BUFFY’S REVENGE; SUNNYDALE STYLE



All of the characters belong to Joss Whedon and ME.


This is my first fan fiction (kind of) and is pretty ‘raw’ in a lot of ways. It starts out as Angel/Buffy (not real graphic) and goes on into Buffy and others/temporarily (again, not real grapic). Summary follows.


Summary: Buffy Summers lives a charmed life. Or so it seems on the surface. She has been married to Angel Travers (Liam is his real name) for over 6 years. He, Angel, is a star lawyer and partner in Sunnydale’s prestigious law firm. Twenty-eight-year old Buffy is his ‘trophy’ wife and arm candy.

When Buffy discovers and ugly truth about her husband and his betrayal of her, she seeks revenge in some rather ugly, unlikely places. However, it’s her own past secret, one from her teens, that rears it’s head and throws her into the path of a man who is seeking some revenge of his own. (Can you guess who this ‘man’ is?).

A warning: When I submitted this story elsewhere, I got varied reviews and input back. A lot of readers liked the way I wrote the characters, a lot did not.

This is Spuffy, eventually and starts as an R rating but goes right into NC-17. I have tried to keep all non-Spuffy interaction between Buffy and others very non-graphic.

Please if you read this fiction, try and keep an open mind and understand that sometimes humans do really stupid things to seek revenge. However ‘revenge’ as we all know, tends to come back and kick you in the a**!

A/N: Oh, I have reedited this long fiction from the original and changed some wording and facts. Thanks, Luv, Spuf


Chapter 1: ‘The Charmed One’


Elizabeth Anne Summers, or Buffy, as her Mother, Joyce Summers had named nicknamed her only child, lived a very charmed life. Everyone in Buffy’s universe thought so, even her best female friend, Willow Rosenberg.

Willow, who was brilliant, lovely and very sweet, always seemed to have envied her best friend’s life style. Even though her own was miles apart from Buffy’s. Still, Buffy was no dummy, she knew a good thing when she saw one and her own life? It was ‘perfect!’

Buffy had been luck ‘in love’ ever since her Senior year in High School. How could she not be? After years of dating, partying, running around and carousing with the best of them? Buffy, had snagged Sunnydale’s most eligible bachelor as a husband…Liam ‘Angel’ Travers. Of course, she had known Angel for years, since Jr. High School, just as she had known Willow, Oz, Xander and even Cordelia for all those years.

However, when Buffy finally decided to settle down, permanently, in her junior year of College at Sunnydale U., with Angel? That’s when she realized that any and all friendships and/or romances with others before that were just crushes. Nothing more.

Now, of course, she still loved her dear childhood friends, no question. And, she still held fond memories of all of her past young loves, but Angel was the one, finally, that Buffy had decided on. Good thing, too because his family just happened to be the richest, well, second richest and one of the most well thought of members of Sunnydale society.

Yes, Buffy had her successful, rich and handsome husband, Angel; her Mother, Joyce, even though she lived up in Santa Barbara now and her group of long time friends. Even if one of those ‘friends’ was no longer a part of her world.

He, the ex-friend, had lived in the shadows of Buffy’s world since that awful night, back in High School. William Giles, or Spike as some nimrod had nicknamed him, was and forever would be, since that night ten years before, a thorn in Buffy’s side. A paraiah in her life, a bad memory, certainly. Even if, Buffy was well aware that it was her own doing that caused the rift in her and William’s relationship.

Anyway, that had been years before, no matter how William, or Spike (snort) as he was called kept popping up in Buffy’s life from time to time. No matter, Buffy was settled in, content with her charmed life and happy to have left the silliness of High School and College behind.

Buffy and Angel lived in a huge, near mansion of a house on Sunnydale Drive, in Sunnydale, of course, and had just the best of everything. There was a maid, cook and gardener, even a dog walker. Heck, Buffy barely had to ‘breathe’ for herself, much less do anything else. There were however, no children of their own in Angel and Buffy’s life. Something that was mostly Angel’s idea, as Buffy would have liked to be a mother by now.]

There was a ‘baby’ for Buffy, however, kind of, a cherry-red Camaro, new of course, that Angel bestowed on her just a few months ago. Angel drove a new Mercedes Benz, silver and black, only the best for him and his wife, Buffy. There was also a two-year-old jeep in the garage, for camping and such, something the Travers’ couple never seemed to find time to do together.

Although Buffy had a hard tow of it, at first, getting accepted by the Travers’ family, Dad Frank, Mom Helen and bratty little sister, Dawn, she finally had made it. Angel’s whol family had ‘seemed’ to finally accept poor little Buffy, from a a broken home in Sunnydale, as his wife and soul mate.

Angel had been raised as a staunch Catholic and that was fine for Buffy, however, as far as Frank and Helen Travers went? The parents had come to terms, years ago, with the fact that there would never be a divorce between them and Frank, Angel’s dad had moved down to Los Angeles into a new home and new life. Helen finished raising the two Travers children, Angel and Dawnie, herself, in the Travers Sunnydale mansion and Buffy respected the woman for that.

Buffy realized long ago, that no matter what, there would never be a divorce option for her and Angel. A thought that both comforted her, but also made her feel a bit intimidated.

Either way, it was of no matter. Buffy led a charmed life, period. There was no reason to ever fear any of the pitfalls that destroyed most marriages.

That was how Buffy believed anyway. Until that Tuesday morning, when her whole charmed world came crashing down about her.


A/N: I’ve really reedited this story. I hope for the better! Thank you for reading and please review. Luv, Spuf

Chapter Two: When Angles Fall


It had started like any other beautiful Spring morning, a Tuesday, typical, happy and normal for the charmed Buffy. She got up, had breakfast with her handsome husband, Angel, sent him off to work with a kiss and a cup of coffee, then showered and dressed for her hair salon appointment, to be followed by her manicure and pedicure; French this time.

Maggie, the family cook, who’d been with the Travers before Buffy married Angel, had fixed a wonderful Tuesday morning breakfast. Jenny, the maid who lived in house, that is from Monday to Friday (both Maggie and Jenny had Thursdays and most weekends off), had cleaned, pressed and functioned, as always to perfection, the way a good maid should. Buffy’s life was so simple, so organized by everyone else, that she barely had to breathe for herself to live.

After her high light job at ‘Locks By Lorne’ by the magical Lorne himself; and the equally wonderful manicure/pedicure by Amy, Lorne’s young sister, Buffy trotted off to ‘surprise’ Angel at his office at Snyder, Levison and Travers for a lunch out together at about noon.

Although Buffy didn’t make it a habit to drop by her husband’s office for a surprise, she’d done it before; it wasn’t unheard of. Today, like before, Buffy pulled into the parking structure of the office building, parked in the usual visitor spot, and strode, with confidence, into the large building lobby. As usual, for a Tuesday,it was occupided by the elfish, diminutive security guard, Johnathan Levy. Johnathan smiled warmly at Buffy and waved with affection. They had attended Sunnydale High together and although the impish man/boy was considered a nerd by teenage standards, Buffy had embraced him as a kind young man even then. She waved back with enthusiasm and inquired about his wife and new baby with genuine interest.

“Katrina is fine, Mrs. Travers,” Johnathan gushed, “and our boy, Johnny is doing great!”

Buffy smiled, then scowled a bit, “please, Johnathan,” she admonished, “I’ve been Buffy to you a lot longer then Mrs. Travers!”

The small man broke into his warm grin once more, “of course, Buffy, sorry. My family is great!” he finished with another smile.

“Okay, then,” Buffy giggled, “I’ll see you on the way out and I want to see tons of pictures!” With a wave she stepped into the elevator and punched number 7. The floor Angel’s law office was on.

When Buffy stepped into Angels office, she noticed that Anya, his secretary, was not at her usual post. She assumed that her college friend had gone for lunch and thought nothing of her absence. Actually, Buffy was rather relieved that Anya was out; it had been only three months or so before that Xander, Buffy’s best male friend, and Anya had parted ways. Buffy still felt a tinge of guilt over that as it had been herself that had set the dark Xander and fair Anya up in College.

Way back in their High School Senior year, Xander still harbored a crush on Willow, though truth was, he’d always really loved Buffy. When red-haired Willow had taken up with wild, guitar playing Oz, short for Danial Osbourne, well, Xander was heart broken and Buffy felt inclined to play match-maker between he and Anya.

Buffy encouraged the budding Xander/Anya relationship, even pushing for an engagement, especially after she’d married Angel. Everything went smoothly for a while, but a month before the Xander/Anya wedding, things went to hell in a hand basket. Anya had left her secretarial job at Angel’s one day, early, and come home to find her finace in bed with none other then Willow Rosenberg.

Even after apologies, remorse and guilt, Xander decided to go with Willow and leave poor Anya alone in their tiny apartment. Anya somehow muddled through; Willow and Xander moved in together and everyone held their breath to see how things would turn out.

However, in the back of her mind, Buffy always felt that Anya somehow held her responsible for the whole mess. Sunnydale was not Los Angeles, pretty much everyone, who was anyone, could figure out what everyone else, who was anyone, was up to. They all knew what the skinny was of the time and Anya knew, in her heart, that Xander truly loved the unattainable Buffy, even more so then his precious Willow.

So, when Buffy slipped inside the inner door that connected the front of the office to that private area that was Angel’s, she never thought anything of it. The door was unlocked and she just stepped through, happy to surprise her darling husband for lunch. What she saw there, stopped her dead in her tracks and cause her to freeze in horrified shock!

Angel, Buffy’s Angel, was doing something that could only be called ‘screwing’ Cordelia Chase, from behind no less, up against the desk that she, Buffy, had given him two Christmas’s ago. The two dark haired people were so engrossed in their coupling, that they never noticed the tiny blond standing shell shocked and open mouthed by the office door. Buffy stared in horror as the couple moaned and groaned in sexual pleasure, her face contorted in anguish, a silent scream coming from her throat. After a moment or two, Buffy slipped out of the office, still unnoticed, and fled down out into the 7th floor hallway and into the tiny, claustriphobic elevator.

Without saying a ‘goodbye’ to Johnathan who looked on in confusion as she passed, she half ran to the parking lot and her beautiful little Camaro.

She threw the car into reverse and sped out of the parking structure, mercifully missing poor pedestrians or other parked cars along the way. It wasn’t until she’d driven two miles away from the offensive office building and pulled into a tiny City Park’s parking lot, that she completely lost it and broke down in tears.

“Fucking bitch!” she screamed into the cab air of the small Camaro. “Fucking, two-timing bastard!”

Buffy’s tears spilled like rain onto her hot, red cheeks. Her mantra of bitch and bastard continued as she considered slamming her forehead against the hard steering wheel of her car.

“Why?” she cried to the invisible Angel, “how could you?” Within a moment’s span, Buffy could figure out why Cordelia, or Cordy as she was called in school, did it. Buffy and Cordy Chase had always been rivals, even silent ones. Xander Harris had gone with Cordelia for two years in High School, even taking her precious virginity, but Cordy was no fool. Like everyone else in Sunnydale High, the brunette, rich, Cordelia knew that Xander truly loved Buffy. He even helped Buffy with her ‘Homecoming Queen’ campaign, much to the anger of his tempetuous cheerleader girlfriend.

Angel was another story, or was he? Buffy was well aware that the Chase’s, Sunnydale’s cream of the crop in families, were top ‘A-one’ clients of Angel’s law firm. The kind of family, with the kind of daughters, Cordelia and Faith Chase, that the likes of Frank and Helen Travers would be glad to accept into the family, no questions asked. Frank Chase was a widower who cut a nice swath across the social world of Sunnydale and Cordy was no exception. She’d inherited her father’s charm, looks and would eventually inherit all of his money. Faith, her younger, college bound sister, was a different story, she was rarely discussed and there was talk.

Buffy, in her heart and soul, knew she’d never match up to the lineage of Cordelia or Faith Chase and somehow, she realized in that shattering moment, Angel knew it too. Still, parked in the little lot, her eyes bleared with hot tears and sobs of pain, Buffy wondered what to do? Should she confront her husband? Confront Cordelia, the Queen Bitch of Sunnydale? Confront her own insecurities

As she sat, staring blankly at the passing mothers with their small children, Buffy began to cry with silent tears, her voice cracked and broken; her pleas of ‘why’ and ‘how could you’ fell on deaf ears. No one else was around, only the petite, charmed blond beauty who sat in a cheery red Camaro, her misery oblivious to the young mothers and children who passed by her.


Finally, after an hour or so of her sobbing desperation, Buffy found her presence of mind to drive home, albeit very slowly. As she drove, she thought, actually she carried on a conversation with herself.

“It’s unfair!” she hissed, “I used to be so hot, so sure of myself. I was the hottest girl in Sunnydale High School, well, maybe not High School, but in College!”

Everyone had said so. Heck, what she’d lost out in in High School, Homecoming Queen, she made up for in spades in College. Junior Princess, Homecoming Queen in her Senior year, she’d outshined the bitch, Cordelia herself at Sunnydale U. What had happened? Buffy had won it all! Homecoming Queen, Head Cheerleader, Angel Travers! What more was there? Forget that she’d given up on her own dreams, she was too busy pushing the dreams and ambitions of her charmed husband and his clan!

Buffy Summers Travers was the most popular girl in Sunnydale when she was in College. Angel and Buffy were ‘the couple’ of SunnyD now! Well, Cordelia and Riley were a close second, but that didn’t count, did it? And what about Cordelia and Riley Finn? Did the big oaf, Police Chief Riley Finn, know about his darling meal ticket, Cordelia and Buffy’s precious husband? Riley’s and Cordy’s marriage was less then five months off, sometime in August and here the little bitch was screwing a married man, Buffy’s married man, in his office! On his antique desk that his wonderful wife had given him!

By the time Buffy had gotten home, pushed past the servants, Maggie and Jenny, and made the upstairs bathroom by the master bedroom, she threw up for a full five minutes. Once she’d stopped throwing up, Buffy rinsed her hot face with very cold water and lay down on the California King bed she shared with her errant hubby.

Her mind was in a fog, but one question kept echoing in and out of it while she lay there, staring at her wooden ceiling, “what I’m I going to do?!”


A/N: Just what will Buffy do? Something not too bright, I’m afraid. A flashback in the next chapter reveals just why Buffy and Spike are at odds with each other after all these years. Thanks, please read and review. Luv, Spuf

Chapter 3: ‘Buffy Plots/Therefore She Is’


As she lay gently in the massive tub, soaking her tense, sore body, Buffy went back over the last two hours of her life. After she’d lay sobbing for another hour on her bed, she had settled down enough to truly think things out. It came down to this: What should she do about this betrayal, and what did she really want? Of course, she wanted to keep Angel, no question, she’d gotten used to her life and besides, she doubted if her powerful husband truly wanted a divorce, not Angel. He would never be able to stand the scandal and frankly, neither would Cordelia. And Buffy herself? She simply did not want to go through the drama of it.




Divorce was out, period. However, in her tattered state of mind, Buffy realized that she wanted, no needed some kind of retribution…some revenge against those two adulterers. It had occurred to her, about halfway through her bitter musings, that this Angel/Cordelia affair had probably been going on for a while, and, that Anya might be well be aware of it. Buffy didn’t know how Anya was involved, but she just knew she was. So, when the injured young woman began to plot her revenge, she had decided not to just avenge herself on Angel and Cordelia Chase, but on Anya, the Chase sect and the whole damn Travers clan! Buffy’s memory was long and she had never forgotten the way the Travers had ‘dissaproved’ of the Summers family.

By 7:00 PM, Angel’s get home time, Buffy had not only settled down (at least to the staff’s satisfaction) she’d come up with the ultimate revenge plan of all times. Buffy, sweet innocent and loyal Buffy, the Sweetheart of Delta Kai in College, would seduce, screw and secretly humiliate anyone that had anything to do with the Angel/Cordelia betrayal. If that included, Angel, Cordy, Anya, the whole Travers clan, then so be it.

After she had calmed down a bit, Buffy looked at her naked body in the full length mirror of her bathroom. She was the same, at least physially, that she’d been in High School and College. Her body was still in shape, athletic and trim. At least that was one ‘pro’ thing of not having a child…she guessed. The hazel/green eyes that looked back at her were as bright as the day she started kindergarten, even though tears of pain had clouded them earlier. Although her once broken nose as a bit off center and slightly bent, everyone always said it added ‘character’ to her otherwise perfect face. Everyone said that, that is, except Queen Bitch Cordelia Chase. Cordy had encouraged Buffy to 'fix her imperfect nose’ for years, but Buffy was glad she hadn’t listened to the conniving little brat.

“Cordy’s nose job makes her look like a human Smurf,” she chuckled through her still misty eyes, “I’m prettier then her by a long shot!” Feeling a bit more secure, Buffy mused about the decision she’d come to just moments earlier.

Tears spilled anew from those pretty hazel eyes, even as Buffy tried to still them.

“I’ll get my revenge, you assholes!” she hissed as she turned from the mirror and grabbed the french silk robe from the bathroom door. “I’ll get my revenge and then some!”


Buffy’s plan was simple, really: She would seduce, screw and string along every male that was remotely connected with the Travers or Chase families. She’d start with Connor Simpson, Dawn Travers stupid boy toy of the moment. At 18 years of age, he fell into the ‘safe zone’ of seduction and wouldn’t that just kill both Angel and Dawn if they’d known about it! They wouldn’t, of course, but Buffy and precious Connor would know! Hell, she’d boink him to pieces if it meant screwing over Dawn, the little brat and Angel her prick of a husband! The sticky part was keeping everybody’s mouth shut. It was imperitive to her plan that ‘no one’ spilled their guts to anyone else. Especially to each other! Everyone involved would have to be discreet and Buffy was sure she could manuveur their silence.

Connor, of course, would be the trickiest one, but probably the most satifisfactory. To really stick it to both her husband, Angel and his brat sister Dawn would be sweet retribution indeed! Dawn had always looked down her perfect little fixed nose at Buffy and her mother, Joyce.

Xander Harris was another target in her game, mainly because Anya was probably well aware of the Angel/Cordy affair and even possibly encouraged it. Anya never, ever got over the fact that Buffy was the one that Xander truly loved, even though his affection was never reciprocated. If she could seduce Xander, somehow it would make Buffy feel better.

Actually, it was perfect, as Xander and Cordelia had ‘dated’ in High School. As far as Willow went, that was not important. About a month or so ago, Willow had met up with and gotten closer with Tara McClay, a professor of Literature at Sunnydale University, where Willow also taught. Xander had accepted this with humbleness and it wasn’t a big surprise, really.

Ever since Oz, Willow’s boyfriend had left Sunnydale years before, it was kind of an accepted fact that Willow Rosenberg loved who she loved. It didn't matter whether they be male or female, the red-haired fragile beauty was infatuated with both sexes. Tara had come along at the opportune moment, Xander had turned a blind eye at first and everyone just took it for granted that soon, if not later, Willow would return to her male lover.

So far, albeit it was quite early, she hadn’t, but had remained with her blond, female lover. Buffy accepted this, embraced it, if only because she wanted her best female friend to be happy once and for all. And, it afforded Buffy the opportunity to seduce Xander without guilt; nice, considering the dark, handsome young man had taken Cordelia Chase’s virginity in High School and backed Buffy for Home Coming Queen. Cordy had never forgiven him!

Of course, Riley Finn was another canidate and to betray Angel with Cordelia’s trophy fiance seemed like the icing on the cake. Buffy was more then certain that Riley would keep his big mouth shut, as he didn’t want to lose Cordy and the Chase meal ticket or their status.

