biting her lip. “I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. You’re case isn’t tough. It’s really rather looking up actually. Everything seems to be in ship-shape.”

“That was a very nice attempt at making me feel better, pet.” Spike told her offhandedly, leaning against the door frame.

“Did it work?”

“Lil’ bit.”

“Good.” She laughed, wiping her brow dramatically with the hand that held her stack of papers.

Spike smiled kindly, feeling himself warm up this girl. She really was a quite a pretty little thing now that he had a closer look. Sparkling hazel eyes that glittered in the bright sunlight from above, long hair the color of honey that was again pulled away from her face, revealing full cheeks that were tinted with a fair shade of pink, full lips that looked soft to the touch, and a cut little upturned nose. She was short, slender, but with womanly curves in all the right places, that appeared to have seen a great deal of sunlight in their time.

It took him a moment to realize that they were still staring at each other intently before Spike opened his mouth to invite her inside.

“Thank you.” She said as she walked inside, looking around for the first time. “You have a very beautiful home, Mr. Pratt.”

Spike smiled at her after closing the door. “Thank you. And please call me Spike. Mr. Pratt is my father.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “Spike?”

“A nick-name.”

“I really don’t think I sure call you by a name like Spike, Mr. Pratt.” She told him politely, impersonally.

“Then call me William.”

“I can do that.” She nodded.

They both took their seats in the living room, Spike leaning back into the soft cushions of his couch, while Buffy choose to put space between them, and sat down in the chair opposite him.

“So, you’re Wes’s assistant, then? Why isn’t he here gettin’ all the info?” Spike asked, dark brow rising in question.

Buffy looked up from where she was sorting through her paper work. “He handles most of the formalities in court. My job is to gather all the information necessary for him to put together a strong defense.”

“So you get snubbed with all the dirty work, eh, luv?” He smirked.

“You could say that.” She was keeping him at a distance. He could tell. And it was bothering him immensely.

“You two are close friends, right?” She asked suddenly, and Spike was sure that she sounded nervous.

“You could say that.”

She looked up sharply at his obvious jab. She held an unreadable expression, as she gazed at him inquisitively for a moment, as though she was trying to find something in him that he wasn’t sure he wanted her finding.

“Listen, pet. I know it’s your job to just get the info needed to win the case, and then to back off. But if I’m gonna be sharin’ my life’s story with you in a minute, I’d prefer it if you didn’t act like I were some soddin’ insect being dissected for your education, okay?”

“Mr. Pratt-”

“And soddin’ hell, would you please stop callin’ me Mr. Pratt!” Spike exclaimed, frustrated by her attempt to keep this entire conversation aloof. “I’m a person, Ms. Summers. And I want to be treated as one. I don’t need some daftly over-educated cow, who thinks that everybody accused of a crime is immediately guilty until proven innocent.”

“Cow?!” She roared, rising to her feet. “Mr. Pratt, I am here doing you a favor! In case you haven’t noticed, everybody who knows about this charge thinks you guilty. It’s my job to prove otherwise, and I would appreciate it if you would let me do that job!”

“Your job?” Spike stood up then, angrier further by her words. “Your bloody job!? Do you have any soddin’ idea what it feels like to have somebody accuse you of something like this? Something you didn’t bloody do?! I have dedicated half my life to teaching teenagers everything I know, because I thought it would mean something- make some kind of impact on the world. It’s my bloody life, Ms. Summers, and I actually happen to enjoy it. I was bloody proud to get up every morning to go to class and pass on the gift of knowledge to those kids each and every day. Do you know what it’s like to have one of them accuse me of taking something like this from them? Accusing me of forcing-”

His voice caught in his throat then, and the tears that he had been fighting pushed themselves forward, gathering in his eyes, where he refused to let them spill over. He looked away from her then, not wanting her to see him fall apart. If she wanted to keep it impersonal, then he would do the same.

Buffy, for her part, had the decency to look shameful, and gave him an apologetic look. She watched on as the distraught man before her tried to reign his emotions under control. “William-”

“Don’t!” He told her, holding up his hand. “You have no bloody idea what it’s like to feel like this. Yes, it’s your job to keep everything between us professional-I understand that. It’s pro’lly the first bloody thing they teach you in law 101. But I am not your job! I am a person, and in case you haven’t noticed Ms. Summers, my life could be ripped to shreds in a few short months! I could lose everything!

“And I don’t really give a shit what you think of me. Lord knows what the bloody town’ll think and say, but-You can think me guilty if you want to, but I will not be treated like some bleedin’ obstacle you have to get past to get a soddin’ pay check!”

They were both out of breath by the time he finished, even though only one had spoken. They stood there in silence, staring at each other intently, as if tryin to gauge the other’s next move.

Finally, Buffy was the first one to look away, letting her blonde head fall to the side. Spike watched as she took a couple of deep breathes before looking back up to him. He was surprised to find eyes were a little glassy, frowning when she appeared to be trembling before him. Guilt began to wash over him.

You didn’t have to be so bloody mean to her, mate! She’s only tryin’ to help you, and you go and make her cry!

“Mr. Pr-William.” She started, correcting herself before he had a chance to. “I know this must be very hard on you right now, and that it must hurt deeply. These accusations that have been made against you are horrible, and anyone who could do such a thing must not have a soul. But they are just that, William. Accusations. Lies.”

Spike waited patiently, as she stopped to breathed deeply.

“And lies always have some kind of inconsistencies. Somewhere there’s something that doesn’t make sense, and we will find it. Make no mistake about it, I am fully committed to this case, and will give everything I have to make sure you don’t take the fall for something you didn’t do. You are not just a job to me. I may be some ‘daftly over-educated cow’-as you put it-but I have the one thing that is going to win this case.”

