One Year Earlier
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Buffy’s hands shook as she yanked her shirt and then her jeans off. Swallowing her terror, she climbed into the shower hoping to wash off the blood on her hands. A half hour later, after scrubbing so hard her skin was red and tingling, she turned off the shower and with trembling hands, tied the sash of her bathrobe. Leaving the bloodstained clothes on the bathroom floor, she walked to the room she shared with Spike, and placed two suitcases on the bed.
As she began to ransack her closet, she ignored the evening gowns he’d given her, the perfumes, the body lotions, his favorite thongs and see-through night gowns she wore for him.
Instead, Buffy packed her favorite jeans she usually wore to classes at UCLA, along with her favorite t-shirts, and green sweater that had been stuffed to the back of the drawer. She found her old Relay for Life t-shirt that was a souvenir from the last time she and her friends had really spent time together.

Tears rolled down Buffy’s cheeks as she thought about how she’d shoved away her old life, just to be apart of Spike’s life. She’d lost so much. ‘But it’s over now’. Buffy thought numbly. Tonight it would be over.

Spike came home exactly fifteen minutes later. Buffy remembered that because she had watched the clock on t he microwave in the kitchen, as she sat at the table with her two suitcases. She heard the door open, but she made no move to get up, but waited for him to come find her.
“Buffy! Buffy!” Spike’s voice sounded through the apartment. She heard his footsteps move in the direction of the bathroom, and then she heard the door of their bedroom open and close. Then his voice rang out sharper, “Buffy, luv where are you?”

She heard his footsteps quicken and grow louder, as he drew closer. She stood up and braced herself, folding her arms across her chest. A moment later, Spike entered the room.

“Buffy! Buf- oh hell there you are, don’t ever scare me like that again, luv!” He relaxed instantly and moved closer to kiss her, frowning when she took a step back from him. “Buffy?” he asked questioningly.

Summoning up all her courage, Buffy spoke quietly. “It’s over, Spike. We’re finished and I’m going home.”

Sighing, Spike ran his hands through his hair and sat down, lighting a cigarette. Buffy remained entirely quiet, while he lit , and then exhaled a puff of smoke. “No you aren’t.” he said with that calm certainty that had been in his voice when he asked her to dance with him the first time he met her, two years back, and then later when he asked her out for the first time.

He had good reason to be certain; he was the temptation that she could never resist, the craving she always had. But this time, Buffy knew he was wrong. “ I don’t belong here anymore, Spike. I’m going home. I can’t live this life anymore, I just can’t…that poor girl today…” Spike jumped to his feet his face a frozen mask of fury. “She’s got nothing to do with us, so don’t you dare bring her into this. Don’t fuckin’ tell me we don’t belong together cause one girl dies! This is your home, this is where you belong; with ME!”

“ Spike, she isn’t the reason, she was a wake up call! A reminder to me of the lie I’m living, and I just can’t do it anymore! Spike either leave the Vampires or I leave.”

Spike remained silent and motionless. Knowing his answer, Buffy grabbed her suitcases and walked to the door, where a cab was parked outside waiting for her. Handing her suitcases to the driver, Buffy went inside to grab her purse which was on the kitchen table. As she turned and walked to the door, Spike stepped in front of her, preventing her from leaving.

His cobalt blue eyes bored into her own green ones, but Buffy recognizing the as one of his intimidation tricks, pushed past him and headed for the door. “Buffy.”
His steel voice stopped her and made her turn around. “Go ahead and go back to your apartment, luv. Go to her funeral if you like, if it’ll help soothe your guilt, yell and be angry for the next couple o’ days. But, you and I both know you can’t live without me, anymore than I can live without you.” He stepped closer and the back of his hand stroked her cheek. She closed her eyes to memorize the familiar gesture, for the last time.

Spike continued, “ You belong in my world, you’ll always comeback to the darkness, kitten, cause it’s in you and you know it. You’ll always belong in the darkness with me…” He then turned and walked quietly away.

Buffy kept her eyes closed until she heard the bedroom door slam. When she opened her eyes, tears fell silently down her face. Buffy opened her purse and removed her key to the apartment and an envelope addressed to Spike and placed them on the small table next to the door. Silently, she walked outside and shut the door behind her. She climbed into the cab, and gave the driver the destination.