It was funny, but even as she’d lay on her satin sheets, thinking, or maybe just not thinking sanely, Buffy even considered William ‘Spike’ Giles as a ‘real conquest’ in her game of revenge. If anything, it would be Spike, the blond shadow, that would be the catalyst of retribution.

Back in High School, at least by their Junior year, they’d all been best of friends. Angel, Buffy, Willow, Xander, even silly Johnathan Levy. Spike entered into their circle without invitation, yeah, like a quiet tornado.

Buffy was only seventeen years old, not quite eighteen that first semester in their Senior year at Sunnydale High. Actually, she, Spike and Angel were inseperable and somehow had managed to get themselves into a college frat party, via Riley Finn, at Sunnydale University.

Everything was going fine, until Buffy drank way too much from the keg that Delta Kai, Riley’s fraternity, the most prestigious on campus, had provided. Of course, Angel and Spike had drank their fair share of the beer also.

When Angel stumbled outside to sleep off the affects of the ale, Buffy followed the kind Riley upstairs to rest and get her bearings. Alcohol and Buffy Summers never mixed well.

Riley had led the naïve Buffy upstairs to some empty frat brother’s bedroom, then manuvered her over to a small twin bed. At first, Buffy enjoyed the kisses the big brunette peppered over her face and neck, but then Riley began to pull at her simple turtleneck sweater. Once he’d pulled it up over her head and unsnapped her white demi bra, Buffy sobered up real fast and realized that she was in deep.

“Mmmmm,” Riley moaned as he kneaded Buffy’s pert right breast. “Riley!” she cried, “stop it! That hurts!”

Even after her begging, Riley continued his assault on her breasts as he replaced his hands with his wet mouth.

“Riley, please!” Buffy begged, “stop it! I don’t want this!”

But, Riley continued, grumbling something about Buffy being a ‘cock tease’ and that ‘she deserved this.’

When Riley unzipped and pulled her tight jeans from her slim hips, Buffy realized that she would never get out of this intact and began to sob quietly.

Before Riley could rip her thong from her little body, Buffy heard a familiar, endearing British voice behind Riley, “you’re really a fucking asshole, Finn! Get your bloody hands off her!”

Spike pulled Riley away from Buffy and slammed his left fist against the older, larger man’s heavy face.

Buffy screamed, Riley swore and Spike actually chuckled, “only way to get a girl, huh, Finn?” he chortled. “Get them drunk and rape them!”

Riley never replied, just punched the blond Spike in his chiseled cheek and knocked him flat on his ass. Without a word, Riley threw himself on the lean, lithe Spike and began to beat the shit out of him.

“Stop!” Buffy cried, when she’d regained her senses, “leave him alone!”

Buffy grabbed a heavy porcelien bong some stoner frat boy had left out from an end table close by and smashed it onto Riley’s thick scull, momentarily stunning him into submission.

Riley, stunned for a minute, shook himself into a sort of consciousness and looked at the male and female bottle blonds with disgust.

“Fuck you, Buffy, you cock tease!” Riley growled, “you’re not worth it anyway!”

With that, Riley stormed out of the little bedroom, leaving both Spike and Buffy laying on the floor, her eyes, at least, wide with shock.

“Oh, Spike,” Buffy finally broke the silence as she looked on her beloved still friend, “please be okay. Can’t lose you!”

In her terror and fear, Buffy forgot that her turtleneck was gone, her bra unclasped and her pretty breasts open for view to the seemingly unconscious Spike.

“Wake up, Spike!” Buffy cried, “please be okay

She hovered over his still body, anxiously while she stroked the chiseled cheek bones on his pale face.

Finally, he smiled, his beautiful blue eyes still closed shut and mumbled, “if I’d have known that I could get you in this position, pet, I’d ‘ave let Riley Finn kick my arse ages ago!”

Buffy reared back, stunned, “oh you’re just fine!” she gasped, relieved, as she slapped his chest gently with a giggle.

Before either of the two blonds could breathe, Spike grasped Buffy and pulled her mouth down to his in a desperate kiss.

Without missing a beat, Spike flipped Buffy over on her back and began kissing her frantically on the mouth and neck. It wasn’t like she was resisting either and when he whispered how much he’d wanted her from day one, that did it. Every bit of restraint in her flew out the window and Buffy enthusiastically kissed Spike right back.

Before she knew it, Spike had made his way down to her breasts with his lovely mouth and encouraged by her moans of pleasure sucked greedily. Buffy could barely breathe, much less think and she never said a word of resistence when Spike eagerly pulled her thong off and ran his tongue down her tummy over her hips and straight to her wet sex. It was mind blowing to Buffy, what Spike was doing and saying to her.

“Buffy,” he rasped, “I’ve waited so long for this, I really…….” But he didn’t finish his sentence, just went back to making love to her with that wonderful mouth of his.

“Oh Spike,” she moaned huskily, “that’s so good, that’s……” when he stopped for a moment and looked up at her, his blue eyes full of adoration and lust, Buffy’s heart began to race even faster.

So caught up in the pleasure of their desire for each other, Buffy lost all sense of time and place as her mind reeled off into some other demension of reality. Later, she would wonder if she’d lost her mind, at least momentarily, because she really knew who was making love to her like this; it was her wild Spike, not Angel.

So when Buffy was so close to cumming by Spike’s mouth, she shocked herself as much as her lover when she groaned out Angel’s name.

Spike halted immediately, Buffy tensed completely up and crashed right back down into the real world. When she braved opening her eyes to look at those gorgeous blue eyes of Spikes, she saw devestation in them. Pure raw, pain, then something else appeared in them; hateful anger.

Buffy watched tearily as her would be lover leapt up from her hot body and pulled his shirt he’d somehow devested earlier back over his lovely chest.

“Get dressed!” he commanded hoarsely, rage seeping through the words. She could only lay there and just stare at him, more confused then hurt or angry herself.

“Spike,” she began weakly, “I, I’m sorry, I know it was you here, I…..”

However, before she could finish, Spike hissed, “shut the fuck up, Summers! Get your bloody clothes on and go find your fucking Angel!”

Buffy didn’t move, just stared in stunned embarrassment at Spike as he stood glaring down at her.

Before she could utter one more word of apology, he litterally growled out the next sentence, “you might go lookin’ for your precious Angel in another room up here, Princess,” that damn smirk, now etched with pain on his face. “He went off to shag some college bint earlier, but if you hurry, I’m sure you can get in on the action!”

With that, Spike slammed out of the tiny frat room, leaving a bewildered, sobbing half naked Buffy lying on the ugly, cold floor.


A/N: Whew! I hate writing sex scenes! (Okay, I don’t, but I have to pretend!!!) Anyway, please read and review. Thanks, Luv, Spuf

Chapter 4: ‘You Have To Break A Few Eggs…’




Buffy sat on her living room window seat, the one at the full bay window, sipping a glass of California Cabernet wine, her favorite red varietal. She loved this window, loved the view it afforded her as she stared out at the dusky sky and sighed. If only the pain in her heart, the one caused by a vice like grip of the hand of His Majesty, King Angel, who, by the way would be home soon.

She only hoped she’d composed herself enough to fool him into believing that nothing was amiss. The ‘kick in the gut’ pain she’d felt earlier had subsided somewhat, but her urge to throw up every five minutes persisted.

“What a first class prick!” she sighed with comtempt, and sadness as she reassessed her plan of revenge on both Angel and his bitch Cordy. Funny, all consuming pain could be quite inspirational, or irrational as the case may be, however, it still hurt, no matter how hard Buffy tried to push it back down.

To console herself, she went back over her plan of action. Connor was not going to be a problem, that was for sure, but Riley might be a bit tricky. Sherrif Finn was a also a first class prick, but he wasn’t as stupid as he looked and he might not want to risk losing Cordelia at any cost.

“That would be priceless,” Buffy giggled as she sipped her wine, “nail Riley Finn!” But then what?!

It suddenly occurred to Buffy that she had no idea what she would actually ‘do’ with these unwitting men once she had seduced them, that is, if they could be seduced.

Yes, Angel held Riley in complete contempt and Cordelia was engaged to the buffoon, but once Buffy had done the deed, what then? No one could know about it and even if personal vindication was sweet, what if Riley, or Xander or Connor didn’t just ‘fade into the distance’ after the fact? What if they had their feelings hurt, or felt ‘something’ for her?

“Oh well,” she consoled herself, “you have to break a few eggs to make an omelette!”

Of course, on the other hand, Buffy would feel double retribution where Riley was concerned. She could stick it to Cordelia, silently, while she got great retribution on Riley for his disgusting behavior back in their school days. Which, brought her right back to Spike Giles.

Out of any of the guys that Buffy could even remotely think of as cheating on Angel with, Spike was the only one she was truly drawn to, sexually. In fact, she had always considered him as hot, hot, hot! In his ‘retro 80’s kind of way’ that is. His hair, his basic black clothes, totally punk, totally deadly to Buffy, at least. Spike has always been ‘it’ as far as she was concerned, even if she’d screwed up back in High School and ruined any chance of a normal romance with him.

With another sigh, a shake of her blond head, Buffy had to chuckle, “if Spike only knew the real reason I said ‘Angel’ that night, he’d just die from the irony of it!’

Some years ago, Buffy figured out why she’d reacted the way she did that night, even if she never told anyone else, especially Spike. Maybe she should have told, at least Spike, maybe then there wouldn’t have been this tension between them that hung over their whole group for the last ten years. The blond guy had never forgiven her for that night at the Delta House and she barely got through the whole thing herself.

It was a miracle that she kept her friendships with the group, much less tolerated Spike’s presence with them. Of course she never told anyone about that night and Spike’s ego alone kept him from spilling his guts, ever. Their clique remained entact, even if everyone in it knew there was some ‘rift’ between the two blonds, perhaps the others just felt it best not to ask questions.

All through their Senior year, the group of friends stayed together through thick and thin; even Spike stuck around, but always in the background now.

In College, however, when Buffy, Angel, Willow and her Oz, Xander and the newest addition, Anya, went off to their higher education, Spike embarked on his ‘darker career’ on the outskirts of Sunnydale society, always in the shadows. Still as much as Buffy tried to discreetly avoid him, Spike always seemed to find a way to throw himself into her path. If Angel ever suspected anything, he never said such, actually, he’d probably never suspect ‘his’ Buffy of any such behavior.

Angel’s ego was even bigger then Spike’s!

Buffy’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her husband’s black Mercedes pulling into their long, circular driveway. That ‘pain’ the suffocating one that sucked all of her breathe out of her lungs and choked off her throat returned, briefly.

“It’s showtime!” she whispered with determination and made way into the kitchen, onto the back service entry.

“Maggie!” she called in passing, “is the Chicken Marsala (Angel’s favorite meal) ready?”

If she didn’t know better, Buffy could swear that her loyal cook just gave her a sarcastic smirk as she passed by.

“What?” she questioned the older woman, no answer, “What is it?”

Maggie raised her right eyebrow, “you want supper in the kitchen, or the dining room, madame,” her voice was tinged with a tone that Buffy couldn’t quite name.

“What’s the problem, Maggie,” she sighed with exasperation, “why the formal questions tonight?”

For an instant, Buffy saw a look of genuine sympathy in Maggie’s blue eyes, “nothing, Buffy,” she whispered with an embarrassed look, I was just being a bitca, sorry.”

Buffy placed her tiny hand on the cook’s arm, “what is it Maggie, what do you know?”

If the older woman ‘knew’ anything, she covered it by looking away, “nothing, Miss Buffy, I’m sorry.”

With a shrug, Maggie shook of her employer’s hand and hurried back into the kitchen to set some table.

“The Dining Room!” Buffy shouted excitedly, “we’ll eat in the Dining Room.”

It was at that precise moment that her errant husband stepped through the back door of their nearly $1,000,000.00 house and Buffy snapped ‘to attention!’

“He’s home, at last,” she looked him up and down, “just like a Timex Watch…takes a licking and keeps on ticking!”

With a shake of her pretty blond head, Buffy put on her ‘happy face’ and mused, “watch out Travers world, Buffy the Bunny just got Energized!”

As they ate the pefect Chicken Marsala ala Maggie, Buffy watched her ‘perfect’ husband, Angel.

“God,” she groaned inwardly, “what a slob!”

She had never noticed before, but Angel ate like a pig! Actually, a pig would probably eat with more manners! When he wasn’t talking with his mouth full, he was talking with it wide open.

“Why in the heck haven’t I ever noticed what a disgusting slob he is!?” she giggled.

“What?” Angel asked, his mouth full of pasta, “what was that, babe?” Buffy stifled another giggle, “nothing, hon,” she answered, wide-eyed, “no, actually,” she continued, “I asked, how about discussing your job?” Of course, this was an open invitation for Angel to talk about himself, his stellar career and exciting office life and Buffy tried hard to stifle a large yawn with her tiny hand. “Yeah, that’s great,” she answered automatically, “glad the Chase account is so ‘hot!”

“Or,” she muttered, “is it just ‘Cordy Chase’ that’s so hot?!” Angel stopped his chewing, and chawing long enough to give her an inquisitive look. “Huh?” he questioned with a confused look. “I said,” Buffy answered, her expression a mix of exasperation and a smirk, “it sure is hot for this time of year.” With that, she calmly went back to her Chicken, a signal that it was time to change the subject.

Angel obliviously began to discuss his business trip to Chicago at Wednesday morning. In all the upheaval of the last few hours, Buffy had completely forgotten about it. “I’ve already told Riley our Thursday evening golf game is off, but you’re going to have to call Connor tomorrow and tell him not to meet us here.” Buffy let the last sentence sink in, Connor didn’t know that his idol, Angel, was going away and was prepared to meet Riley and him at the Travers house, as usual, Thursday to golf with them. Usually, Buffy forgot about the non-descript boy, Connor, especially since she detested his girlfriend, Angel’s little sister, Dawn. However, the whole ‘golf mentor’ thing by Angel and Riley for Connor just got real interesting for her and her mind battery immediately jump-started into overdrive. “Bingo!” she chuckled to herself as she poured her darling husband another glass of wine.

A/N: Well, this is the beginning of some ‘real sticky’ chapters for me. I want to relate the story, but…..the thought of Buffy and ‘others’ then Spike tends to make me a bit ‘ill’. I’m going to make this as painless as possible, although, when I originally wrote this story (all 20 chapters of it) before the virus from ‘hell’ took over and fried it, I was a bit more graphic. Now, I’ll try to only allude to Buffy’s trysts with her illicit lovers. (Crossing my fingers)




Buffy’s Revenge: Chapter 5;
‘Good Girls Don’t, but Buffy Does!’

At 5:30 AM on that fateful Wednesday, Angel took off from Sunnydale to LAX in Los Angeles. If he was lucky, he’d make it to LA by 7:30 AM and through the ‘checkpoints’ by 9:00. With a quick Bloody Mary at an airport bar, and of course, some updating on his lap top, Angel would make that 10:00 AM flight to Chicago without a hitch. He was a Travers for God’s sake, nothing went wrong for a Travers!

To her credit, Buffy behaved like the doting wife. She got up at 5:00 AM, kissed her handsome husband goodbye and sent him off to LA without showing a hint of the resentment that had been festering for almost thirty-six hours now. “Prick!” she hissed under her breath as Angel drove off from their fairy tale home in his BMW.

“Hope his plane runs into severe turbulance!”

Actually, Buffy was becoming alarmed at the boiling venom within her, but keeping it under control was becoming less and less possible.

“I can’t wait until Connor shows up here, tomorrow afternoon!” she smirked as she gave the days instructions to her staff.

“Listen, Maggie, Jenny, why don’t you take Friday off too?” she asked innocently, “with Angel gone, I can certainly manage by myself for a couple of days.”

If the cook or housekeeper ‘suspected’ anything, they certainly didn’t show it and eagerly accepted their bosses generosity.

Buffy took a long, long bath in the early afternoon and plotted her seduction of Connor. Had he been any one else, but precious Dawnie’s boyfriend or the fair-haired son of the Travers’ best friends, then she probably would not have ever even considered the little twerp as an option. However, as it stood, the eighteen-year-old, doe-eyed nerd was the perfect dupe for her plan of revenge.

“Too bad he’s not related to the Chases in some way,” she giggled, “that ‘would’ be priceless!”

When she emerged from the tub, her towel wrapped snugly about her lithe body, Buffy studied herself in the full length mirror of her bathroom. She was far removed from that little innocent school girl she had once been back in Sunnydale High. Back then, Buffy would have been physically ill to have even considered plotting what she was about to do.

After that horrible night at the Delta Frat with Spike and Riley, Buffy started dating Parker Abrams, the star quarterback of the Sunnydale High football team and the darling of the campus. Buffy was very inexperienced in the matters of ‘love’ especially since her only real boyfriend before that had been Scott Hope in her Freshman and Junior years.

The most the timid Scott had done was to feel her up once or twice, that and some heavy kissing. Buffy and he had broken up the summer before their Senior year and she actually thought something might be wrong with her, like she was undesireable or something. Scott never pushed further with her, sexually, but since their breakup, they did remain good friends. It saddened Buffy when Scott went up north to attend the University at Berkeley and the rest of friends stayed home to attend Sunnydale U.

When the ‘first Christmas’ of their college stint came around, Buffy even got a ‘photo’ Christmas card from Scott. That’s when the circumstances of their High School romance became crytal clear. The photo of Scott’s card was a ‘family’ type picture, complete with Scott, his loyal cat, Mr. Trick, and a dark haired, good looking young man, named Holden. Scott looked deliriously happy, Holden was sat next to him, Snyder snuggled in his lap, not Scottys and Buffy finally realized the truth. Holden was Scott’s ideal, not Buffy or any other girl and she was pleased that he was ‘finally’ happy.

Where Scott was timid and unsure, Parker was aggressive and very secure in his sexual prowess. Parker took Buffy, they were a steady couple by now, to their Senior High Winter Formal in late January. Before the night was over, Parker had parked his Mustang overlooking the cliffs by the beach and succeeded in relieving Buffy of her little black dress and nylons. It took no time for him to seduce her in the cramped back seat of that black Mustang and Buffy took to sex like a duck to water.

Always very careful to use condoms, the young and ‘in love’ couple found every chance they could to be together in 'that way.’ Soon after her 18th birthday in February, Buffy went down to the clinic and got on birth control, which thrilled Parker and made her feel better about herself for some innane reason. At least they wouldn’t be bothered with those damn rubbers anymore!

As their affair progressed, it continued through the end of High School and well into the first year of college, Buffy became quite ‘spirited’ where sex was concerned. By the second semester of her Freshman year in college, Buffy had become somewhat bored with Parker Abrams and yearned to experiment with other males.

When Parker left on a European vacation with his family during Spring Break, Buffy utilized her freedom to pursue other sexual partners. The minute Parker came home, she broke it off with him and went on to become quite the Sunnydale University party girl and the sweetheart of Delta Kai. Before Buffy finally settled down with Angel, late in their Junior year at college, she had cut quite a romantic swath through school and the surrounding community of Sunnydale!

Her thoughts returned to the present as she studied her now naked body in the mirror.

“God!” she chuckled “I must have went with just about all the hot males in Sunnydale by the time I married the asshole!”

Suddenly, her mood became more somber, “all the hotties, except, of course, Xander, Riley, even sweet Oz and……crazy William.”

Buffy had never, ever been able to even refer to William as Spike. She felt such a nick name beneath him, even though he found every way possible to torment her, silently mostly, since that God awful night in High School.

“I wonder if Will would even believe me if I told him why I said Angel that night,” she shook her head sadly.