“And what’s that, pet?” Spike questioned, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“I believe that you’re innocent.”



Please Review!!

~Chapter 4: New Friends~

Buffy was completely in over her head. Since the first moment she had stepped into that interrogation room yesterday, and into William Pratt’s life, she had submersed herself into something she didn’t understand, and everything safe that had existed in her life had crumbled to pieces around her. It was like a tidal wave, growing higher and higher, threatening to wash down upon her and wipe everything she knew away.

It was overwhelming, and scary, and every other word that meant she was in a whole lotta trouble.

When Wesley had first received the phone call that informed him that his best friend had been arrested for sexual assault, Buffy had been extremely shocked that someone like her bookish boss would associate himself with someone so cruel. But after Wesley assured her that his friend of ten years was not capable of such a thing, Buffy’s restless mind had been set at ease.

At least for the most part, anyway.

Wesley had specifically asked for her help on this case, demanding that she accompany him to the police station where they would be filled in on what exactly William was being accused of. When Captain Lockley had explained that one of William’s students had told her father that her history teacher had forced himself on her during a tutor session, Buffy had seen another-very unpleasant- side of her boss that she had never witnessed before.

After a heated discussion with Lockley, both Wesley and Buffy were lead to the small interrogation room in the locked down part of the station for their meeting with William. By this point, Buffy had created a mental image of William in her head, based upon what Wesley had told her about him. Somehow the details that the stuffy lawyer had given her about his friend, had Buffy picturing someone completely different from the person that she came face to face to upon entering that room.

He was gorgeous! Wesley had failed to mention that little detail, and the petite blonde had found herself heating up as soon as those bright blue eyes had settled on her. She had to mentally slap herself a few times for zoning out of the important conversation taking place around her. It wouldn’t do good to be standing there ogling the potential convict while she was supposed to be paying attention, but a part of her couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like she had had much action these past few…years.

When he had just about broke down after Wesley explained everything to him, Buffy had found herself feeling her heart break a little for him. He appeared to be such a great guy; someone who had it all together, and enjoyed his life. Someone that Buffy would have showed interest in, had it not been for the unusual circumstances under which they met. It just seemed impossible to see him as something so evil as a rapist, and Buffy had to force herself to stand back from the whole situation and be objective in her thoughts.

After all, her first thought always seemed to be that Wesley’s clients were innocent just because the honest lawyer had promised her that he would never represent someone he believed to be guilty. The world was a cruel place sometimes, and if all the evidence was right, the man standing before her now, proclaiming his innocence, was guilty.

~*~*~*~

“Whatdaya mean, ‘you believe I’m innocent?’” Spike wondered, narrowing his eyes at her slightly.

Buffy sighed, letting her eyes drop to where her files were scattered about on the coffee table between them. She felt the strong urge to grab everything there and bolt from the house, fighting with herself to stand her ground.

Meeting his eyes, she spoke with a confidence she didn’t feel. “I mean that I believe that you’re innocent.”

He only raised in eyebrow in response.

“I don’t think you did this, William.” Buffy told him, honestly. But he kept looking at her like she was stupid, ands she felt the enormous impulse to smack him.

“And you would know this because?”

“Because Wesley said-”

“Oh, so now it’s Wesley who thinks I’m innocent, is it?” Spike mused, frowning at her as he put his hands on his hips skeptically.

“N-no! I mean, yes.” Buffy was starting to wonder if he was trying to make her nervous. “Of course Wesley thinks you’re innocent. But I do too.”

“And how’s this?”

“Whatdaya mean?”

“How would you know if I was innocent or not, when you’ve just met me not twenty minutes ago?”

“That’s not entirely true.” Buffy told him, pursing her lips in annoyance. “We met yesterday.”

“We were in the same bloody room for ten minutes, and didn’t say a word to each other.” Spike huffed. “That hardly counts.”

“It does so!” She shot back, feeling very much like an pouting child.

“It does not! How can you possibly tell if I’m guilty or not just by staring at me from across the soddin’ room?”

“Call it women’s intuition.”

“I’m in this whole bloody mess because of a woman’s intuition.” Spike said, looking a little put out. “I’m thinkin’ that’s not the way to go, right now.”

Buffy didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept her mouth shut. She tried looking anywhere but his face, and noticed for the corner of her eye, that he was doing the same. Good. At least she wasn’t the only one that felt unsettled.

“Look, I’m sorry.”

Her blonde hair whipped back when she snapped her head at attention when he spoke softly.

He met her eyes, and gave her an apologetic look, before continuing. “I’ve had a long bloody day, and I took it out on you. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

She nodded slowly after a moment, and gave him a hesitant smile. “It’s fine. I wasn’t expectin’ you to be all honky dory about all this.”

Spike chuckled, and that seemed to relax both of them. He sat back down slowly running his hands up and down the rough material of his black jeans in an attempt to clear the beads of sweat from his skin. “So, how long have you been workin’ for Wes?”

Buffy felt her hesitant smile turning into a full blown radiant grin, as she thought about her work. “‘Bout five years now. He’s such a good boss.”

“You enjoy it.” He observed, smiling kindly.

“I do.” She nodded, sitting down. “I like that I can go to work each day and work towards something that matters, ya know? I like knowing that, in some small way, I help people doing what I do.”

Spike nodded in agreement. “I get that.”

Buffy smiled broadly, feeling like she may have made a new friend. “I know you do.”

A comfortable silence settled over them then, and an unspoken connection seemed to be made as their eyes remained locked for a moment more. Buffy was starting to feel at ease with him now, and wondered why being objective felt a lot like being completely on his side. Could she really do this? Maybe she was getting too close already, and that was never good. Perhaps she only believed he was innocent because she felt an attraction to him.

