Chapter One:

Spike leaned against the dingy wall of the seedy little club, cigarette in one hand, bottle of Jack in the other. He ashed directly onto the floor. No one was going to care about that sort of thing here. He wouldn’t care if they did. Four… bloody… years he gave her. Granted, he was comfortably numb for the first three. What was it she said? Oh yeah… it’s the fairies, my prince, they say you’re lost. They whisper that you’ll leave your princess alone in the dark if you keep putting poison in your veins. You’ll disappear, and I’ll be all alone. Bleedin’ fairies. So he quit. He quit it all. And that’s what hell feels like. The withdrawal was incredible. He figured that she secretly hated him to ask him to go through that. But after…well, everything seemed better. Colors seemed brighter, sounds crisper. Almost a year sober and what does he find when he goes home early from his job at the record store to surprise her on her birthday? His dark princess snorting a line of white powder off his best friend’s cock. And the worst thing was he couldn’t bring himself to look away. It was almost as mesmerizing as it was disgusting watching the woman he loved spreading the coke in a thin line that ran right along a prominent vein on his friend’s engorged prick. And she knew he was there. They both did. And when she had finished her last line, he watched as she took his closest friend into her mouth and washed away the residue with her saliva. And he knew she was lost.

He took another swig from his bottle and studied the room. A few shady looking blokes at the bar watching several near naked birds undulating drunkenly on the dance floor. The men probably came here because they couldn’t afford to tip the dancers at the strip clubs. Practically the same show here and these girls weren’t even on the clock. Spike supposed that wasn’t entirely true. At least a couple of the ladies were likely working girls as this sort of venue provided quite the haven for junkies and prostitutes. But the moves that they were getting paid for didn’t happen on the dance floor.

He dropped his cigarette on the floor and began stalking his prey. He had noticed them as soon as they walked through the door. It was hard not to. They didn’t fit in this neighborhood. They looked too healthy, too shiny, their clothing was too nice. They looked like rich party girls and Spike was going to take full advantage of their late night impulse to go slumming. Where there were rich party girls, there was blow. Spike watched their pseudo-homosexual dance moves as they gyrated against and caressed one another. Little girls playing women’s games. As he stood at the fringe of the dance floor, he kicked back the last of the Jack and let the bottle slide from his fingers onto the dirty floor. He sauntered up behind the chit with the long dark hair. She seemed to be the least timid of the group, swaying with reckless abandon, running her hands up and down over her tits which were barely concealed by the top of her short, strapless…little…black…dress. So lost in the music, she wasn’t aware of his presence until he roughly grabbed her hips from behind. She jumped, and he knew her heart was racing. She tilted her head back and must have liked what she saw because she pressed her ass back against his cock and began grinding so hard it was almost painful. The other girls—the vapid looking blonde and the other, more conservative brunette— faltered in their steps for a moment at the sight of their friend moving so aggressively with a strange man. Spike continued his bruising grip on the girl’s hips. He was angry. Angry at his girl. Angry at his friend. Angry at his dick, because he couldn’t even get a decent hard-on rubbing up against this minx on the dance floor. The girl put her hands over his and squeezed lightly. He loosened his grip and she turned in his arms wrapping her own tightly around his neck, pressing her breasts to his chest.

“Hey there, gorgeous, what can I call you?” she breathed in his ear.

Spike touched his lips to the shell of her ear and murmured, “Name’s Spike, luv, but you can call me whatever you want.”

“I like Spike.” She punctuated her statement by sliding her hand down his chest to the front of his pants. If she was disappointed to find him flaccid, she didn’t show it. “Wanna go to a party…Spike.” She squeezed the crotch of his jeans.

Spike smirked. “Thought you’d never ask, pet.”

“By the way…Spike…my name is Faith…but you can call me whatever you want.” She laughed and turned towards the other girls. “Hey, bitches, we’re hitting the party at my cousin’s lake house.”

The blonde leaned into Faith, “Are you sure we should bring him along, cause like…he looks totally dangerous…hot…but dangerous.”

Faith leaned in closer to blondie’s ear, “That’s what I’m counting on, Harm.” She turned back to Spike, “Come on, baby. I’ll show you a real good time.”

Spike followed Faith and the girls out to a beat up sedan. Faith unlocked the doors and gestured for him to get in the front passenger side. He raised an eyebrow and gave her a questioning look.

“I’m no idiot, man. You didn’t think I’d bring the caddy to this neighborhood, did you? I may be easy, but I’m not dumb.” Spike smirked and climbed into the front seat. Let the good times roll.

Not surprisingly, Faith drove like a bat out of hell unconcerned by the frightened squeals of her friends from the back seat. Spike imagined that Faith was never a safe girl but from the other chits’ surprised expressions, he guessed that the careless nature of her driving was mostly for show. He had to assume that show was meant for him. So kitten wants to play. In another life, Spike might have been turned on by Faith’s brazen nature… but in this life, he was cold and unaffected. That didn’t stop him from giving her flirtatious looks and little touches here and there. That was his show. It was all a means to an end. He was sure there would be a variety of mind-altering substances at this lake house, and he planned on sampling his fair share. He needed to forget about Dru…and Angel. Sex wasn’t going to do that for him. Fucking wouldn’t help…but the drugs would. So, he put on a show, and if he had to will an erection and lay into this chit to get what he wanted, then that’s what he would do. Spike noticed them coming upon a massive house situated near a large body of water. Music was booming and there were people everywhere. Faith pulled the car to a stop behind a line of expensive looking cars and SUVs on the private road in front of the house. She turned towards Spike and winked, “We’re here, sexy.” They exited the vehicle and began the short trek to the house. On the front walk, Spike narrowly dodged a young man running out the front door to vomit on the lawn. Nice. Faith pulled Spike into the house and through the throngs of wasted socialites into a large, crowded sitting room. She tugged Spike over to a bulky man sitting in a chair in the corner with a rather insipid looking bimbo on his lap.

Faith let go of Spike and crossed her arms. “Hey, Riley, nice whore. So where’s Buffy?”

Riley sneered, “Shut the fuck up, Faith. I don’t know where the little bitch is. She took off in my car hours ago.”

“Well maybe you should take better care of her. She is your girlfriend, even if you keep forgetting that, you piece of shit. Come on, Spike, let’s get away from this asshole.” Spike was more than happy to go along with that suggestion. Something about this Riley bloke made him a bit uneasy. Faith led him through the house and up a set of stairs. She knocked on a door and a moment later it opened revealing a shaggy-haired, shirtless man.

“Hey, cuz, was wondering when you were gonna show up.” He looked Spike up and down. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Spike. He’s cool.” She reached behind Spike and squeezed his ass. “But he seems a little tense. Got anything we can give him to help loosen him up a little?”

The man opened the door farther. “You’re just in time.” Spike and Faith entered the room, and the guy closed the door behind them. Turning back towards Spike he said, “I’m Lindsey by the way. This is my house you’re enjoying.”

“It’s great, mate. Thanks for the hospitality.” Spike took in the room. Jackpot.

All he had expected was a little coke and a fair bit of weed, maybe some pills proffered from mommy and daddy, but the syringes lying discarded about the room indicated that he had stumbled upon something much better. Spike glanced at Faith, “Looks like this is where the party is, luv. Let’s get started.” Faith smirked and pulled Spike over to a large lounge chair in one corner of the room. She backed him up to it and ran her hands over his chest for a moment before pushing him down. She climbed onto his lap and wiggled around a bit. When she was settled, she instructed Lindsey to prepare some junk for her and her man. Lindsey grinned and Spike noticed that he already had a few loaded syringes on a tray. Spike snickered. Oh to be rich and wasted.

A few moments later and Spike didn’t care if the room caught on fire. Oh yeah, everything was gonna be all right. He didn’t need Drusilla. He didn’t need Angel. This is what he needed. This is what the bitch had taken away from him. He smiled as Faith squirmed around in his lap, laughing softly to herself. He ran his hands over the tops of her breasts and under the material covering them, so they were skin to skin. She moaned. He could feel her erect nipples jabbing into his palms. He grasped and massaged her flesh and her vocalizations grew louder. He removed his right hand from Faith’s breast and ran it down her body to just below the hem of her short dress. He then slowly dragged his fingers up her inner thigh bringing the fabric up with them. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he smirked, “No knickers, luv? Naughty, naughty.” He ran his fingers along her wet folds. Fuck you, Drusilla. He leaned his head back as he heedlessly circled a finger around her clit. He could hear her panting for more, but he just continued on at the same leisurely pace. He had gotten what he came for, he was really unconcerned with getting this bint off. She was just something to occupy his hands with while he rode out his high. He tilted his head forward and began placing small kisses on her neck, “Got any coke in that little girly purse of yours, luv?” She tossed the purse back at him and panted at him to have at it. She whimpered when he removed his hand from her breast. “Need it for a minute, pet.” He snapped open her small clutch purse and was pleased with what he found, a tiny bag of white powder and a pill bottle that looked to contain a mixture of pharmaceuticals. He started to remove his hand from between Faith’s legs, but she caught his arm. “Sorry, need it more than you do, luv.” She pouted but released his arm. She rubbed her ass into his crotch and frowned. Still soft. Spike maneuvered Faith so he could tilt one hip up and tucked the powder into his back pocket. Bint’s too far gone to notice. If I wasn’t already so far gone myself, I’d just take out with the whole stash. He opened the pill bottle and dumped several random tablets in his hand. Cheers. He tossed them in his mouth, chewed them up and swallowed, his face distorting at the bitter taste. Faith had relaxed against him, and he wasn’t entirely sure that she was conscious. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. Peace.

Chapter Two:

Buffy hadn’t lasted even an hour at the party. In fact, she lasted about 32 minutes. That was how long it took for Riley to end up with his cock in some skanky slut’s mouth. Buffy figured that must be some sort of record for him. His mistake. If he’d waited a little bit longer, she would have been too intoxicated to steal his car. It was amusingly easy to get his keys. They’d actually fallen out of his pocket when he’d dropped his pants freeing his dick for that whore. Buffy just scooped them up off the floor and ran for it. She knew Riley wouldn’t be catching her with his pants down around his ankles.

She drove for hours, entertaining the notion of wrecking Riley’s shiny new BMW. But no, she simply had too much respect for personal property. What a laugh that was. She couldn’t even disrespect the property of someone that did nothing but disrespect her. When had everything gone so wrong? Riley seemed like the perfect gentleman when they started dating last fall. Then, three months into the relationship, she caught him with his hand up the shirt of one of her sorority sisters. He swore that it had never happened before and that it would never happen again. Naively, she believed him. But it did happen again…and again…and again. And she had her pride, oh yes, she tried to dump him. Her father found out that she had given Riley the old heave ho and laid into her about ruining the family. So what if Riley’s father was best friends with the mayor, she shouldn’t have to put up with him. But she did. Eventually, it became second nature to just forgive his indiscretions, no matter how frequently they occurred. She had graduated the university a month prior, so she didn’t even have her daddy’s threats of withholding tuition hanging over her head anymore. It just seemed easier to appease her family rather than sever the relationship. She told herself that she would end it for good if she ever found anyone else that she wanted to be with. However, she was so disillusioned about romantic entanglements at this point, that finding the desire to enter into another one was highly unlikely.

Buffy had noticed the gas tank getting low and ended up crashing for the night at her parents’ guest house. She didn’t want to risk waking anyone by entering the main house. That opened up the possibility for questions, and she wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated. She awoke with the sunrise and checked her cell phone messages, knowing that she had probably caused a stir with the haste of her departure from the party the night before. Twelve new messages…but not one from Riley. She sighed. She figured Riley was still at the party, passed out in some corner with the skank. Having lost the appeal of having his car in her custody, Buffy grabbed the keys and headed out the door to return it. There was bound to be someone left at the lake house who could give her a ride.

Buffy arrived back at the house having decided on the ride over that she would let Riley know exactly what she thought of his behavior the night before. She figured striking while he had the inevitable massive hangover was a clever tactic. She headed into the house and stepped over the bodies passed out in the foyer. She was disappointed when she didn’t find Riley in the sitting room. That meant he was most likely passed out in one of the upstairs bedrooms with, at least, one bimbo by his side. Buffy climbed the stairs. There were five bedrooms on the second floor. She picked a door and knocked. Just as she expected, there was no response. She pushed the door open and saw a few naked girls passed out on the bed. Okay, no Riley there. She was about to knock on the door across the hall when she heard a sound coming from the master bedroom. It sounded like crying. Buffy walked to the door and knocked. The crying continued, so Buffy tentatively pushed the door open. Her eyes widened at the scene before her.

Lindsey was passed out on the bed, oblivious to the activity in the room. Faith looked distraught. She was sobbing noisily, rivers of mascara running down her face, most likely burning her eyes. Buffy was horrified to see her roughly slapping the face of an unconscious man reclining in the lounge chair. Buffy had never seen the man before. He had platinum blond hair and was wearing beat-up jeans and a black t-shirt that bore the name of some band she had never heard of. Buffy thought that he would be quite attractive if it wasn’t for the vomit on the side of his face.

“Faith, what are you doing?!”

Faith turned her head and regarded Buffy with a crazed expression. “He won’t wake up! We were high! I didn’t know he was going to take half my pills too! I didn’t know, B! He threw up, that’s good right, he threw up! He threw up, B!”

“Faith! Shut up! You need to get him to the hospital!”

Faith let out a pathetic laugh, “Yeah, bring him to the ER pumped full of drugs. Right, B.”

Buffy waved her hands in the air. “God, Faith, just drop him there or something!”

“You gotta help me fix him, B. We just got to get him to wake up. He’s breathing now. I know he’ll wake up if you fix him.”

“Whoa, Faith,” Buffy shook her head in shock, “he wasn’t breathing. I’m not a doctor, how do you expect me to fix this, Faith?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Faith mumbled, tears still streaming down her face.

Buffy rubbed her hands over her face. “Okay, well, he’s breathing now, and hopefully he threw up some of the pills. I’ll get a cool rag for his head. We’ll just leave him be for now, but Faith, if he seems worse…at all…we’re calling an ambulance. Understand?”

“Yeah, B, yeah. Thanks. I knew you’d fix everything. I knew you would.” Faith slumped to the floor, leaning back against the bed.

Buffy shook her head. This was the last thing she wanted to get dragged into. She knew that Faith’s drug habit was bound to get her into deep shit one day. The more she thought about the situation, though, the less worried she was. The guy was breathing, well now at least, and he looked like he’d probably used his fair share of toxic substances before. Buffy guessed that the chemicals in Faith’s system were partially responsible for her hysteria. Buffy wet a couple of washcloths in the attached bathroom and returned to the room. She approached the man and began using one of the cloths to wipe off his face. Hmm…he is an attractive guy. She threw the soiled rag to the floor and placed the other cloth on his forehead. She noticed his eyelids begin to flutter.

Spike felt like shit. In fact, it had been over a year, since he remembered feeling quite this shitty. He tried to open his eyes, but it was proving to be quite difficult. He groaned as he managed to crack one eye open. Everything was blurry. He forced his other eye open and the world became a little more focused. He could make out a form hovering over him. As his vision sharpened, he saw golden hair and big hazel eyes. He let out a humorless chuckle. Well, you’ve gone and done it, mate. You’ve finally killed yourself. Didn’t expect them to send an angel, though. Guess all the demons are away.

Chapter Three:

Spike's eyes were transfixed on the pouty pink lips of the heavenly creature before him. His heart skipped a beat when he saw them twitch and begin to part. What would this messenger of God have to say to a fallen man such as himself? He tilted his head forward in anticipation of whatever profound message he was about to receive.

"You're an idiot." Spike furrowed his brow. Okay, not exactly what he expected, but not any less valid.

"No...really, you're a complete and total idiot." He raised an eyebrow. Must be in hell after all. "How much crap did you take? Were you trying to kill yourself?" It was at this point that Spike began to suspect that he might not be as deceased as he had previously thought. Really, his beating heart should have given that away, but he had been a bit distracted by his angel....his angel that wasn't really an angel at all. That must mean...Spike groaned. Another fuckin' rich bitch...only this one's a nag. He found that her ethereal presence was shifting more towards prissy and self-righteous by the second. Thankfully, he found it rather easy in his drug-addled state to simply block out her voice. It was much more enjoyable watching her glossy lips move enticingly if he didn't have to listen to her berate him in the process. It worked too, until she began poking at his shoulder with one of her perfectly manicured little fingers.