It had never seemed all that important until the last 36 hours or so, to even explain to William why she ‘had’ reacted the way she did that night. Since then, William Giles had been her bane, showing up at the worst possible times in her life, almost quietly stalking her, or so she imagined. The blond menance (as she liked to think of him) would sit as far away as possible at certain functions, but she was sure he’d stare at her the whole time.

More then once, she’d felt his blue eyes on her and glanced his way to indeed catch him staring at her, his patent smirk on those full lips.

Buffy knew just what he was thinking, too, “what if ‘they’ knew Princess? Your, little buddies, what if they knew just who and what you really are?”

William had called her Princess since the day they met, but after that night she knew he said it with sarcasm and to ‘get at her.’ His ego would never let him forgive her for what she’d done.

Buffy shook off her morose thoughts and forced herself to go over her plan for tomorrow night. Connor would show up about 3:00 PM, expecting to golf with his idol Angel and the insipid Riley. She had to be very careful about how to go about seducing the puppy dog, Connor, she didn’t want to overwhelm him, or scare him off. Maggie and Jenny would be long gone on the nights off and Buffy would have the whole house to herself.

It was her intention to be in a tiny bikini, that is if the unusual warm Spring weather kept up tomorrow, when the oblivious Connor would make his appearance. If things went as planned, she’d convince the poor kid that she had totally forgotten to call him as Angel had asked and invite him for a swim, just to make up for her thoughtlessness. After that, if he took the bait, seducing Connor would probably be a piece of cake as she was more then sure that his sexual experience was quite limited. In fact, she’d be surprised if he had gotten past first base with the ‘silver spoon up her ass’ Dawnie and his naivity would be a plus for Buffy.

After a pleasant, simple dinner Wednesday night, Buffy called her mother, Joyce, who lived up in Santa Barabara. Joyce had left Sunnydale soon after Buffy married Angel and settled up north in the artistic and beautiful beach town. She managed a local art museum and carved out a nice life up there, even settling into a nice relationship with a local restaurant owner named Ted.

Buffy was surprised that Ted and her mother had not married by now, but Joyce was still gun shy due to the horrible experience she’d had with Hank Summers. Hank, Buffy’s dad, had run off with his secretary when she was quite young and it had broken both Joyce and her heart. Even though Joyce had been a victim of an errant, asshole of a husband, however, Buffy was well aware her mama would never approve of her own plan of revenge.

That’s why, when she spoke to her mother that night, she never said a word about Angel’s infidelity(ies) or her own plots of retribution.

As she lay in her King sized bed, sans her husband, it occurred to Buffy that Cordelia Chase was probably not Angel’s only indiscretion.

“He’s got women in every major city, I’ll bet!” she hissed in realization.

“I bet this has been going on since we were married and not just with that bitch Cordy, but other bimbos and ‘hos’ all over the place!”

The tears spilled again, even though she should have been cried out by now and Buffy got a second wind of resolve about the whole Connor, Xander and Riley thing.

"Well,” she reasoned out loud, “two can play that game and I start the competition tomorrow!” Sleep for Buffy finally came hours later, but it was a fitful one.

A/N: Hmmm…I almost dropped this fan fic because of the next couple of chapters. I wrote them a while back and when I re-read them recently I actually got quesy. The problem is I can’t seem to get around being graphic about Buffy’s love affairs, yet I can’t stand the thought of Buffy with anyone but Spike! Okay, I’m going to ‘allude’ to Connor, Xander and Riley, but get intimate with Spuffy when it finally happens in a few chapters. Hope I can write myself out of this corner.
Thanks, Spufette.



Buffy’s Revenge; Chapter 6: ‘Connor’


Thursday morning came and went; Maggie and Jenny left for their day/night off. Buffy prepared for the inevitable, Connor’s appearance around 3:00 PM. She wore a tiny bikini, the weather ‘had’ held up and fixed herself a wine cooler; the first in many for that day. When 3:00 finally rolled around, Buffy was feeling pretty loose and decided to go for broke immediately with Connor.

The doorbell rang, precisely at 3:00 PM and Buffy answered the door, bravely, in her little black bikini, the one with red flowers on it. Connor’s eyes flew wide open when he took in her appearance and he blushed bright red himself as Buffy smiled demurely, “why, what are you doing here, Con?” she purred. “I, uhm,” he stutterred, “I’m supposed to golf, with uhm, you know, uhm, your husband?” Buffy blushed innocently, “oh, God, Connor, I’m so sorry, I forgot to call you! Angel’s going to be so pissed!” She quickly explained her faux pas and invited the young man into her house, just like a spider to a fly.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Travers,” her murmered, “I’ll just be going and…” but she grasped his arm lightly. “No, of course not, Connor!” Her tone was pure honey, “you come on in, Angel would never forgive me! Have some iced tea, have a swim?” If Connor had any reservations, he hid them and quickly accepted the offer by Buffy. “Oh,” she added sweetly as she turned to walk away, she afforded the flushed teen a ‘good’ look at her famous behind, “just call me Buffy. Mrs. Travers makes me sound so damn old!”

As she lay in her big bed that night, Buffy could not help but feel dirty and wrong in every sense of the word. She had seduced Connor with so much ease, it was really sickening.

A part of her felt as if she’d lost something, deep inside of her, that she might never regain again. The other part, the one that watched her husband screw their friend in his office, felt that she, Buffy, was completely justified in fucking everyone involved over, completely.

‘Problem is,’ she said to herself as she looked up at her massive bedroom ceiling, “how is Connor involved, exactly?’


A/N: I really cut this chapter short, edited the hell out of it and tried to make it a little less offensive. I’m going to do this with the next two chapters also. I promise this will go Spuffy, soon. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

Buffy’s Revenge; Chapter 7: ‘Xander’


Buffy had planned everything for Saturday night, down to the second she would seduce her old friend Xander. She had given Maggie and Jenny the entire weekend off with the excuse that they had ‘earned’ it and that with just her alone in the house, they wouldn’t be needed. Xander was to be there for their ‘working dinner’ at around 6:30 PM, but since Buffy was clueless in the kitchen, she had ordered Chinese from the best place in town, Ming Lee’s, and it arrived at exactly 6:15 that Saturday night.

A lovely chilled Chardonnay was in the fridge and Buffy set the dining room table, even using candles for atmosphere. Of course, she wouldn’t have done all of this if Maggie or Jenny were around, or if Angel had any idea that the servants weren’t there. With no one around to tell, there would be no one that would know. Except, poor, clueless Xander.

Promtly at 6:30 PM, Xander rang her doorbell. Buffy let him ring three times before she answered, in her tightest black jeans and scimpiest pink halter top. She had a very expensive pedicure done just that morning at Lorne's and decided not to wear any shoes, very informal, except for the smokey makeup she’d chosen. When Xander saw her he almost dropped his brief case, full of papers she needed to go over with him and sign for Angel.

“Buff!” he squeaked, hoarsely, “you look, well, great!” With a little girl giggle, Buffy showed him into the house and right to the dining room; she knew Xander and food was the upmost thing on his mind. That and sex, but apparently he hadn’t been getting any for a while, things being as they were. However, Buffy was determined to fix that, tonight!

“Sorry Angel couldn’t be here, Xand,” she purred as she poured the wine and let her arm brush his.

Xander flinched nervously, but succeeded in not blushing for once, “that’s okay Buff,” he answered with that boyish grin of his, “you know Angel and me, we’re not best buddies anyway. It’s better if it’s just you, me and the help!”

Buffy sat down in the chair next to him and sipped her wine slowly as she peered evenly at the darkly handsome man, “oh, Maggie and Jenny are off for the weekend. That’s why it’s Chinese, you know I can’t cook worth a damn! I’m afraid it’s just you and me! So,” she added with a wink and sly smile, waving at the Chinese set out elegantly on her oak table, “this is all I have to offer!”

This time Xander flinched and rewarded her with a very red blush. Before he could answere, Buffy picked up her fork and pointed at his plate, “so eat!” she commanded with another grin as she began on her own food.

After their dinner, Buffy cleared the table as Xander laid out the contracts and other papers they needed to review on her coffee table in the posh living room. Actually, Buffy was surprised that Angel had even ‘allowed’ her to be a part of the new wing at their old High School. Angel had always said ‘Buffy was more for show then for brains in his life’ and it was only now that she realized just how much he meant that.

It had become painfully clear to her, especially in the past couple of weeks, just how much of a ‘trophy wife’ she really was to Angel and his family.

“Oh, well,” she sighed to herself as she carried the fresh glasses of desert wine into Xander, “at least I have this chance to pay back hubby and that Chase bitch!”

When she sat, as close as possible to Xander without actually sitting on his lap, she noticed how hard he swallowed and how his hand slightly shook as he grabbed one of the contracts.

“Okay, Buffy,” he began shakily, not looking at her, “uhm, this is the first contract, I’m sure everything is in order, so we’ll just go over it and…” but Buffy clasped his large hand and guided the paper back down to the table.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Xander,” she sighed in mock exasperation, “like you said, everything is in order! We’re old friends, all of us. Let’s have some Muscat wine and talk; forget the damn paper thingy magigies!”

Xander looked confused momentarily, but did as he was told and took a large drink from the blue crystal wine glass in front of him. He kept his eye contact with Buffy at a minimum, and the two sat in silence for a few minutes. “So,” Buffy began tentively, “what’s going on with you and Willow?” she finished strongly, stared deep into his chocolate brown eyes. “Wow!” she thought to herself, “Xander has gorgeous eyes!”

How come she’d never really noticed before? Now the poor guy’s face turned bright red and his expression went from nervous to sad in nano seconds, causing Buffy to regret mentioning Wills at all.

“You can talk to me, Xand,” she said softly as she touched his arm gently, “I’m your friend, always.”

“I know that, Buff,” he whispered, his strong voice now husky with emotion, “but your Will’s friend too and I don’t want to cause problems for either of you.” He looked like a lost little boy and Buffy suddenly had second thoughts about the whole seduction thing.

“I can’t do it,” she told her herself, “I can’t use him like this. He’s been through too much!” Xander looked at her and broke his silence, “when I left Anya, and went to Willow,” his voice was tinged with regret, “I blew it big time, Buffy.”

Shaking his head he began to sip the wine and really talk. “I loved Anya, in my way and I always knew that Willow was well ‘not quite sure’ of herself as far as her sexuality went

He stood up and began to pace up and down in front of the coffee table, across the expensive Persian Rug that covered the plush carpet of the room.

If Buffy had, had second thoughts about seducing Xander, the mere mention of Anya’s name snapped her out of it!

“That bitch knew all along about Angel and Cordy!” she vehemently assured herself as she watched Xander walk back and forth, back and forth. “Anya’s probably involved with them, the skank!” It was not Buffy’s fault that Xander left Anya for Willow; but it was apparent that Anya thought she was somehow to blame.”

She also did not fault Willow for loving Tara. Willow loved who she loved, gender didn’t enter into it. Besides, it didn’t give Anya the right to decieve her, Buffy, with Cordelia and Angel.

“She probably encourages them,” Buffy hissed silently, “hell, she probably watches them!”

“Come here,” Buffy patted the place next to her on the couch, invitingly, “you need to really sit down and talk about this, hon.” Xander took up her invitation and sat closely next to her on the silky couch, the contracts completely forgotten.

“You know,” Buffy began cautiously, her voice soft and sweet, “Willow will come back to you, I’m sure of it.”

Xander gave that quick grin of his, “I’m not so sure, Buffy,” he stammered, unconvinced by her encouragement. “You’ve seen her with Tara, right? They’re pretty tight and well, I’m not exactly the greatest catch in Sunnydale, now am I?”

His beautiful brown eyes were misted over and his expression was so defeated as he looked into her hazel eyes so hopefully.

Buffy reached out and clasped him to her in a warmly plutonic hug and whispered in his ear, “you’re a great catch, Xander. A decent guy with a lot to offer the right woman. I know ‘I’d’ come back to you if ‘I’ were Willow,” she added sincerely.

Xander hugged her back, heartily, but gave a sardonic chuckle, “yeah,” he sighed against her neck, “if I was such a great catch; how come you never gave ‘me’ the time of day when we were younger?”

Buffy pulled back, somewhat stunned and at a momentary loss for words.

“Well,” she began slowly, but gained momentum in her explaination, “when we were young, ‘I’ was stupid and naïve.”

This sounded like a good start to her and she caught his eyes with her own, forcing him to look straight at her.

“I didn’t really ‘know’ what I wanted or what was good for me back then,” she continued with more confidence then she felt. “I guess I just didn’t know a what a great guy ‘was’ back then. A guy like you.”

She threw in a quick shrug of her shoulders, a pretty pout and a shake of her blond head.

Xander sat for a moment, his eyes level with hers and she knew he was looking for the truth and sincerity in her words.

“Oh,” is all he said quietly as he picked up his wine glass, sipped it slowly and seemed to ponder something. Buffy could only guess what it was, or at least she hoped it was what he was musing over.

“Maybe we better sign these silly things,” she spoke quickly, “get them out of the way, you know?” As she signed the first paper, an idea struck her.

“Remember when you and I snuck out of 7th period High School English and snuck wine coolers at the park?” Now Xander grinned from ear to ear.

“Yeah,” he chuckled happily, “you and Parker were arguing and we ditched to get drunk and talk about our love problems…I remember!”

Buffy’s eyes lit up with the memory, as did Xanders and they just sat and laughed for a couple of minutes.

“It got late, way after dark and I got so drunk that you had to drive me home in that old Lincoln you fixed up and, remember?” Xander must have remembered because he began to laugh so loud he almost choked.

“I carried you up your family’s old oak tree and snuck you into your bedroom, hoping you wouldn’t barf all over me!”

That stopped her laughing, “gross!” she snipped but began to giggle all over again. After a few minutes of reminiscing, they both just suddenly stopped laughing, just sat looking at each other silently.

Apparently they had remembered, at the same time, just what ‘almost’ happened that evening back in High School. When Xander and Buffy realized that Joyce Summers was gone, things began to get out of hand. Xander, his courage fueled by the wine coolers began to touch and kiss Buffy, passively, yes, but sensually. Buffy, her inhibitions loosened by the alcohol and her anger at her errant boyfriend, Parker,

returned Xander’s affections.

Before things got really out of hand, the phone rang, it was Joyce. Hearing her mother’s voice on the other end of the line somehow broke the whole ‘romantic spell’ right then and Buffy pushed Xander away from her abruptly. When Buffy hung up the phone from her mother, she looked to find Xander climbing out of her window, his stare never leaving her. All she could think to do at the time was wave goodbye, half-heartedly, say thanks and pass out, alone, in her bed.

In all the years since then, Buffy and Xander had never spoken of it to each other, or anyone else.

Xander looked away from Buffy, embarrassed, “let’s get these papers signed, huh Buff?” he asked quietly.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice barely audible. They both reached for the ballpoint at the same time and before either of them knew what was happening, they were kissing.

Buffy felt herself being pulled into Xander’s warm comfy lap and as her lips were being assaulted.

“Dang!” she gasped in shocked surprise, “who would have guessed that Xander Harris kissed so good!?” After that, she chose not to think at all.

It was well after 1:00 AM when Buffy finally sent Xander home. She pretended to be very tired until he got the hint, got dressed and quietly slipped out of her front door. Buffy couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard him whistling softly as he left. When she was sure she had heard his Mustang pull out of the driveway, she exhaled in relief. The clock on the end table showed well past 3:00 AM before she could finally sleep.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” she sighed with a hint of remorse, “Xander should have been off limits. He’s too fragile, too sweet and loyal.”

Then, she remembered Cordelia and Angel, against her desk, oblivious to her presence.

“Bet Angel never fucked anyone else but me in our bed!” she hissed, her mouth hard and determined.

“Xander and I did it twice and I wish that prick of a husband of mine could know!” The first rays of sunrise filtered through her bedroom windows before she could finally sleep.


A/N: Grrrarrhgg! Sorry, this chapter makes my skin crawl. However, don’t get too comfy with Bander, it ain’t going to last. Thanks for reading, please review and please be kind? Thanks, Luv, Spuf

















|

A/N: Someone wrote to ask if Buffy was being ‘wise’ in her methods of sexual protection. Yes, she is. I’m not real comfortable with describing the ‘patent’ method that she and her ‘lurv’ partners (yeah, right, lurv partners; sarcasm intended) use for protection against STDS, so this being fantasy…we’ll just take it for granted that she’s being smart.


Buffy’s Revenge: Chapter 8 ‘Riley’


Sunday morning dawned sunny, bright and early for Buffy Travers. She had not slept well after her ‘marathon’ with Xander, right here in the bed that she and Angel shared. Everytime she closed her eyes, she saw Xander’s face, those dark eyes, so full of adoration for her.

“Yeah,” she groused out loud, “I’m really adorable, huh?” Buffy threw the covers off of her, suddenly quite hot and almost quesy; she could smell Xander’s cologne on the sheets that surrounded her and it made her ashamed. In her mind, but knew that Xander should have remained off limits, but it was too late now and she feared that her newest conquest would not let this whole thing slide easily.

The cordless phone on her end table rang, the shrill snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Oh, great,” she mumbled, “that’s all I need, Angel!” When Angel’s voice, quite cheery for early Sunday, then Buffy remembered it was at least two hours later in Chicago, sounded on the other end, she felt like throwing up. Guilt hit her in waves, but was soon assauged when her ‘darling husband’ explained he’d be back home later then he thought, “something’s come up with the new case, babe,” he explained quickly.

“Right,” she replied, silently, “I just bet ‘something’s come up!” Angel explained that he wouldn’t be back until at least Thursday and perhaps Friday, it all depended on the client.

“Wonder who that client might be?” she mused. Like a good little wife, she nodded at the phone, mechanically told her husband ‘she understood’ and walked through the rest of their conversation in a daze.

“I just bet he has unfinished business!” Buffy muttered angrily. If nothing else, Angel’s little phone conversation reinforced her determination to ‘get to’ Riley Finn on Monday night. Again, any second thoughts went right out the window after Angel had called and Buffy was well aware of Officer Finn’s regular Monday night activities.

Riley hung out at ‘Tito’s Bar’ on the outskirts of the Sunnydale city limits. It really wasn’t anything more then a redneck kind of place, a comfortable stomping ground for the local police force, especially on Monday nights. Actually, it was little more then a dive, but there, the likes of Riley Finn were king.

Sunday came and went in a rather oblique mannor, except that Xander called three times, evidently on his cell phone. Buffy’s caller ID on her own line alerted her to his persistence, and finally, on the third call, she answered. “Hey,” Xander greeted her, his voice tinged with the old shyness that Buffy was so familiar with.

“Hey,” she replied, her own tone unsure, almost embarrassed. “Buffy,” he began, “we have to talk, soon. About last night.” Buffy was more nervous then she’d been in ages, “yeah, I know Xander, it ‘probably’ shouldn’t have happened.”

The silence spoke volumes, then, “Buffy, we’ve been close for years. Longer then you and Angel, and…” his voice drifted off.

“I know, I know, Xand, but, God, what happened. In my marital bed!?” She hoped she sounded morally outraged, but the sentiment was hollow and she knew it.

Buffy half expected Xander to hang up, but he was a persistent man and he held on.

“Buffy, please,” he stammered, “just see me, soon…talk to me. I need you.” How could she ignore something like that?

“Kay, Xand,” she whispered, “I’ll try to work something out. We’ll meet. Give me your cell number, I’ll call as soon as possible.”

He did, she wrote it down, but the uneasiness she felt in her tummy frightened her. Xander, like Connor, would not let this just go away that easily. One thing was for sure, though, Riley was a whole other story.