But that couldn’t possibility be it, could it? Sure, she had been wrong before. Everyone was at some point. But in all her five years as Wes’s number one paralegal, she had always been objective, always doing what needed to be done to ensure that justice would be served. And that was the important thing in all this.

Buffy shook her head slightly to clear her head, hoping that Spike wouldn’t notice, and silently questioning if she was really capable of doing her job when she felt so unsure of herself.

When the door opened suddenly, both jumped in surprise, their eyes going wide. Spike rose to his feet immediately, and looked out toward the main foyer.

“Will?” A female voice called out in a Texas accent. “Anybody home?”

“In here.”

“Daddy!” Buffy started in shock when a small child ran past her suddenly, leaping into Spike’s waiting arms. He stood up, leaving a kiss on her forehead.

“Hey, Nibblet.” Spike smiled lovingly, hugging the little girl close. “I was beginnin’ to think you were gonna stay away forever.”

“Yeah right.” The dark haired girl snorted, pulling back to smile at her father. Her expression changed then, to one of curiosity. “Where’d you go last night?”

Spike looked nervous then, not sure how to answer her question, but gave her a small smile. “I just thought you might like spendin’ the night with Aunt Fred and Uncle Wes, was all. Did you have fun?”

“Yep.” The girl nodded enthusiastically, popping her ‘p.’ “We played board games, and watched movies. And this morning, Aunt Fred let me take a bubble bath, with extra bubbles!”

“Is that right?” Spike mused, sitting her back on her feet and ruffling her long hair. Buffy marveled at his way of changing the subject so easily. She wondered if it was an acquired skill, or if being a father just came as naturally to him as it appeared to.

“Uh huh.”

“And did you behave?” Spike asked, narrowing his eyes at her dramatically.

“She was an angel, as usual.”

Buffy looked up, and smiled softly when she saw a familiar face.

“Hey Fred.” Spike smiled fondly, looking happy to see his sister.

“Hey, Will. How ya holdin’ up?” She wondered, coming further into the room.

Spike gave her a pointed look, looking very sarcastic. “Oi, I’m just bloody peachy, pet.”

Fred chuckled softly, looking down. She seemed to notice for the first time that Buffy was in the room, and smiled. “Buffy.”

“You two know each other?” Spike looked confused, as Buffy stood to greet the taller woman.

“She works with Wes, Spike. ‘Course I know ‘er. Just ‘cause you never visit him at his office, doesn’t mean I don’t.” Fred informed him, smiling teasingly.

“It’s good to see ya, Buffy.” She moved to give Buffy a friendly hug, which Buffy returned. “Lemme guess. Wes got you here doin’ his job again?”

Buffy laughed quietly, stepping back slightly. “You know Wes. He’s not so good with the client interaction. Even if it is his own best friend.”

Fred snorted. “Oh, I know. I have no idea how he got as far as he did before he hired you.”
The two girls laughed good naturedly, and Spike cleared his throat behind them to gain their attention.

“Oh, right.” Fred uttered, grinning amusedly.

Buffy felt eyes on her, and turned to find Dawn staring at her intently, studying her with her big blue eyes.

“Daddy?” She whispered, pressing herself closer to her father’s leg to win his attention. “Who’s that?”

Spike glanced down at Dawn, then back up to Buffy. “That’s Buffy, pet. She works with Uncle Wes.”

Buffy sent the girl a friendly smile, but she felt her anxiety show through. She really wasn’t good with kids.

“But what’s she doin’ here?”

“She just came by to ask daddy a few questions, sweetie.” Spike answered gently, smiling down at her sweetly.

“‘Bout what?” Dawn kept on, never taking her eyes off of Buffy.

“‘Bout grown up stuff, princess.”

“Oh.” And that seemed to be the end of it.

“Um, Fred?” Spike cleared his throat. “Think I could have a word in the kitchen real quick?”

He met Buffy’s eyes, and silently asking her to give him a minute. The petite blonde nodded softly, and Fred smiled.

“Sure.”

Buffy let herself fall into her chair after the two left the room, breathing out slowly to try to calm her nerves. She had known Fred for a while now, since Wesley had brought her into the office four years ago to show her off as his new fiancé. She and Buffy had hit it off immediately, both being very quiet people who usually kept to themselves. Buffy had even been invited to be a bride’s maid at their wedding, but had politely refused on the grounds that she was going to be out of town that weekend anyway.

But somehow knowing that Fred was Spike’s sister made everything a little more wiggy. Especially since Buffy remembered how the lengthy Texan girl had tried to set her up with her ‘lonely, but very charming’ older brother at the wedding.

“Why are you named ‘Buffy?’”

Buffy head snapped up in surprise to find Dawn standing in front of her expectantly. Buffy watched as the girl bit her bottom lip in scrutiny, twirling her long dark hair around a tiny finger. Her large blue eyes were the same color as her father’s, Buffy noticed, and her plump cheeks added a fullness to her features that gave her a baby soft appearance. She stood at only about three feet tall, and couldn’t be more than six years old, but showed a confidence of someone much older. She was cute, innocent, and Buffy immediately found herself fond of the girl.

“What do you mean?” Buffy wondered, brows furrowing.

“Why are you named ‘Buffy?’”

“‘Cause that’s what my mother named me.”

“Oh.” Dawn seemed to be thinking about this carefully for a moment, then: “My mommy didn’t name me.”

Buffy frowned again at this, trying to picture the woman who was responsible for being something so adorable into the world, then immediately wondering where she was. She was sure the woman didn’t live here, and had not fore some time, if the way Wesley talked about her was any indication. Whenever the older British man would make an offhanded comment on his daft-ex-sister-in-law, Buffy got the impression that there were some unresolved hard feelings left behind.