"Oi! Hands off, you crazy bint!" Spike struggled to sit up straight in the chair.

"Are you listening to me?! Or is your brain too fried from all the shit you put in your body?"

Spike shifted forward to give this chit a piece of his mind but was hit by a sudden wave of nausea. He leaned back in the chair and swallowed hard, turning his face from the girl's accusing eyes. She shook her head and stomped off through a door in the corner of the room. Spike decided to use this reprieve to reacquaint himself with his surroundings. Huge room...empty syringes lying scattered about...large bed...shirtless man passed out on bed...loopy-looking bint leaning against bed staring directly at him. What was that chit's name? Fay...Faith? She looks a little worse for the wear. Must have been some party. "You...uh...you all right there, pet?" Faith's lips turned up in a twisted grin at the same time fresh tears began to trickle from her eyes. Spike was disturbed by her expression. "Are you daft? What's wrong with you?" Her only reply was giddy laughter. Spike leaned his head back. I have to get out of this madhouse.

Buffy returned to the room carrying a small garbage pail and a glass of water. She sat the pail down and shoved the water towards Spike, "Here. Drink this. If you have to puke, do it in there," she gestured towards the pail. "When you think you can make it to the front door without making any messes, I suggest you leave. Oh, and just a piece of advice, you might want to take a long shower. You smell really disgusting."

Spike sneered, "Love the bedside manner, pet. I can really tell you're a nurturing individual."

"I just don't like drugged up assholes influencing my friends." She crossed her arms and shot him what she hoped was an intimidating glare.

He snorted and nodded towards a still giggling Faith. "If you haven't noticed, your friend is entirely off her bird." He stuck his nose in the air trying to appear nonchalant. "Besides, I was having a totally innocent night before she got her claws into me and whisked me away to this den of iniquity."

"Riiight, I'm sure she jumped you on the way to bible study." Buffy rolled her eyes.

Spike smiled sweetly, "Actually, I was on my way to volunteer at the local women's shelter. The world would be a much better place if everyone did their part."

She roughly grabbed the glass of water out of his hand causing him to let out a decidedly unmanly yelp. "I think you look like you're good to go, so why don't you...go...now."

Spike smirked, "Can't, luv."

"Oh yes, you really, really can."

"Nope, no car. Crazy over there gave me a ride out here. Told you she kidnapped me." He sighed, "I'm just a poor, helpless victim in all of this really."

Buffy snickered, "Oh, please! Just call a goddamn cab and get the hell out of here!" She smiled, "Unless you want a ride in a police cruiser, cause I think that can probably be arranged." At that, Spike jumped up so fast that he almost made one of those messes that the bint was so afraid of.

"All right, all right, I'm out of here." He stalked towards the door. When he reached it, he turned around and aimed a finger at Buffy, "You are a raging bitch." And with those parting words, he was out the door.

Buffy shook her head and sighed. Turning towards Faith, "You really know how to pick—"

"Umm, pet?"

Buffy's eyes widened as she whirled around, "Oh my god! What are you still doing here? There is a fucking phone in every room. Call a goddamn cab!"

Spike clenched his jaw and spoke in a measured tone, "Well, I can do that...but I don't have anywhere for the cab to take me."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. You're homeless?!" She shook her head at her friend. "Oh my god, Faith, you brought some homeless guy out here!"

"Oi! I'm not homeless! I just don't currently have...lodging."

Buffy turned to him with a spiteful grin. "Well, ya know what? Not really my problem. The taxi can drop you off in a gutter for all I care."

Spike gave her his best puppy dog eyes, "You'd just send me out into the cold?"

"It's summer, you freak! I'm totally over this conversation. Get out!" She pointed at the door.

Spike rolled his shoulders, "All right, I know when I'm not wanted. Guess I'll go start my life on the stree—"

"He could stay at your guest house, B!" Buffy tilted her head, not believing what she was hearing. "Your parents always let you use it for your friends. They don't care what you do with it."

Buffy looked at her incredulously, "Great, Faith, you pick now to come to your senses. I am so not housing your boyfriend." Spike snorted at the comment, but didn't bother to correct her.

"Come on, B," Faith begged. "We can't send him out on the streets in this condition. I feel responsible. I did give him the drugs..."

"Yeah, and I'm sure you forced him to take them. If you feel so responsible, then why don't you let him crash at your place?"

Faith gave her a look. "Oh yeah, I'm sure Harm and Cordy would really go for that. Just let him stay for a night, B. You have a whole empty house just sitting there."

Buffy frowned at Faith's pleading face. I can't believe I'm even considering this. "One day. He gets one day, and then he has to find some other place to crash."

"Two days. I need a day to recover a little."

She turned towards Spike. "This is not a negotiation."

"Come on, luv, you won't even notice I'm around."

Buffy let out an exasperated sigh, "All right, two days. If you aren't out by then, I call the cops to bodily remove you."

"Do you need to borrow my car, B?"

She wrinkled her nose, "No, you don't want your car smelling like puke...I'll take Riley's." She started to lead Spike from the room before turning back, "Take care of yourself, Faith. No more of...just no more. Okay?"

Faith smiled, "I'm straight, B. Five by five."

Spike followed Buffy through the house and out the front door to a shiny black BMW. She unlocked the doors and got in without saying a word. Spike took this to mean that he should get in the car as well. He was barely seated before she took off. She continued to ignore him for the entire drive. After several minutes had passed, she pulled onto a private road. About half a mile down, there was an enormous three story house complete with columns and wraparound balconies on the two top floors. She veered off on a narrow side road in the middle of a group of trees. Once they passed the trees, she pulled up to a small brick house. Buffy turned the car off and stepped outside. She was already unlocking the front door of the house when Spike's brain caught up. He climbed out of the car and entered the house through the door she left open behind her. This place was way nicer than any place he'd ever stayed before, and it was just the guest house.

Buffy turned to him and crossed her arms, "I stay here occasionally, so there's a little bit of food in the fridge. Certainly enough for two days. I think Riley left some clothes in the bedroom. They'll be big on you, but at least they won't smell like puke. Speaking of which, you need to give me your clothes. I'll take them up to the house and have the maid wash them. I don't want you stinking up the place." Before she knew what was happening, Spike had pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the floor and was working on tugging his belt free of the buckle. "Oh my god! What are you doing!"

He stopped and cocked an eyebrow, "Giving you my clothes. What you wanted, right?"

"I didn't want you to get undressed in front of me. Go to the other room!"

Spike shrugged and disappeared down the hallway. Buffy let out a breath. Why are all the hot guys assholes? She was still pondering this anomaly when Spike sauntered back into the room carrying his jeans and clad only in a towel. Buffy's mouth dropped open, "You're wearing a towel!"

He glanced down at himself, "Well, yeah, didn't expect me to put on clean clothes before I showered, did ya?"

Letting out an annoyed little noise, Buffy reached out her hand, "Just give me the damn clothes." Spike held out his clothing and gave her a big, insincere smile as she snatched them from his hand. "You better work on getting your ass out of here!"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered as he flopped down on the leather couch. He could tell she wanted to make a comment, but she held back. Most likely, she was too preoccupied with trying to get the door open while keeping his ball of clothing as far away from her body as possible. Spike wrinkled his forehead as he suddenly had a flash of memory from the night before.

Goddamn door. That jerk could help me out. She snorted. Yeah, like that's going to happen. Finally, she managed to turn the knob and begin to pull the door open. "Eeep!" she screamed as the door slammed back shut in front of her. Her heart was pounding as she turned her head to see Spike's near naked body standing inches from her, arm extended, hand pressed firmly against the door.

"I'm afraid I can't let you leave, pet."

Chapter Four:

"Wha-a-a," Buffy stammered, eyes wide, pulse quickening.

Spike nodded at the ball of clothing in her hands. "Can't let you leave with my pants, luv. Hand 'em over."

Buffy blinked. Evidently, being this close to his smoothly muscled body was affecting her comprehension skills. "Huh?"

Spike let out an impatient breath. "My pants, pet, give 'em here."

"You want your pants?" Buffy asked slowly.

"Are you daft? That's what I've been saying? Not a very smart bint, are you?"

At that, Buffy's brain kicked back into gear. "Excuse me?! I'm sure I'm a hell of a lot smarter than the...bints you normally hang around. I'm just a little bit confused, because you're suddenly trapping me and demanding your nasty jeans back. Not like I'm gonna steal them or anything. Though, I'd be doing you a favor if I did."

Spike rolled his eyes, "Just hand 'em here." She raised her eyebrow. "Look, I just...prefer to handwash them is all."

Her eyebrow moved a fraction higher, "You are going to handwash your jeans?"

"Yeah, s'matter of fact of, I am."

Buffy shook her head and handed him the pants, "Well, have fun with that, I guess." She moved to take the doorknob again when suddenly his hand slapped the door in front of her face. "Aaaugh! Stop doing that!" She whirled around around so fast that she lost her balance and ended up bracing herself with her hands pressed against his bare chest. She quickly jerked them away bumping her back against the door in the process.

Spike chuckled, "Just want to know your name, pet, since I'm living with you and all."

She huffed, "You're not living with me. You are temporarily staying at my guest house. And my name is Buffy Summers. My father is Hank Summers, one of the best corporate attorneys in the state." Spike wouldn't have been surprised if she had added so you better watch out to the end of her statement.

He attempted a charming smile, "Well, Buffy Summers, daughter of Hank Summers, I'm Spike."

Buffy opened and closed her mouth a few times before finding her voice, "Uh-uh, I don't think so. No way am I letting a guy named Spike stay here. I don't care what Faith—"

"Oh for Christ's sake, my name is William Pratt...but it's Spike, okay?" He shook his head, wondering if he was going to be able to deal with this crazy bint for the next couple of days. Too bad he really didn't have any place to go.

"Great, well, Spike, I'm gonna head out now. Please, try not to do anything stupid." This time when she opened the door, he allowed her to slip out. He flopped down on the couch, jeans in hand. Sober for a year before last night and that pretentious snob treats me like a common junkie. He fished the packet of white powder out of the back pocket of his jeans. He had almost forgotten snagging it from Faith's purse. Little Miss Buffy Summers would have ripped him a new one if she had come across it. He shifted it around in his fingers for a moment before taking it to the bedroom and shoving it into the back of a dresser drawer. I'll worry about that after a shower and nap.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Buffy pulled up to the main house, she noticed a red viper pulling in behind her. She stepped out of the BMW at the same time Riley and Forrest stepped out of the other vehicle. And boy, did Riley look pissed. Deciding to sacrifice her purse, Buffy shoved Spike's soiled shirt inside. She didn't even want to try to come up with an explanation about Spike. She certainly couldn't bring Faith into the equation. Riley hated Faith enough as is. No, it would be better if she just pretended Spike didn't exist for now. She and Riley had too many other unresolved issues to comb through first anyway. Riley walked up to Buffy with his hands on his hips. By the time he reached her, Forrest had already climbed back into the viper and peeled out. "Buffy...Sweetie," he began with a tight grin, "I see you still have my car."

"Uh..yeah..sorry," she shook her head, "wait...what I'm saying? I'm totally not sorry, you ass! You fucking cheated on me and humiliated me again! The least you could do is let me borrow your damn car!" With that, she threw his keys at his chest. He stood there red-faced and fuming as they bounced off and hit the ground.

"Don't talk to me like that, Buffy. You know I hate it when you get mouthy. How do you think your dad would feel about this?"

She let out a humorless chuckle, "Well, Riley, he'd probably be pretty pissed at me. Like you, my father has a problem keeping his dick in his pants."

"Well, maybe if you spent more time in the bed fucking me rather than feigning headaches, I wouldn't need to look elsewhere." He shook his head. "Buffy, just admit it, you checked out of this relationship a long time ago."

"I have checked out, Riley! But only because I have a boyfriend that sees no problem with cheating on me every other week! Just let me go! I don't want to be with you anymore!"

"No!' he yelled grabbing her shoulders. "We're good together. If you'd just try a little harder, we'd be great together. You know it, Buff." Loosening his grip, "It makes our families so happy to see us together. Don't you want your family to be happy?"

Her shoulders sagged. "Don't I deserve to be happy," she mumbled. "I can't do this right now, Riley. I'm...I'm just really tired. Why don't we talk about this later, okay?"

"Okay, Sweetheart," he said leaning in and kissing her forehead. "Give me a call later."

Buffy nodded, backing away and heading towards the house. With a sigh, she walked through the front door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sun had set before Spike began to stir. He had managed to sleep the entire day away. If he hadn't needed to recover so badly, he would have felt worse about wasting precious time that could have been spent searching for alternate housing. He had no doubt the girl would kick him out as soon as his two days were up. He felt pathetic when he could only come up with one possible option, and even that one was unlikely. He desperately wanted to go home to Dru and forget about everything that had happened, but he knew that wasn't possible...not after what he had seen. Shaking those thoughts from his head for the time being, he picked up the phone next to the bed.

"Hey, Oz...........yeah, I know. I don't think I'll be there tomorrow either.............well, tell him to fire me if he has to. I really don't care at this point. Some bad shit has gone down, mate............no, I don't feel like talking about it at the moment. Listen, I was calling because I'm in serious need of a place to stay. You think Willow would be okay with me crashing with you guys...........you don't...........I know, mate. It's just...it's been two years. Is she ever going to forgive me.............I know, I know.............listen, mate, I gotta go. I'll get in touch with you soon.............all right. Later."

He clicked off the phone and tossed it on the bed. Trying to keep his breathing even, he put his hands over his face. How did everything go so wrong? Fuck. I've screwed up everything. Willow hates me. Drusilla doesn't want me. God, I would have done anything for her. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He felt moisture on his hands. "Fuck!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy's nap had turned into a whole day affair. When she awoke, it was dark out. She opened her bedroom door and found a wicker basket on the floor with Spike's folded t-shirt conspicuously stacked amongst her own designer clothes. She picked up the basket and moved it into her room, setting it on her bed. She removed Spike's t-shirt and held it in her hands. It felt so soft and worn. Not crisp and starched like all of Riley's expensive button downs. Oh fuck. I'm supposed to call Riley. She glanced at her phone then down at the shirt in her hands. Maybe I'll just go drop this by the guest house, then I'll think about dealing with Riley. After slipping on a white sundress and a pair of flip-flops, she made her way out to the guest house. It was a warm night and the walk felt especially peaceful, well-lit by the full moon.

She walked up to the front door of the house and raised her hand to knock. Why am I knocking? It's my house. With that thought in mind, she entered the house without giving notice. Upon entering, she found that all the lights were turned off. She didn't bother switching any of them on, as she could see fairly well by the light of the moon through the windows. She noticed Spike's jeans lying on the couch. Handwash, my ass. As there was no sign of him, she assumed that he was either sleeping or gone. She set his shirt on the couch and started to head back to the door when she heard a slight noise from the back of the house. She paused for a moment and heard it again. She flashed back to that morning at Lindsey's lake house, when she had found Faith distraught in the master bedroom. And like she had that morning, she felt compelled to follow the sound. She slipped off her flip-flops and walked silently through the house. When she came closer to the bedroom, she realized that was where she would find the source of the mysterious little noises. As quietly as she could, she peeked through the crack in the door...and gasped. Spike was lying in bed on his back with his hands covering his face. It was clear now to Buffy that the sounds she had heard were the whimpers of this strange man crying. She furrowed her brow. What's going on in his head? She lightly pushed the door open a tiny bit more and her heart stopped at what she saw. Whereas, previously, the door had obstructed her view of his lower half, she could now see that he was completely naked. Buffy has seen his upper body earlier, but hadn't really allowed herself to focus on it, as she didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing she was checking him out. Now, she allowed her eyes to drift over the ridges of his abs, taking note of the thin trail of hair beneath his navel. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help but allow her eyes to follow the line of fuzz down to where it ended in a nest of dark curls. Her heart sped up as she let her gaze fall on his thick shaft. She was surprised by the expanse of his girth even though he was completely flaccid. Her eyes widened when he began to grow right in front of her. She watched in fascination as his body became aroused to the point that his penis was pressed tightly against his stomach. What could have brought on this sudden change in the weeping man? Buffy shifted her view back to his face and met red-rimmed blue eyes. She drew in a quick breath. In the moonlight, she could see the tear tracks on his face. But at that moment, there was no mistaking the amused little smirk playing on his lips. She opened and closed her mouth, not knowing what to say.