As the cab sped off across LA, it began to rain; reflecting Buffy’s inner turmoil. Resting her forehead against the window, Buffy wondered what he would think when he found that she wasn’t going back to her apartment at all. She wasn’t even staying in LA. She was going to a place so remote; she doubted that even Spike would ever find her.

A hour later, seated on a plane, bound for Sunnydale, Buffy took one last look at the LA skyline and whispered, “Goodbye, Spike. Goodbye, my love.” Then she closed her eyes and the tears stopped falling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present Day

Buffy awoke shaking from the dream, a dream she thought she’d forgotten long ago. Breathing deeply, she got out of bed and walked downstairs to the kitchen. “Buffy, sweetie is that you?” Her mother, Joyce turned around from facing the refrigerator to look at her baby, her only daughter.

“Morning Mom. Sleeping Beauty has awaken,” Buffy said in a perky voice, as she grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. Joyce smiled as her daughter began to devour a bowl of Cap’n Crunch with her usual gusto.
A soft cry from the baby in her arms, recalled her attention to her original task of getting infant formula out to feed the youngest member of the family. Then the phone rang.

Buffy stood up and took the baby from Joyce saying, “Let me take my beautiful daughter off your hands before she dies of starvation.”
Taking both the formula and baby from her mother, Buffy sat down at the table again and began to feed her baby girl. She allowed her thoughts to wander as her mother chatted with a friend from her art gallery. ‘I wonder what Spike is doing now’ Buffy wondered and then scolded herself to stop thinking about him.

The past year had been hard for her to readjust; she had transferred from UCLA to UC Sunnydale where she planned on finishing her degree in art history and learn to run the gallery owned by her mother. After her move from LA, Buffy had waited tensely for months for any signs of Spike and to her enormous relief, life remained quiet. Spike’s presence or lack of presence in her life however, was made up for by the constant dreams she often had of him.
There were times Buffy missed him desperately and ached to be by his side. She often wondered if all the heartbreak, loss, and anguish was worth it. Looking down into her daughter’s, her precious Dawn’s beautiful cobalt eyes, the exact replica of her father’s, Buffy decided that it was.
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Just outside of LA

The condo was beautiful; the insides were decorated with a simplistic, but elegant touch of creams and blues. The penthouse inside the condo held several rooms that were all sunny and airy, with a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean. In essence it was an ideal getaway and many would consider the owner a very lucky man.

But as Spike Aurelius stood looking out the window, however, he wished he were any place else, rather he wished for a certain blonde that was missing from his heart and his arms. The condo that had once been his favorite place to be was now an empty shell of memories. Spike smiled sadly as he recalled the times he’d brought Buffy here. She’d always loved the beach and his Sunshine, as he called her, deserved a place worthy of her radiance.

Every time he’d brought her out here, Buffy had always brought her favorite romantic jazz CDs and played them while she drew or painted her latest work of art. They had watched the sun set and the sun rise, taken walks on the beach and always watched the stars come out.
Spike remembered the last time he lay in bed with her curled up around him after they made love, her hair splashed all over his stomach, making her seem like an angel, an angel he wasn’t worthy of. Buffy had brought warmth, love, and laughter into his life and then she disappeared.

When Spike had awoken the morning after she’d left, he’d tried to call her apartment, only to find the number was no longer in service. Puzzled, he’d called her work only to find her gone. Then he’d found that bloody note and his world had fallen into a shattered mess.

One Year Earlier

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What the hell do you mean she bloody doesn't work at the Southside Gallery anymore?" Spike bellowed into the phone. The hapless and unlucky man on the other end of the phone stuttered and continuously repeated the sentence over and over until Spike slammed the phone down in frustration.

Frustrated, he resumed pacing in the hallway. ‘Alright, kitten, you've made your point. Buffy, please bloody come home', He thought desperately.

It was then a flash of white caught his eye. Walking over to the small table next to the door, Spike saw an envelope with his name on it, and next to it Buffy's key to his apartment. Tearing open the note, Spike read it aloud to himself.