“Did Wi-your daddy name you?” Buffy asked her, leaning forward on her elbows where they rested on her knees.

“Yep.” Dawn nodded, smiled broadly.

“It’s a very pretty name.” Buffy told her softly, smiling kindly.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

A beat, then:

“You have a funny shaped nose.”

“What?!” Buffy shrieked, reaching up to grab at her nose. “I do not!”

“Yes, you do. It’s all crooked and flat on the end.” Dawn told her seriously, reaching up to pin point the area she was critiquing. “See, right there.”

“It’s not crooked; It’s upturned.” The blonde replied, offended. This child was evil! How dare she say her nose was crooked! Buffy thought she had a cute nose.

“I think it’s crooked.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Do you like Barbies?”

Buffy blinked, reeling from the sudden change of topic. “Uh…sure.”

“Cool.” Dawn smiled, reaching for her bag that Fred had set next to the couch. “Wanna play?”

Buffy hesitated, looking toward the entrance to the kitchen, wondering when Spike and Fred would be returning. She couldn’t hear them talking, but assumed that Spike was filling his sister in on everything that she hadn’t learned from Wesley. It couldn’t hurt to keep the overly hyped up six year old occupied, right?

Turning back to Dawn, she smiled cheerfully. “Okay.”

~Chapter 5: Innocence ~

Spike sighed heavily, as he leaned against the front door, having just let Fred out. He felt exhausted, and it wasn’t even six o’clock yet. He still had to scramble something up for Dawn to at, knowing that she hadn’t eaten since lunch time when Fred had taken her to McDonald’s for a happy meal. Mentally going through everything he had in his fridge, he made his way toward the living room to check on said daughter. He hadn’t truly wanted to leave the six year old alone so soon after seeing her again, but he had really needed to talk with Fred before things progressed any further.

After his brief meeting with Buffy, Spike wasn’t too sure Wesley had made a solid decision on letting the young woman handle the dealings concerning his case. She seemed a little too uptight, and something told him that she really didn’t see him as anything more than a case to win. With her fake smile and overly professional attitude, the petite blonde had come off as impersonal, and unfeeling. That had pissed Spike off immensely, and he had told her as much. Granted, he shouldn’t have been so harsh on her, but still…

But after she had confessed to believing that he was innocent, Spike had felt some sort of connection pass between them. And both Wesley and Fred had assured he that Buffy was very good at her job-although a little closed off-something Spike desperately needed at this point. Drusilla really had the power to take everything from him, and he needed to be sure that Buffy could help Wesley win this case.

Spike smiled to himself, thinking back to the way she had stood up to him, and proclaimed that he was innocent. Somehow, he didn’t think that would be a problem.

~*~*~*~

“So, how old are you, anyways?”

“Twenty-five. How old are you?”

“Six. I just had a birthday a little while a ago. Daddy threw me a party!”

“Did he?”

“Yeah, and e’erybody came to bring me presents!”

“Everybody, huh?”

“Well…not e’erybody. But mostly e’erybody.”

“And is that where you got all these Barbies?”

“Yep!”

Spike stopped dead in his tracks when he came upon the scene before him. There was his daughter, lying on her belly, knees bent, feet swinging back and forth in the air, playing Barbies with his paralegal. Who was also lying on her belly, knees bent, feet swinging back and forth in the air. Spike bit his bottom lip in bewilderment, and tilted his head, wondering how long he had been talking to Fred in the kitchen.

This was not the Buffy Summers he had just met. The closed off, standoffish professional who took her work completely serious was now…playing with bloody dolls?

He cleared is throat softly to gain their attention. “Uh…Buffy?”

Her blonde head snapped up abruptly and her hazel eyes widened in surprise. She dropped the little plastic doll with yellow hair, and got to her feet hurriedly, her eyes never leaving his.

“Daddy! We were playin’!” Dawn chastised in faux exasperation.

“I’m sorry, princess.” Spike told her in his ‘daddy voice,’ smiling at her amusedly. “But I kinda need to borrow Buffy for a second.”

Buffy looked away when he tried to meet her eyes, groping for her files.

“Can I have ‘er back when you’re done?” Dawn wondered, looking up at the nervous blonde.

Spike chuckled. “I don’t know, ducks. Buffy might have other stuff to take care of.”

“Do you, Buffy?” Dawn asked expectantly, giving her best puppy dog eyes.

It was just something so innocent that it almost choked Spike. Little Dawnie had no idea what was happening. No idea that everything could change in just a few short months if things progressed as badly as they had started to since his arrest yesterday.

He vowed right then and there to do everything he could to ensure that his daughter came out of this as unscathed as possible. Whenever she was in the room, he would always act the way he would have had any of this never happen. Furthermore, he would make the most of everything he could, because honestly, Spike had a feeling this would not end well either way.

“Ah…” Buffy looked to Spike for help.

“Why don’t you go take your dolls up to your room, and I’ll talk to Buffy for a moment, kay?” Spike intervened, seeing the blonde visibly relax.

“Okay, daddy.” Dawn grabbed the scattered dolls, and ran toward the stairs.

“And don’t run.” Spike called, watching her go up to her room. Turning back to Buffy, he grinned.

Making the most of everything qualifies as teasing the petite blonde as much as possible, right?

“Never pegged you for the dolls type, pet. Tell me, how’s Lawyer Barbie doing these days? Saving Convict Ken from rottin’ in prison, I hope?”

She looked even more flustered now. “William-”

“It’s okay, Buffy.” He told her, stepping closer. “It’s cute.”