"Wanna play, luv?"

Chapter Five:

Spike had been bawling his eyes out like some sort of wayward toddler when he remembered the packet of blow he'd stashed in the dresser. If there ever was a time to escape, it was now. He was friendless, loveless, and just—just completely alone. He took a cleansing breath and uncovered his face, intent on retrieving the coke from the dresser drawer—and what does he see before him but little Miss Buffy Summers of my dad's a corporate attorney fame staring at his cock like it was her last meal. There's nothing that will stop your tears faster than a gorgeous woman salivating over your goods...well, unless she's salivating on your goods. Spike felt himself twitch and begin to harden underneath her unwavering gaze. I guess you're still fully functional afterall, mate. As her eyes met his, he had to stifle a chuckle at the shock on her face from having been caught. Seeing her there—all silky and tan, barefoot in that little white sundress—Spike suddenly knew what would bring him more euphoria than any stash of white powder, so he said the first thing that came to his mind.

"Wanna play, luv?"

Her eyes widened, "Uh, what? I mean...no...no..."

Spike's lips spread into a wide grin. "Oh, I think you do."

"Well, you're wr-wrong," she stammered. "Why would you think that?"

He rolled over on his side giving her a better view of the area she had been so intent on examining only a moment ago. He chuckled at her little gasp. "Well, I would think that, luv...because you're still here."

"I...I..."

"You...you..." he mocked. "C'mere, kitten," he purred as he patted the bed beside him, "Not gonna hurt you, pet." He smirked, "I already know you're curious."

Buffy's brain was in overdrive, and her body wasn't functioning properly at all. She couldn't believe that she had yet to turn tail and run. Instead, as she stood paralyzed in the doorway gazing upon this strange man—this strange naked man—she felt her nipples harden and a rush of moisture between her thighs. She was truly disturbed that some small part of her was considering taking this man up on his offer. Though she wasn't entirely sure what playing consisted of, she had her suspicions. Clearly, this was some alternate universe where this was not the same junkie that had OD'ed at Lindsey's lake house. No, for her to be considering a playdate, this man must be a lawyer or a politician or crown prince of some little country no one's heard of.

"Don't make me throw you over my shoulder, Goldilocks—or maybe you're into that sort of thing."

Nope. Not an alternate universe.

"Oh my god. I have to go...now." Still in shock, Buffy forced herself to turn away from Spike's bare form.

"Now wait a minute, pet," Spike began, sitting up in the bed, "I know this sounds crazy, but just hear me out."

Buffy stared into the hallway, blinking. He was right about one thing. This was definitely crazy, so why couldn't she make herself leave without hearing what he had to say?

When Buffy made no further moves to leave, Spike assumed this meant he should say his piece. The problem was that he didn't know what to say. He was just trying to keep her from leaving the room.

"Well, luv, you see...do you have a boyfriend, pet?" Spike cringed at his juvenile question. "That was his car, right?"

Buffy swallowed, "Riley."

Spike furrowed his brow. "Riley. I remember him. Big, bulky bloke...whore on his knee." Spike's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Bollocks! You're that chit he was running around on."

"It's no big deal." She picked imaginary lint from her dress. "We just have a few issues."

"Issues! ISSUES! That pillock is fucking other birds, and you call that issues?" Spike clenched his jaw. "He has this—this incredibly gorgeous woman all to himself, and instead of cherishing her like he should, he gets his rocks off all around town!"

Buffy half-turned towards him and asked in a little voice, "You think he should cherish me?"

"Of course, I do," Spike said softly as he moved off the bed and padded across the floor to stand beside her. He lightly gripped her chin and turned her head to face him. "You deserve better." He tilted her face and lowered his lips to hers, gently coaxing a response from her. Buffy's eyes fluttered shut at his feather-light kisses. Spike gingerly pulled her to him, enjoying the feel of the rough fabric of her dress against his bare skin.

Buffy was lost—but the thick, hard length pressed against her stomach was like a bucket of ice water bringing her back to the reality of the situation. Pushing against his chest, "I can't, I can't. I'm no better than him!"

Spike held fast as she tried to distance herself from him. Clearly, he needed a change in tactics. "So, it's all right for him to have whoever he wants, but you can't do the same? You aren't allowed to feel good? You aren't allowed to feel...pleasure." He held her tightly to his body.

"We—we shouldn't be doing this. I don't know you. I'm not like you," Buffy mumbled into his chest.

"If you don't know me, luv, then how do you know you're not like me?" Spike held her away from his body and looked into her wide eyes. "We might have more in common than you think." Pulling her back to his chest, "Come to bed with me, kitten. I'll make you feel so good. Just give me tonight. I'll leave tomorrow, pet. I'll leave, and you'll never have to see me again. Just give me tonight." Spike knew that he had been reduced to begging, but he didn't rightly care at that moment with her soft body pressed against his. This bint was having the strangest effect on him. He almost wondered if the drugs would have been a safer bet.

When he felt that all the fight had left her, Spike released Buffy from his arms. Taking her hand, he led her to the bed. He was pleased when she followed with no resistance. He turned to her and lightly fingered the bottom of her dress, "Kitten, I'm gonna make you more comfortable. 'Kay?"

Buffy nodded blankly. As she raised her arms to help him pull her dress over her head, she knew that she had to be in some sort of trance.

Spike murmured his approval at her firm, round breasts with their puckered pink nipples. Leaning down, he took one rosy bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue. Buffy yelped in surprise before giving way to a breathy moan. Taking this as a sign to continue, Spike took her other mound in his hand and gently rolled the erect peak between his fingers. Buffy's moans and gasps grew louder as he continued his ministrations. Oh, yeah, I have her. Spike moved his lips from her breast and placed a trail of wide open-mouthed kisses over her collar bone and up her neck. Reaching her ear, he lightly tugged the lobe with his teeth before murmuring, "touch me, baby. Please, touch me." Not waiting for her to respond, he took her hand and firmly wrapped it around the base of his erection. He slid their joined hands up to the moistened head and down again. He repeated the action again and again. He released Buffy's hand and gripped her hip. She faltered for a moment then resumed the same steady rhythm. "That's it, baby....just like that...fuck...so good..." he panted helplessly.

Buffy watched her hand in fascination as she pumped his long, thick cock. This man was built nothing like Riley...in all the right ways. Buffy let out a little pleasured sigh as Spike did something particularly spectacular to one of her sensitive nipples. Maybe I'm possessed by a demon. Yeah, that must be it. Nothing else explains why I would allow myself to engage in such intimate acts with a man I feel nothing but animosity for. That's all I feel, right? "Ooooooh," she moaned as Spike bit down lightly on her pulse point. Involuntarily, her grip tightened and the pace of her strokes quickened. Spike lightly grasped her wrist, stilling her hand. She looked at him, confused.

"Just...if you keep going like that, pet, it's gonna be over before it's begun." She wrinkled her brow. "Want to be inside you when I come, luv." Her eyes widened and he wondered if he'd made a mistake. He studied her face as she took a few deep breaths, staring at the wall behind his back with a pensive expression. He really hoped that whatever she decided worked out in his favor. Finally, she met his eyes. Not breaking contact, she blindly reached to her side and opened the drawer of the bedside table. After a moment of rummaging, she raised a small square packet in front of his face. Well, there was his answer.

He smiled, "You're a little over-dressed, pet. He stepped towards her until only a few inches separated them. He ran his hands down her sides to her hips, hooking the sides of her panties with his thumbs and dragging them down until she was able to kick them off the rest of the way. He took the condom from her fingers and sat it on the bedside table. "Lay down, kitten." She did as he asked and laid on her back in the bed with her knees up and her head resting on a pillow. He gazed at her form, and all at once, he understood how he could have mistaken this creature for an angel.

He joined her on the bed, kneeling before her bent legs. He slid his hands down her thighs, intent on gently separating her legs, but she held fast. "Wh-what are you doing?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Well, luv, if we're gonna get anywhere, you're really gonna have to spread 'em eventually." She huffed, but allowed him to carefully pry her legs apart. He leaned back on his heels and admired her neatly trimmed curls glistening with proof of the effect he was having on her. Leaning forward, he gave her slit a long lick from bottom to top. She gasped and bucked into his mouth. He latched onto her clit and nibbled sending her into such a frenzy, he wondered if the git had ever done this for her. Flicking her nub with his tongue, he slid one long finger inside of her and began to pump it in and out. She was writhing and panting so hard, he feared she would hyperventilate. Nevertheless, he added a second finger. He could feel her walls squeezing him as they began to convulse. Soon, Buffy emitted a high pitched cry and a flood of moisture covered his hand.

Grabbing the packet from the table, Spike ripped it open and sheathed himself. Not waiting for her to come down from her orgasm, he plunged into her tight, wet heat. This elicited shuddering moans from the both of them. Spike had no illusions that this was going to be slow, gentle love-making. No, he was too far gone for that. She was too wet, too hot, too perfect. She was his drug. He wasted no time before thrusting wildly, sliding rapidly in and out of her slick opening—loving the feeling of her choking him.

"Fuck...so tight...so perfect...fu-fuck...yeah, yeah...squeeze me like that..." Spike babbled as his hips pistoned at a bruising pace.

For Buffy's part, she was making no effort to muffle her screams of pleasure at the delicious sensation of Spike filling her body with his own. She scraped her nails downs his back as she gasped her approval of his technique.

The room echoed with the sounds of the headboard hitting the wall and their sweat-slicked bodies slapping together.

Buffy could feel herself climbing. She could not fathom the sensation that was building within her. It was like nothing she had felt before. As Spike's thickness stretched her again and again farther than she ever imagined, she felt herself fly over the edge. She cried out her release as she dug her nails into Spike's skin deep enough to draw blood.

Spike felt Buffy's walls flutter around him. He sped up his thrusts to an impossible speed. His movements became jerky, as he too, found his release—spilling himself into the condom within her body. He rested on top of her for a moment, bracing himself on his forearms, so as not to crush her. He lowered his face to the pillow beside her head and listened to her pants synch with his own. Finally, after their breathing had slowed, he moved his hips back and slipped out of her warmth. He groaned at the loss. Rolling to the side, he pulled off the condom and tossed it in the trash bin next to the bed.

He glanced over at Buffy. She was lying still with her eyes closed, but he could tell by her slightly uneven breathing that she hadn't drifted off to sleep. She looked so beautiful surrounded by a halo of damp, golden hair. An angel. His angel. He knew it wasn't part of the deal, but he couldn't help but shift towards her and wrap an arm around her mid-section. He gave her a gentle kiss on the temple before laying his head down on the pillow and closing his eyes. He didn't understand why, but he hoped this strange girl—this girl that had treated him with so much scorn—this...beautiful girl, would let him hold her for a little while.

Buffy opened her eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. Oh god. What have I done?

Chapter Six:

Buffy was ready to bolt. She had officially slept with a strange man. No—she had fucked a strange man. And now said strange man had one arm loosely draped over her stomach, casually caressing her ribs with his fingertips. She had no idea what the protocol was in this situation. He had implied that this was just meant to be a meaningless sexual encounter and nothing more. Do I flee without looking back? Do I get up and say "thanks for the sex, gotta run?"

Buffy figured the first step would be to get dressed, so she carefully removed the arm from her body and moved from the bed, taking care not to look at her companion. Buffy knew that if she gazed into those deep blue eyes, she would—well, she didn't know what she'd do, but it probably wouldn't be of the good...or it would be too good. She was confused enough as is.

As she slipped on her panties and pulled her dress over her head, she could feel his eyes boring holes into her back. Once she was dressed, she stood there, not knowing how to proceed.

"Ya know, you can look at me, luv."

Buffy's back stiffened at his voice, but she forced herself to turn and face him, not wanting to appear weak—weaker.

"I—I'm just—we're done...right?"

Spike's eyebrows went up at that. A moment later he responded with a wry chuckle, "Right, pet, you best be toddling off now. You've done your part. Quite impressively, I might add. It's really a wonder why that wanker boyfriend of yours doesn't think you're enough. Well, don't worry, I'm sure you'll work it out. I'll be out of your hair tomorrow just like I promised."

While nothing Spike said should have been outright hurtful given the circumstances, every sentence stung in its own way. Buffy couldn't help but feel that was what he'd intended. She had no reply for him but a jerky nod as she turned and left the room.

Spike flopped back down on the bed. Why was he letting this bint get to him? And now he had one less night of guaranteed shelter! He was such an idiot. As he lay there with the scent of sweat and sex on his skin, he couldn't hold back a small grin. It was worth it.

Buffy stumbled back up the road to the main house. It was clearly too late to call Riley now. He would be furious when she called him tomorrow. As is, she was beginning to feel tremendous guilt over her recent activities. Since Riley had rejected her attempt to dissolve their relationship, she felt like she had cheated on him. She knew that wasn't really fair, but she never claimed to be rational or logical. And sure, Riley had affairs all the time, but she just wasn't built that way.

As she reached the front door, all she could think about was crawling into her nice, soft bed. That seemed really odd considering she'd spent all day sleeping in her bed, then she'd spent time in the guest house bed doing...other things. She knew if she was lost in slumber, she could forget everything for awhile. She could forget Riley, Spike, even her father and Faith. She'd worry about it all in the morning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy did not, in fact, worry about anything in the morning, because she managed to sleep until late afternoon. She didn't want to admit to herself why she was so worn out. That would just open up a whole series of items for her to analyze, and she really wasn't in the mood. She grudgingly phoned Riley and had a lovely time listening to him chastise her for her lack of respect. She thought she would give it another go with the whole break-up business, but somehow ended up agreeing to go to The Greens with him—a popular upscale restaurant located on the fringe of the business district. She really was under the impression that Riley was perfectly sane, so she couldn't fathom why he was this hard to get rid of. Though, she knew some of the blame had to land squarely on her own shoulders.

Riley would be picking her up in about two hours, so Buffy knew she would have to start her multi-step beautifying process soon. Despite that, her mind kept drifting to one bleached blond miscreant. I should go check and see if he's cleared out. Ya know, just so I can tell the maid to go clean the place. Making up her mind, she hopped up from where she had been lounging on her bed and slid on her flip-flops to go along with the jean cut-offs and navy blue tank top she'd slipped on earlier.

Once again, she found herself on the road to the guest house. Only this time, she found that she had an extreme case of the nerves. What would she do if he was still there? What would she say to him? Her communication skills weren't exactly stellar the last time she saw him. She reached the front door of the house and let herself in without knocking. She glanced around, peeping in the immediate rooms. She noticed Spike's t-shirt and jeans were missing from the couch. Seeing no one in the living room or kitchen area, she tentatively moved towards the back of the house.

"......come on, mate.......no! There's nowhere else.............yeah, I thought so too, but I fucked it up. I'm out now.........wouldn't really matter. I'd be just as fucked tomorrow..........just—just get her to talk to me.........please! Just for a minute, one minute. I promise......thanks, mate.........Wills?..........but........no, I......I'm not like that anymore..........I wouldn't!........I loved him too!........Willow? Willow? Are you there?..........yeah, Oz.....yeah.......I'll—I'll wait awhile before I call again.....bye."

Buffy heard the phone being clicked off and a soft thud that must have been the receiver landing on the bed. She was sure Spike wouldn't have wanted her to overhear his conversation, so she thought the best course of action would be to quietly return to the living room. She took a step backwards and promptly knocked into a framed print on the wall behind her, setting it askew—a second later, Spike stepped through the bedroom doorway.