Riley Finn was a horse’s ass and everyone who knew him, knew it. Why Cordelia Chase ever hooked up with him was a mystery, even to Buffy. Not only was Officer Finn a big oaf of huge proportions, his IQ probably matched the size of his feet…two digits at most. However, Cordy seemed to love him, at least so everyone thought, and Riley relished the status that his future bride and her family gave him.

After finding out about Angel and Queen Bitch Cordy, Buffy had come to the conclusion that Riley was the ticket to respectibility. The kind of social respectibility that Ms. Chase needed to perpetrate the notion that she and her family had some real class. Faith Chase, Cordelia’s only sibling, her younger sister, was a laughing stock in Sunnydale. The rogue Faith had been in more trouble, legal and otherwise, then anyone in the memory of all of Sunnydale society. There had always been talk about Faith, true and rumoured, but Buffy had overlooked most of it as idle gossip.

Actually, Buffy Travers could have cared less about Faith, Cordelia or their dashing, widowed father, Frank. At least, not until recently when she had discovered just what a skank Cordy really was.

Sunday came and went and by the time Monday morning rolled around, Buffy had figured out how she would target Officer Finn and what she would wear. Precisely at 9:00 PM, Monday night, with the excuse of meeting her good friend, Willow Rosenberg, Buffy showed up at the parking lot (more like a dirt road) of Tito’s Bar a few miles from the Sunnydale boarder.

Buffy wore a pair of tight black jeans, a gold halter top, her hair up in a loose bun, more smokey makeup and kitten heeled black leather boots. She parked her red camaro in the parking lot, and waited impatiently for Riley Finn to exit Tito’s, as he always did, drunk, careless and stupid.

Sure enough, at 9:15 PM, Riley half stumbled out of the bar and towards his 4X4 Dodge truck. The same one he had for years. Buffy had parked right next to the truck and casually leaned on her car, a slight smirk on her face. It took only a minute of fumbling with his keys before Riley noticed her there, a surprised, albeit happy grin on his face.

“Buffy!” he slurred her name slightly, “what you doing here?” If she had any doubts that the honorable Officer Finn was ‘soused’ she lost them when she heard his jumbled speech.

“Well,” she purred as she stood up and approached him, “I was waiting for Willow, but I don’t think she’s coming,” then, “you okay Riley?” she finished, her smirk widening.

Riley looked her up and down like a starving man at a Vegas buffet, “well, I’m firn, I mean fain, I mean, fine, now!” he finished, frustrated.

“I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew here,” she lied easily. He smiled, looking forever like a court jester, “yeah, I come here most Mondays, to be with the boys, and with Cordy out of town until the weekend well…” he didn’t finish his sentence, apparently he was too drunk to.

Buffy caught the ‘Cordy out of town bit’ and realized that the skank was probably with her Angel right now. “God!” she thought to herself angrily, “I’m as stupid as Riley is!”

Changing the subject quickly, Buffy suggested that ‘she’ drive Riley home. “After all,” she continued, “you’re not quite up to snuff, Riley Finn and I haven’t had a drop all night. You come on now, I’ll take you home.”

It didn’t take too much convincing on Buffy’s part before Riley had secured his truck and flopped onto the passenger seat of her Camaro. “One of the guys’ll bring me over tomorrow to pick up my truck,” Riley said, “you’re some guardian Angel, Buff, showing up like this.”

Buffy chuckled under her breath, “yeah,” she agreed, “that’s me, an Angel.”

Later, when Buffy really did drop Riley off at his house, she practically pushed him out onto his driveway.

“Time to get inside, Riley, dear,” Buffy chuckled as she shooshed him up to his door. “I don’t think you or Cordy would like the neighbors to see me hanging around here, huh?”

Riley gave Buffy a rather silly grin and stumbled to his door. “Bye, bye, Buffy,” he whispered, loudly to her.

“Bye, bye, Riley,” Buffy waved back and took off down his driveway. When she hit the highway, Buffy never looked back, she just sped all the way home.


A/N: Okay, that’s the worst of it, promise. Next, Spike will come back into the picture, present tense. Not to worry, Buffy will not seduce our ‘boy’ for revenge, I do promise that. However, neither of our two beloved blondes are innocent in this so…Luv, Spuf

A/N: Okay, Spike/William shows up here, in the present, that
Is.


Buffy’s Revenge: Chapter 9 ‘Good Will Hunting’


It had been almost six weeks since Buffy had began and acted on her plan of revenge. Since that first time with Connor, she had learned to juggle all three of her extramarital ‘men’ quite well. Xander was the easiest; when Angel golfed on Thursdays with Riley and Connor, Buffy met him where ever and how ever she could.

Connor and Riley were trickier, but Buffy managed somehow. For the first time since her and Angel’s marriage, she was actually glad that her husband took so many business trips. She tried not to think of just exactly ‘what’ he did on those trips, however.

Connor was as eager as a young child on Christmas morning and Buffy found him endearing, if a little annoying. Riley, the only other two times she managed to ‘see’ him, proved to be as inept in bed and out of it. He was a real wham-bam-thank-you-Mamm, kind of guy and Buffy often wondered the hell Cordy was doing with him?

Xander was different, he was kind, gentle and adoring of her and it always bothered Buffy when she left him, afterwards. Those big brown, puppy dog eyes of his were like windows to his intermost feelings and she knew he may very well feel rather sad and ‘lost’ when she was gone from him. Which, of course, was most of the time. Buffy was almost proud of the way she had pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, especially good old Angel’s.

This Monday morning, Angel and Buffy shared their breakfast on the patio. It was beginning of the end of Spring, Buffy’s favorite season besides Fall and the weather was gorgeous; mild and sweet with the scent of the jasmine bushes in the air. While Maggie poured the next round of coffee for the couple, Angel scanned the Wall Street Journal.

When he finally pulled his nose from the paper he graced Buffy with that charming smile of his, “what’s on the agenda today, babe?” he asked, not really looking at her.

“Not much, as usual,” she sighed. Angel had made it clear from day one of their marriage that Buffy would be a stay-at-home-wife; no real job, just the one that meant running ‘his’ household.

“Hey,” Angel interrupted her thoughts, “why don’t you go get a manicure thingy and meet me at the office for lunch?”

Buffy visibly brightened at this, “okay!” she replied with real enthusiasm, “I’ll be there about 1:00 PM!”

Angel looked so damned pleased with himself for coming up with the lunch idea that Buffy felt an old tinge of warmth for him. At that moment, her husband looked just like he did when they were first married; happy, enthusiastic and most of all, hopefull.


“Make reservations at ‘The Masters’ okay, babe. For 1:30 sharp?”

Buffy nodded quickly, her mind raced ahead. Maybe Angel wanted to go back to the good old days, when they were newlyweds, young and totally wrapped up in each other. Heck, back then she would drop by for lunch all the time and Angel would drop what he was doing, just to be with her. This happy memory reminded her of that horrible day about two months ago when she’d tried to surprise him and…

Angel toddled off to work around 9:30 AM and Buffy scampered upstairs to pick out a great outfit and call ‘The Masters’ the newest and most ‘in’ place in Sunnydale to eat lunch, dinner or supper. After she’d chosen a lovely sundress (it was really hot for late May), she did up her light makeup and drove her car to Angel’s office building.

Much later, after lunch when she was leaving to go back home, Buffy would remember seeing that damn Harley sitting in the ‘Handicapped’ zone up closest to the parking lot entrance.

However, she failed to notice the red and black motorcycle when she first pulled into the parking structure; perhaps she would have just turned around, right then.

This time, when she passed Johnathan, at his security desk, the little guy kind of looked pensive at her.

“Hey, Johnathan!” she chirped as she passed with a warm wave and smile.

“Hi Buffy,” he replied happily, a look of relief on his face.

“He must be still reeling from that horrible day I bolted like an escaped convict!” Buffy punched the ‘up’ button of the elevator and waited patiently for her car to come. The elevator car came, the doors opened and Buffy Travers went into a near coma!

“Hey, Summers,” she cringed when she heard that British accent, saw the bright blond hair and the black clothing.

William ‘Spike’ Giles smirked back at her, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, his whole demeanor a study in cocky arrogance.

“William?” she stammered, “what are you doing here?” He looked her up and down, quickly, kind of like a lion sizing up his next kill.

“What are you doing here, Princess?” he retorted.

“My husband works here, William,” she said softly, a bright red blush began to cover her neck and face.

“I’m here to see Angel, of course,” she finished, a bit more sure of herself as she caught his ice blue eyes with her own hazel ones.

Buffy strode into the elevator, defiantly.

“I came to see your darling Angel, too,” he chuckled, “seen him, done with him.”

She didn’t look at him, just stood in front of him at the floor panel and first punched Angel’s floor number ‘7’ then hit the ‘open’ button.

“Well, that’s good, now you can leave!” she quipped, her smirk as smug as Williams on any day. Instead of leaving, William punched the close button and actually laughed at Buffy’s stunned expression as the elevator doors closed in front of them, leaving both of them alone, together.

“Oh for God’s sake, William!” Buffy hissed as she glared at the blond man now beside her. “What’s your problem? Why are you here? And for heaven’s sake why are you wearing that horrible leather duster? The temperature must be close to 80 degrees!”

Before Spike could answer, she added, “and who said you could smoke in an elevator?” Spike laughed again, his look of delight infuriated Buffy to no end, but she just shook her head in frustration.

She really got frustrated when the blond haired man punched the button that stopped the whole car abruptly and literally threw Buffy into his arms. Buffy pulled away from Spike violently and actually brushed herself off, almost as if she’d contracted some kind of ‘cooties’ from him.

Spike laughed out loud again, causing Buffy to burn with indignation.

“That’s a lot of questions, Princess,” he smirked, “don’t fry your brain trying to come up with such profound ones!”

Buffy growled, her face red with growing anger.

“First off,” he continued as he held up a finger for each answer he gave; “I don’t have a problem. Second, I don’t go anywhere without my bloody duster, third, I ‘like it hot’ and fourth, I don’t follow rules or laws, so, I’ll bloody smoke where I bloody please!” With that, he lit the offending smoke and blew the first puff right into her indignant little face.

“God!” she cursed him, “you’re incorrigible!”

“Oh,” he said smugly as he pinned her in a smoldering stare, “fifth, you’re a bitch!”

Buffy had to refrain from punching him in the nose.

“Start this damn elevator, Giles!” she hissed. “Start it now or I swear to God I’ll hit the alarm and…..”

but Spike didn’t start the elevator, he didn’t ‘do’ anything, he just stared at her, a puzzled look on his face.

“Why are you, besides me Mum, the only one calls me William,” he asked, his smug smirk gone now, replaced by a serious expression.

“You’ve never called my Spike, Buffy, why?” Buffy looked away, embarrassed and far beyond able to tell him she felt the nickname ‘Spike’ was beneath him.

She had a notion how he’d come by that moniker and it offended her somehow. In all of the years, even since that awful night in School, Buffy tried to keep William in ‘her’ fantasy universe. The one where they were close friends and where he still ‘held her on a pedestal.’

Spike, that awful nickname, was never going to be good enough for her ‘Wild William.’

“You’ll always be William to me,” she mumbled softly.

“Years ago you called me Will,” he recalled wistfully.

“We were friends then, William,” she replied with regret, “we haven’t been friends since our Senior year at Sunnydale High.”

She still couldn’t look at him, even when he retorted, “it was you that ruined our ‘friendship’ Buffy. You’re the one that went and fucked it all up when you…..”

Buffy finally hit the ‘up’ button herself, her face a closed book to the man beside her.

“Tell, me, William,” she asked quietly, “what do ‘you do’ for my husband and his firm?” She glanced up to her once good friend.

“Well,” he started, his snarky tone a warngin, “what do ‘you’ do for your husband and his firm?”

Buffy shook her head ruefully, “go to hell, William!” she spat.

“You really want to know? I mean, what I do for your precious hubby?” he asked as he cocked his head to one side, raised that darned scarred left eyebrown of his and stared into her eyes again.

Suddenly, Buffy felt very, very uneasy, “No,” she answered, honestly, “I guess I really don’t.”

The light and bell for the 7th floor dinged, breaking the tension in the little elevator car. Buffy scurried out of the doors the minute they opened but was dismayed to see that William followed her.

“Thought you were done with Angel, today,” she snipped as she turned to face him in the hallway.

“What can I say,” he smiled, “I like elevator rides; up and down, down and up, up and down, down and up, you know.”

Her face burned red again, “you are truly a pig, William Giles!” she spat as she turned to leave him behind. “And unless you’re invited to lunch with my hubby and I, I suggest you go home. Or go do what it is you slime around and do all day!”

She heard his sardonic chuckle behind her, “Buffy,” he called softly, “look at me, luv.”

“I’m not, never was and never am going to be ‘your luv’ William!” she spat as she turned to face him.

William, his left hand holding the open/stop button on the elevator that carried them upstairs, looked at her, the old smirk back in place, his head again cocked to one side.

“ I will definitely ‘catch you later’ Princess.,” he murmered as he stepped back into the elevator.

“Now, what the hell does that mean?!” Buffy asked in exasperation. Before she could finish the question, the elevator doors closed, cutting them off from each other and leaving Buffy alone in the 7th floor hallway.

By the time Buffy reached her husband’s office, she was rattled and somewhat disorientated. She barely noticed Anya in her secretary’s station and totally ignored the other woman’s yawn when she entered the room.

“Could you please tell Angel, I’m here,” she asked Anya, her voice closed and quiet.

“Well, I guess,” Anya replied smugly, her face pinched in a bitchy expression.

‘That’s it!’ thought Buffy, ‘this stops now!’ “Anya,” she stated, curtly, “sit your rather plump ass down and listen. Don’t say a word because you and me are going to come to an understanding, right here, right now!”

Anya’s look of shock was priceless and Buffy had to stifle a laugh. It was high time she took things in hand and laid the law down, and the truth.

“You want this job?” she asked Anya, her left eyebrow now cocked self-righteously. The other woman sat with a huff, on her ergonomic chair, the model Buffy herself had chosen for Angel’s staff.

“Okay,” Buffy said with a smile, “you and me are getting some shit straightened out right now!” Buffy sauntered over to the secretary’s desk, hunkered down on it and looked her straight in the eye. “I had nothing to do with you and Xander breaking up, got it!”

Anya just nodded, dumbly as she watched her bosses’ wife begin to pace back and forth before her.

“Xander and Willow,” Buffy continued, with determination, “have been bestest friends since they were five-years-old. If Xander and ‘you’ couldn’t make a go of it, it’s the way it is! I’m not involved in this. You knew how Xander felt about Willow, about me for that matter, ‘you’ chose to become involved with him. Quit blaming me for your problems and dissapointments with Xander Harris!”

Buffy ranted on and on, never letting the other woman get a word in edge wise.

“Now,” Buffy went on, her voice even; her tone rational; “you need to get on with your life. Get over Xander, move on and try to get some happiness for yourself!”

Anya was still struck dumb with shock and what Buffy said next truly silenced her completely.

“You know that new intern for the office, Andrew?” Buffy asked, her voice was soft and sweet. Anya nodded, she knew him.

“Well,” Buffy smiled, “he’s absolutely crazy about you, did you know that?” ‘No’ Anya didn’t know that.


“Well,” Buffy said evenly as she leaned over the desk to look Anya right in the eye, “now you do! Do something about it!” With that, Buffy sashayed into her husband’s office and slammed the door behind her.

Angel smiled, his most angelic smile, “hey, baby. I couldn’t help but overhear what you said to Anya, you’re the best!” And for a moment, Buffy believed that.

“Just saying the way it is, Angel,” she sighed, “poor Anya, she needs to move on, right?” She looked at her husband, expectantly, “what do ‘you’ think of Andrew?”

Angel chuckled and walked over to his wife, “I think that Anya better jump on that train and ride it to the end. She’s not all that, is she Buff?”

Buffy looked away from her husband, “Anya’s a lovely woman, Angel. She’s just not right for Xander, maybe Andrew is the one?”

The conversation turned when Angel clasped her little hands, “we need to get going if you got that reservation. Let’s talk about this later. Maybe at dinner tomorrow, at the Club. We’re meeting Cordelia and Riley at the Country Club. You know Cordy, babe, she has something to say about everyone!”

Buffy felt like throwing up, but she nodded, obediently, “yeah, that’s Queen C. The talker of the town.”

A/N: Okay, I wanted to insert a bit of Spuffy ‘thoughts’ into this summary or ‘note’ or whatever. I am staying up, way too late for me to try and get this chapter up. I’m going to introduce our Spuffy in this one. It might not quite be the Spuffy we like, for now, but it’s necessary for the plot. Please read and review. Thank you (spuf takes another sip of cabernet wine)!



Buffy’s Revenge: Chapter 10 ‘The Bronze’

Dinner with Riley and Cordelia had been a nightmare. Angel was the perfect gentleman, Riley acted like a pandering idiot to Cordy, Buffy and Angel. And Cordelia? Well, she was the perfect Queen of the Country Club; propriety above all else, right down to her perfectly manicured fingernails.

Buffy would have liked to scratch Cordy’s eyes out with her own polished nails. Frankly, it was a mystery to her how everyone behaved so cordially, without at least laughing in mock horror at the stupidity of the whole situation. Angel was boinking Cordelia, Buffy was boinking Riley, Riley was boinking (at least one would hope) his fiance Cordelia. Angel was boinking Buffy, his wife, well…some of the time, anyway.

After the dessert, which consisted of after dinner drinks for all at their exclusive table, Buffy feigned one of her terrible migraines.

“Angel,” she whined, “can we go, please? I’ve got a terrible headache and no medicine with me?”

Angel shrugged at his dinner companions and offerred his rather meaty arm to his wife. Riley smirked (not nearly as cute as Williams smirk) and winked at Buffy, knowingly. Cordelia looked down her $10,000.00 or so nose job and glanced at Buffy, her expression cynical and cold.

“I told you to go see the Doctor about those damn headaches, Buffy, darling,” she stated with her demeanor of royalty.

“I know, Cordy,” Buffy said meekly, as she studied her husband intently, “but I’m a bit afraid of shots, you know.”

Cordelia looked at Buffy like a social worker would at a mentally challenged six-year-old.

“Well,” the Queen of SunnyD began, “if you’d have gotten that silly nose of yours fixed like I told you, years ago…” she left the sentence unfinished.

Angel took the gap in conversation to excuse himself and his wife and lead her to the door of the Club. The valet brought his Mercedes promptly.

The Travers drove in silence most of the way home, until Buffy asked, “why do we socialize with them, Angel?”

Buffy’s husband didn’t answer right away, but when they got to the next red light, he replied simply, “the Chase’s are my firms’ best clients Buff, we have to be civil, at the least.”

When they got home, Buffy hurried upstairs and washed up for bed. After taking a rather large sleeping pill, she crawled into her bed and tried to relax enough to sleep.

That’s when she noticed Angel’s private phone line, lit green, and couldn’t resist picking up the phone to listen in.

Angel sounded very businesslike: “you get this done, hear me, Spike?” he sounded angry, too.

Spike didn’t answer right away, then finally his deep British accent broke the silence: “You know, Peaches,” he began, “maybe you should come clean with your wife about your rather ‘questionable’ business practices?”

Angel snapped back, “you keep your pansy British ass out of my business and my marriage, you prick! I don’t pay you to be a marriage counselor, just a lacky!”

Buffy couldn’t listen to any more and carefully replaced the phone back on the receiver.


It was Tuesday night, a week after the nightmare of a dinner and Angel was on another business trip, New York this time. Buffy took this opportunity to take a break from her naughty activities and just have a night out with the girls.