“It is not!” She huffed, turning to sit on the far end of the couch. Spike followed, but remained on the other end to give her enough space.

“It is too! You were alone with ‘er for five bloody minutes, and she charmed you into playing dolls with her. It’s adorable.”

“She was just so endearing. I couldn’t tell her no.” A small smile crossed Buffy’s face.

“She gets it from me.” He smiled proudly.

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

Spike laughed. “Well, she certainly didn’t get it from her mum!”

Buffy’s expression became serious, and she was hesitant when asking her next question. “Where is her mother?”

Spike stopped laughing abruptly, and just stared at her for a moment.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked th-”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” He told her, enjoying the fact that she seemed to be warming up to him, wanting to know about him as a person. “Just haven’t talked ‘bout her for a long time, is all.”

Buffy frowned, unsure. “Is she…?”

Spike caught her meaning and shook his head. “No, she isn’t dead, or an’ thing… Just bloody skipped town.”

“She left?” Buffy questioned, astonished.

“Yep, first chance she got. Decided one day she didn’t wanna be married anymore.” Spike told her, not sounding at all bitter until he muttered his next words. “And that she didn’t wanna be a mum either. Not that she was mum of the year when she was here, anyway.”

“But she just left?” She said it like it was the most impossible thing in the world to have done, and Spike watched as her face scrunched up in disgust, wondering if she knew how beautiful she was. “What about Dawn?”

Spike gave her a weird look, like she was stupid. “She’s…here. As you saw.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, how could she just leave Dawn?”

Spike didn’t say anything then, but studied her closely. He smiled, thoughtful.

“What?” Buffy wondered, confused by the look he was giving her.

“You like her.” He mused, smile becoming wider.

“Of course I like her, William. She’s adorable.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a kid person.” He pointed out. Off he questioning look, he added: “I can tell.”

“Well, no. I’m really not.” She admitted, smiling. “But Dawn’s my favorite so far.”

Spike chuckled. When she started rummaging through her papers again, he was reminded why she was there in the first place, and tensed up in response. He’s almost forgotten during all the small talk that was happening. Now that he remembered, he wished he could forget again.

“So, uh… You wanna get started?” Spike wondered, leaning as far back into the cushions as he could. “Suppose you’ve got a lot of questions that need answerin’.”

She nodded, producing a pen seemingly out of thin air, and prepared to write. “Yeah. I, uh, can start with some basic ones if you want? Wait for the heavier ones until you’ve had more time to process everything.”

Spike shook his head. “No, that’s fine. Wes knows most of the basics, anyway.”

“Oh…Okay.” She sounded a little disappointed, a fact that surprised him. He was just about to offer up ‘The Entire Life Story of William Pratt-Unabridged’ to make her smile again, when she showed him her ‘business face.’

“Okay. We can start with Drusilla, then.” She said, getting straight to the heart of the matter. “Did she come to you for help, or did you approach her?”

“She came to me.” Spike replied, recalling the incident.

~*~*~*~

Monday Morning, 2nd Period:

“Mr. Pratt?”

Spike looked up from where he was grading papers to find Drusilla in the doorway to his empty classroom, backpack slung over her boney shoulder. She was dressed in all black as usual, her pale skin looking almost translucent in the glow from the fluorescent lightening above. Her long mane of dark black hair was brushed pin straight and fell down over her shoulders to her chest. She wore an innocent smile on her face and looked so young as she bounced on the back on her feet.

“Yes, Ms. Rayne?”

She laughed coyly. “Oh, Mr. Pratt, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Drusilla?”

Spike smiled kindly. “Just trying to keep things professional. It’s my job to prepare you all for the real world, where everyone will call you Ms. Rayne non-stop.”

Drusilla smiled, her dark lip stick a deep contrast to her teeth. She walked further into the room, running the red tips of her fingernails across the smooth finish of Spike’s desk. “You’re so charming, Mr. Pratt. That’s why you’ve always been my favorite teacher here in this bloody town.”

“Ms. Rayne, you know how I feel about such language in my classroom.” Spike chastised, like the father he was. He wasn’t sure how everything this girl did made his extremely uncomfortable. His body felt like it was crawling out of its skin.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Pratt.” She told him, not sounding sorry in the least. “I’ll try to be on my best behavior from now on.”

“I hope so.” Spike told her, not paying that much attention to her obvious attempt at flirtation. When he realized that she hadn’t told him why she was here, he gave her an inquiring look. “Was there a reason you’re still here even though everyone else has gone home?”

“Oh!” She laughed softly, twirling a strand on hair on her finger. “I almost forgot. I was wondering if you could help me with my paper on the Civil War. I know you just assigned it today, but next Monday’s only a week away, and I wanna get a head start on it. I didn’t do too well on my last essay.”

Spike stood up, taking a few stacks of graded papers to the filing cabinet on the right side of the room, still speaking casually. “What exactly did you need help on?”

“Oh, I don’t know, really.” Drusilla shrugged, watching his every move with great interest. “I’m just having trouble wrapping my mind around the topic, is all.”

Spike turned back to her with a curious look on his face. “What exactly isn’t clear about the Civil War? We’ve been discussing it for three weeks now.”

“I know that.” Drusilla smiled, obviously trying to charm him into doing things her way. “But I’m just not exactly good with essays, and you do seem to assign a lot of them.”

“This is an accelerated class, Ms. Rayne.” Spike told her seriously. “If can’t keep up with the required course load, I suggest you take something else.”

She flushed then, and looked as though she may snap at him for a moment, but gaining control, and managing a smile. “I’m fine with the course load, Mr. Pratt. I was just wondering if you might have a little bit of extra time after class to help me. You’re always going on about committing to giving up free time to maintain high marks. I mean, you don’t want me to fail, do you?”