He tilted his head, "What are you doing in the hallway, luv?"

Buffy sincerely hoped she wasn't screaming deer caught in the headlights."Oh...I...um...oh..."

"Already said that, pet." A dark expression crossed his face, "Oh, I get it. You're just here to make sure I'm gone. Well, don't get your panties in a twist, sweetheart—I just have to fetch a cab, and then I'll no longer be your problem." He curled his tongue behind his teeth, "But really, thanks for all the hospitality."

Buffy's face burned as she watched Spike stalk back through the bedroom door. A moment later, she heard dialing. She blinked...and sprinted for the bedroom.

"Wait!" Spike looked at her in surprise, but he heeded her command and clicked off the phone...and waited...and waited.

"Kitten? What are we waiting for exactly?"

Buffy took a breath. "Oh, it's just—you don't have to go right now. I mean, I told you two nights, so it wouldn't be fair..."

Spike gave her a tight smile, "That's a nice thought and all, but I made you a deal, and I do my best not to go back on my word. It wouldn't be right after what you—after what you gave me."

Her heart sped up as she considered exactly what she had given him. "Yeah, but I never actually said that I agreed to those terms, did I?"

Spike thought back to the previous night. There had been moans and screams, gasps, and several oh gods, but she was right—she had never actually said that she accepted his deal, and yet she'd slept with him anyway.

He raised an eyebrow, "Well, that begs all sorts of questions, doesn't it, luv?"

She crossed her arms. "We're not going there, Spike."

"But—"

"We're not going there, Spike."

He pouted, jutting out his lower lip and crossing his arms, "Fine...I guess I'll stay tonight. Nothing else going on..."

Buffy rolled her eyes, "'Kay. Great. I've gotta run. It's been fun as always."

Spike grabbed her arm, "Hey, wait. Why don't you stick around and watch a DVD or something. You have enough of them by that giant TV in the living room."

"Sorry, I have plans." She shook off his hand and headed for the front door, Spike trailing behind.

"What kind of plans?" he asked suspiciously.

"The kind that aren't any of your business. Bye, Spike," she said as she opened the door and slipped out into the warm late afternoon air.

Spike scowled at the door before flopping down on the expensive leather couch.

Bollocks.

Chapter Seven:

Buffy smoothed out the wrinkles in the simple blue silk dress she had chosen for her evening out with Riley. He was late, as usual—forty-five minutes late, to be exact. So, that gave her forty-five minutes to ponder why on earth she was allowing Spike to stay. He had given her the perfect out, and she threw it away. Why?

It was bad enough to begin with—inviting some stranger, some junkie to stay at her guest house—but then she had to go and make matters infinitely worse by sleeping with him. Who does that? Maybe she had some bizarre mental break or maybe curiosity just got the better of her. Maybe something about him made her want more than just a life of privilege. Maybe she wanted him. No, that couldn't be it. That would be absolute and total insanity—senseless beyond belief.

For once, she was relieved to see Riley's BMW flying up the front drive. She desperately needed something to derail her line of thought. At least this evening would provide an excellent distraction. Part of her wanted to start a campaign to repair their relationship solely to avoid any lingering confusion leftover from her tryst with her blue-eyed house guest. Confusion that was hers alone, of course, as Riley had no knowledge of the encounter.

"Hey, babe!" he shouted out the window of his car. "Hurry up! We're going to be late!" He said it like it was her fault. Why did that not surprise her?

She moved down the porch steps just fast enough not to incite any further complaints from Riley. No way was she going to sprint to the car in heels. They could stand to lose another thirty seconds, so she could avoid snapping an ankle. She barely had pulled her leg into the car and certainly didn't have the door fully closed when Riley took off in a cloud of dust. Startled, she jerked the door closed so forcefully that she propelled her body into Riley's shoulder causing him to swerve on the narrow driveway.

"Buffy! What's wrong with you! Are you trying to get us killed?!" He removed his right hand from the steering wheel long enough to give her a rough shove back into her own seat.

She just sat there, heart pounding, thinking that this was a hell of way to start an evening out. She glanced at Riley as he flipped the dial up on his stereo until the volume was so loud, she thought the windows might shatter. Why had she wanted to repair her relationship with him again? She shifted in her seat in an attempt to relieve the slight soreness between her legs. Ah yes, that was why.

She was thankful when they arrived at the restaurant as she was afraid her eardrums would burst if she was forced to endure anymore of Riley's so-called music. She waited in the car for him to come around and open her door. When he didn't, she opened it herself and did a little half-jog to catch up with him as he strode purposefully for the entrance of the restaurant, apparently unconcerned with her welfare. She was beginning to wonder why she was there at all—on many different levels.

They narrowly made their reservation and were seated at a table in the center of the restaurant. Riley plucked the wine menu out of her hands reminding her 'you know how you get when you drink.' How she gets? She gets a little friendly and falls asleep. He gets pissy and ends up with his dick stuck in some stranger's cunt, or mouth, or ear, for all she knows! Yet here she was—wineless, while the waiter was handing him his glass of scotch...and she really needed that glass of wine.

Buffy stared silently at the table, having also been relieved of her dinner menu when she had the silly notion that she would decide on her own entree. Heaven forbid, she make her own decisions.

"Buffy? I totally haven't seen you in forever!"

She looked up from the table and found herself eye to boob with a pair of impressive implants. She adjusted her gaze to about a foot higher and met Harmony's sparkling eyes.

"Hey, Harm," she glanced at Harmony's mostly unbuttoned white blouse, short black skirt, and shiny name badge, "you work here?"

"Yeah..." she glanced at Riley, "Hi, Riley!"

"Hey there, Harmony, you're looking quite lovely this evening." He raked his eyes over her body.

"Oh, Riley," she giggled, "I totally do not! I have to wear this stupid uniform. I can't believe daddy made me get this job! He shouldn't have given me his credit card if he like didn't want me to use it. Sometimes shoes are an emergency!"

Buffy raised her eyebrow as Harmony batted her eyelashes at Riley. "Uh, Riley," Buffy began, "Are we gonna..."

"Huh," he looked up from Harmony's tits, "oh yeah. We'd like to place our order now, Harmony, if that's all right."

"Just speak like really, really slowly. All this Italian stuff sounds the same."

Riley smiled, "All right. I'll have the veal...cacciatore...and she'll have the calamari...marinara." Buffy hated calamari.

Harmony made some scribbles on her pad of paper. No doubt phonetically spelled Italian dishes, but whatever works, right? She then sauntered off to the kitchen, hips swaying, presumedly to put in their order. Harmony with a job. Will wonders never cease?

"So," Riley began, turning his attention back towards Buffy and away from Harmony's retreating ass, "my parents want to know if you plan on spending any time away from the beach when we're in Cabo next week. I told them 'you know Buffy, all sun-tans and manicures', but I think they really want you to check out—"

Buffy shook her head, completely confused, "Riley, what on earth are you talking about?"

He shot her a look, "You know, Buffy, our Cabo trip...we talked about this months ago. We didn't pick an exact date, but I figured next week was as good a time as any."

"Riley, I really don't remember having that discussion with you—and even if I did, I can't just up and leave on a whim."

He rolled his eyes, "Sure you can. It's not like you have anything going on other than shopping and hanging out with that little bitch friend of yours Faith."

She took a deep breath. "Fine, Riley. So I can go. I just don't want to."

"Babe, you don't know what you're saying. Is it—are you having female problems." He nodded his head in the direction of her female parts.

Buffy couldn't take much more. She desperately needed a breather. "Riley, you'll have to excuse me for a moment. I need to use the ladies' room." He nodded knowingly, most likely assuming it was related to her problems.

She weaved through the tables to the small hallway at the back of the restaurant and stepped into the dimly lit bathroom. Damn pretentious, intimate lighting. It's a bathroom, for god's sake! Shaking her head, she flipped the lock and slumped against the door. She felt like she couldn't breathe. The very thought of going away with Riley was...well...painful.

That was her answer. It was staring her right in the face. She had to end the relationship...definitively! No more of this silly idea about patching things up. No, she'd have to deal with her reasons for considering that, in a different way. It was plain and simple. Riley had to go.

That decided, Buffy opened her purse and emptied it of the necessary tools. She ran a brush through her golden locks, leaving them smooth and shiny. She followed that with a touch of lip gloss and swipe with her mascara wand. What? No shame in looking good when you dump your cheating boyfriend on his ass. Right?

She took a breath and left the restroom, ready for battle. As she made her way across the floor, she noticed Harmony had returned to the table with their food and was now engaged in some sort of animated conversation with Riley...and it didn't look pretty.

Buffy stopped in her tracks, when she was close enough that Harmony's screeches became clear.

"What do you mean you're going to take her?! You said you were going to take me to Cabo!" Harmony's hands were on her hips and her breasts were pushed out, though that might not have been intentional.

"Baby, baby, calm down. I'll take you some place even better, I promise, but you've got to calm down. You're making a scene."

Buffy's eyes widened. Oh. My. God. That's why I didn't remember him talking to me about it. He actually got me mixed up with Harmony! Christ! That's it! That's. Fuckin'. It! She stomped her way through the restaurant until she reached their table. Harmony and Riley could tell by the expression on her face that she'd overheard their conversation.

Riley smiled up at Buffy from his seat, "Baby, it's not what you think...really."

She snorted, "Wow, Riley, you couldn't even think of something original like 'I tripped and my dick landed in her vagina.' You're slipping. Nice try, though. Really." She turned to Harmony, "And what do you have to say for yourself?"

Harmony huffed, "He loves me, not you, Buffy. He's just with you, because your families are so tight."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, "He told you he loved you? And you believed him? You really are gullible sometimes, Harm."

"Oh, shut up, Buffy! I don't even know what that means! Maybe if you could please a man in bed, then your boyfriend would want you!"

At this point, the girls had pretty well attracted the attention of the entire restaurant. In fact, the only eyes not currently on them were Riley's, and his were centered on his veal as he ate his meal, seemingly without a care in the world—now that Buffy's attention was directed at Harmony.

"Listen, you plastic-boobed freak, you can have him. I don't want him!" Riley looked up at this and frowned.

Harmony scoffed, "Right, just because you know he's going to leave you for me, because you...are...a...frigid...bitch!" She carefully enunciated each word.

Buffy didn't know what came over her. Perhaps, she had watched too many Dynasty reruns on the soap opera network. All she knew was that one moment she and Harmony were standing there screaming at each other, and the next—well, Buffy was dumping a plate of marinara-covered squid on Harmony's ridiculous over-sized tits. The whole restaurant seemed to go silent. After a moment, the silence was broken by a furious shriek.

"You BITCH!" Harmony was desperately trying to scoop calamari and red sauce out of her cleavage. "I'm telling my daddy!"

"Yeah, you do that, Harm." Buffy rolled her eyes. Riley sat poised with his fork halfway to his mouth, still in shock from the squid incident. "God, I'm outta here!" Turning towards Riley, "Don't call me, I'll call you." She started to walk away as the restaurant began to resume its normal activity.

"B-Buffy! Wait!" Riley stood abruptly—intent on catching the angry girl—but only succeeded in knocking into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks and soaking his slacks in a most embarrassing manner.

"Oh, Riley, you're all wet," Harmony whined.

Riley glared at her.

"Shut up, Harm."

Chapter Eight:

He opened the drawer. He closed the drawer. He opened the drawer. He closed the drawer. Spike sighed. He had forgotten how...uncomfortable it could be, being left alone with his own thoughts. A wide variety of substances had kept his mind occupied over the last several years, then he was more than a little absorbed in the complexities of his relationship with Dru up until a couple of days ago. That was the first time he felt alone with his thoughts...right after he barreled out of his and Dru's apartment during the middle of her deep-throating Angel's cock like a professional porn star. And what's the first thing he does when the wheels start turning? He gets drunk and looks to score some...anything.

Spike opened the dresser drawer and stared at the little baggie of blow. What an idiot he was the other morning. He takes out his wallet and his smokes then hands the pretentious rich bint a pair of pants with an illicit substance in the pocket. It's almost like he wanted her to call the cops on him. And she would have. The question is—would she now? He didn't want to analyze it. He really, really didn't want to analyze it...but dammit, the wheels just wouldn't stop turning. Something happened when he was buried inside that little rich girl, probably before then. He closed the dresser drawer. He opened the dresser drawer.

He couldn't stop himself from thinking about her, particularly about where she was right at that moment. He knew he had no right to expect her to be forthcoming with him about her social plans, but it irked him all the same. He had this sick feeling he knew who she was with. Why a beautiful, clever young woman like herself would be wasting her time on that worthless sod would forever be a mystery to him. He closed the drawer.

What was going on with him? He shouldn't be thinking like this. He just lost Dru. Granted, he had a feeling that the majority of their relationship was nothing more than a clever facade on her part. Either way, he was just setting himself up. Allowing all these feelings to creep in...and for a snob who think he's a homeless druggie. He really needed to keep reminding himself of that. Maybe he'd lost his mind. Maybe all those years of hard-living had finally caught up to him. Either way, it was time for a smoke. He walked over to the small table next to the bed and plucked a cigarette from his pack. Pocketing his lighter, he started to leave the room...and stopped. He opened the dresser drawer. He let out a long breath before grabbing the little bag and shoving it in his back pocket. Wouldn't do to have the maid stumble upon it while I'm out for a smoke.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy was on the longest cab ride of her life. Okay, well, not really. That probably would've been when she was seventeen and she and Faith cabbed it to LA for a New Kids on the Block reunion concert. It was more an act of rebellion than any actual desire to see the concert itself. Buffy spent the majority of the concert searching for Faith in the stadium before finally locating her engaged in some questionable activity with a shady-looking fellow twice her age in the men's handicapped restroom. Faith always had a way of getting herself into the most unfortunate situations.

Sighing, Buffy watched the trees fly by as the cab neared her family's private drive. After running out on Riley at the restaurant, she had run directly into a coffee shop around the corner and called a taxi to pick her up. She had to get as far away from that asshole as possible.

Harmony. Of all the girls he could cheat on her with, he had to choose Harmony. She sort of felt sorry for the girl. She clearly believed Riley was in love with her. And now she was in for some real pain, because as soon as Faith got wind of this, Harmony didn't stand a chance. Faith had only been staying with her and Cordelia for a couple of weeks. Guess that honeymoon's about to be over.

"Pull over here," Buffy instructed the driver when they were about halfway up the long private drive. She figured it would be better if the cab didn't pull up to the house. At least, there would be a chance she wouldn't have to answer any questions tonight. The driver pulled over and dropped Buffy off, using the small guest house road as a turnaround. She was thankful she'd thought to tuck some cash in her purse alongside her credit cards.

As she stood on the driveway in her blue dress and her little black heels, she felt tears begin to prick her eyes. Oh my god. I'm not going to cry over that bastard now. She took a deep breath and started her march up to the house. The mostly full moon was the only light provided.

"You all right, luv."

"Oh my god!" Buffy gasped, clutching her chest. "Spike! You scared me! What are you doing hiding out here in the dark?"

He stepped away from the tree-line. "Not hiding, pet. Just having a smoke." He waived his hand at her body. "Seem a little over-dressed for a late night stroll. Why didn't you have the taxi drop you at the house?"

She shook her head. "Really don't want to talk about it right now, Spike...or ever." She started heading towards the house once more. Spike quickly stubbed out his cigarette on the driveway and trailed after her.

"Now, wait a minute, pet. Something is obviously wrong. Might help to talk about it."

She stopped so abruptly, he almost ran into her. She turned to him and narrowed her eyes. "And why would I talk to you?"

He paused for a moment. "Well, sometimes it helps to get the perspective of someone who's not involved in the situation."

She crossed her arms, "Well, who said you weren't involved?"

"Am I," Spike asked eagerly.

"No!" Buffy rolled her eyes. "And you're going to stay uninvolved." She started to turn away when he grabbed her arms forcing her to stay put. Her breath hitched. Dammit, Buffy. You were fine until he touched you.

"Let go of me, Spike." She was amazed that she was able to keep her voice steady.