Dear Spike,

I'm sorry things have to end like this. I can't live like this anymore; Katrina's death has reminded me that I can't be in your world any longer. I'll never regret a moment of being with you, I only regret that I couldn't be a stronger person to do the right thing, perhaps she'd still be alive. I'm going home. I'll always love you, baby.

Goodbye,

Buffy


Spike reread it twice. Fury flashed through his veins; this couldn't be all Buffy's idea, someone had pushed her and Spike had a pretty good idea who. Grabbing the blasted letter, he'd rushed out the door and started his Desoto. Driving like a madman, and running at least four red lights, he arrived at his destination; Chase and Lehane Attorney's at Law.

Storming through the doors, Spike didn't bother with the elevator, but jogged up the stairs, until he reached the third floor. Twenty seconds later, he stormed into Faith Lehane's office and slammed the door behind him.
"What the hell did you say to her, Lehane?" Spike shouted without preamble. Faith Lehane, one of the best lawyers in LA, and one of Buffy's best friends was very rarely afraid and this one was of those times. "What the fuck are you talking about Blondie?" However, that never affected her mouth. Faith jumped to her feet and crossed her arms, squaring off against the aggravated bleached menace in her office. "She's bloody gone, Lehane. So tell what the hell did you say to her?" Spike bellowed.

Even though she had been Buffy's best friend, Faith had been vocal in her disapproval of Buffy's relationship and had done everything to convince her friend to ditch him. Spike has likewise, been vocal in his dislike for Faith and her partner of the law firm; Cordelia Chase. The fact that Faith and Cordelia had aided a disgruntled stripper in suing several businesses in the Vampires' money machine (Spike's club among them) had done little to endear the Brunette Bitches, as they were called by the Vampires, to Spike. Spike put his face close to Faith's, speaking slowly and distinctly, anger in every syllable.
"Buffy came home last night and told me she was leaving. I thought she was goin' back to her apartment, but when I called her this morning, the number is disconnected, her landlord says the apartment is empty, and her employer says she quit her job. So please tell me, Lehane where the BLOODY FUCKIN' HELL IS MY GIRLFRIEND?"

Spike's voice rang loudly through out the building and Faith could see people turning to look through the open door of her office, seeking the source of the commotion. Suddenly, a young brunette walked through the door, shutting it behind her with a snap. "Faith, what the hell is going on here? Your secretary has been calling me sayin- Oh it's you Spike" Cordelia Chase warily eyed the enraged man in front of her. "What is going on?" She demanded glancing from Faith to Spike, putting her hands on her hips.
"On second thought, allow me to redirect the question. Spike what in the name of every demon, deity, or devil are you doing here?"
"Buffy's gone." Spike hissed, "someone gave her the idea to leave me and hide out somewhere. Considering how much you two hate me, I naturally thought of you."
"How lovely," Faith cooed sarcastically. "Nice to see that we're never far from your thoughts." Cordelia cut Spike off before he could lash out another retort. " Buffy didn't tell us she was leaving and I don't know where she is. Ok? Done acting like a lunatic yet?"
Spike remained silent and turned to head out the door. "Spike!" Faith's voice stopped him in his tracks and he turned to face her. "What, Lehane? Gonna rub it in?"

Faith glared for a moment and then spoke quietly. "Maybe you should focus more on finding out why she left, rather than where she is right now." Spike rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but Faith's next words stopped him dead in his tracks.

"She loves you Spike, but she didn't belong in that world and you know it. She gave up everything for you and you pulled her farther in. If you ever find her, I suggest you do some serious thinking about your choices. If you love her, you have only two choices. You give up the Vampires, or you give her up."


Doing his best to hide how her words affected him, Spike swept out of the office and headed to the elevator. ‘Give her up? Not Bloody Likely' he thought. If only he could find her and talk to her, explain everything- suddenly an idea hit him faster than a bolt of lightning. He whipped out his phone and dialed the familiar number.
A moment later a voice answered and a smile lit up Spike's face. "Wes, mate I need your help. No, I'm not in trouble and I don't need a lawyer! Not yet anyway. My girl Buffy and I had a misunderstanding the other day and she took off. No I'm not asking you to- look Wes, all I need is for you to track her down so's I can talk to her. Yeah she's about five foot-one, golden blonde hair, and her full name is Elizabeth Summers. What? How am I suppose to know how she got the name Buffy? Look just track her down, ok? Thanks, mate."