Spike looked at her for a moment, unsure of her threatening tone, before shaking his head slowly. “I wouldn’t want you to fail, Drusilla. I guess I could stay after with you tomorrow, and go over the key points of the essay prompt. Maybe help you get started on the first paragraph.”

“That would be wonderful.” She smiled cheerfully, clapping her hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Say two o’clock?”

He nodded. “Two o’clock’s fine.”

“Then it’s a date.” She gave him another innocent grin.

“It’s an appointment, Ms. Rayne.” He corrected her. “One I hope you take very seriously. You do remember what they say. Those you fail to learn history…”

“Are doomed to re-learn it after school with their dashing History teacher.” She offered, boldly.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Ms. Rayne.” Spike told her, ending the uncomfortable conversation. He really didn’t care who her father was, or how much money she had, the girl was just plain creepy to talk to. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some papers that need grading before I leave for today.”

“Thank you again, Mr. Pratt. Have a good day.” She gave an extra shimmy when she turned to go, and Spike rolled his eyes, annoyed, as he turned back to his work.



Please review!

~Chapter 6: Living Conditions~

Buffy yelped with surprise when she almost fell on her face, grasping blindly for something to steady herself with. When she felt the wall beneath her hand, she relaxed, sliding her hand over the smooth expanse until she found the light switch. Flipping it up, she watched the empty living room illuminate with the glow of two table lamps on the sides of her couch, revealing a nicely decorated interior.

Tossing her briefcase on the coffee table, and her jacket across a nearby chair, she flopped down exhaustedly on the couch, signing loudly. Looking around the room, the blonde pouted when she saw the state of her own apartment. After having spent nearly all day at Spike’s beautifully bedecked house, Buffy was starting to think that her small loft was a little bit too tiny. She had always thought that as a single woman, she was aloud to cramp everything she owned into the smallest apartment she could find in Sunnydale, but now that she’d seen how the other half lived, she was seriously considering an upgrade.

Great, now I’m envying the potential convict. It’s not his fault I have a sucky life!

Buffy stood up languidly, stretching her sore muscles and working out the kinks that had settled in her shoulders. Heading toward the kitchen, she stopped when she heard the soft jingle of a bell.

“Connor?” She called out, smiling happily. “Is that you, boy?”

A small lab puppy the color of gold came rushing of from the bedroom, its short tail wagging joyfully when Buffy knelt down with her arms and hands outstretched in greeting. The puppy’s little paws pitter-pattered across the slick wooden floor, causing the creature to slip and slide ever so often in its haste to get to the young woman waiting with a welcoming smile on her pretty face.

“Hey there, boy. What have you been up to, huh?” Buffy stood and finished her trip to the kitchen, the puppy held firmly in her arms.

Refilling the small water and food bowls, she gave the puppy a kiss and set it on its feet again. It immediately scampered off to eat, and Buffy watched it go, laughing softly.

“I missed you today, Connor.” She talked casually while looking in various cabinets, and the refrigerator, fixing herself something to eat. “I went over to Mr. Pratt’s house to ask him questions for Wes’s case. Boy, is his house nice. You would love it there. All that room to play! Oh, and he has a kid! Can you believe that?! He doesn’t even look old enough to be a dad.”

The pet stopped eating momentarily, looking up and watching her move, as if to listen intently. The blonde didn’t really notice, as she went about microwaving a frozen TV dinner from inside her freezer.

“Anyway, her name is Dawn. Dawnie.” She smiled, remembering the adorable little blue-eyed girl. “You and her would get along great. She’s adorable! Her mom walked out on her and William, when she was just a baby. Isn’t that awful?!”

The puppy barked loudly, and Buffy chuckled, reaching down to pat his head gently. The microwave dinged loudly, and the petite blonde jumped in surprise, standing up quickly. Grabbing her hot TV dinner with a paper towel and a can of soda, she walked slowly back to the living room, Connor following close behind.

Slipping out of her black pumps, she sat the food on the table while she sat back on the couch again, little Connor crawled up beside her, contentedly at her side. Leaning forward the blonde picked at the dinner with her fork, stirring things around absentmindedly. Her hazel eyes landed on the manila folder thrown haphazardly beside her briefcase and she sighed, reading the words written in her handwriting across the front tab.

‘Pratt-Rayne’

She never took her work home with her. It had been a rule of thumb since her first day at Wesley’s firm, when he told her about all the grief it caused when things got personal between clients. Occasionally she would Google things on the net before bed if she felt up to it, but she always left the files at work so she would never be tempted. Tonight she had stopped at the office to do just that, and somehow found herself unable to just leave them there.

Just the way he described the interaction between him and Drusilla the day before the alleged incident made Buffy feel for him even more. He sounded so sincere, and she believed his words.

She believed him.

Dropping the fork with a loud clank, she reached for the file, leaning back to look through it once more. After William had gone over the conversation that he had with Drusilla on Monday afternoon, Buffy had shown him the police report, which stated exactly what the young teenager had told authorities.

‘The victim apparently returned home on Tuesday at approximately five-thirty pm, disheveled and crying hysterically. Her dress had been ripped in several places, including the bottom hem and bust lines. The left strap of her dress had been completely torn off, and her panties were not on her persons anywhere when her mother found her or when the medical examiner come on scene. She had bruises along her upper arms, and inner thighs, some in the shape of large hand prints. Her bottom lip was cut, and appeared to have clotted and stopped bleeding on its own.