He continued gripping her bare upper arms. "Were you out with that selfish git? You're better than him, Buffy. Don't you know that?"

"Spike," she breathed, "why are you doing this?"

"I just—I just don't want you to get hurt anymore." He loosened his grip on her arms and gently caressed her skin with his thumbs.

Buffy shook her head, "I really don't get you." She met his eyes. "Not that it's any of your business, but I ended things with Riley tonight...for good this time."

Spike blinked as he processed this new bit of information. "No more of that bloody pillock?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Yes, no more of that bloody pill—mmmfff!" Buffy's eyes went wide as Spike's lips crashed against her own. He gently coaxed her mouth open farther until he was able to slip his tongue inside. He slid his arms around her back to hold her tightly to his chest.

Buffy knew she should protest. She could blame once on temporary insanity—but twice, it was starting to look like a pattern. But still...his lips felt so good sliding against her own, nothing like Riley's messy devouring kisses. Soon she found her arms wrapped around his body, pulling him closer, when she knew she should be pushing him away.

Spike groaned when he felt Buffy's little hands on his back, pressing him into her. She had to feel him—hot, hard, and ready—through his jeans and the thin silk of her dress. Those hands were driving him wild as they began to move over his back, his hips, his ass. He kissed her harder as he felt her willingly caressing his body.

Almost as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. Spike felt her still then start to pull away from him. Figuring it would be best, he allowed her to move from his embrace. He drew in a sharp breath as she brought in her arms from behind his back. Held loosely in her hand was a little baggie of pure, white powder.

Spike met her eyes.

Bloody hell.

Chapter Nine:

Buffy's eyes were wide as she shifted her gaze from Spike to the object dangling from her fingers. As she stared unblinking at the substance in her hand, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Suddenly, they were no longer Buffy and Spike in the really real world. No, at that moment, they became Randy and Joan in some cheesy after school special—and Joan had just found Randy's stash. That could only mean one thing—this was the confrontation scene.

Look at me, luv. Please, just look at me, kitten. Let me see those beautiful hazel eyes again. Spike was desperate to draw Buffy's attention back to his face and away from the wicked snow—but certain that it would set off a dangerous chain reaction if he was to break the silence. If he could only get her to focus on him, then maybe they could just pretend for a little bit longer. Pretending. That's what they'd been doing, right? What he'd been doing? How could he ever think that...god, he was such an idiot. Finally, the quiet was disrupted by his own disconsolate chuckle. He felt strangely ill when he saw the girl didn't even notice—she was so transfixed on that fucking bag.

Buffy was disgusted at herself. She was every bit the arrogant little...bint he thought she was. Did she think he'd somehow spontaneously change when he was graced with her infallible presence? All the names she'd called him in her head, and yet she never thought she'd find...this—not here, not now. And oh god...this...in her hand...god...

The two tense blonds were both shocked when Buffy violently flung the bag to the ground as if suddenly burned by even her lax hold on it. Finally, she met his eyes.

"Th-th-that's...that's..." she stuttered out breathlessly, never completing her thought.

Spike knew this wasn't the time to be a smartass, but old defensive mechanisms die hard. He bent over slowly and snatched the evidence off the ground. Completely unhurried, he straightened back up and once again met her eyes. For a moment, his own softened at the confusion and hurt he saw in them, then he allowed his blank mask to fall and cleared his throat.

Holding the baggie up between them, his lips curled into a smirk, "It's cocaine, luv. You aren't going to go to Hell for saying it."

Buffy dragged her hands across her face. "Oh...my...god. Oh my god! I told you! I told you not to do anything stupid!" She cringed at her screeching voice but continued on, "Well, Spike, this constitutes as stupid." She closed her eyes and lightly tapped her knuckles on her forehead. "I am such an idiot! Of course, the junkie is going to bring drugs, Buffy. Idiot! God! I'm just lucky you didn't steal my valuables!"

Some part of Spike knew he had no right to his sanctimonious outrage, but at that moment, he was livid. Without giving it any further thought, he grabbed one of her arms and jerked it downward, her other unconsciously following as her eyes widened in shock.

Still holding her wrist in a bruising grip, he bit out, " I...am...not...a...thief."

Her eyes flashed, not ready to give up the fight, "Right, Mr. Innocent, you've never stolen before." She noticed his eyes flicker to the drugs in his free hand before returning to her face, his glare harsh in the moonlight. "Oh..oh-oh-oh..I see." She snickered, "That's beautiful, Spike. You fuckin' stole drugs!" She began to laugh outright even as he wrenched her wrist roughly in an attempt to quiet her. "Yeah, you're no thief!"

Spike quickly shoved the bag in his pocket to free up his other hand. Who knew shutting this bint up would be such a physical job? As she chattered away, he moved to grip her biceps and abruptly haul her to his chest. He intentionally used enough force to knock her breathless, though he almost felled them both in the process. After a slight stumble, they remained upright, pressed tightly together—faces inches apart. As she struggled to get her bearings, he used this opportunity to get a word in edgewise.

"Now, look here, you stupid hypocritical bitch," he hissed out in an odd stage whisper of sorts. "I got the co—that from your little friend. Yeah, she didn't know I took it, but she's the one that had it in the first place. And I don't think that was her first rodeo either, luv. So, what is this? Huh?" He gave her a little shake, desperately wanting her to get it. "What is this? At least half your fucking friends use. I have no doubt your boy...ex-boy uses. Do you give them this much grief? Are they a bunch of junkies?!" As the words poured out of his mouth, he found his rage intensifying. How dare she hold him to such a different standard than her picture perfect little friends.

Buffy had been so lost in her own self-righteous anger that she hadn't given a thought to being afraid of the man in front of her, but now—god, how his eyes blackened with ire. She remembered them darkening another time...for a very different reason. "Let go of me, Spike," she begged in a hushed whisper, hating herself for letting it get to this point. She couldn't help but tremble when his grip didn't even begin to loosen. At that moment, there was no comfort to be found in the warmth of his body pressed so intimately against hers. "Spike, please," she breathed.

This was getting out of control. Spike knew it as well as she did. He was just a little slower on the uptake—but nothing could speed up that realization faster than the small trembling girl in his arms. His stomach turned with the understanding that she was not shivering from the cool night air, but from fear...of him. Fuck fuck fuck. He was horrified to find his eyes filling with moisture. Releasing her to dab at the wetness before it could streak his face, he mumbled woefully, "Look, I've had a really bad couple of days..."

Buffy hugged herself tightly from her place about five feet from the miserable blue-eyed man. His crumbling face had halted her retreat from going any farther. Why? She didn't know. She could already feel multiple bruises forming on her arms from his rough treatment. God, I should run. I should fucking run...but...he looks so lost...

Still rubbing at his eyes, Spike spoke softly, no trace of harsh indignation left, "I—this isn't me. You don't...get it..."

"You brought drugs into my home Spike. That's not acceptable. And tonight...I just...you should go." She swallowed, her throat feeling strangely constricted.

Spike's red-rimmed eyes flew to her worried hazel orbs. No, no, no! Stop throwing me away! This always fucking happens! "No! Wait! Let me...let me...let's talk a little, luv. Please, let's just talk, yeah?" he pleaded breathlessly, the stress of the evening evident in the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"Spike!" She laughed humorlessly. "This is ridiculous..." God, she couldn't stand the way he was looking at her so desperately. This was worse than any leer or cocky smirk, so much worse. This was almost...pathetic. "You have cocaine in your pocket, Spike."

He blinked rapidly and nodded, gathering his thoughts. "Okay, okay. I can get rid of that, pet. Will you listen to me if I get rid of it? And-and I'll leave. I'll leave after, I will. What do you say, kitten? We'll talk, yeah?" He took a deep breath and in a much less frantic voice repeated, "We'll talk?"

She knew she shouldn't. She had the bruises to prove it, though she didn't think he'd really hurt her. Everything had just gotten so out of hand. Somehow, she knew he'd never strike her. Hell, he looked like someone had kicked his puppy when he realized how much he scared her tonight. Pros and cons, Buffy, pros and cons. To kick him out or not to kick him out. Pro—one less drama in her life. Con—wondering every damn day what the man had to say. Pro—easier to pretend any feelings she might have had were just a fluke. Con—having to pretend her feelings were just a fluke. Pro—no drugs. Con—no Spike. Oh...fuck.

"Fine...Spike. You ditch the drugs...we'll talk."

His face lit up at that as he held out his hand. "Let's head to the guest house, luv. This isn't a conversation to be had in the middle of the road."

Buffy had to force herself not to roll her eyes. Why did she have this niggling feeling that she'd just made a deal with the devil? Could this man talk her into anything? And why did she have a feeling that theory would be tested again before the night was over? Shaking her head, she found herself slipping her hand into his. Even after everything that had happened, she couldn't help the little burst of pleasure she felt from having her small hand encased in the warmth of his larger one.

Silently, they began their short walk to the guest house—hand in hand—the devil and the angel.

Chapter Ten:

"Are you gonna do it?"

"Huh, wha? Oh...yeah."

Spike hadn't realized how long he had stood in front of the toilet, poised to empty the contents of the small plastic baggie. It wasn't that he was reconsidering disposing of the substance, though some small part of his mind did cringe at the idea of flushing away so much of the potent white powder. He was just momentarily paralyzed by the strangeness of the whole scene. It seemed like such an unlikely situation for him to be in—standing in the loo with a little rich girl, preparing to dump out more cocaine than he could snort in one day. The Spike Pratt of a couple of years ago would be laughing his ass off if he could see him now.

"Look, if you're not gonna do it—"

"I'm doing it!" Spike glanced over at Buffy with a frustrated expression on his face. She was stiffly leaning against the sink giving him her own less than pleasant look. Turning back to the toilet, he lowered the bag into the bowl. Pausing only a second more, he tipped the bag, emptying the contents into the water. He immediately hit the flush and watched the cloudy liquid swirl and disappear.

Buffy tried to keep her sigh of relief as quiet as possible. She began to mentally prepare herself for Spike to launch into whatever speech he had prepared. He had been so adamant that she hear him out. She was somewhat surprised when he just silently leaned against the wall across from the toilet. She ducked her head, attempting to meet his eyes, "Spike...you had something to say?"

"Oh...right...right...yeah, I...uh..." He ran a hand through his spiky blond locks.

She nodded encouragingly, "You...uh...said you'd had a bad couple of days...right?"

He leaned his head back against the wall. "Yeah...right...downright shitty. That night I went to your friends' party, I was..." he trailed off as his eyes landed on the empty baggie sitting next to the sink. "Ya know what, luv? I think I want to explain something first."

Buffy was surprised to find a little jolt of excitement course through her body at the prospect of learning more about the man with the beautiful blue eyes. It unnerved her to know that she must have an attraction for him that ran deep enough to transcend all the anger and bitterness that had surfaced between them in the short amount of time they'd known each other.

"Well, pet, it's like this...I used to be involved in a lot of stuff..."

"Stuff? Drugs?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah, drugs. I was pretty well high off of something all the time, which to be honest, pet, really didn't seem like that bad of a way to be."

Buffy let out a small exasperated sigh, "Yeah, Spike, but there are always consequences to that stuff."

Spike chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, consequences. Well, I'll give you that, luv. I didn't like those so much."

"Spike..." she paused to gather her thoughts, "I'm a little confused already. You talk about this stuff like it's in the past, but when I met you...you were—"

"That's the first time I'd used anything in a year." He said it in a rush, not wanting to hear her description of how she'd found him that morning at the lake house.

She looked at him incredulously, "I'm supposed to believe that?"

If she expected him to be angered by her response, she was wrong. He simply looked her in the eye and calmly replied, "Yes." Somehow, the simplicity of his answer made her inclined to believe him.

She looked down at the floor for a moment, not being able to stand the intensity of his gaze. "Why then? Why, Spike? Why would you just throw away a year of sobriety?"

With a thump, he leaned his head back against the wall. He let out a wry chuckle, "For a woman. Why else?"

Buffy observed him again, finding it easier to face him when his eyes weren't on her. "What happened, Spike? What was so bad?" After a moment, she watched his chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh.

"The night of that party...I had gotten off work early to surprise Drusilla...Dru...for her birthday. I...I went home, and I found her there...with my best friend...and they were..." he closed his eyes, remembering the night much too clearly, "...they were together." He let out a breath. "And on top of that, there were drugs involved...she's the one who got me to quit in the first place. She's the love of my life...was the love of my life."

Buffy felt absolutely sick inside over Spike's story. He was clearly in a great deal of pain. So, she was not one hundred percent certain why the next words came out of her mouth. "Well, my ex cheated on me constantly and I never started shooting up a bunch of crap or anything."

Spike's eyes flew open. He instantly remembered why he had wanted to throttle the girl earlier on the driveway. Not wanting a repeat of that, he silently began to move past her to exit the bathroom. He was stopped when a small hand latched onto his wrist.

"Let...go," he gritted out between clenched teeth.

"No, Spike, no...I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." She was nervous that she'd again angered the man, but she couldn't help her desire to set things right.

Spike wasn't sure if there was even a point to revealing anymore of himself to this girl. She would either blow it off or use it against him. And yet, he so desperately wanted her to understand—wanted her to know that he was more than just a worthless junkie.

He spoke softly, "Dru wasn't all there. She needed me. I thought she needed me. I suppose it made me feel important." He released a tired sigh. "The point is—while you were going through the motions with Captain Cardboard—I was taking care of the woman I loved more than anything in the world. And now that's gone...my best friend's gone...everyone's gone."

She lightly caressed his wrist with her thumb. "You're right...about Riley. We never exactly had a passionate love affair. I never loved him. I don't think he ever loved me. If he did, he had a funny way of showing it." She paused. "Spike, you say everyone's gone. What do you mean? Why do you have nowhere to go?"

He leaned his shoulder against the wall across from her, but she refused to release her hold on him. "When I was going through withdrawal, I couldn't be around my friends that still used, so they just sort of drifted away. A lot of my other friends were a bit on the self-righteous side like you," she rolled her eyes at him, "and they wandered off while I was still using. Angel and Dru have each other now. Oz has always stuck by me, but..."

"But what? Why can't you stay with Oz?"

This time, Spike's sigh sounded defeated. "Willow. She'll never let me stay there."

Buffy furrowed her brow. "Willow? Why won't this Willow person let you crash with them?"

"Consequences, pet. It's those bloody consequences."

She tugged gently on his arm. "Will you tell me? Will you tell me what happened?"

He tilted his head in her direction and regarded her for a moment. "This isn't a conversation to be had in the loo."

"Come on." Buffy pushed away from the sink and pulled Spike from the bathroom by his wrist. She started towards the living room but stopped abruptly when the man behind her ceased movement. Buffy's expression was puzzled, "Why'd you stop?"

"Let's go to the bedroom."

"Wh-what?" Buffy felt her face heat up.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Just to talk. Look, if I'm gonna tell you this particular story, then I want to be as comfortable as possible when I do it, okay? It's hard enough as is...ya know, I don't know why I'm even—"

"No! I mean...the bedroom is fine." Buffy could tell he was about to change his mind about opening up to her. For some reason, she found that particularly distressing.

"All right then, luv." He glanced down at his wrist, still being held hostage by her feminine little hand. "You can let me go now, kitten. I promise I won't pull a runner on you."

"Huh? Oh!" Buffy's eyes widened as she quickly dropped his wrist. "Sorry!"

"S'all right, luv. Just prefer to hold your hand is all." With that, he took her hand in his and guided her back to the bedroom.

Buffy glanced at the small sofa to one side of the room, though most of her attention was taken by the large bed dominating the space. Being here...in this room...at night...with him...well, she was finding it a bit difficult to focus. She felt her heart speed up and butterflies fill her stomach as she had a particularly vivid memory flash of him moving inside of her. Get a grip, Buffy. That isn't what you're here for.

"Did you hear me, luv?"

"Huh?" She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't realized she was being spoken to.

"I said we should get on the bed. It's a hell of a lot more comfortable than that tiny sofa."

"Oh...the bed...right." She swallowed.

Chapter Eleven:

"Comfortable, pet?"