She met Willow and Tara at the Bronze on a that night, just after Angel had left to fly to La Guardia Airport in NYC. It was a simple plan; Buffy, Willow and Tara, at the Bronze for burgers (the best in town) and then a couple of drinks at the Country Club, via Buffy of course, to listen to Tuesday Night Jazz.

Xander had been a nightmare! Buffy had to plead a night out with Helen Travers, Angel’s Mom, just to get out of meeting him for supper, drinks or whatever.

“But Helen keeps insisting,” she’d whined to Xander, “hoping he wouldn’t catch on.”

It was getting to be a problem, not only with Xander, but with Riley and Connor. However, she didn’t want to think about ‘that’ tonight.

Buffy chose a simple pair of tight leather pants, a red halter and her hair down, around her shoulders; light makeup to finish the ‘look.’ She met Willow and her love, Tara at the Bronze at 7:00 PM, on the dot.

When she strutted through the main bar and grill, all eyes were on her, she could feel them. It empowered her, made her feel like a Goddess. The added plus was the fact that Buffy didn’t feel the need to go scouting about for any more men in her life.

Three paramours were quite enough, thank you very much. Willow, who sat next to her girlfriend, Tara in a large booth in the Grill waved her over and Buffy sidled in across the table from the two lovebirds.

“A Double Martini’ Buffy ordered from the waiter as Willow shot her that ‘careful’ look of hers. Tara slapped her girlfriend’s arm, gently, “let her have some fun!” she admonished, “I’ll drive if she gets soused, promise!”

Willow gave her girl a warm look, “okay,” she replied simply.

Buffy made small talk; what was going on at the University where Tara taught English Literature and Willow taught Computer Science.


“Professor Walsh is a tyrant, still!” Willow giggled and Tara concurred.

“Another, Martini,” Buffy ordered with alcohol fueled confidence.

The food came, they ate and chatted about University life, computers, Shakespeare and Art.

“I have to pee!” Buffy blurted out as she jumped up from the booth.

“Too much info, Buffy,” Willow giggled as she waved her good friend off to the bathroom.

Buffy weaved her way to the nearest bathroom, the one just outside in the hallway, just outside of the main bar. She was tipsy, no doubt, but she held her head high as she sauntered into the bar, appreciating the ‘stares’ of the male patrons (and some of the female patrons) in there.

She was halfway into the darkened bar, way to far to make a casual escape when she saw ‘him.’ There he was, William Giles, his platinum blond hair slicked back, those black clothes, and of course, the usual cigarette hanging from ‘mouth’ of his. Couldn’t miss him for the world.

Before she could turn and make her escape he called out to her, “don’t run away now, Buffy, luv. Have a seat with me and let’s chat a bit.”

Buffy turned bright red, but felt obligated to sit in the small chair William had pushed out with his foot. For some odd reason, Buffy could never turn down William and always seemed to rise to his bait.


(A/N: I will now freely jump from Spike’s POV to Buffy’s POV and visa versa. I write this way more because I’m kind of lazy then for any other reason. Anyway, the story will be told from both Spike’s and Buffy’s POV from now on.)

William (or Spike as the case may be) pushed the bar stool next to him over with his Doc Martin clad foot.

“Sit down, Princess,” he purred, his blue eyes never leaving Buffy. “Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”

Buffy did as she was told, reluctantly.

“Hey, William,” she mutterred, “what brings you here?”

He never really answered, just lit up a cigarette and stared at her, the whole time.

“Want a drink?” he asked her, real gentlemanly like.

“Yes,” she replied, a bit too quickly, “I definitely want a drink.”

William ordered a Martini from the waiter and Buffy had to wonder how he ‘knew’ just what she had been drinking.

“What brings ‘you’ here, Princess?” he asked evenly as he stared at her again.

“Needed a night off,” she murmured, “needed some space.” She stared right back at William, measuring his reaction, but got nothing but a blank look.

Spike’s POV (for the moment):

There was nothing like a Buffy Summers (Spike would never call her Travers) ‘deer in the headlights’ look. Just like the one she had now.

Spike (or William as Buffy always called him) loved that look from Buffy. Her hazel/green eyes would widen, she’d get that ‘what did I do?’ look and mere mortal men would be helpless against it. Spike was not an exception, he was the rule; but he’d never let Buffy know that.

The Giles men, Spike/William and his step-father Rupert had never been immune to the likes of Buffy Summers and her Mum, Joyce; they had been victims of them.

From the first time Spike had ever seen ‘Her’ he had been helpless under her spell. He had just moved here, to Sunnydale, California; he was only seventeen-year’s-old and a Junior in High School. His Mum, Anne and his step-dad Rupert Giles had moved from Liverpool, England, to this small town in Southern California to live.

Rupert was to be the Sunnydale High librarian and although William, or Spike as he was called now, liked the idea of change, he was a bit wary of the new atmosphere he’d been so rudely shoved into. Upon landing in this berg, Sunnydale, he’d sought out the most popular place to go, the one all the best kids in town went to hang out. The Bronze.

When Spike (or William as his Mum still called him) walked into the Bronze, he was happy to note that the crowd seemed to part for him. Some alternative rock song was playing on the loud speakers and Spike swaggered (he’d got that down pretty well) up close to the stage where some locals were dancing.

That’s the first time he had seen ‘Her’ his Buffy. She was shimmying around, a bit too much like a stripper for his taste, with some big oaf of a whelp (boy) who was trying to keep up with her but was failing miserably. Her honey blond hair, long and loose was swaying to her movements and the idiot she was dancing with was practially drooling over her.

This little angel, no bigger then a minute, looked up at Spike, gave him the shyest of smiles, but then proceeded to flip her golden tresses about with her tiny hands; sidle up this oaf of a dance partner and rub herself slowly up against him.

For whatever reason, Spike nearly roared his displeasure, pushed his way into the crowd and up to the little blond tease; where he pulled her from the local yokel and closer to himself.

“Mine!” he thought viciously at the time, “Mine!” From that point on, he, Spike was a permenant fixture in ‘the group’ of Buffy’s friends, but always kept his own growing feelings for Summers to himself.

Buffy’s POV:

“So, Spikey,” Buffy purred, using his nickname for the first time in forever, “what do you want?”

Her words just dripped with honey, she knew that. She watched the reaction in William’s steel blue eyes. He not only looked confused, she thought, but he showed signs of something she had seen before in him; something like want.

“So,” he smirked down at her as he lit another cigarette, “it’s Spike now?” Buffy giggled, drunkenly, “okay,” she threw her hands up in mock defeat, “Will. William, Willie?”


Buffy made a move to get up and leave, but William grabbed her arm and held her fast.

“Not so fast, Buffy,” he whispered as she peered about to see if ‘anyone’ had noticed. “Why don’t you and me have that little chat I spoke of?” he finished, his scarred eyebrow quirked up a bit.

“And what would that be, Spikey?” she slurred, feeling the affects of way too much Vodka and way too little food. “And,” she went on, “by the way. How come you smoke in places you know you can’t?”

The pout of her mouth caused a smile in the handsome face of her enemy.

“I told you, Princess,” he whispered, huskily, as he leaned close and ran his slim middle finger over her palm, “I do what I want.”

Buffy actually shivered, her body filled with all kinds of unholy tingles and an inner horror that she had willingly allowed William Giles to touch her like that. It was a more sensuous feeling then some sex acts she’d done with other men and it made her very, very uneasy.

Once she gotten her breath back, she stared boldly into Spike’s amazingly blue eyes and leaned so close to him that their lips could have met in a kiss.

“So,” she purred, her voice almost a whisper, “what is it, exactly, Spikey, that you want?”

The minute she had spoken, Buffy knew she’d made a terrible mistake. Asking William a loaded question like that was just asking for a major problem. But, instead of giving her a smart ass answere, or one of his patent snarky smirks, William just looked at her, wistfully, and softly ran his finger over the pulse in her wrist.

She was sure he could feel just how fast her pulse was racing, expecially when he looked at her like that, and touched her there. She could only hope he couldn’t hear her heart beating out so loud. ‘Geez they can probably hear it behind the bar!’

“You’d be surprised what I really ‘want,’ Buffy,” he finally spoke, so softly she could barely hear, his eyes never left hers. “Then again,” he added, “maybe you wouldn’t be so bloody surprised.”

This stunned Buffy momentarily, as she tried to analyze what Will meant by this and he looked away from her.

“Did he just blush?!” she asked herself, even more stunned then before. “Hmm,” she continued her inner conversation with herself; “this is interesting. Maybe I’ve misjudged Will. Maybe he’s not ‘in the shadows’ as much as I thought. Maybe he just wants a normal life like the rest of us?”

Now, this was a very sobering thought for the young blond woman and she muddled it over, in silence, while William smoked his cigarette, also in silence.


(per Spike)


Finally, Buffy broke the silence between them, “I hope you get what you really want, Will,” she sounded very sincere, “I want you to be happy, I do.”

Spike realized he must have looked quite puzzled at Buffy’s tender side coming out. Especially where he was concerned.

Before he could reply, she stood, patted his hand gently and whispered, “the problem is, William,” her face was a study in wistfulness, “we don’t always get what we really want, do we?”

Spike thought she seemed reluctant to leave and when she spoke next, her face was serious.

“This is going to sound redundant, Will,” she sighed as she touched his arm once again, almost tenderly, “but remember that Rolling Stones song? The one where Mick keeps talking about ‘getting what you want’ and all?”

He watched her beautiful eyes and nodded quickly, “well, it’s true, Will. You can’t always get what you want, but, if you try real hard…you’ll get what you need.”

Spike watched Buffy turn and walk away from him, headed towards the women’s loo in the back of the bar. He sat and mulled over her words, just for a minute or so, then tossed a $20.00 and $10.00 bill, each, on the small table.

A man with a mission, he strode quickly to a small emergency exit that was right next to the very bathroom that Buffy had gone into and just stood, waiting. The hallway, thankfully, was completely empty, except for him and being Spike, it wasn’t too hard to disengage the emergency alarm attached to the door.

It was only a minute or so before the object of his desire, Buffy, exited the bathroom, oblivious to his presence and apparently caught up in her own thoughts. That’s when he made his move. He grabbed Buffy by her slim arm, not too roughly, but just enough to manuveur her out of the exit, into the alley behind The Bronze.

When he got her out into the dark alley, he checked around to make sure they were alone and slammed the exit door closed behind them with his foot.

Buffy was so shocked by his element of surprise that she could only look at him, wild eyed and mute.

That lasted all of a few seconds, because when he pushed her up against the brick wall behind her, she gasped and cried, “What the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

He smiled at her and replied huskily, “getting what I want, and, what I need!”

Then he slammed his lips down on hers in a bruising kiss; which, finally, at least for the moment, shut her the hell up!


A/N: Wonder what William was doing there, huh? Thanks for reading and please review. Luv, Spuf

Chapter 11: ‘Shadow Dancing’


A/N: Sigh, I wish more readers would get into this story…I promise it gets Spuffy here after. There will be much angst to come, of course, but I will concentrate on the Spuffy relationship as this tale unfolds.

I wish someone would review this story, please. If you think I should just forget about submitting more chapters, that’s okay. I’ll listen. Thanks, luv Spuf


Buffy’s first instinct was to push William away from her, or at least put up some semblence of a struggle. Instead, she found her body melded to his while he continued the assault on her mouth. In fact, she seemed to have no choice in the matter, her lips acted on their own and right now, they were kissing him back, with a lot of enthusiasm!

Meanwhile, William’s hands weren’t idle either and Buffy felt them slip up and down her shoulders, then her bare back. For some reason, Buffy was delighted that she had chosen to wear a halter top that evening, giving him easy access to her bare skin.

Spike was delighted too. Delighted that the halter top gave him complete access to her soft, warm skin and the fact that she was not putting much of a struggle against him. He continued to kiss her, much like a starving man at a buffet table. But then again, he had been a starving man, for years. It was Buffy that was the ‘meal’ he had craved all those years and now that he had her, defenseless, overpowered really, he barely stopped his kissing onslaught to breathe.

Not even a minute has passed, not even close, when he felt Buffy’s whole demeanor change. She began to push at him, hard, well at least as hard as her tiny frame allowed.

“Don’t!” he growled at her as he clung to her even tighter, “don’t push me away, God dammit!”

“William!” she snapped harshly, her eyes filled with indignant fire, “stop it! Let me go!”

Buffy shoved him so hard, he stumbled backwards and almost fell on his ass. She wasn’t sure which one of them was more surprised, or angry. William looked at her as if he’d like to throttle her throat and she definitely felt like throwing him into the brick wall. The problem was, she didn’t know if she wanted to kill him or kiss him right at after she threw him there! It was all very confusing and disturbing, much like the hot tingles that continued to shoot through her body.

“I’m leaving!” she stated, although she wasn’t convinced herself that that’s what she really wanted.

“Oh, that’s right,” he spat at her, his blue eyes dark and angry, “just when you get a bloke hot and bothered, you always stop.”

He didn’t know whether he wanted to kill her, or kiss her, right at that moment anyway.

“You let me kiss you Buffy,” he pointed at her, “you let me kiss you and you wanted it. You know you did. God! You’re such a bloody cock tease, always were!”

Unable to vent any other way, Spike kicked an empty beer can into the wall behind Buffy, narrowly missing her with it. Buffy looked at him in disbelief.

“You, you grabbed me! You dragged ‘me’ out here, overwhelmed me with your charm; I mean your kisses, I mean your overwhelmy power thingy of yours!”

He couldn’t help but smile at her, she was so lovely, all flushed from anger and from being kissed, thoroughly.

With the quiet moves of a panther, Spike closed the distance between them and once again caught her in his strong arms.

“You’re beautiful when you’re pissed, luv!” he chuckled as he defiantly kissed her again, but on her forehead this time.

“Well, you sure can piss me off, William!” she hissed back, but failed to push him away again. Instead, she shyly smiled and looked him right back into his dark blue eyes. She definitely saw something there, in those shining indigo orbs; not just lust, something more, she was sure of it.

“You could piss off the Pope, Princess,” he quipped back. “You have to be the most frustrating woman in the world, but I think that may be part of your charm.”

Buffy giggled loudly her eyes danced with merriment and pleasure.

“Yeah,” he thought to himself, “you would get pleasure out of making me pissed!” Spike ran his hand gently down her soft cheek, “you are beautiful, Buffy. Angry, happy or sad, even near tears, you’re breathtaking.”

He watched the blush shoot up her neck into that darling face and found it absolutely adorable.

“Besides,” he continued, “all of this angry ‘act’ of ours. It’s all part the ‘our dance’ you know?”

She cocked her head to one side, a puzzled expression on her face. “Our dance,” she questioned.

“Yeah,” he shrugged as he brushed her golden hair from the side of her face, then cupped her little chin. “We’ve been dancin’ together, forever, luv,” he explained with a soft smile. “When we weren’t dancin’ around each other, I’d watch you, from the shadows. Even when you danced with some other bloke.”

His eyes flickered a dark emotion at the thought of Buffy and other men and he could see it rather scared Buffy.

She weighed the words William had just spoken to her and realized that he was right, they ‘had’ danced around each other for years. With another shy smile, she reached up and ran her little hand across his chiseled cheek. When he clasped that hand and kissed it softly, her legs nearly buckled.

Without thinking, she stood on her tipy toes and kissed him gently on his lovely mouth and was rewarded with a strong, passionate kiss in return. In the next minute she found his arms wrapped around her, like a vice and she was again pushed up against the brick wall.

This time he pulled her up by her bottom and wrapped her legs around his slim hips. In this position, she was all but trapped completely agianst the brick wall to her back, and his hard body to her front. Of course, that’s when she truly realized that it wasn’t just his chest and arms that were so ‘hard.’

Buffy knew she had no choice but to kiss him back, again, but she also knew it was a real bad idea. William was dangerous, very dangerous, she had no dissalusions about that and to encourage him in this way was only a recipe for disaster. Hers!

“William!” she cried out as she pulled her mouth away from him, “we can’t, I can’t, no…..we shouldn’t. Stop!” she finished, frustrated and exasperated at the same time.

“Don’t want to,” he murmered back, “you don’t want me to either. You know it.”

Spike ‘knew’ Buffy didn’t want to stop, but he also knew that she wouldn’t finish this out, especially not in The Bronze’s dirty little alley. He was rather reluctant to finish this in that dark, dank place himself. He had waited way too long for Buffy to ‘have’ her in this rat hole.

His Buffy belonged in the satin sheets of a king sized bed, while he worshipped her body with his. The look on her face warned him that he’d better stop this right that second, at least for the here and now and he stopped his assault on her mouth for the second time that night.

Reluctantly, he lowered her little body down while he kept hold of her backside, and made sure he held her warm body against his at the same time.

Once in place, her feet back on the ground, Spike rested his forehead against hers and gazed into those green eyes, “come home with me, Buffy,” he whispered.

She stood there, looking up at him, totally stunned, he could tell.

“Come home with me, tonight, Buffy,” he repeated, his tone a mix of pleading and commanding.

Spike watched Buffy carefully as he tried to read her thoughts by her expressions. He knew was was actually pondering his suggestion because she wasn’t saying anything, just staring at him under half closed lids, chewing gently on her full bottom lip. If he was going to convince her, now was the time because Buffy Summers (he never even thought of her as a Travers) was never silent if she was ‘sure’ about anything. At least she hadn’t immediately said ‘no’ he reasoned so maybe, just maybe she might say ‘yes.’

“You know you want to Buffy,” he said huskily as he ran his fingers against her flushed cheek and leaned in to whisper it again in her ear, “you know you want to. Just do it.”

Buffy was in a complete quandry now. The sad fact was, disturbing as it was, is that she ‘did’ want to. All sane reasoning aside, Buffy wanted nothing more then to climb on the back of Will’s motorcycle and get to his place as fast as possible to…..well, to what?

That was the million dollar question in her mind. She knew, with all of her heart and soul that William was bad news, that he had been since High School, but he was so, so…..well, he was William. And a part of her had and would always want him, even if she pretended to be his mortal enemy.

However, the sane Buffy, the one Joyce Summers had raised so very well, all by herself, echoed her first thoughts. William ‘was and is’risky, in whatever way it was, he was way too dangerous to get involved with. Buffy knew it, deep down in her soul. But……

“I can’t,” she finally whispered as she turned her face from him, “I can’t, Will, don’t ask again. Willow and Tara are…..”

‘Willow and Tara,’ she screamed in her head, they’re probably wondering where the hell I’ve gone!

“I have to go Will, please,” she pushed him, but very gently this time, away from her, “Willow and Tara, I abandoned them inside!”

The dissapointment in William radiated from his eyes and his body language and Buffy felt quite intimidated.

Before she could get past him, he grabbed her arm and ordered, calmly, “take my cell phone number,” as he pulled out a pen (one of Angel’s law firms, she noticed) and scratched a cell phone number down on a match book cover. “Call me tomorrow, any time. We need to ‘talk.”

Buffy nodded numbly and accepted the matchbook then slipped it into her pants pocket.

“Kay, Will,” she replied, not quite convincingly enough. “I’m going to walk around in front of the building, go back in that way. It’ll look ‘better’ you know?”

William looked away from her, then stated softly, “I’ll walk you close to the front door, make sure you’re okay. This place sucks and someone’ll just love a tasty morsel like you.”

He grinned at her and she suddenly felt like a teenage girl again, much like she had just a few minutes before. Nodding her assent, she walked slowly out of the alley to the front steps of the Bronze, glad that the bouncer was on a break right then.

“Buffy,” she heard William call to her, his voice hoarse, “call me, please.”