He hung up, confident that Wes would find his estranged lover and that she would be back in his arms and his bed in a few days, a week tops.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Present Day

‘A few days,' thought Spike ironically. ‘More like a few decades! The girl who could never play hide and seek without getting caught, manages to elude the best tracers in the country!' A knock on the door sounded, startling Spike out of his musings. He was determined not to answer the door until he heard a familiar voice. " Spike, are you in there? I've got some news- I think we've may have found Buffy!"

Previously

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A knock on the door sounded, startling Spike out of his musings. He was determined not to answer the door until he heard a familiar voice. " Spike, are you in there? I've got some news- I think we've may have found Buffy!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




Spike pulled open the door so fast that Wesley practically fell inside the penthouse. "You found BUFFY? Well out with it man!" Spike had been waiting for over a year for this day, soon he could hold his girl in his arms again, well as soon as Wesley would quit actin' like a right ponce and tell him!




"Spike, slow down. I said that we may have found her, no promises!" Wesley said carefully, while watching his agitated friend pace restlessly about.




" Then why the bloody hell did you come here, if you aren't sure?!" Spike bellowed. Wesley sighed and rolled his eyes. Seating himself on the couch, he opened his trusty briefcase and removed several folders. Opening them carefully, he extracted several photos that looked as if they had been taken near a beach of some sort. Wesley cleared his throat and handed the pictures to Spike. " When you gave me a list of Buffy's favorite places, restaurants, shopping centers, ice skating rinks, etc, I automatically set up surveillance on all of them in a two hour radius-"




"Then why pray tell, has it taken you a blood year to even think you found her?!" Spike glowered angrily.




"Spike, please just allow me to finish my sentence? Thank you. When we set up surveillance, I hadn't counted on the fact that new resorts or restaurants might be built. A beach cottage resort was just recently built a few months ago. I wasn't aware of it because it was finished in February, but when I did find out about it, I sent my men to check it out and they found a blonde woman matching Buffy's description. The problem is that when I did some discrete checking, no Buffy Summers was registered at the cottages. A young woman named Anne Thomason and her baby daughter were registered as sharing a cottage with two other occupants; Anya Romavis and Willow Rosenburg. Both apparently were acquaintances of Ms. Thomason, who came down with her for a week."




Wesley paused in his story to hand Spike the photos and continued his story, while Spike examined them. "However, I did check the vehicle that Ms. Thomason drove and it appears to be registered to a Joyce Summers, who resides in Sunnydale. I checked Buffy's birth certificate and it appears her middle name is Anne, but I wasn't quite sure that this was her, so I had my men take photos of Anne Thomason and brought them for you to look at."

Spike flipped through the photos casually at first; in almost all the pictures, the young woman was too far away to see properly. "Your men take some bloody awful photos, mate. Don't let them send their shots into life magazine anytime soon-" He shut up abruptly as he flipped to the last photo. He remained frozen for a full moment, staring at the photo.

"Spike? Are you quite alright?"


"Wes, I want the address of this Joyce Summers...NOW!"


Knowing better than to question his employer and friend, Wesley picked up his cell phone and started calling to get the information.
Spike grabbed the photo and strolled into his bedroom and began to pack. He tossed his clothes, underwear, and a few of his favorite CDs into the suitcase as well, as Buffy's favorite Sex Pistols shirt that he slept with.

As soon as the suitcase was full, he lit a cigarette and stared at the image of ‘Anne Thomason' and her baby. The photo had apparently been taken outside of some beachside restaurant. She was holding her baby in her arms, cooing with the happiness of a woman who had her greatest treasure.

Spike had memorized each and every one of Buffy's smiles, he'd spent hours dreaming of her, hell he knew it as well as his own reflection. He knew her emerald eyes better than anyone; he'd waken up to them every morning, stared at them during sex, watched them glitter with anger, sparkle with tears, and glow with happiness. It had been those gems that had captured his soul, stolen his heart, and changed his world; he'd taken one look and was a drowning man, content to be lost in the green jewels of his tempting siren.