"Oh...uh...yeah..." Buffy had situated herself so far onto the corner of the bed that she was practically sitting on the bedside table. If her intention was to distance herself from the man beside her, it did little good, as Spike had decided to lounge directly in the center of the large mattress.

"So..." Spike leaned his head back against the headboard.

"Willow," Buffy stated firmly.

"Willow," Spike echoed. "Amazing girl, she is."

Buffy bit her lip. "Did you two ever...uh...date?"

Spike chuckled. "Oh no, nothing like that, pet. I met her my freshman year in high school, right after I moved to the states. She was one of the only people to accept the geeky English kid." He smiled at Buffy's raised eyebrow. "Believe it or not, pet, I haven't always been the badass you see before you. I was quite the awkward little poet when I first arrived here, but Willow accepted me immediately. My first couple of years here, I barely spent a moment without either her or Xander by my side."

"Xander?"

Spike's lips formed a strange little smile. "Yeah...Xander. Willow's other half. Those two were best mates since they were in diapers. Two peas in a pod, they were..."

Buffy could tell that Spike's mind had started to wander off as he stared blankly into the room, drawing shapes on the mattress with his finger. "Spike? So...is that when you met Oz...high school?"

"Mmmm..." He took a breath and seemed to refocus. "No...met Oz, Angel, and Dru in college, pet."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You went to college?"

Spike shrugged his shoulders. "Just one semester. Dropped out to concentrate on my band."

"You have a band?"

"Well...I did have a band. We pretty much broke up around the time I got clean."

Buffy let out an exasperated sigh, "What exactly is it that you do do?"

Spike shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I have been working at a record store but not showing up the last couple of days has probably killed that."

"God, Spike..."

He shot her a glare, "Look, do you want to hear about Willow or not?"

She held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

"Anyway," he continued, his voice laced in irritation, "I suppose Willow and I had our falling out about a year before I stopped using. I was still in the thick of things then, taking anything I could get my hands on. Willow didn't approve of my extracurricular activities at all, but she was just too good to ever give up on me. But..." he let out a breath, "Xander was curious. I think...it's almost like he looked up to me...or wanted to be me...I don't know. I never claimed to be the best role model."

Buffy moved her body to more fully face him. "Did you...get Xander into drugs or something?"

"I've never pushed that shit on anyone," Spike snapped defensively, "but...he came to me...it was only one time. He wanted to know what it felt like. It's not like I pumped his veins full of junk...it was just a little coke..." he trailed off, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Oh my god...did he like OD or something," Buffy asked in a hushed voice.

Spike dropped his hand to his lap and turned to Buffy with a wry grin, "I'm afraid you're gonna have to pick a different movie of the week, pet."

Buffy sighed in relief, releasing some of the tension Spike's story was building in her. "So, he's all right then?" She jumped when Spike let out a loud chuckle in response.

"Oh, he's dead all right. Dead as dead can be." He continued to laugh bitterly. "There was just no dramatic overdose...though I suppose it was the drugs that did him in."

She didn't know how to respond. Spike's twisted, pained laughter was scaring her more than his earlier rage. She tentatively inched closer, not quite ready to touch him yet. "What happened," she whispered, not sure if she even wanted to know anymore.

Spike was silent. He stared straight ahead, hands balled into fists on his thighs. Buffy watched his chest rise and fall in shallow pants. "Spi—"

"He had a fuckin' heart defect!" Spike's voice boomed in the quiet room. "I don't think he even knew he had fuckin' bum ticker. Christ! We were having a good time! I didn't give him too much!" He turned his head towards Buffy and pleaded with his eyes for something. Sympathy, understanding, forgiveness...he didn't know. "It was over just like that...I mean, I couldn't tell you the time-frame really...it all seemed to happen so fast. He was...laughing," his voice broke, "and then he was gone."

"Oh my god, Spike...oh my god..." Buffy murmured as she scooted her body close to his. She placed a hand over one of his tightly clenched fists. "You didn't know, Spike...god...Willow blamed you?" Buffy gasped when Spike suddenly buried his face in her neck.

"No..." he mumbled, his warm breath tickling her skin, "she was disappointed in me, that's for sure...but she said that Xander made the choice to put the drugs into his body. Said she couldn't hold me responsible for that. Wanted me to get counseling like some sort of bleedin' ponce." He let out a quick breath. "No...she didn't blame me for Xander, but she thought that it would get me to stop. I'd just lost one of my best friends. Why in the bloody hell would I stop doing the one thing that could make me feel somewhat normal...if only for a little while? She didn't see it that way, of course."

Buffy turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek against his. "So if she doesn't blame you...I don't..."

Spike flopped back against the headboard and shot Buffy an indecipherable look. "The funeral," he stated flatly. "Wasn't even gonna go, but well, you get enough crap in your system and you're liable to change your mind. So, I show up at the church high as a kite with Dru in tow. She didn't touch any of that stuff, but like I said, she's not all there. At that time, she was going on and on about sunshine and fairies...quite vocal, that one. Willow tried to talk us into leaving, but I'd have none of that." Buffy flinched at the sound of his bitter laughter. "No, I had to say goodbye to my best mate Xander. I went up to the front of the church, right next to his bloody coffin...and when I saw him...I just got so angry. I guess I was angry at myself...angry at him for dying. So...I start screaming at his fuckin' corpse...and I'm saying all this shit...I don't even know what I'm saying...but it wasn't good...I was just so jacked up on shit." He snorted loudly, "I grabbed him!"

Buffy was startled by this revelation. "Grabbed who?" she asked weakly, sick because she already knew the answer.

He hung his head, no longer able to meet her eyes. "Xander," he whispered. "Some of his relatives had to pull me off and throw me out of the church. Willow hasn't wanted anything to do with me since." He smiled ruefully, "So there's your story, pet. That what you wanted to know?"

It was more than she ever wanted to know. As is, she was having to carefully control her breathing, so she wouldn't, well...heave. His life seemed to be one wrong turn after another. She wanted to blame him...she knew she could blame him...she probably did blame him...but for some reason, all she wanted to do at that moment was comfort him. God, how did he make such a mess of things?

"Spike...why did you start...with all the crap?" She tried to make her voice as non-confrontational as possible. Still, his eyes shot up to meet hers...and he looked...hurt.

"Mummy doesn't love me...daddy was never there," he began mockingly, rolling his eyes, "What do you want me to say to make this all better, pet? It is what it is."

"Spike, I—" She was interrupted by a loud banging at the front of the house. She looked questioningly at Spike, "Does anyone know you're here?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Who would I tell, luv? I thought we just went over this."

"Oh...yeah...right," she wrinkled her forehead, "must be one of my friends. When they didn't find me at the main house, they probably assumed I was crashing out here." She slid off of the bed before turning back to Spike, "Wait here."

She wandered barefoot through the house, her heels forgotten by the bed. As she approached the door, there was another loud knock. Keep your pants on! I'm coming. She quickly swung the door open before she could be subjected to anymore of the obnoxious pounding.

Her eyes widened, "Riley!"

He looked angry, irritated, annoyed, and all those other negative words that start with vowels. This was not good.

"Uh...Riley...what do you want? I mean...this is kind of a bad time, so if you could just—"

"Cut the crap, Buffy!" he barked sharply. "We need to talk."

Shit, shit shit. "I know, Riley...but right now is really, really not a good time." She had to get him out of there before he saw Spike.

"Look, Buffy, You just can't br—" His eyes were suddenly riveted to a spot behind her. "What the fuck!"

Buffy took a deep breath and slowly turned around, knowing what she would find...but hoping that she was wrong.

Fuck.

Chapter Twelve:

Riley glared at the blond-haired man at the back of the room. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

"Riley..." Buffy squeaked, "it's not what you think..."

Riley whipped his head back towards Buffy. "Not what I think? You're alone with some loser in your guest house right after you run out on me, but it's not what I think, right?" He snorted and shook his head, "You're such a lying little bitch."

Spike couldn't stand to listen to this colossal prat talk to Buffy that way. He had a good feeling that she would be pissed if he stepped in, but he was never known for being able to keep his mouth shut. He took a step farther into the room and opened his mouth, geared for a confrontation. But before he could utter a sound, the small girl in the blue dress let out what can best be described as a low growl.

Buffy was livid. Why was she letting this overgrown idiot control her again? "Don't call me a bitch, Riley," she bit out through clenched teeth.

Riley laughed, "And what should I call you? Slut?"

"Fuck you, Riley! You're the one who cheated on me the entire time we were together. You have no right to call me names." Her little bare foot was tap tap tapping on the carpet.

Riley regarded her skeptically, "Right...so you weren't fucking him?"

She threw her hands in the air, "No! I wasn't..." she paused, "actually Riley...yes, I was screwing his brains out. In fact, it's been a nonstop fuckfest since I left the restaurant."

Spike raised his eyebrows, eyes sparkling with amusement. What on earth was this crazy bint doing?

Buffy continued, "And let me tell you, oh boy, he is amazing. Just when I thought I was cursed to a life of mediocre sex, he comes along...the things that man can do with his tongue...incredible. I bet—"

"Shut up!" Riley roared suddenly, causing Buffy to stumble back a couple of steps. That's when she noticed how red his face was. She wondered if perhaps she'd pushed him too far.

He aimed a thick finger at Spike. "You are fucking dead, motherfucker!"

Spike snorted, "I wouldn't go there, mate. I'd really hate to get blood on your polo shirt. What would mummy and daddy say?"

Riley advanced until only a few feet separated the two men. Buffy bit her lip, anxious about what would happen next. She cleared her throat, "Riley...I think you should just leave."

Not shifting his gaze from Spike, Riley answered in a low voice, "Just stay out of this, Buffy. I'll deal with you after I teach this jackass a lesson."

Spike smiled, "What a big man you are...going around scaring little girls."

Riley's chest heaved as he struggled to reign in his rage. It didn't help that Spike's stance was so casual and calm. He was much larger than the blond man, so why wasn't the asshole cowering in fear?

A glimmer of recognition lit Riley's eyes. "I know you," he ground out, "you're Faith's friend from the party. I should've known you're a loser, hanging around with that bitch." He shook his head, "You're trash. You don't belong here."

Spike shrugged nonchalantly, "May be trash, mate, but I got the girl. I imagine you have to pay for sex. No way any woman is going to touch your tiny dick for free." Confidant as he was, Spike did not expect the sucker punch to his gut that Riley suddenly delivered. He bent over, holding his stomach in pain.

"Riley!" Buffy screamed. "Oh my god...Spike." She moved towards the smaller man, but stopped when Riley shot her a furious glare.

Riley bent down next to Spike's head and smiled, "Have anything else to say, asshole."

"Yeah," Spike muttered, voice strained. He tilted his head to meet the other man's eyes. "You hit like a girl." Before Riley had a second to process his statement, Spike let go of his stomach and swung his fist at Riley's head. His knuckles met Riley's jaw with a sickening crunch. Buffy stared wide-eyed at the scene.

"Fuck!" Riley moaned, clutching his face. "I think you broke it!"

Spike grinned sadistically, "Looks like."

Still holding his jaw, Riley blindly swung his fist in Spike's direction. Spike easily dodged and gave Riley a hard shove, causing him to sprawl out in the middle of the living room floor.

"Think it's time for you to leave, mate."

Riley glared at Spike before turning to Buffy with a pleading expression. "Are you just going to stand there and let him treat me like this?"

Buffy blinked. Was he kidding? "Oh, I'm sorry, Riley. Let me help you." She marched over to the fallen man and held out her hand. Just as he reached to take it, she drew her hand back and gave him a swift kick to the ribs. It didn't do much damage with her bare foot, but he still let out a satisfying yelp. "Get the fuck out of here and don't come back. I don't want to see you...I don't want to talk to you ever again."

Riley was furious, but he was in too much pain to continue the fight. He clumsily pulled himself off the floor and stumbled to the door. Alternating his intense glare between Buffy and Spike, he spat out, "This is not over." Apparently, too pained to say anymore, he staggered out the door.

Spike began laughing jovially, "Did you see that?! That was fucking hilarious....owww!" He held his hand against his stomach. "Dammit, can't believe I let that ponce get a hit in." He chuckled, "Fuckin' worth it, though.

Buffy looked at him with her mouth hanging open. "Did you really break his jaw?"

He tilted his head and shrugged, "Probably." He raised an eyebrow, "Don't tell me you're pissed off about that."

She shook her head, "No, no...I'm just not used to this much violence...that was intense. I'm not an idiot, Spike. I know he got what he deserved."

"Yeah...ooohhh." He winced at the pain in his stomach.

Buffy furrowed her brow before approaching him. "Let me see," she said as she lifted his shirt. She could see a large bruise already forming on his firm abdomen. Not thinking, she ran a finger over the tender area.

"Shouldn't do that, luv," Spike murmured softly.

"Hmmm?" Buffy glanced up at him, confused. She met darkened eyes and immediately understand what he meant. She lifted her finger from his body. Instead, surprising even herself, she gently placed her entire palm against his bare skin. She heard his sudden intake of air and didn't know if it was because of pain or something else.

Spike wasn't sure what the girl was playing at, but he was going to take advantage of it while he could. He raised a hand and lightly skimmed it over her hair. "You were amazing tonight, pet. A real warrior, you were."

She scoffed, "Not me. You're the one that took care of him. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here."

He gently cupped her cheek and tilted her face to meet his eyes, "I would never let him hurt you."

Her heart rate increased. "Spike..." The moment was broken by a sudden pounding at the door.

Buffy looked incredulous. She shook her head, "I can't believe that bastard's come back for more."

Breaking away from Spike, she stomped over to the door and threw it open. "Riley, I—"

It wasn't Riley.

Buffy gasped, "Daddy!"

Chapter Thirteen:

Hank Summers was not a nice man. He was cold and exacting in the courtroom and that attitude often bled over into his personal life. He cared very much about appearances, and as such, he dictated the lives of his family members. Past this, he showed very little real interest in his family. When Buffy was a little girl, she loved going to dinners at his co-worker's houses. At these dinners, Hank would suddenly become the doting father she'd always wished for. Even at such a young age, she knew it was all for show...but she liked to pretend for a little while.

Buffy didn't like to admit that her father still had power over her. She liked to present herself as an independent young woman. Ultimately though, she did as she was told. She'd been falling in line for too many years to venture off too far in a different direction.

Allowing Spike to stay on the Summers' property was one of the rare incidences that she had done something that she knew her father would be completely against. Honestly, she just didn't think she'd get caught. But here she was, standing in the doorway of her family's guest house, staring up at a very angry Hank Summers.

Hank had yet to speak a word and already Buffy was cringing. She could feel Spike's eyes on her, probably waiting for her to give him some indication of what he should do.

She took a breath and met her father's accusing eyes, "Daddy...what...what are you doing here?"

His lips formed a twisted smile. "Well, it's the funniest thing. First, earlier this evening, I got a call from your boyfriend." Buffy felt her stomach turn. She already didn't like where this was going. "Apparently, he took you out to a nice dinner and you just up and ran out on him."

Buffy blinked nervously, "Daddy, I—"

He held up a hand to silence her. "So, he asked me if I would talk to you. Of course, I told him 'yes' and reassured him that you were most likely just having some female problems. He seemed to agree." Hank paused for a moment, but Buffy knew better than to speak this time. "I've been waiting at the house for you to show up, so we could discuss this matter. So, imagine my surprise when instead of my wayward daughter, Riley shows up. I explained to the poor boy that I hadn't seen you yet, and he left to try to track you down himself." He paused once again. "Do you know what happened next?"

"Daddy, if you'll just let me expl—"

"I'm not finished," he stated coldly. "Not half an hour after I saw him, Riley shows up at my door again. This time, he has a busted jaw. A busted jaw, Buffy. He's sitting up at the house right now waiting for my assistant to arrive to take him to the hospital. He explained to me that you were housing a violent delinquent, and when he attempted to speak with you, the man attacked him. Of course, I immediately came down here to check it out for myself. I can't have this type of thing happening on my property. Do you know what this could do to my career?"