Buffy scurried through the front door of the building without even a glance back at him.


A/N: Well, leave it to ‘our girl, Buffy’ to be the only female alive under 60 that would turn down Spike! Even in an alley! But, it is Buffy we’re dealing with here! Okay, so, next chapter we’ll just have to see if she does or doesn’t call him? What do you think she’ll do? Thanks, Spuf

Chapter 12: ‘Cell Phones; The Devil’s Play Toys!’


Buffy woke up Wednesday morning with the hangover from hell! After she had ‘left’ William at the door of The Bronze last night, she caught up with Willow and Tara and went on to drink herself stupid. Tara had to drive Buffy home in her Camaro, while Willow followed in her Explorer. When they had made sure that their buddy, Buffy, was safe and secure at home, in her bed, they left and went to their new home, Tara’s apartment.

When she actually was able to open her eyes (which, by the way, felt like sand paper rubbing together), Buffy lay in her lonely bed for a moment or two. It was then that she remembered the matchbook and William’s cell phone number, glaring like a red stop sign written all over it.

She bolted from her bed, ignoring the urge to throw up from her pounding headache, and sifted through the dirty clothes slated for the cleaners. There it was. The innocent little matchbook with William’s number on it, just accusing her and laughing at her.

Buffy ran into the living room, threw the matchbook with the evidence on it into the fireplace and lit a fire quickly.

“There!” she thought victoriously, her arms crossed in front of her chest; a smug smile on her face, “now I ‘can’t’ call him!”

Maggie and Jenny weren’t due back to the house until Friday afternoon as Buffy, again, gave them an extended day off. Angel wouldn’t be back until Saturday night and Buffy had decided, since her ardor for William ‘seemed’ to have cooled overnight, that she’d meet up with Xander someplace.

Make it up to him for lying about dinner at her mother-in-law’s the night before.

“Christ!” she hissed, somewhat angry at herself, “if I had of met Xander last night, like I was supposed to in the first place, then……”

But, then what, she thought? She wouldn’t have ‘seen’ Will, wouldn’t have formed an their uneasy truce with him, after all these years?

“Well,” she sighed, “I sure wouldn’t have this damn hangover.”

She chuckled a bit as she turned on the water in her tub and then settled in for a nice warm soak.

“A nice long bubble bath; some really strong, awful black coffee from the Grind. I’ll be as good as new!”

After the hour long bath, Buffy wrapped herself in her cozy robe and flopped back on the bed. She was feeling better, but not completely up to snuff. Her cell phone rang, it was Xander.

“I was just thinking about you,” she giggled, truthfully, “what’s up tonight?”

Xander’s deep voice sounded so pleased and Buffy assured him that she would be ‘available’ to meet him that evening. There was a coffee shop that they would go to, quite a way’s from Sunnydale where no one knew them. It was an innocent place and their trysts always ‘started’ from there. Of course, they had to be careful about where they actually went for ‘dessert,’ but oddly enough, Xander proved to be surprisingly creative in that department.

At 7:00 PM that evening, Buffy hopped into her Camaro and headed out for the coffee shop to meet Xander. About halfway there, her cell phone rang.

“Oh,” she thought, kind of relieved, “maybe Xander can’t make it after all?”

She felt guilty for thinking that way, but she really didn’t want to go for some reason, tonight. Her hangover was gone, at least the alcohol induced one was, but William was still on her mind. She knew he would be furious that she didn’t call him.

After pulling over onto the highway shoulder, Buffy answered the ringing phone.

“Yes?” she said bright, fully expecting Xander or even Angel’s voice to answer.

“You didn’t call me, luv,” came William’s calm voice; calm but deadly, thought Buffy.

“What?” she gasped, shocked to hear ‘that’ voice on her cell phone. “How did you…where did you get this number?”

She knew she sounded surprised; she hoped she sounded appropriately pissed!

“I’ve got my ways, Princess,” William answered evenly, “but don’t change the bloody subject. Why, didn’t you call me?”

Buffy desperately ran over a thousand excuses in her head (why? She didn’t really know), and fell on the only plausible one. “I ‘lost’ the matchbook,” she almost sighed with relief, believing this little white lie would fly with Will.

Spike had to laugh at this one. “You’ve never lied too well, luv,” he chuckled, sarcastically, “don’t try to pull it off now!”

Silence at her end of the phone; gave him time to get angry at her again and he repeated the question, “why didn’t you call me?”

He knew his tone was betraying his rage, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in check.

“Bloody bitch,” he thought angrily, “still too good to even call me!”

Buffy’s short, desperate little breaths were almost funny to him, but he maintained his serious tone and again asked the question.

“I don’t know,” came her quiet reply.

Buffy was frantic by this time, although she tried to maintain an even voice. William had ‘her’ cell phone number? He had virtually tracked her down and confronted her, via air waves, about her not calling him? “Oh, bad Buffy,” she thought, “bad, very bad Buffy! You know you led him on!”

William was quiet, for once, now and finally she broke their silence.

“Will,” she began softly, “I’m going to be totally honest with you. Totally honest,” and she meant it. “I’m afraid of you. Afraid of who you are, though I’ve never been really sure of just ‘who’ you really are. Please just hear me out,” she continued before he could reply.

“I’m a married woman, Will,” she reminded him, gently, “I can’t just drop everything at home and ‘call’ men on their cell phones at any time.”

Guilt shot through her, that’s exactly what she’d been doing all along with ‘the other men’ and to not call William made ‘those relationships’ even more sordid.

‘Damn,’ she hated cell phones; they had to be Satan’s play toys!

“I want to meet with you,” he finally replied. “Tonight; right now, actually.”

Buffy began to shake; her hands were gripped so tight on the steering wheel, that they beginning to hurt.

“I, I can’t,” she stammerred, “not tonight, not ever.”

More silence then, “we can meet and just talk if you want, Buffy. William’s voice was so soft and quiet, almost tender; Buffy was stunned again by this different side of him, but she couldn’t answer, right away; her own mind at war with itself.

Bad, crazy ‘consequences be damned’ Buffy was laughing at her. Telling her to meet and just talk with Will. Good, sane ‘the lady Joyce Summers raised’ kept tsking at her; telling her that William was, is and would always be ‘trouble!’ “Off limits,” good Buffy said; “at the very least, a good confidant,” bad Buffy giggled in her ear.

Bad, crazy Buffy won out in the end.

“Kay, Will,” she replied softly, “I’ll meet you. But I can’t tonight, I have other plans. Tomorrow, I can meet you tomorrow.”

William answered quickly; he sounded pleased, but then he said, “what plans? Angel’s out of town, right?”

Buffy swallowed hard and collected her thoughts before she answered, “I have to meet a business associate of Angel’s tonight, in fact, I’m late now.”

It was the truth, kind of, she reasoned and apparently William accepted it.

“There’s this Inn,” he finally said, “It’s way outta town, you know it, I’m sure. The Victoria Cottage, something or other. I’ve been by it, never at, but it looks like your kind of place, rather posh, you know?”

She ‘did’ know the place, although she and Angel had only been once, years before, before they had even married.

“Gee, William,” she hesitated, “I’m not so sure. A motel?”

He quickly reassured her that they would only ‘talk’ if that’s what she really wanted. “Have a drink, talk, catch up, if you want. I promise Buffy,” he finished, sincerely.

She thought for a moment, okay, 6:00 PM, tomorrow. But, what room?”

William told her to go to the Inn, find his motorcycle in the parking lot and look under the seat; he’d have the room number written down on a piece of paper, there.

“Goodnight, Princess,” he said, his reluctance to hang up, evident.

“Night, Will,” she whispered. As she started her car up and pulled out on the highway to meet Xander, she realized something. She could no more sleep with Xander tonight, then she could ‘just talk’ with William tomorrow.

Later, at the coffee shop with Xander, all Buffy could think about was William and that mysterious room at the Victoria Inn. Whatever Xander was rambling on about was lost on her as she toyed with a cup of the worst tasting coffee in God’s creation.

Xander ate some kind of pie, ala mode of all things and gulped his coffee down before it had time to cool off.

“Where the hell does he put it?” she wondered as she watched him gobble up the last bite of pie and finished off his third cup of coffee.

“Well,” he sighed, full and content after he wiped his mouth with the napkin, “where to, Buff?”

“Xand,” she whispered as she reached over and took his large hand in hers, “I can’t go anywhere else with you tonight. I’m, you know, indisposed.”

Apparently, Buffy ‘lied’ better with some people then with William because although Xander looked terribly dissapointed, he seemed to buy her story and let it go at that.

“It’s okay, Buff,” he smiled, bravely at her, “I just like spending time with you. Talking to you. It’s enough, for now,” he added at the end.

Buffy nodded absently, and stood up to leave, “I need to get home, Xander. Angel is coming back, really early in the morning and I have to get home.”

It was another lie, and she truly detested herself for it. Again, Xander seemed to swallow the story, totally.

Once she got back home, Buffy set her alarm for 7:00 AM and took one of Angel’s sleeping pills. If she didn’t help herself along, she knew she would never sleep that night. All she could think about was meeting William tomorrow evening and ‘talking’ with him.

“Yeah,” she mused, “talking, that’s it. We’ll just talk.”

She had to face facts, right then and there; if she could barely resist William Giles in a filthy alley, how could she resist him in the privacy of a nice motel room?

‘No’ they could make ‘nicey talk’ all they wanted, her and Will, but the truth was, she Buffy Anne Summers was totally fucked.

All day, Thursdy, she walked around in a kind of daze. Her mind hazy and muddled from the upcoming ‘meeting’ with William. She had it all planned out; what she would wear, the clothes, shoes, perfume even. Buffy was pretty sure that the Inn would not be overly crowded; it really wasn’t in season yet.

A large pair of sunglasses, her longish hair up in a bun and a simple sundress would be perfect. No one would notice her, she hoped, anyway. When it was time to leave, she had to take a deep breath and force herself to turn on the car ignition.

All the way out of town, she kept telling herself; “it’s only to talk, it’s only to talk.”

But, as much as she chanted this mantra, she knew that William Giles would never ‘settle’ for just talk from her and she would be helpless to deny him anything more.

Buffy hadn’t been at the Victoria Inn in over seven years, but it hadn’t changed. Only the names on her dance card had. True to his word, Will’s Harley set parked in a space at the room furthest from the manager’s office. It was marked #7, discreet, at least, and fortunately matched the number written on the paper she found under the motorcycle seat.

“You can do this Buffy,” she told herself as she checked her watch and noted that it was already after 6:00; almost 6:30 PM to be exact.

“Oh, great,” she rolled her eyes as she knocked on the #7 door, “William is gonna be pissed, I’m so late!”

Spike heard the knock and immediately ‘calmed’ down from the enraged state he had been in only moments before.

“Fuckin’ little brat!” he had stormed about, cursing.

“If she doesn’t show up, I’ll go find her and everything be damned!”

He had stopped ranting about long enough to kick a the small trash can with his foot.

“Bloody hell!” he roared, remembering that he wore only his black Levi jeans, no shirt, no shoes, “that fucking hurt!”

A growl had emmitted from his throat, “I swear to God, if she stands me up; I’ll tear her bleedin’ little throat out of her and shove it up Angel’s arse!”

All this anger suddenly dissapated when he heard that timid little knock on the door. A wave of relief flooded him, “she’s hear,” he sighed.

Spike threw the door open and pulled Buffy inside.

“You’re late!” he growled, trying to sound angrier then he really was.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she countered with a quick smirk that reminded him of his own.

“Yeah, well,” but he couldn’t finish. He could only look at her, in her little red sundress, her makeup, simple, except for the red lipstick she wore. Her hair was up in a loose, but proper little bun. Spike licked his lips in anticipation; he couldn’t wait to loosen that long blond mane of hers and run his fingers through it.

“You look beautiful, Buffy, luv,” he whispered, catching her eyes with his.

“You look pretty damn good yourself, Will,” she replied with a smile as she ran her eyes over his exposed chest.

In that moment, Spike was aware that for the first time in ten years, he may actually get what he really wanted.



A/N: Bet you thought Buffy wouldn’t really show up, huh? Okay, Buffy’ is a bit ‘clueless’ at times, but she’s not stupid, right?

A/N: Here’s my dilema: I don’t write sex scenes real well. I either write them ‘crude or corny’ and I rewrote this chapter twice, because frankly the two times they were a bit of both. I hope this is okay and this chapter is rated NC-17 to be safe.


Chapter 13: ‘Magically Delicious!’


Buffy glanced nervously around the room of the Inn. It ‘was’ a nice place, one that she would have chosen for Angel and herself. In fact, she had, seven years before.

“Want some wine, luv?” William asked, “I’ve brought your favorite, Cabernet.”

‘Now, there,’ she thought, puzzled, ‘he’s done it again. How does ‘he’ know what my favorite wine is?’

But, she accepted the glass he offered and watched while he poured himself some.

“I always figured you for a beer or whiskey kind of guy, William,” she giggled, “wine? You?”

He smiled at her and just shrugged, “lots you don’t know about me, Buffy,” he finished matter of factly. He then motioned for her to sit down in one of the posh little chairs the Inn provided.

“Actually,” he spoke up again, “old Rupert insisted we have wine for supper every night. Even when I was a young kid. I guess it was his habit from the University.”

Buffy felt a pang of sadness in her heart; Rupert and Anne Giles had been her own mother’s good friends and Buffy herself adored Will’s parents. She also cared deeply for Drusilla Giles, William’s younger half-sister; Rupert and Anne’s only child, together. Although Buffy wanted to ask Will about his family, she thought it best to the keep the conversation light. There was no way to discuss the Giles’ history, especially that of poor Drusilla’s and keep anything discussed ‘light.’

Spike watched Buffy closely as he sipped his wine. Truth was, he really didn’t care much for wine, but he knew Buffy did and he wanted everything to be just perfect tonight. Although he had promised her to ‘just talk’ he was more then sure they would share that large, rather comfortable bed by the end of the night.

‘She knew exactly what she was getting into when she met me here,’ he reasoned to himself, ‘no way are we going to just talk.’

Actually, Spike was beginning to feel quite confident that his little ‘plan’ was going to work out just fine.

‘If she thinks I’m going to let her out of here, with just a ‘thank you and virginal kiss, well…..’ he continued the inner conversation with himself.

“More wine, luv?” he asked, never taking his eyes from hers. She nodded, nervously, and he stifled a chuckle when she began to chew that luscious bottom lip of hers. It was a habit dear Buffy had since they were teenagers and Spike had always loved it.

Before he could pour her another glass, Buffy stood up and began to wonder aimlessly about the room. Looking at pictures, looking into the kitchen area looking at the door, looking everywhere but at the bed, or him.

Spike noticed and began to reponder the whole ‘sure thing’ he’d built up in his own mind.

‘That’s it, Princess,’ he thought silently as he followed her every move; ‘you just keep avoiding me, best way you can. Keep it up and soon I’ll have to force the issue. If you won’t give it up, willingly, sweet, I’ll convince you to.’

He preferred not to have to bring out the arsenal he had, he wanted Buffy to be willing, but he’d gotten this far with her and he refused to let her get away from him now.

For her part, Buffy was really trying to avoid him. She thought if she could ‘dance around’ him and the issue at hand (mainly the big, comfy looking bed against the wall), then maybe, just maybe they could ‘just talk.’ They could reinforce that truce they’d called the other night and become friends again, well at least civil acquaintences.

Her back was turned to him, but she felt him close the distance between them, rather quickly, and spun around to take the glass he refilled for her. Except, the glass wasn’t in his hand, she spied it on the little table next to her chair.

“Oh,” she said, finally looking him right in the eye, “where’s my glass?” she questioned, her voice sounded like a little girls and she was immediately red faced.

“Buffy?” he said softly as he gazed into her eyes.

‘Damn but his eyes were blue, she thought absently, ‘no one’s eyes should be that color of blue. It’s not right!’

“Buffy?” he whispered as he placed each of his large hands on her her face, gently. “You didn’t come here to drink wine and reminisce. You know that. Why have you always done this? You ignore, avoid and try to run from what you’re afraid to face.”

Buffy began to shake her head in denial, slowly, “no William, I’m not afraid to face you. I’m ‘afraid’ of you,” her eyes finally met his.

“Never be afraid of me, Buffy, darling,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss her mouth.

“You said,” she whimpered, her words barely audible, “you said we’d ‘just talk, Will.” He only smiled again and met her lips in the gentlest of kisses.

‘Be gentle, be tender, be patient,’ he chanted to himself as he continued to place little kitten kisses on her lips, cheeks, even the tip of her adorable nose.

“We can talk, Buffy,” he stopped to whisper in her ear. “I did promise. Come here now,” he commanded with tenderness and led her by the over to his chair.

He sat down and gently as he could, pulled her down on his lap. “You talk about anything you want, Princess,” he murmered as he softly rubbed her bare neck and shoulders with his hands. “I’ll listen to anything you want me to. I’ll answer any questions you want to ask. Jesus, Buffy,” he nuzzled his head into her warm neck, “I’ll walk through bloody hellfire for you, if that’s what you want.”

Spike was so wrapped up in being ‘tender and patient’ that what little Buffy said next almost floored him.

“Well!” she cried out in frustration, “that’s a hell of a thing to do to someone! Start the kissy, smoochie stuff and then want to ‘just talk!”

She tried to pull away from him, but he held her fast with his strong arms.

“Buffy!” he gasped in shock, “you are, without a fucking doubt the most exasperating, confusing and spoiled woman I’ve ever known!”

His eyes were bright with fire and again Buffy found herself slightly frightened by him.

“You don’t have to swear at me, Will!” she cried with a pout. He sensed her fear and visibly tried to calm himself down, somewhat.

“Buffy,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “I just wanted to be patient and nice with you. I swear to God your moods go up and down faster then a fucking teeter totter!”

Buffy realized that she had misread him and that he was trying, really hard, for him, to be a gentleman.

‘All’s he trying to do is make me feel comfy and secure,’ she assured herself. But this side of William was unfamiliar to her as she hadn’t seen it in so many years. It confused her, jumbled up her emotions and she looked away from him so he couldn’t see the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.

“I’m sorry, William,” she said contritely, “I know you’re being especially kind to me. I’m sorry I’m such a stupid bitch, such a failure, really.”

Now the waterworks really turned on and Buffy buried her head into Spike’s bare chest, soon soaking it with her hot tears.

“That’s okay, luv,” he cooed softly and began to rub her back gently, “you are ‘not’ a stupid or a failure,” his sincere tone tugged at her heart. “You’re a beautiful, smart and sexy woman who has been my…..” but he stopped short of finishing the sentence.

Buffy looked up into his face, the tears already slowing and smiled shyly, “I’m beautiful?” she asked in that little girl’s voice again.

“You’re exquisite, luv,” Will assured her with a smile. Before either of them could take a breath, Buffy threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hotly on his mouth.

Spike didn’t waste this opportunity. He picked his small Buffy bundle up and carried her, her soft lips still on his, to the bed. After he half set/half lay her down on the bed, almost like she was a fragile package, he reached around her back to unzip her sundress. Before he undressed her, without any words, he looked into her green eyes and asked her, with his blue ones, permission to continue. Buffy just nodded, shyly, her eyes reflected the passion and want that he felt.

When he removed the dress, he confirmed that she had not worn a bra and the sight that greeted him made him harder then even before. Reaching out, he gently stroked her left breast and was rewarded with a breathy moan from her slightly parted lips.

“Buffy,” he groaned as he looked her up and down, his hand repeating the gentle stroke on her other breast, “you ‘are’ beautiful!”