His friends had never understood what he'd seen in Buffy; he'd been a notorious womanizer for years, the moment he and Buffy had been dating his friends had begun running a bet, estimating how long they'd last.
Buffy's friends had refused to see him as anything other than a monster and were similar to a Greek chorus, singing a prediction of doom. Both his and Buffy's friends had said the same thing: ‘You're from different worlds', ‘You can't fall in love!', ‘Listen to reason!'
Spike thought that was one of the greatest ironies about the whole relationship; it was without reason or cause. He'd never planned on falling in love, nor had he planned on meeting Buffy Summers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LA, California
3 Years Earlier

Spike had been bored that night. Dressed in his usual attire of a black dress shirt and black pants that contrasted with his Doc Martins he'd looked nothing like the owner of one of the most notorious clubs in LA. He did how ever look every bit the ideal vampire, as a mythical creature and a member of the notorious gang.


With his preference for dressing in black and his love of punk music, many often dismissed the club owner and underestimated his prowess. They'd often lived to regret it. The blue eyed Brit may have looked like a street fighter from London, but beneath the façade lay a brilliant lawyer and scholar. Born William Aurelis, Spike had been raised by his mother after his father's death. After graduating from Oxford with a degree in law, he'd been sworn into the London Bar and planned to be a judge. Unfortunately that plan had ended when his mother was tragically murdered barely six months into his career. William had died with her and from the ashes ‘Spike' was born.

Jaded, cynical, and some might say, suicidal, Spike had abandoned any attempts to continue his career and went to America. Soon after that he'd ended up in LA, haunting the streets late at night like a ghost, searching for some meaning, some motivation.

It had been fate that had led him to the Vampire gang and soon after he'd completed his initiation, Spike rose quickly through the ranks of the gang. It had been his ideas to build the club Shadows, as well as several other legitimate businesses that would provide a front for the gang's dealings. Spike's ideas had helped expand the Vampires' prestige and take control of LA. Spike snorted at the irony; the ‘city of angels' owned by demons incarnate.

Leaning over the railing of the catwalk, Spike exhaled a puffy of smoke from his cigarette as he examined the dance floor, below. He smirked as he surveyed the many lovely young women, dancing to the music. One plus side of the club was that his bed was always warm; his lurking in the shadows meant that few ever recognized the club owner, except his staff, and he often could approach some young thing for a lil' bit o' rough and tumble.

Suddenly , Spike founded his attention drawn to a flash of gold. A young woman, no older than nineteen, was drawing a large amount of attention as she danced. Spike studied her; she was a regular, her clothes were a good deal more tasteful than the majority of the women in the club.

Spike found himself hypnotized as he watched her dance solo, shaking off any male that tried to claim her. She had golden brown hair, and a smooth tan body. As she tossed her head back, her hair seemed to frame her face like a halo. And what a face she had! High cheekbones, flawless skin, were emphasized by her smooth red lips and glowing emerald eyes. While others would say the girl was dancing erotically on purpose,

Spike knew with one look at her that she wasn't; she danced with uninhibited and unexplored innocence, instead of the predatory look of an experienced hooker. She was rare; pure passion, throbbing sexuality, a truly magnificent creature.

Spike's may have been memorized by this stunning creature, but the massive hard on he was now sporting, told him that he had to meet this creature. This vestal virgin might have been unmarked, but he would help her divest her robe of innocence and show her how to explore her passionate nature. He gave a predatory smile, as he melted into the shadows to stalk his prey; tonight she would be his.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LA California
Present Day

Wesley's voice jolted Spike out of his recollections. "Spike the address is 1630 Revello Drive. Do you need anything else?"


Without turning around to face his friend, who was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, Spike said " Good mate, find me a flight and write down that address for me. I want to leave as soon as possible, make the arrangements."


Wesley nodded and departed back to the living room, while Spike looked at the photo that he'd been holding for the last hour.

‘Anne Thomason' could call herself whatever she bloody well wanted, but he knew she really was, Spike thought.


He stared into the green eyes of the woman in the photograph and then he stared at the baby.

‘Ms. Anne you and I will be having a chat very soon, luv. Count on it.'