When she was examined by the medical team at a local hospital, the victim told several officers that the assailant had indeed used a condom. This was in accordance with the rape examination, which showed the victim had been penetrated not more than two hours before, but no traces of semen were found. There was substantial tearing in the vaginal lining and membrane, and the bruising on the victim’s inner thighs are consistent with this theory.

Buffy frowned, feeling sick to her stomach. The evidence was very incriminating. To the casual observer, it would appear that Ms. Rayne had been violated. But Buffy was sure there was something off, something she was missing in all this.

This was a brutal crime. The bruising, the torn dress, the internal damage, all showed that callous force had been used. Was it feasible that possibly William had tried something, but decided not to go through with it, once he came to his senses? No, she’d pretty much ruled that option out completely. Then what of the injuries sustained on Ms. Rayne? Could it be possible that this teenager did all that to herself. Was she really raped, and had decided to pin the blame on somebody else? What would possess a human being to go to such extremes to ensure somebody else would take the fall for something they didn’t do?

Turning back to the report in her hands, Buffy read on with hesitance.

‘The victim informed officers that the assailant was, in fact, her history teacher, Mr. William R. Pratt. Mr. Pratt is a thirty-two year old, Caucasian male, medium build, approximately 5”11, with platinum blonde hair. Mr. Pratt has held his position at Sunnydale high School for seven years now, and is reportedly well received by both students and fellow colleagues. Though possessing a British accent, Mr. Pratt was born in California, and received his teaching degree in the same state. He has one child, a daughter, six years old, with ex-wife, Cecily Adams, who he no longer has any known contact with. Mr. Pratt has no prior criminal record, and does not have a history of violence.’

Buffy stifled a yawn, jarring her out of her thoughts, and causing her to look up at the clock on her nearby wall. Jesus, it’s nearly two-thirty in the freakin’ morning!

She must not have gotten in until after one, she realized. After having to sneak out of William’s house while Dawn was otherwise occupied with her dolls in her room. Buffy had felt guilty that she was just slipping out, but William had assured her that Dawn would forgive her after he explained that Buffy was very busy. She had just smiled and thanked him, promising that she would return tomorrow to finish up with the story.

After that, Buffy had stopped to pick up the police report from Wesley at the house he shared with Fred, staying to make the usual small talk, and then to the office before home.

Now exhaustion was starting to settle in, and the petite blonde figured now was as good a time to call it a night as any, and shut the folder, vowing to not open or think about it for the rest of the night.

Taking her leftovers to the trash and wiping the counters off, she turned off various lights before heading towards the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway of the living room and looked back. The folder lay right where she left it, closed and still in need of solving. Connor hang around her feet, waiting patiently, and she sighed, turning back toward the bedroom, and continuing on her way, the last sentence of the report still ringing in her ears.

Mr. Pratt has no prior criminal record, and does not have a history of violence.


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~Chapter 7: Lonely Stops~

"Daddy, is Buffy gonna be my new mommy?"

Spike stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, convinced that his daughter was trying to kill him. "What!?"

"Buffy." Dawn repeated, her head turned away from him, watching the cars on the street pass by them as they walked toward her bus stop. "Is she gonna be my new mommy?"

"Why would you ask that, Dawn?" Spike treaded carefully, looking down at her brown head.

"Because she seems nice." She said the words like it was he dumbest thing in the world to be explaining.

"A lot of people seem nice, Dawn."

"Whatdaya mean?" She looked up, bewilderment written all over her face.

"Never mind." Spike shook his head, looking ahead at the group of children gathered around a stop sign a block ahead. "And no, Dawn. Buffy's not gunna be your new mum."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Beca-" He stopped himself, looking down at her with an amused expression. "Now, don't get us goin', sweets. You know daddy doesn't like it."

"I know." She smiled cheekily, looking down at her little blue sun dress that had tiny sunflowers printed all over it. "I really like this dress, daddy."

"I know you do, princess. S'why I bought it for you." He smiled adoringly. That was half true. He also bought it to stop her from asking more questions about when Buffy was coming back over to play dolls with her again.

"It 'minds me of Buffy."

"Dawn.” He sighed, heavily running a hand through his usually curly locks. He really hadn't felt like taking the time to tame them this morning, and was running late with getting Dawn off to school on time. Due to police procedure, Fred had not been able to pick up his Desoto on Saturday and it was still at the high school. He was forced to make the six-year-old ride the bus; something he swore he would never do since he hated the big, hideous, yellow vehicle.

Those bloody things are just an accident waiting to happen, really.

Fred had offered to go try to pick the Desoto up on her lunch break, but until then, Spike was left to walking around a town that he was starting to hate.

"What, daddy?" She looked up at him with those big blue eyes, and he felt instantly guilty for wanting to get snippy with her.

"Let's not talk about Buffy right now, 'kay?"

"But wh'not? Don't you like her or somethin'?"

"I like her just fine, Dawn." He replied huffily. Bloody hell, what in the world could he say to make her want to talk about something other than Buffy Summers? Since the moment the six-year-old came bounding down the stairs Saturday evening only to find her father in the kitchen heating dinner with Buffy gone, she had been constantly on his case about the blonde. She apparently had made a new play friend, and it took him a surprise visit to the mall on Sunday afternoon with Fred to get the little girl's mind on other things. Shopping had preoccupied her for a little while, but once they got home, she started again.

It was now Monday morning, and Dawn was still going on.

"Then why don't you wanna talk 'bout her?"

"'Cause I wanna talk about something else."

"Like what, daddy?"

"I don't know. Anything." He told her, furrowing his brows in the bright sunlight.

"Well, if Buffy's not gonna be my new mommy, then who is?" Dawn sulked, giving her father a glare.

"And why would you need a new bloody mummy?!" Spike replied, stopping abruptly.