He pressed her back onto the bed and reached for the little red thong she still had on. It joined the dress on the foot of the bed and Spike surveyed his lovely girl.

“Oh, God, Buffy,” I want you so much he whispered, took off his jeans and lay, in boxers next to her.

“I want you too, Will,” she murmered shyly to him, that adorable blush back on her face.

He touched her cheek as she touched his and kissed her warm, wet little mouth. Soon they were kissing each other, their mouths hungry and greedy. Spike had to have more, now and left her mouth, his own lips trailed down her neck to her breasts.

Buffy held his head to her breasts and encouraged by her pants and soft words, he ran his tongue down her tummy to her hips. Before he continued to his goal, he looked up into her half closed eyes, again asking for permission to go on. As much as he wanted to really taste her, he didn’t want to do anything she didn’t want him to.

“Do it!” Buffy panted huskily, her firey eyes blazed into his, “do it, please, Will!”

The pleading in her voice stunned her, momentarily, as this particular sex act had never really appealed to her. Not even with Angel.

‘Do not think of Angel,’ she told herself firmly and dismissed him instantly, ‘think only of William and this.’

Truth was, Will had been the first man to do this with her, years ago, it was only right that he do it now. Anyway, he was doing it so wonderfully!

“Will,” she moaned as she gazed at him, “that’s heavenly.”

He watched her from hooded eyes and she felt rather then saw him smile against her. William stopped long enough to smile, lazily at her and mumble something about Buffy being heavenly, before he returned to his incredible ministrations.

William was saying something to her about how he wanted her to watch him when she came. Her body felt like liquid by this time, but she managed to pull two pillows down from the top of the bed and place them under her shoulder blades.

When she felt the ‘magic’ start to happen, when the fireworks started up in in her brain, she stared at Will, mesmerized that this guy could do what he was doing and still manage to say the most ‘yummy’ things at the same time.

Finally, in her release, she grabbed his head with her hands and legs, and ground herself against his mouth.

“Oh, God, Will!” she cried out as her orgasm ripped through her.

Spike watched her and felt Buffy orgasm against his mouth; hell her whole body shook the bed. And that in itself made him feel pretty damn proud. He quickly kissed her two inner thighs and crawled up her still trembling body.

“Kiss me,” he commanded and she did, with all the passion he’d dreamed of for so long.

“Buffy,” he rasped, pulling her so close it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended, “I’ve waited ten years for this; I’m not waiting another minute.”

He positioned himself over her and reached down to slip his boxers off.

“Wait!” she cried frantically, her eyes flew wide open and he suddenly felt an instant dissapointment.

‘She’s going to bolt,’ he thought bitterly,’after all of this.’

Buffy must have read his thoughts because she immediately clasped his face in her tiny hands, “no Will,” she whispered, “I want you too, but we need, you know, protection.”

Talk about ‘deflation!’ Spike’s expression of lust instantly changed to one of utter defeat.

“Buffy,” he stammered, “I don’t have ‘protection. I guess I thought you would be you know,” he hesitated, suddenly embarrassed, “using something?”

He looked away, afraid she’d see the bitter dissapointment in his eyes.

“Oh,” she mumbled, also looking away from him, “I do, but you know? Uhm, this day and age and all. I guess I thought you’d want to you know, use something yourself?”

Spike was miserable, here he had the woman of his dreams, in bed, ready to go and they couldn’t? It just wasn’t fuckin’ fair!

They lay in uncomfortable silence for a moment or two when Buffy finally spoke up, “Uhm, Will,” she began timidly, unable to look at him, “uhm, I hope you don’t think I’m a naughty girl, but, I kind of made a stop before I came here.”

Will looked at her, puzzled, “a stop?” he questioned, his scarred left eyebrow raised up in consfusion.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, barely audible to him, “I kind of bought some, you know, protection thingys,” she coughed out, her face bright red.

If she expected a sarcastic retort or a shocked look, she was sadly mistaken. William began to roar with laughter and pulled her to him, peppering her face with kisses.

“Thank you God!” he chortled as he looked upward, “and Bless you, Buffy!” he smiled down at her, placing another kiss on her forehead.

“So,” she asked shyly, her eyes locked on his now, “you don’t think I’m naughty, or a skank?”

William chuckled again and pinched her cheek, warmly, “a skank? No,” he said firmly, “naughty? Oh yeah, thank God!” He leaned in and kissed her again.

Buffy scowled a bit and turned bright red, “well,” she paused, thinking, “I guess it’s okay to be naughty. As long as I’m not skanky, right?” she added quickly.

“You couldn’t be skanky if you took lessons, luv,” he smiled and pulled her close to him again.

“Gee, Will,” she sighed, “I sure can ruin a Kodak moment, can’t I?” remembering where they had been just moments before. She giggled hysterically as William began to tickle her anywhere he could catch her.

“I,” she said, primly, “am going to now go to my purse and get the thingys. If you are a good boy, I’ll actually come back to bed with them.”

She stood and strutted off, proudly, trying not to picture the view that Will got of her bare bottom. And, trying not to giggle anymore.


When she returned to the bed with ‘the thingys’ Buffy saw that Will had removed his plain white boxers. ‘Oh God!’ she gasped inwardly, ‘he’s huge!’

She sat on the bed, quietly, but kept her eyes on Will’s thingy!

“Will?” she she asked quietly as she removed one of the foil packages from the box, “are you sure this thingy is going to fit over your thingy?”

She held up the rubber with her left hand as she pointed to his ‘thingy’ with her right one, a perplexed look on her face.

Spike burst out laughing again, “yes, Princess, it’ll fit!” “Oh,” he added with a wink, “thanks for the compliment!”

His laughter was contagious and Buffy began to giggle again, which he found absolutely intoxicating.

“Come ere’,” he growled as he pulled her flush to him. She squealed like a little piglet, laughing and wiggling about against him.

“Does this feel like it’s ruined?” he asked with a smirk, placing her hand on his still hard member.

“No!” she giggled, “but I still don’t think the ‘thingy’ will fit!”

Buffy seemed to find this hilarious and continued to laugh until tears began to run down her face.

“Well,” Spike hissed, “let’s find out, shall we?” He took the rubber from her and slipped in on, okay, a bit tricky but manageable. By this time, Buffy had sobered up considerably and just watched him while he went about his task, her mouth in a perfect ‘0’ of wonder.

He could feel the want in her and he was amazed that it seemed to match his own want for her.

“Buffy,” he whispered seriously, “I want to take this slow.”

Spike lay, gently over her lithe little body and cupped her chin, pulling her face up for their eyes to meet.

“I want to feel me going into you, inch by inch.”

She moaned lightly, her lids threatened to close completely.

“But,” he said huskily, “when you start to cum, tell me, please. I want to cum with you, the first time, especially. You tell me when it’s about to happen and I’ll go harder and faster. I’ll fuckin’ pound you into the bloody mattress. You understand me?”

She opened her lids halfway, licked her full lips and nodded, her clasped over his.

“I understand,” she replied, her soft, low voice show how mesmerized she really was.

Buffy actually saw stars; big bright red, green, yellow and blue stars! She half expected to see pink hearts, yellow moons and some green clovers dancing about in front of her eyes. After supressing the urge to glance around for a leperchaun or two, Buffy gave in and sounded the alarm for her impending orgasm; assured it was going to be a ‘magically delicious one!’

It certainly promised to be a major one. Will began to thrust into her, frantically, panting some incoherant endearments.

“Oh, Jesus, Buffy!” he roared out as he came himself.

She was right there with him with a cry of “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” (Something she would feel quite guilty about later; screaming the Holy Familys’ names while she was in the throws of passion, but, oh well)

William collapsed on top of her when he was finished, his head buried into her damp neck. It was a good thing he wasn’t very large or heavy because he probably would have crushed her. He grasped her to him tightly, their bodies slick with sweat and melded together.

“God, Baby,” he groaned in pleasure, “that was fucking incredible!”

Buffy smiled into his hair, her arms wrapped tightly around him. She felt a sense of womanly power that she hadn’t really felt in years. The feeling of a woman who had not only given great pleasure, but had received it as well.

“Yes, Will,” she murmered into his ear with a soft kiss, “it was incredible.”


Another A/N: Gee, I hope that wasn’t too corny? Forgive me for the ‘Lucky Charms’ references. I couldn’t resist. Please read and review. Thanks, Spuf




































S

Chapter 14: ‘Strawberries, Sex and Showers’



After their first ‘encounter’ Buffy and Spike lay in that big, comfy bed, their arms, legs and entire bodies entwined. They lay snuggled together, with a comfortable silence between them for quite a while.

Finally, William shifted enough to prop himself up on his left elbow and stare down at her. She gave him a lazy smile, still basking in the afterglow of her astounding orgasm.

Will ran his hand down her shoulder, her breast and tummy, letting it come to rest on her slim hip.

“Hungry?” he asked with a soft smile.

“Famished,” she replied honestly. “I haven’t been this hungry in ages, Will,” she giggled.

The smirk on his mouth informed her that Will was thinking of more then actual food, but he hopped up out of bed, pulling her with him.

“I’ve got a virtual feast here, my Princess,” he said as he led her to the kitchen.

True to his word, Will had brought a virtual feast. The refrigerater in the tiny kitchen was stock full of roasted chicken, some lovely french bread, and strawberries next to a container of what looked like whipped cream.

William pulled a bottle of Champagne from the freezer and Buffy just had to remark, “all this for a ‘chat, Will?’ with a rather sly grin on her face.

“Come on and help,” he ordered good-naturedly as he lay out the lovely feast on the small dinette in the adjoining room. Buffy put the chicken on some paper towels from the counter and pulled the bread apart with her hands.

“Guess we’re going alfresco,” she giggled as William poured the wine and she surveyed him in his boxers.

Buffy wore a plush white terry cloth robe that the Inn provided this room and felt kind of ‘clunky’ in it. William assured her she looked near as sexy in the robe as she did in nothing, which is how he preferred her.

Spike watched her eat, only picking at his own food.

‘Bloody hell,’ he mused, his Buffy had an apetite. Which was kind of funny, considering how tiny she really was. However, she munched down the chicken, gobbled the bread and drank her champagne with relish, all in the most lady like manner of course.

When she reached for the strawberries, he stopped her with his hand, “I’ll feed you those,” he told her as he pulled her from her chair and onto his own lap.

Buffy snuggled her bottom down into his groin and perched liked a kitten waiting for a treat. Her little pink tongue stuck out, delicately, from her mouth in anticipation of the red berry he dipped in the cream.

“Say please,” he purred as he dangled the fruit in front of her. With an adorable pout, Buffy nipped at the strawberry, attempting to wrest it away from him with her mouth, but he pulled it back abruptly, “I didn’t hear, please,” he said in a mocking tone.

“Please…..” she whimpered, seductively and he placed the juicy morsel up to her tongue. Instead of taking the fruit into her waiting mouth, she hesitated, then slowly licked the cream from the berry, all the while peeking out the corner of her hazel/green eyes at him.

“I like cream!” she purred at him before she nibbled the fruit itself with her blunt teeth.

Spike suppressed a groan and felt his cock perk up again at this little minx’s innuendo.

Buffy shot him a naughty little grin and gobbled the strawberry up before he could snatch it away again.

“MMMmmm,” she cooed as she licked her lips, her eyes half closed. "Better then sex!” she said tauntingly, leaning over to grab another berry from the table.

“Oh,” Spike chuckled as he grabbed her hand and slipped it under the waistband of his boxers. “Better then sex, eh?” he quizzed with a smirk, “I must of not done somethin’ right the first time. Better try again,huh?”

And he lifted her up from the chair, one arm under her lucious arse the other about her waist, to carry her back to the bed. He flopped down on the bed, pulling her down on top of him.

“Let’s try again, shall we, luv” he asked, huskily, “shall we change your mind about that strawberries vs. the sex thing?”

“My dessert!” she cried in mock anger, eyeing the remaining strawberries on the table.

“Oh, come on now, luv,” he chuckled, as he ran his tongue over his teeth, “surely we can find a better dessert then some bloody berries!”

William reached towards the end table to grab a condom left there, “do the honors, will you Princess?” he murmered as he ran his hand over his own cock.

‘Oh, I’ll do the honors,’ she thought with another giggle and proceeded to rip the condom wrapper open with her teeth. The stunned look on Will’s face was priceless, but not near as rewarding as the expression he had when she popped the condom in her mouth and then slipped it over his ‘thingy’ with ease.

‘Thanks Angel, at least for teaching me that little trick!’ she thought with a smirk. She dismissed any more thoughts of Angel and slid down on her blond lover in one quick thrust.

Spike was just the littlest bit dissapointed that Buffy didn’t continue that ‘thing’ with her mouth after she’d put the rubber on. However, he was so mesmerized by her wanton act with the rubber in the first place that he overlooked it.

‘Christ!’ he thought to himself as he watched and felt her ride him like a jocky, ‘she’s betterin’ a pro!’

To see her, her honey blond hair thrown back, the fire in her now emerald green eyes as she slid up and down, side to side gave him a sense of joy he hadn’t felt in, well, forever. It also reminded him, sadly, of what he had truly missed with her in all these years as he watched her expressions change faster then he could clock.

At one moment, she was like a wanton bitch in heat, all fire and moans of pleasure. Next second, she looked all tender and caring; a womanly smile on her lips, her breasts swelled with desire.

He wasn’t doing much different himself. The poet in him couldn’t even write the emotions he was feeling right now. Not properly anyway. Buffy brought out something in him he thought was long dead; not just desire, that was the easy part.

It was something more but he couldn’t yet put a name or description to it. Later, when he was alone, maybe he could put it down on paper, like he’d done so many times before about his Buffy. He’d never let anyone see those words he’d written of course, they’d think him the worse kind of ponce, but to him, they meant everything. To have her now, so intimately after all of his prose and prostrations all these years, was incredibly overwhelming. He came way too quickly, he felt, just because he was so overjoyed that she was here, with him, like this.

Buffy felt his release and allowed herself to follow quickly. She was more then pleased with herself that she had brought Will to peak so quickly, but she restrained herself from showing her arrogance to him. He was the kind of man who needed to ‘know’ that his lover (God did she really just think that!) was as satisfied as he was and she did her best to express her sexual happiness as well as she could.

For all of her experience, Buffy felt she was still somewhat of an innocent at heart, especially for some reason, with William. Even though they had been intimate twice now, she found it hard to ‘not blush’ when he placed a sweet kiss on her breast and excused himself to get rid of the rubber.

By the time William had returned from the bathroom, Buffy had cleaned herself as best she could, with the kleenex on the end table. She now lay on her back, her gaze fixed on he off white colored ceiling above the king sized bed. Will slid next to her and pulled her on her side to face him. He brushed her stray, damp hair from her face and gazed intently into her eyes.

“Watcha’ thinking, Buffy?” he asked softly as he grazed her cheek with his fingers.

“Oh,” she sighed, “I don’t know, Will. Truthfully, I’m a bit tuckered out to think too much about anything.”

This brought a giggle from her and a chuckle from him. Long ago, maybe even before she’d married Angel, Buffy was told by her own Mother that the sexiest thing that could happen between two people in bed was to ‘share a laugh’ or even a giggle together. Besides the nookie, her and William hadn’t done much but laugh, chuckle, giggle and have some fun.

This confused Buffy; wasn’t she supposed to do all that with Angel? Wasn’t he her husband? The sad truth was; her and Angel hadn’t really laughed about much of anything, anywhere in a long, long time.

He watched her, carefully. Some part of him just knew she was thinking about that prick, Angel. Oh, maybe not in a sexual way, but in some way he had no part in; the married way. It sent a pang of jealousy and hurt through his heart. He was totally convinced that Angel did not deserve a woman like Buffy. Maybe even more then that, Spike wanted the everyday life experiences that Angel shared with Buffy. A part of him, the part that still held onto the dreams of his youth wanted that.

“I’m gunky!” she exclaimed suddenly. Buffy had noticed that she wasn’t quite ‘fresh’ especially since their last romp in bed. “I need a shower,” she continued, “I’m hot, sticky and nasty!”

She felt somewhat embarrassed and tried to hide the red, hot blush that shot up her neck and face.

“Mmmm,” William purred at her as he pulled her even closer, “I like hot, sticky and nasty Buffy!”

This caused her to blush even more, “well, I don’t like hot, sticky and nasty Buffy!” she retorted. Before he could stop her, Buffy jumped up from the bed and headed toward the bathroom, nothing but a nice hot shower on her mind.

“Heat up the water, luv,” he called behind her, “I’ll be in to join you a sec.”

Buffy damn near fainted, “I shower alone,” she shot back firmly.

“Not tonight, sweet,” he finished, putting an end to any discussion.

He needed a smoke at the least and a combination drink/smoke at the most. Buffy had not only worn him out, all too soon, but she had unleashed something in him that he’d kept at bay for years. Even though he suspected what that ‘something’ might be, he knew he needed to keep it suppressed, at least for the time being.

‘Don’t scare her,’ he reminded himself, ‘just for once Spike Giles, be patient, bide your time.’

Spike lit the first smoke he had in hours. That in itself was pretty amazing as he truly was capable of being a chain smoker. Oh, he knew it was deadly, the smoking and all; he was neither stupid or uneducated, but he always enjoyed the habit so. Besides, he never thought there was much to keep him from destructive habits; he embraced them as much as some men embraced hearth and home.

However, with Buffy here, beside him in this way, he began to rethink the whole ‘bad ass; devil may care’ bullshit attitude that had driven him for most of his life. It was a fact, had Buffy and he hooked up back then, years ago, his whole life would have been different. More then that, his whole existence would have been better, much better.

The shower was large, almost the size of a small High School gym shower. Except this one had salmon and mint green tiles. It must have been a bitch to clean, Spike mused, as he stepped in to join Buffy in the warm water that sprayed from three different nozzles.

“Buffy,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms about her little, wet body, “I,” but he couldn’t finish. The insecure part of him was afraid to open up and tell this girl/woman here, in this posh motel room, in this surrealistic shower, that he truly needed her. Needed her so much that it scared him to think about it. He was more than worried, he was terrified.

Buffy had no idea what that ‘incident’ in High School at that stupid frat party had done to him. He had been with girls before, it wasn’t that, but Buffy had always been his goal, even then, and for her to reject him, say that fucking name of his so called friend? It had devestated him far more then he could, or would ever let be known.

“Just let me wash,kay, Will?” she asked meekly, her tone tired and strained.

“Kay, Buffy,” he replied.

She opened the shampoo bottle provided by the Inn, but William grabbed it from her hands and lathered his own with the liquid contents.

“Let me, please, Princess?” he whispered.

She nodded her assent and felt the wonderous ministrations of William’s long slim fingers in her hair and on her scalp as he ran the soapy concoction into her tresses. He then washed his own hair and proceeded to wash her body with the french milled soap, then his. When he was done soaping them both, he held her tight as he allowed the water to rinse them off completely. After they were both washed and drenched clean, she shut off the water and he grabbed two plush towels from the racks on the wall.

In silence, she allowed him to dry her, watching him as he went about his task. The odd thing was, William didn’t seem to get any sexual pleasure from it. He just dried her off first, then himself, dropping the wet towels on the floor next to the shower. Something told Buffy that William was restraining himself far more then she could imagine. That he was holding back in some way; some feelings, some desires, perhaps even some information. She just couldn’t put a finger on it.

They lay, snuggled in bed together, his head rested on her left breast. William was dead to the world. Buffy was wide awake, for now, and stared down at the sleeping man in her arms. His hair, normally so controlled and slicked back was now curly with little platinum spikes that jutted out all over his head. He slept the sleep of the contented, a slight smile on his handsome face.