Though his voice was controlled, Buffy knew that her father was very close to exploding. "Daddy, that's not exactly what happened. Please, listen to—"

Suddenly, Hank shouldered past her and set his sights on Spike. "Is this him?" he asked sharply. "Are you the man that beat up my little girl's boyfriend?"

Spike swallowed, "With all due respect, sir—"

"Respect?" Hank spat out. "Do you even know what that is? Look at yourself."

Buffy watched the two men anxiously. This was a scene she never wanted to see play out.

Hank continued, "You're just a worthless punk. I should call the cops on you."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Daddy, no! It's not his fault! I invited him here...and-and Riley was mad at me. Riley hit him first! It's not his fault, daddy! Please, don't call the police," she pleaded helplessly.

Eyes still on Spike, Hank shook his head. "Don't tell me you're defending this loser, honey."

Buffy moved to stand in front of her father, attempting to draw his attention from her house guest. "Really, daddy, it's not his fault. Riley was just mad, because I broke up with—"

"No," Hank cut in abruptly, "you didn't break up with anyone, sweetie. Riley told me that he would forgive you for your little indiscretion."

Buffy's mouth dropped open, "Excuse me. He said he'd forgive me? Daddy, he's been cheating on me for our entire relationship! I'm through with him! I let it go on for too long!" She crossed her arms and raised her chin defiantly. This was all too much.

Hank took a step forward, placing himself inches from his daughter. Spike felt his body tense. He didn't know enough about her family dynamic to know if she was safe. There was no way he was going to let this man put his hands on her.

Hank waved his finger in his daughter's face, "No! It's over when I say it's over. Do you know how badly it would reflect on me if you dumped Riley Finn? Do you even care?"

"Daddy," Buffy was embarrassed but not surprised when her voice broke. "Daddy, I do care. I don't want to make you look bad. I don't! But...I want to be happy. I can't be happy if my boyfriend is cheating on me all the time...and I know he won't stop."

"Well, sweetheart, if he's stepping out on you, then you must be doing something wrong." He snorted as he glanced at the blond man behind her, "I can easily tell you one thing you're doing wrong."

"Leave him out of this," Buffy stated as evenly as she could. "This isn't his fault...look...I'll...I'll talk to Riley if you want..."

Hank laughed, "You think that's going to solve everything?" He shook his head. "First things first," he glared at Spike, "you are out of here. Right now. The only reason I'm not calling the cops is because I don't want a scene, but don't think that if you give me any trouble, I won't risk it."

Spike quickly went over his options. At this point, the only thing keeping him standing there with this angry man at his throat was his concern for Buffy. However, he was starting to think that his presence was just making things worse for her. The truth of the matter was...he didn't belong there. Mr. Summers and Riley were both right about that. He wasn't like them. He was never going to be like them, and this attachment that he had formed for Buffy was only going to hurt him in the long run if he allowed it to continue.

"Fine," Spike answered softly, running a shaky hand through his unruly blond locks.

Buffy's head jerked towards him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. She was shocked. This man was a fighter. She should know, he'd been fighting with her since the second they met. She didn't expect for him to give up so easily. There was supposed to be yelling and cursing and scathing remarks. Not a simple murmured agreement. She turned back towards her father.

"Daddy...he doesn't have anywhere to go..." she trailed off, knowing it was pointless to try to argue with Hank Summers.

Hank ignored her and continued to focus on the blond man. Slowly, Spike made his way towards the door. As he brushed past her, Buffy heard him murmur, "It's okay, kitten..."

"Spike," she breathed, "please...you...I..." She didn't know what to say. If her father wanted him gone, then he would have to go. It was as simple as that, and she knew it. She felt her eyes tear up as she watched him quietly open the door and step out into the night. She didn't even want to consider why she was feeling so emotional. Hadn't she told him that he would have to leave the next day anyway? She never had a chance to tell him that she'd changed her mind.

"All right, honey, now that I've taken care of that, let's go see if Riley's still at the house. If he's gone, I expect you to go meet him at the hospital. Understood?"

"Daddy..." She felt so lost at that moment. The last thing she wanted to do was see Riley, but what choice did she have? God, why did her father have to rule her life? She should have moved out when she turned eighteen. Instead, she stayed in her palace with her maids and cooks and expensive clothing. She'd never even held a job. Her home was here. It was where she belonged...

"Okay, daddy," she whispered, accepting her fate.

"That's a good girl." He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "I knew I could count on you, sweetheart. I'll see you up at the house." He gave her one last self-satisfied grin before heading out the door and back to the main house.

Buffy just stood there for a moment, pondering the direction the evening had taken. Heaving a great sigh, she headed to the bedroom to slip on her heels. She supposed she would change into jeans at the house and make her way to the hospital. Riley hated it when she wore jeans, but she couldn't stand to be in this silk dress any longer. He'd just have to deal.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike had been walking in the dark for about half an hour. He had quickly made it to the main road and was hoping to flag down a passing motorist. So far, not even one car had gone by. It was going to be a long walk back into town...and what was he going to do once he got there?

Just as he was reaching for his pack of smokes, he noticed headlights approaching. Forgetting his cigarettes for the moment, he began waving his arms about, hoping the driver would spot him in the dark. He cursed as the vehicle passed him by. Before he had a chance to start lamenting his bad luck, he saw the car pull off the road ahead of him. Thank god.

He quickly jogged up to the passenger side of the silver sports car and opened the door. He was surprised by what he found.

"Buffy! What are you doing here, luv?" He tried to cover up his shock at seeing her.

She smiled wryly, "Well, I'm suppose to be visiting Riley at the hospital."

"Oh," he muttered, starting to back away from the car, "Well, I'll let you get on with it."

"But," she continued, "that's not where I'm going."

He leaned back into the car and tilted his head curiously, "Where are you going then, pet?"

She glanced back the way she had come before meeting his eyes. "I'm going...away from there." It was at that moment that he noticed the pink duffel bag in the back seat. He felt his heart speed up. She waited patiently until his eyes met hers again to continue, "Spike, get in."

Chapter Fourteen:

If Spike had expected Buffy to offer any explanation for her sudden departure from the Summers' homestead, he was sorely mistaken. She had lapsed into silence as soon as she instructed him to enter the vehicle. They'd only been driving for a few minutes, but still he figured she'd have plenty to say. Not like the girl was known for keeping her mouth shut any more than he was. The quiet in the car was almost eerie.

He gave her a sideways glance, "Buffy, pet...where are we going exactly?" He had about a million questions, but that one seemed to be the most urgent at the moment.

"Huh? Oh...yeah...I...uh....don't know." She swallowed and continued in a small voice, "I don't know...where we're going..."

Spike furrowed his brow. She didn't sound right. He strained to see her face in the dark car. "Buffy...luv, are you crying?" he asked softly.

"Nooo...of course not." Her shaky voice belied her words.

Spike sighed as he ran a hand through his messy locks. "Stop the car."

Buffy glanced at him curiously, "What? Why?"

"Just pull over, Buffy...please."

She did as he said and pulled to the side of the road. After she placed the car in park, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. She really wasn't in the mood for conversation.

Spike shifted his body, so he was fully facing her. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before finding his voice, "Look, kitten, you can still go back. You don't have to do this. I'll be...fine." He paused and let out a breath, "You can even go to the hospital and visit...Riley," he clenched his teeth as he bit out the git's name.

Buffy's eyes remained closed, but she chuckled bitterly, "I didn't do this for you, Spike...well, you're part of it...but I did this for myself. I've lived under my father's thumb for way too long. I'm a grown woman. It's time I started to behave like one."

Spike held back the comments he wanted to make about his firsthand knowledge that she was a grown woman. He figured this was neither the time nor place for that sort of commentary. Instead, he hesitantly asked her, "So...what's the plan now, luv?"

She opened her eyes and stared blankly out the windshield. "I'm not sure, Spike...I..." she rubbed her hands on her face, "I don't know what to do. I have the money I received from my family for graduation, but all my credit cards are in my father's name...I...what I have will last a little while, but not forever..."

Spike thought over what she said for a moment, "Do you have any friends you could stay with, pet?"

Her lower lip trembled as she whispered her reply, "Most of my friends won't be too interested in me once daddy cuts me off. I have Faith...but she's been staying with Harmony and Cordelia, though there's no telling if she's there now. She kinda floats around...it's just...her way."

Spike smiled at her sympathetically, "Well...I have a little money from the record store. I doubt it's as much as you have, but it's something. God, if I wasn't such a bloody idiot, I'd have a couple thousand more..."

Buffy raised her eyebrow, "Drugs?"

Spike scoffed, "No, pet, not drugs. Must you always think the worst of me?" He shook his head in frustration. "Do you still think I'm just some worthless junkie? After everything I've told you? If so, then I'd really like to know why you invited me into your goddamn car. I'm trying to help you here," he bit out sharply, "Do you want my help or not?"

Buffy had the decency to look ashamed. "I'm sorry," she began quietly, "I don't think of you that way...not anymore. I didn't mean to offend you...I..." she looked up to meet his eyes, and his anger abated as he took in her moist hazel orbs shining in the moonlight, "I do want your help. Please...what do you think we should do?"

"Well..." he paused, "we should get a room somewhere." He noticed her startled expression and rolled his eyes as he explained, "It's late, and we both need sleep. It will be a lot easier to come up with a plan after we've rested for a bit. Don't you think?"

She bit her lip and nodded, "Yeah, you're right." She scrunched up her face in thought, "We could go to The Paradise." She jumped as Spike laughed boisterously. "What?" she asked crankily, "Why are you laughing at me?"

Spike continued to chuckle quietly, "Not laughing at you exactly, pet. It's just...The Paradise is the nicest hotel in town..." She shot him a 'so what' look. "Well, pet, I know you have a bit of money in your account from graduation and all, but we really should be spending as little as possible right now. We don't know how far our money will need to go yet."

Buffy felt her cheeks burn, "Oh...I didn't think of that." She blinked rapidly as her eyes welled up with tears. "God, you must think I'm a total idiot," she sniffled, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. She stared at her hands as they twisted the bottom of her t-shirt.

"Hey, pet..." Spike found himself reaching for her. He gently gripped her chin with his thumb and index finger and tilted her head to face him. "Pet...sweetheart," he smiled softly, "I don't think you're an idiot...not at all. You just aren't used to being out on your own. No need to be ashamed. This is a huge step you're taking, and I'm very proud of you."

Buffy graced him with a watery smile. She wasn't sure why his approval meant so much to her...but it really did. She cleared her throat, "Okay...well...where should we go?"

He returned her smile, "I know just the place. Start driving, I'll give you directions."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oh...my...god. Buffy blinked as she followed Spike's instructions and pulled into a small parking lot. She stopped the car and stared slack-jawed through the window. Holy shit. This was, by far, the rattiest place she'd ever seen. She squinted at the neon sign. A few of the letters were out, but she was pretty sure it said Shady Oaks Inn. She thought that sounded more like the name of a nursing home than a hotel. Half of the building was made of crumbling brown bricks and the other half was covered in hideous orange siding. It looked like someone had just taken two ugly, old structures and slapped them together. The rooms weren't even inside. She saw several doors with tarnished brass numbers on them lining the building. She should have known what she was in for as soon as they pulled into the bad part of town, but unlike Faith, she didn't frequent this area.

"One or two, pet?"

She glanced over at Spike, confused, "Huh? One or two?"

"One or two rooms," he clarified patiently.

"Oh." Buffy looked out the window again and found that she was rather horrified at the prospect of being left on her own at this seedy establishment. She didn't want to give Spike the wrong idea...if it even was the wrong idea, but she mumbled, "One would probably be best..."

Spike nodded, "All right then...I'll get tonight, pet." With that, he exited the vehicle. Buffy immediately hit the locks and slumped down in her seat. This place was creepy.

Only a few minutes later, she found herself standing behind Spike as he inserted a key into the rusty lock of room 16. He threw open the door and gestured for her to enter. He followed her and soon found himself colliding with her back. He grabbed her shoulders to steady them both, "Whoa! Are you okay, luv?"

"Ummm...yeah...." She shrugged out of his grip and tossed her duffel on the bed closest to the bathroom, slightly surprised that Spike had actually gotten a room with two beds. She wrapped her arms around her body and studied her surroundings. Olive green shag carpeting. Gaudy floral comforters on the beds. Water stains on the walls and ceiling. Yep, this was one classy joint.

Spike tilted his head and regarded her curiously, "You sure you're okay, pet?" She nodded slowly. "Well, I'm gonna hit the shower. Do you need in there first?"

"No...no...I think I'm just gonna try to get some sleep."

He nodded and walked into the small bathroom. As he closed the door behind him, Buffy unzipped her duffel and rummaged for sleepwear. Quickly changing into a soft, cotton nightshirt, she pulled the covers back on the bed and dropped onto the lumpy mattress.

She was still wiggling around, desperately trying to find a comfortable position when she heard the bathroom door open. She glanced up and inhaled sharply. Oh god. Spike entered the room wearing only a small towel barely covering his groin. It reminded Buffy of that first day in the guest house, except this time his skin was damp from the shower he had just taken. Her eyes followed his glistening body as he meandered over to the bed near the door. Buffy heard someone clear their throat. It took a moment for it to occur to her that they were the only two people in the room. She jerked her head up and found herself gazing into a very amused set of deep blue eyes.

Spike smirked and ran a hand down his firm chest, "Like what you see, kitten?"

Oh, I...I..I was just..." Buffy stammered, blushing furiously.

Spike's smile grew, "I don't care if you watch, pet, but I should warn you...I don't plan on sleeping in this towel." He started to tug on the towel, and Buffy quickly flipped over to face the bathroom. A second later, she heard the soft sound of the towel hitting the floor. Letting out a shaky breath, she tried to get her heart rate under control. She narrowed her eyes when she heard Spike chuckling behind her.

"Oh, be quiet!" she grumbled. "Not everyone is an exhibitionist like you."

He laughed, "Whatever, luv. It's not like you haven't seen it all before."

"Spike! We are so not going there tonight! Just...shut up and go to sleep." She burrowed further into the scratchy hotel blankets.

Still chuckling softly, Spike conceded, "Okay, okay, pet. Goodnight, Buffy."

There was silence for a moment before he heard her muffled reply.

"Night, Spike."

Chapter Fifteen:

Buffy felt something tickling her nose, but she couldn't be bothered to open her eyes to investigate. She had tossed and turned all night in the uncomfortable hotel bed, and now, when she was finally sleeping relatively soundly, she gets awakened by something feathery brushing her face over and over again.

Finally giving in, she cracked one eye open. Fuck.

"Good morning, Princess."

"Spike, what are you doing?" she whined as he again moved the lock of her hair across her face.

He grinned widely, "Waking you up."

She muttered a few obscenities as she pulled the blankets over her head. A moment later, they were ripped from her body.

"Spike! What the fuck?!" She glared up at him as he stood beside the bed smiling, still gripping the stolen covers tightly in his hands. She was about to relate to him exactly what she thought of his antics when she noticed his eyes darken and his smug grin slowly fade.

She looked at him curiously, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" She followed his line of sight and squealed when she reached her body. Apparently, her nightshirt had risen to her waist during the night, and she was now giving Spike a spectacular view of her lacy white panties. She quickly pulled the shirt down to her thighs. "God, were you just going to stand there and stare at me!" she yelled as Spike continued to gaze at her legs.

He shook his head, "Hmmm....what?"

Rolling her eyes, Buffy shifted in the bed and reached up to tug her blankets out of Spike's hands. As they fell away from his body, she got another surprise.

"Shit, Spike! You're...you're..." she gestured wildly at his naked form, "God, why didn't you put clothes on before you woke me up?!"

Buffy's cheeks burned as she turned her head away from the lean, hard body standing no more than a foot from the bed. She could almost kick herself for not taking the time to admire his beautifully shaped form, but she was really trying hard not to encourage him in that way. Apparently, she was failing miserably as he seemed to take nearly everything she did as encouragement.

Keeping her eyes focused on the wall, she continued, "Could you please put some pants on? Actually, a shirt would be good too."

She felt her hackles rise when the bastard started chuckling at her discomfort.