"You said 'bloody,' daddy!" She gasped, stooping beside him and pointing an accusing finger at him.

"Sorry, pidge. Didn't mean to." He apologized, reaching to touch the top of her head. "But why all the mommy questions, all of a sudden?"

"I dunno." Dawn shrugged. "I was thinking that it might be neat if we made Buffy my new mom, is all."

"Why's that?"

"'Cause she's nice. She played Barbies with me, and everything! Even Aunt Fred doesn't do that, daddy!"

"I know." Spike nodded, keeling down to her level, to look in her eyes. "But I do. We play bloody house all the time! We have lots of fun, just the two of us. Why do we need a new mommy?"

She gasped again. "You said-"

"I know, Dawn." Spike said gently, holding up a hand to cut her off before she berated him for cursing again. "Answer my question."

She looked at him for a moment, seemingly thinking very hard about what he was asking her. "'Cause she looks lonely."

Spike frowned. "Wha?"

"Buffy, daddy. Buffy looks lonely, and you look lonely sometimes, too. And I thought we could make her my new mommy, and then nobody'd be lonely an' more."

"You think I'm lonely?" Spike wondered in surprise, biting his lip in question and head tilting to the side.

She nodded.

"Why?"

"Well, 'cause other daddy's have mommies 'round so they don't get lonely, but you don't." She told him, and Spike wondered how his little girl become so very insightful all of a sudden. "And Buffy doesn't have any kids or a daddy to help her not get lonely either, so maybe we could ask her to be my new mommy. Then she'll have a kid and a daddy."

Spike smiled, thinking her the cutest thing in the world all over again. Her pushed a strand of unruly hair behind her ear, and left a kiss on her forehead. His voice was filled with awe when he spoke. "You luv me, don't you, princess?"

"Of course I love you, daddy. You're bein' silly." She grinned up at him.

"I am, aren't I?" He grinned back.

"Uh huh."

Spike stood up, grabbing her tiny hand in his larger one, and they walked in silence.

"You know, Dawn." He started, gently. "Buffy might not want to be a mommy. There are some people who don't."

"Like my real mommy?" Dawn inquired, innocently.

"Yeah, like her." Spike spat the word out, not bitter that Cecily left him. God knows, what they had wasn't anything real to begin with, but…Her leaving Dawn was what made him bitter. Women like Cecily didn't deserve to be mothers.

"But Buffy likes me, right?"

"'Course she does." Spike affirmed, squeezing her hand softly. "She thinks you're…swell."

"I think she's nice." Dawn went on, not really paying attention to anything else, as they neared the bus stop. "And pretty. Don't you think she's pretty, daddy?"

Spike smiled, chuckling softly. "She's very pretty. But you know what?"

"What?"

"She's not as pretty as you."

Dawn smiled, swinging their hands. "Because my nose isn't funny shaped?"

Spike roared with laughter, stopping them when they reached the stop sign and kids. He looked up and noticed a few parents standing close to their kids, whispering softly, their eyes never leaving him. He wasn't stupid. He took in the accusations in their looks, and realized that the story must have leaked out to the public over the weekend. More than likely on the news, or in the papers that he didn't bother watching or reading for fear of what might be in them.

"Here comes the bus, daddy."

Spike looked up as the big yellow bus came to a shard stop in front of the stop sign, starting all the kids into action. Dawn pulled on his grip, and left go. "Bye daddy."

"Bye, huney. Remember, I'll be pickin' you up at the school, so don't get on the bus home, kay?"

"Kay." She yelled back, running to get in the line of kids waiting to climb the steps of the bus.

After the bus was out of sight, Spike turned to go, but stopped when one of the mothers called out.

"Mr. Pratt?"

He turned around to find the woman who was mother to one of the students in Dawn's class, Mrs. Eve Kensington.

"Yes?"

"Look, I'm not gonna beat 'round the bush here. As you know, Sunnydale is a very small town, and word travels fast. 'Course it also helps when everything's plastered all over the news and papers in town. Everybody knows what happened." She told him, in her little rat snake like voice.

"Mrs. Kensington, I-"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand and continued on like he had said nothing at all. "A few parents are starting to worry. We like knowing that the bus stops in this town are a safe place for our children to get to school. We feel that it would be best if you no longer came here. I mean, I'm sure Dawn could fetch a ride with a friend or relative. So she wouldn't have to know the difference."

Spike stood there in a stunned silence, not believing what he was hearing. How was he supposed to live in a town that all condemned him before he had a chance to defend himself? This day just kept getting better and better.

Was this really happening?

"You understand our cause for concern, don't you, Mr. Pratt?" She smiled condescendingly.

Spike slowly nodded his head, mouth agape, not really understanding anything at this point. He felt numb.

"Good. I'm glad we could have this conversation." She smiled, nodding in a way that made Spike want to scream at her. She then turned and walked away with the other parents waiting nearby.

Standing there a moment more, watching them leave, Spike felt torn between breaking down, and crying, or punching something, hard. Instead, he took one shaky deep breath, and turned to go.

He needed a drink.

~*~*~*~

Buffy jumped slightly when a loud knock came from the hallway, settling on her door. She had just finished getting ready for work, pulling her loud hair back at he nape of her neck in a tight chignon. Wesley wanted her to come in a little bit later than usual, more than likely to go over something for the Pratt-Rayne case, and she had been grateful for the extra sleep.

Walking quickly told the door, she made a shushing noise at Connor when he wouldn't stop barking at the loud noise, silencing the puppy immediately. Making quick work of the lock, she threw the door open wide.

And was surprised to find a drunken William Pratt stumbling all over her doorstep. "'Lo, pet. Mind if I come in?"



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