"You know what, forget it. I'm gonna take a shower. Surely, you can find it in you to get dressed once I'm not in the room to torment." With that, she bounced off of the bed and grabbed her duffel bag. She kept her eyes trained on the bathroom door and tried to ignore the tingles she felt when her arm inadvertently brushed against his as she stomped off to the small washroom. The bleached blond menace just continued laughing all the while. She could still hear him as she closed the door behind her. Stupid, arrogant jerk.

Buffy took her time in the small shower and had managed to make herself feel almost human by the time she was done. As she pulled on a pair of dark designer jeans and a fitted light green t-shirt, she couldn't help but wonder what she was going to do next...what they were going to do. She had already admitted to herself that she needed him. Though, she was trying not to think about it right now, she had a feeling that even if she didn't need the man, she'd have a hard time letting him go. She was just going to have to save that thought and analyze it later.

She twisted her damp hair into a loose bun. She gave herself one last quick look in the mirror above the sink before pulling open the door and stepping back into the main room.

Spike was now fully-dressed right down to his boots. He was lounging in a chair near the door absently smoking a cigarette. She hoped he was trying to formulate a plan...preferably one that got them out of this grungy hotel.

She tossed her duffel on her bed and narrowed her eyes at him, "Are you supposed to be smoking in here?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and continued taking a long drag from his cigarette, "Look around, luv. All the rooms are smoking rooms here or didn't you notice the five ashtrays?"

She frowned at him, "Well, I don't want all my stuff smelling like nasty smoke."

He studied her for a moment before his lips formed a tight smile. "Fine." He stubbed out the fag in the nearest ashtray. "Happy?"

She gave him an incredulous look, "Yes, Spike, I'm thrilled. I went from a huge, comfortable house to a creepy shithole in one night. I'm ecstatic."

"Oi!" He sat up straight. "No one asked you to leave! I'm sure you can toddle on home like a good girl, and mummy and daddy will forgive you for the little runner you pulled." He grumbled, "This is the thanks I get for trying to help you..."

She closed her eyes. He was right, and she knew it. She had chosen to run away, and she didn't regret that decision. She was just acting like the spoiled brat that she'd been raised to be. Well, no more.

She opened her eyes and had to bite back a giggle when she saw that Spike was actually pouting in his chair by the door. Everything about him screamed danger, but he looked almost like a little boy with his lips puffed out like that.

"You're right, Spike. I'm sorry. I was being ungrateful. I want you to help me. I don't want to go to my parents' house, so...what's next?" She took a seat on her bed and tilted her head at him curiously.

Spike was a bit mollified by her apology. It was more than he expected, so he decided to ignore her earlier outburst and get on with the business of planning their day.

"Well, pet, I was thinking we would go by the record store to check if I still have a job. Then, we'll see if we can find you a nice 'starter job.' Obviously, I'll be looking for one as well if the store let me go. Our funds won't last forever, and you've made it clear you want out of this shithole." He rolled his eyes as he said the last word.

Buffy chewed on her lip for a minute before looking to him for clarification, "Sooo, we're gonna have to stay here for awhile, you think?"

He nodded, "Probably best, luv, it's cheap and I know the area."

She eyed him suspiciously, "Just how well do you know the area?"

He gave her a little half grin, "Well enough that we'll be walking today. I used to live in this neighborhood. The record store is a couple of blocks away. Everything you need is right here. Plenty of little hole in the wall stores, a small market, a couple of coffee shops, a million bars. This is a good place to hang out for awhile."

She sighed, "Fair enough...so record store first?"

Spike was surprised but pleased when she didn't protest the idea of an extended stay at the hotel. "That's the plan, luv. You ready?"

"Almost." She pulled on a pair of black flip-flops. "Okay, good to go."

He eyed her feet, "Sure you can walk in those?"

"Of course!" She smiled, "I can tango in 4 inch heels. Hitting the pavement in flip-flops is nooo problem."

He shrugged as they both stepped out of the dark hotel room into the bright sunshine.

She glanced up at him with a grin, "At least it's a nice day."

Buffy trailed after Spike as they moved out into the neighborhood. It was an old area of town and there were indeed many small businesses lining either side of the road, as well as some slightly frightening looking apartment buildings. No less scary than the Shady Oaks Inn she supposed, but definitely not places she could ever imagine calling home.

Spike gestured ahead of them, "Record store—Black Heart Records by the way—is just ahead on the left."

Buffy snorted, "Nice name...so how long did you say you worked there?"

"Just about...." he trailed off suddenly, staring intently in front of them. "Shit..." he muttered under his breath.

Buffy furrowed her brow. "What? What is it?" She glanced ahead of them and noticed a thin brunette stepping out of the record store. Spike had slowed to a stop, but the woman in the crushed velvet dress had zeroed in on them and was heading their way. Buffy glanced up at the frozen man next to her. "What is it, Spike? Who's that?"

He let out a long sigh and disdainfully spat out a name, "Drusilla."

Chapter Sixteen:

Buffy stood paralyzed on the sidewalk next to Spike entirely unsure of what she should be doing as the infamous Drusilla approached. Buffy noted that the woman moved with a dancer's grace and at that moment appeared very much like a predator stalking its prey. She glanced up at Spike. Knowing he could be a bit unpredictable, she was a little concerned as to what his reaction would be to this new development. She was surprised to note that his original expression of disgust had given way to a look of blank-faced apathy.

Finally, the attractive brunette came to a stop about five feet in front of the pair. She regarded Buffy with a look that seemed to be more curious than anything, like the blonde girl was simply an oddity to be puzzled over. She slowly shifted her head so that her attention now lay on Spike's seemingly unmoved countenance.

"Hello, dear, I knew I would find you today," Drusilla murmured in a voice barely loud enough for Buffy to hear. "The fair—"

"Yeah, yeah," Spike interrupted, "the fairies told you. Did they also tell you that you should stay the hell away from me?"

Drusilla jutted out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, "Now now, my prince, you don't mean that." She took a step forward and reached a hand out towards his chest.

He jerked back and his straight-faced expression was momentarily lost, "Like hell I don't!"

Drusilla slowly dropped her hand. Frowning, she tilted her head, "When are you coming home? I've missed you."

Spike threw back his head and chuckled mirthlessly. "You've missed me? Oh, that's rich." He shook his head, "You certainly have a funny way of showing a bloke you care."

Buffy was beginning to feel very awkward. Being caught in the middle of a lover's quarrel—ex lover's quarrel—was not her idea of a fun way to start the day. She had no idea what she was supposed to be doing at that point, so she just chewed on her lip and stood there, arms wrapped tightly around her body. With any luck, she would just melt away into the sidewalk. She jumped and let out a rather embarrassing squeak when she felt a strong hand suddenly grip her upper arm.

"Come on, pet, you're too good to be associating with this sort of trash."

Drusilla huffed as Spike stalked past her dragging Buffy in his wake. She glared as their figures moved farther away from the spot where she stood rooted to the sidewalk. She didn't like the familiarity that seemed to pass between that blonde girl and her prince. She didn't like it all. As she watched them disappear into the record store she had so recently vacated, she turned with a smile and with a bounce in her step crossed the street en route to her apartment. She had plans to make.

Spike was still tightly gripping Buffy's arm as they entered the record store. It was particularly uncomfortable as he was pressing on the bruises that he had created the previous night. She stopped abruptly, forcing him to either stop as well, drag her along, or actually release her damn arm. Spike stopped and turned to her with a confused expression, loosening his grip in the process. She took that opportunity to jerk her arm free of his hold.

Rubbing her bruised appendage, she glared at him, "Haven't you manhandled me enough already?"

Spike had the decency to look ashamed at her statement but only replied with a curt nod.

Buffy sighed as she glanced around the small store. She was surprised to find that it was literally a record store. She didn't even think people had record players anymore. She always thought record collections just consisted of recordings of singers like Dolly Parton...or Elvis or something. With that thought in mind, she was somewhat mystified by the crazy sounding music with the driving bass line that was reverberating through the store. Her eyes landed on a man with bright red hair wearing a set of headphones. He was standing in front of two record players, and he kept touching the records. Buffy really didn't think that could be too good for them.

Spike bobbed his head, listening to Oz work the decks like the pro he was. He turned towards Buffy to see if she was as impressed by the red-haired man as he was. He almost laughed out loud at her puzzled expression. He leaned in close to her ear, "What's wrong, luv, haven't you ever seen anyone spin records before? You know, Oz is a pretty famous DJ in this region."

Buffy turned to him looking even more confused. "DJ? Aren't those the guys that play CDs and announce music and stuff?"

Spike shook his head at her in amazement. "Good thing we got you out of your castle when we did, princess."

Buffy didn't really like his comment, but she was so out of her element, she thought it best to remain silent. She listened to Oz spin. It was no Pussycat Dolls, but she could definitely dance to what he had going.

It was clear he couldn't hear them, but after a moment, Oz glanced up. Most likely, it was to check if any customers had entered the store. His eyes widened when he saw Spike standing near the front of the room. He slipped off his headphones and stopped the decks.

"Hey, man!" he called, hurrying over to Spike, "finally decide to join us?"

Spike laughed as he and Oz did something that Buffy generally described as a 'man hug.'

As Oz backed away, Spike looked at him questioningly. "Gunn not fired me yet, mate?"

Oz chuckled, "No, you're good, man. I told him you had some things to work out. He seemed to understand."

Spike sighed, "Good, good. The last thing I need right now is to be out of a job."

Oz tipped his head towards Buffy. "You going to introduce me to your friend?"

If Oz seemed surprised by Spike keeping company with a girl that looked more like a cheerleader than a punk, he didn't show it. He gave her a crooked smile.

"Oh...yeah..." Spike seemed to suddenly remember the girl at his side. "This is Buffy. I crashed with her the last couple of days, but our housing situation sort of...fell through, so we're staying at the motel down the way."

Buffy thought about filling in the details, because the way Spike was spelling it out made is sound like they were a bit more than just acquaintances. She mentally slapped herself in the head. I slept with the guy....that probably makes us a bit more than strangers.

Oz nodded at Buffy, "Nice to meet you. Any friend of Spike's is a friend of mine." He paused for a second. "Okay, that's not true at all, but I won't hold it against you."

Buffy smiled at the man's bluntness. Spike just shook his head, "Meet Oz, pet. He's one of my best mates...though sometimes I'm not all that sure why."

Oz's crooked grin didn't falter at that. If anything, Buffy thought it grew wider. He nodded at her again, "It's Daniel Osbourne, but only my mom calls me Daniel."

She shook her head, "What is it with you guys and weird nicknames?"

Both men just shrugged in reply.

After a moment, Oz turned towards Spike with a serious expression on his face. "Look, man, I really didn't expect you to be in today, so....." he trailed off as his eyes locked on something somewhere behind the two blonds.

"What is it, mate?" Spike asked as he turned to see what had caught his friend's attention. His eyes widened as he looked through the glass door he and Buffy had entered through just moments earlier.

"Oh."

Chapter Seventeen:

Spike felt like her eyes were piercing his very soul. The glare on the simple glass door separating them wasn't enough to hide the look of shock on her face.

"Willow," he murmured so softly that Buffy barely caught the name. Her eyes widened. And she thought the run-in with Drusilla was awkward...

Finally, Oz shuffled past the two blonds and pulled open the door, slipping outside and closing it quickly behind him.

Spike cringed as he watched the two red-heads gesticulating wildly in front of the shop. The last thing he ever wanted to do was come between Willow and Oz, but he seemed to be doing a good job of it today. Why did everything always have to be so complicated?

Spike felt a tug on his t-shirt and glanced down at the small blonde by his side. He couldn't help but break into a soft smile at the look of concern on her face. It was like she actually cared about him.

"Spike...are you okay...I mean...I know you didn't expect to see her today..." Buffy trailed off, not really knowing exactly what she wanted to say. She was oblivious to her fingers still lightly gripping the side of Spike's worn tee.

He took a deep breath and nodded his head, "S'all right, luv...was bound to run into her eventually. Besides, it's not me that doesn't want to see her, it's her that doesn't want to see me..."

Spike glanced back at the front of the store. He was relieved to see that things seemed to have calmed down quite a bit. Oz was still talking and Willow was nodding her head slowly. He could feel his body buzzing with nervous energy. Would Willow actually speak to him?

Oz pulled the door open and gestured for Willow to enter the store. Spike held his breath as it looked like the slim red-head was going to turn tail and run instead. But she didn't. Keeping her eyes focused on the floor, she slowly took the few steps that would take her into the old building.

Oz followed her in and stood by her side, lightly draping an arm across her shoulders. After a moment, he broke the awkward silence by clearing his throat, "Uh..Willow...this is Spike's friend Buffy. Buffy, this is my girlfriend Willow."

Buffy glanced at Spike before turning her face back towards the couple in front of her. She was mildly surprised to find that Willow had raised her head and had now set suspicious eyes in her direction. She chewed her lip nervously.

"Umm...hi, Willow....nice to meet you." Buffy had to admit she felt somewhat inferior underneath the other woman's unwavering gaze. She felt even more awkward when she realized that Willow was showing no signs of responding. Just as she felt herself gearing up to start nervously babbling nonsense, Spike's rough voice broke the silence.

"Hey, pet...how've you been?"

Buffy could tell Spike was trying to sound confidant, but she didn't miss the small crack in his voice. Nor did she miss Willow's eyes slowly shifting from her own to meet Spike's deep blue orbs.

Willow stared at him for a moment and took a breath before replying, "I don't even know what to say to you, Spike. I thought I had so much built up...but right now, I just don't know what to say."

"Luv...it's been so long...things are...different now." Spike ran a weary hand over his face, "Look...I'm not saying we have to talk this all out right now, but if we could just get together sometime..."

"Different?" Willow raised her eyebrows, "Well, I can see one thing that is different. You've replaced Ms. Crazypants with Malibu Barbie."

"Look," Spike started firmly, "This isn't about Dru or...or Buffy. This is about you and me."

"And Xander," Willow spat out, "or are you forgetting him?"

"Dammit, Willow," Spike looked towards the ceiling before lowering his head again, "of course, I'm not forgetting him. How could I ever forget him, but I can't change the past. I can't go back and make different choices. It's done. It's over....and you aren't just hurting me by holding onto it...you're hurting yourself."

Willow's lip trembled but when she made no move to respond, Spike continued softly, "Let's just get together and talk, pet. We can't bring Xander back, but we can try to repair our relationship a bit. I miss you, luv..."

Oz glanced between the pair before smiling at Spike, "Tomorrow night is lasagna night at the Osbourne-Rosenburg homestead also known as our crappy apartment. Why don't you and Buffy join us?"

Willow shot a surprised look at Oz. He smiled and nodded his head at her. A moment later she replied with her own light nod.

Oz clasped his hands together, "So what do you say, man? You guys, us, and some good italian fun? Willow makes a mean lasagna."

Spike smiled, "I remember." He glanced down at Buffy for a quick confirmation. She gave him a little smile and that bolstered his confidence enough for him to firmly give his answer

"We'll be there."

Willow blinked and glanced around at the group, "Well...I should get going...umm...Buffy, it was nice to meet you. I'll...uh...see you guys tomorrow." She gave Oz a quick peck on the lips before turning and hurriedly shuffling out the front door.

The three remaining in the store were quiet until...

"So, that's Willow."

Spike glanced down at the girl by his side, "Yeah, luv, that's Willow."

Buffy mentally shook her head. The complexities in Spike's life were beginning to make her life look more like a 50's sit-com than the mess it felt like. Maybe they could help each other out. She blinked at that thought. She was getting waaay too involved in this man's life. But how was she supposed to know a two day unwanted houseguest would turn into this?

"So, Oz..." Spike began with a curious tilt of his head, "What was Drusilla doing here this morning?"

Oz shook his head, "Oh...some crazy talk about wanting to let you know that she accepted your marriage proposal. It was pretty ridiculous, man. She was even wearing this big diamond ring that she kept flashing in my face telling me to look at what her prince gave her. She probably bought that ring herself. Who would buy something that expensive for that headcase?"

Spike cleared his throat, "I would."