‘Little wonder,’ she giggled silently, they had come from the shower, clean and refreshed only to repeat their sexual escapades from before. Buffy couldn’t remember who wore out first, but right now, it was Will that was out like a light, exhausted, for good reason.

‘He looks sixteen-years-old right now,’ she thought in awe.

Buffy glanced at the clock above the faux fireplace mantel and was shocked to see the time!

‘Damn!’ she gasped, ‘it’s after midnight!’

With another glance down at Will, she disengaged herself, as gently as she could so as not to wake him, and slipped into the bathroom. A quick wash, she’d have to shower as soon as she got home to rid herself of the sinful essence that covered her, and she crept back out into the main room to get dressed.

She hoped she didn’t wake William. All she wanted to do, no, make that needed to do, was to scribble a quick note; one to explain how wonderful tonight had been, but could never happen again, yada yada. Married woman and all that. As she slipped on her sundress, she dared a glance at the sleeping form in the bed, “sorry, Will,” she whispered sincerely, “but, this can never happen again.”

Her sundress on, everything in place, Buffy set the quickly written note on the end table by William’s lighter.

‘He’s sure to see that!’ she surmised as she tiptoed to the front door with her purse in hand.

Just as she reached for the door handle, a deep, British voice boomed out in the dark, “now, just where the hell do you thing you’re going, Princess?”

Without turning around, Buffy took a deep breath to steady her shaking voice, “I’m going home, Will. It’s late and you know, married and all. Please don’t try to stop me. This can’t happen again, you have to know that.”

Whatever she expected, Buffy never could have predicted William’s next few words.

“Set that lucious little arse down, sweetheart,” his tone one of controlled anger that she’d heard before, “you’re not going anywhere, tonight and you and me are going to have a real talk now!”

Before Buffy could reply, William was up out of the bed and had reached her at the door. He grabbed her arm, painfully, and spun her around to face him. His eyes were black with rage, his lovely mouth was twisted in a horrible mock image of his ‘fun’ smirk.

With a snarl he clasped her by the shoulders and stared deep into her eyes, “and by the way, don’t give me that ‘I’m married, bullshit excuse, Buffy,” he sneered, “it never mattered with those other pricks you’re currently shagging, did it?”

A/N: Hmmmmm, apparently Spike ‘knows’ something that Buffy didn’t realize. Wonder how he knows, why he knows and what he plans to do with this information? If ‘you’ all want to know, please read the next chapter. Oh, and please review, I’m wondering if I should continue submitting this? Thanks, Luv, Spuf.

Chapter 15: ‘Buffy’s Wake Up Call’



If Buffy could have breathed, maybe she could have said something, done something, like run out of that room #7 and away from William. But, she couldn’t breathe at the moment, in fact, she felt like she was suffocating.

Instead of making a run for the door and escaping from him, she did exactly as she was told. She sat down on the little chair by the table, her head hung down, eyes focused on her perfectly pedicured nails.

Although she prided herself on being a ‘woman of the new Millenium’, lately Buffy had come to realize she was more submissive then most of the females she’d grown up with. When she was little, up until her early twenty’s, Buffy played ‘daddy’s little girl’ for Hank Summers, someone who did not deserve her respect, much less her love. Mama had always ‘adored’ her good little girl, Buffy; she was such a little Saint.

And Angel? Well, as long as she fit into his ideal of a ‘Travers Stepford Wife’ then everything was just dandy at the homefront. Except, everything was not well on the Travers’ homefront and hadn’t been for a long time.

She did not watch William pace around in front of her, like a nervous cat or expectant father. Rather, she felt him do it.

By the time he finally spoke again, he’d finished off a cigarette and cursed at least fifteen times, if she was truly keeping count. Which she must have been, because she couldn’t allow herself to think of anything else at that moment.

William’s revelation that he knew about the other men in her life had knocked some of her own marital self-righteousness out of her. Somewhat like getting the wind knocked out of you, which she knew all too well about. Once, when they were first married, Angel had become enraged when she had spent way too much on a piece of art.

He hadn’t meant to do it, of course, and later he would be beyond consolation for it. But, he’d hit her, open handed, and slapped her down into the mantel of their living room fireplace. The wind knocked out of her for almost a minute, she guessed. He apologized profusely never hit her again after that, but, she never forgot it either.

When William finally spoke, his voice was quiet, but stern. Buffy just couldn’t look at him, she was too mortified by the whole thing. He must of known something; his words earlier proved that. However, what or how or why he knew, she wasn’t sure and was rather afraid to find out.

“Buffy,” he sighed, lighting another cigarette, “sometimes you are rather dense.”

‘Just a couple hours ago,’ she thought sadly, ‘he called me smart.’

“Not stupid, really,” he added as he put out his cigarette and turned to face her once again. “You’re just naïve about a lot of things, luv.”

She glanced up at him, to find him crouched in front of her, his indigo eyes level with her green ones.

William ran his hand through his blond hair, “you are a smart girl, except when it comes to certain ‘things’ and certain people. I’m going to give you a much needed wake up call, Princess.”

He must have read the confused look in her eyes because he went on to try and explain.

“For example,” he began, “you think you know your precious Angel. But you don’t know him for shit!”

The loudness of his voice caused Buffy to sink back into her chair. She felt like a cornered cat and she was suddenly very frightened of being in the room with him.

Spike was already sorry for the way he had snapped at Buffy, but he automatically went into defense mode when she tried to sneak out. Oh, and when she had spouted off all that ‘married, can’t happen again bullshit,’ he’d gone into a panic. He didn’t react well in panic; he never had.

‘After all this,’ he thought, determined, ‘I’ll be God damned if she’s going to end this as soon as it’s began!’

In his heart, he realized that she needed to know at least some of the truth. About what a prick Angel really was, but he was afraid to reveal too much about him, too soon.

“Buffy,” he reached out to touch her cheek only to see and feel a lone tear there. She pulled away from him, which cut him to the core. He had not intended on making her cry; only a couple of hours before they were laughing in bed together. To see her now, cowering from him, trying to hide the threatening tears, it hurt him more then he could ever admit.

However, when she looked away from him, that damn stubborn Buffy expression on her face, he hardened his heart once again. His next words to her would be deliberate, hurtful and cruel.

“You really think Angel is a trusting fool, don’t you, Princess?” he snorted as he pulled her head around to face him. Buffy’s wild-eyed, puzzled look caused him to smirk in spite of himself.

“Well,” he’s a bloody fool, true enough,” he hissed, “but he’s not all that trusting. At least not lately.”

She asked with her eyes rather then words, and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud. ‘Poor little Buffy,’ he thought almost maliciously, ‘my poor little sweet. She’s waking up now, innit she?’

“That day, at your hubby’s office when we ‘bumped’ into each other?” His Little Buffy just nodded, numbly. “I was there because I was ‘checking in’ with your Daddy Angel. You, see, pet,” he said matter of factly, “your hubby hired me a while back to kind of ‘check up on you.”

Spike hoped his smug expression would hit home with her, but she piped up, defiantly, “you mean spy on me?”

He nodded, “well, damn, Buffy,” he quipped, “maybe you’re less dense then I thought?”

He knew she just wanted to slap the shit out of him, her whole demeanor said so, but he also knew she wouldn’t dare. No, she needed more information and answers from him. Like he had told her, she was naïve, but not necessarily stupid.

“What does Angel know?” she asked meekly, unable to look at him.

“Nothing,” Spike responded harshly as he stood and lit another cigarette. “I told your precious significant other that you were a perfect bloody Saint, always.”

Buffy shot him an undeserved grateful look he really couldn’t bear to see.

“I’m not that fucking noble, Buffy,” he spit out at her, “don’t give me that ‘oh my white knight’ look. I have my own reasons for keeping Angel in the dark about your ‘other life’ and they ‘are’ purely selfish, I assure you.”

“So,” Buffy looked at him evenly, “what exactly do you know, Spike?”

She knew her sarcastic tone matched his own, and she hoped he noticed that she used his nickname instead of the usual William, or Will.

‘Serves him right,’ she thought,’I hope it hurts!’

It did, she could tell, his jaw clenched and his blue eyes became slits. Whatever his motives, Buffy realized that jealousy had to be part of it; his whole stance just reeked of it.

“I know about that little spoiled shit, Connor and of course clueless Xander. But, the one that really slays me is Finn!” William shook his head, he certainly wasn’t laughing now, “I mean, fucking Riley Finn, Buffy?” She just shrugged.

William actually growled and hunkered down in front of her again, blocking her escape from the chair by putting both his hands on either arm of it. “I’m pretty sure I know ‘why’ you’re doing them, it’s that Chase bitch right

She nodded, suppressing the urge to strike out and scratch that smirk on on his face, right off.

“Yeah, well,” he continued evenly, “I’ve known about your Angel for a while. The cheating, a lot of things. Kept me on my toes, kept me on watch. I’ve been watching you for years Buffy, just waiting for that fuck to make the mistake I needed to strike. Just like the snake I really am!”

Buffy found herself pressed against the back of the chair, again, William’s face almost looked demonic now and she swallowed hard to get up her courage.

“So, Angel hired you to spy on me,” she started, her voice almost a whine, “and he told you things like, where I’d be and all? Like the Bronze the other night?”

“Seems you just answered your own question, luv,” he snapped back as he watched her digest all this information.

There it was again, that ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look of hers that he could never resist. Trying very hard to remain stern and not to just take her in his arms and cuddle her, he pondered his next statement, carefully.

“I don’t really think Angel ever believed you were cheating on him, Buffy,” his voice was much lower and gentler, “I think it was just that old thing of he’s out fucking around so ‘you’ have to be too. Don’t fret, I convinced him that you aren’t.”

Spike had to get through to her; Angel was a monster. Well, he, Spike could be a bad ass monster too; but he’d never jeopardize his relationship, much less his marriage to Buffy, of all women by being a cheating prick like Angel.

To his horror, Buffy broke out in a torrent of tears, accompanied by sobs that neared the level of wails!

“Oh bloody hell!” he cried as he kicked the end table out of frustration, “stop the damn waterworks, already!”

He couldn’t allow himself to feel sympathy for her right now, he was too wrapped up in trying to figure out just why she’d come here tonight, to be with him.

“Why’re you crying, Princess,” he asked with a sneer, “cos’ you got caught out? Cos’ Angel doesn’t trust you? Or is it cos’ your bloody game of revenge came back to kick your arse?”

Buffy let loose with another torrent of tears and he cursed himself for being so harsh with his questions.

‘God,’ he thought ruefully, ‘I’m pathetic, she’ll always rule over me.’ She looked like a little girl, right now, one who’d gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“A little of all three of those reasons, William,” she sobbed as she tried to wipe the traitorous tears from her hot face. “But mostly cos’ I just realized that all this meant to you,” she pointed at the bed they’d shared, “was a way to get revenge on Angel and me. For that, you know, night back in High School.”

When she was done with her accusation, she burst out into a torrent of tears and tried to get up to leave again. He stopped her, again, and tossed her on the bed with ease. Pinning her down with his own body, he forced her to face him with his free hand.

“First off,” he growled, “this did not just mean revenge to me!” He slammed his fist on the bed, right by her left shoulder. “Listen to me,” he commanded, “Listen!”

He ordered again, taking her face into both of his hands, his teeth clenched. “I have wanted you forever. I want you now, and,” he looked at her with resignation, “I’m cursed to want you to the day I die.”

With a chuckle and a shake of his head he added, “you were the pay off, Buffy. Stickin’ to that prick Angel was just a bonus, nothing more.”

Buffy searched his dark blue eyes and just knew that he was telling her the truth.

“So, what about you?” he muttered, his tone more frustrated then angry. “Why’re you here, now, with me? Just revenge?”

She should have known he’d eventually ask about ‘that’ when she shot off about being hurt about his intentions before. Buffy didn’t answer right away, mainly because she needed to sort out her emotions and speak her mind properly. Her quick responses and unthoughtful quips had gotten her in trouble before; look at that night back in High School, the one that had started this whole disaster. Finally, she spoke, her voice was very soft, but clear and she hoped William would believe her.

“No,” she began, “if that was the case, Will, I’d have sought you out in the first place. You’d have been the ‘one’ I’d have taken up with to get back at Angel.”

He was looking at her with those big blue orbs, all glazed over, searching her face for honesty.

“I,” she continued with a little crack in her voice, “I couldn’t just use you like that, Will. Not after what I did to you back then. That, would make me a complete skank instead of just the pathetic whore that I’ve become.”

She looked away from him, so ashamed she felt ill all over. Her next sentence came out shakey and mumbled, but she was sure he could hear her, even though she was unable to look at him.

“A part of me always wanted you too, especially when I was in college and all. But after that mess from our past, I guess I just was afraid ‘you’d’ reject me. What do they say in sports; the best offense is a good defense. That’s why I was so distant with you all those years. I didn’t want you to hurt me, the way I hurt you. And I’m sorry Will, I’m sorry I hurt you that night. And tonight,” she added as an after thought.”

She had more or less directed this statement at the wall next to the bed, still afraid to look at him.

“Besides, I could never ‘fool’ you Will. I can fool my mom, my friends, apparently Angel somewhat, even myself, but never you. And, of course, anyone I became involved with, I’d ‘have’ to be able to fool. They couldn’t know that I was out to revenge myself on my own husband.”

Spike wanted to believe her, everything she said made sense to the romantic in him. However, a part of him was too insecure to completely buy all of her story.

‘Was she saying ‘she cared about him in some way, truly?’ he wondered in disbelief. The cynic in him won over, whispered to him, ‘well, it’s all very fine and good to spout all of her good intentions, but the fact of the matter was; she behaved like a whore with losers that weren’t fit to lick her feet.

‘They better not have licked her feet!’ he thought as a jealous wave washed over him, again. He got up from the bed, abruptly, stalked over to get a cigarette. While he smoked it, he watched her carefully.

She sat up, her pretty little dress now wrinkled beyond repair,about her. Another one of those priceless expressions was on her pretty face. One of those ‘what me lie?’ looks of hers.

“You don’t believe me?” she whined in stunned disbelief, her eyes wide in shock.

“Doesn’t matter,” he answered in his best dead calm tone. “All’s that matters is you’re with me now. And make no mistake, Princess. You’re going to stay with me.”

He stubbed out the cigarette and sat down on a chair without looking away from her.

“I’m going to be straight with you Buffy,” Spike sighed deeply as he leaned into her.

Buffy didn’t like the sound of this or the way he was looking at her; like a cat with a mouse. A very uneasy feeling began in the pit of her tummy and rose to her throat. She felt like she’d ‘lost’ something and wasn’t going to get it back anytime too soon.

“It’s a bitch when you lose your control, isn’t it, Princess,” he sneered at her with mock menace.

‘Damn him,’ she cringed, ‘he always knows what I’m thinking!’

“Because now I have it. You see that don’t you Princess?” he asked simply. “If you hadn’t come to me, willingly, I was going to use the information I had to blackmail you into my bed,” he told her his face emotionless.

“And,” he continued in that snarky tone she just detested, “if I’m capable of that, what makes you think I wouldn’t use it to keep you in my bed?”

There was that damn smug smirk again and Buffy felt like turning on the tears once more. Problem was, they wouldn’t necessarily work on William.

“What if I just go to Angel, William?” her bravado was slowly returning and she stuck her chin out in defiance. “What if I just go to him, tell him I know about Cordelia Chase?”

This caught his attention, he searched her face to see if she truly would call his bluff.

“What if,” she continued as she stood up, proud and tall (well at least as tall as a not quite 5’3” inch girl could) “I confessed what I did because of him and Cordy. What’s the worse he can do? Divorce me?”

‘There,’ she smirked now as she leaned over to grab her purse from the night stand, ‘that’ll shut him up!’

Before she could get to the door, William called out to her, “Buffy,” his voice was so serious, she had to turn and caught the worried look he gave her. He slowly walked over to her, “I don’t think ‘divorce’ is in Angel’s vocabulary. I’m afraid,” he continued, serious as a heart attack, “he’d do more then divorce you. And Buffy, he’d go after your three buddies, too.”

Buffy didn’t have a good come back for that one. William was implying that Angel wouldn’t divorce her, he’d see her dead first? Her and everybody else involved? Deep down in her heart and soul, she knew that William was not exagerating. Angel would have her killed if he found out, but probably only after making her watch everyone else die first. She finally saw just how dangerous her own husband and his tremendous ego really was; in fact she realized she didn’t even know him anymore.

Buffy was terrified, Spike could see that he had scared her eyes open about Angel, finally. Before she could say another word, he pointed to the bed and ordered her, “get naked and get back in bed now.”

She hesitated, but began to do as she was told, much to his inner relief. When she’d undressed she lay her little things on one of the chairs and crawled into bed and under the covers; her expression one of utter defeat.

A pang of remorse shot through his cold heart when she lay with her back to him. He ignored the pang, “I’m gonna’ have a smoke, then I’ll be there,” he said harshly and lit up a cigarette.

“Christ, but I need a drink,” he muttered and went to the honor bar for some real liquer.

Spike sat on the empty chair and smoked another cigarette while he finished off the whole bottle of Jack Daniels from the bar. It was one of those little ‘airline’ sized ones, so it wasn’t that much, really. At least that sounded like good reasoning to him.

He was tired and still slightly pissed off, but he wanted to give Buffy some space before he joined her in bed again. Finally, he tossed back the last gulp of whiskey and crawled back into bed, next to her.

She was feigning sleep, he knew it, no way she was asleep now. Although, he was sure she was as exhausted as he, no way could she be asleep after what went on earlier. That was good, because for what he was about to say, he needed her wide awake.

“Buffy,” he whispered; no answer. “Buffy, luv,” he tried again, except this time he jostled her gently with his right hand. “Listen to me,” he commanded softly.

“What?” she asked in a shaky voice, sorry her sleep act hadn’t fooled him. She never could fool ‘him.’

“I want you to get rid of them.”

Buffy rolled over and looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Who?” but she was more then sure of just who William meant.

“Cut them all loose, all three of them; the whelp, your lap dog, Harris and that prick Riley Finn. All of them.”

Before she could ask ‘how’ he placed his hand on her left cheek and kissed her forehead, almost tenderly. “As far as I’m concerned, my sweet, I own you now, and I don’t share what’s mine. You don’t need them anymore. I have an exclusive claim on you and I want them off your mind and out of your life, as soon as possible,” he ordered gruffly.

Buffy wasn’t really stunned, this was classic William in control of things. Frankly, she was relieved to have a solid reason to dump the others, even if it was to molify him. Things were getting complicated enough and now they were only going to get worse.

William had complete control of her now, she couldn’t fool herself; he held all the cards. She resigned herself to the fact that she ‘had’ to do what he told her. How or when exactly she was going to complete the breaking up parts with Connor, Xander and Riley was another matter. She would have to do some well thought out planning for that.

“Okay, William,” she sighed tiredly.

“Get some sleep, Princess,” he murmered as he ran his fingertips softly down her cheek to her neck.

“You’ll see,” he went on soothingly, “it’ll work out all right for us. I’ve got your back, sweetheart. I promise.”

He felt her began to relax as he gently rubbed her shoulders and back, pulling her closer into him.

Suddenly, “William,” her voice was tense, unsure, “I’m still married to Angel. I have to behave like a uhm, you know wife to him. What about Angel?”

Through clenched teeth Spike responded gruffly, “Well, I can’t do anything about Angel.” ‘At least not yet’ he told himself.


A/N: This chapter was waaayyy too long, sorry. But I had to get some things straightened before I continued. I hope I wrote Buffy a bit more sympathetically and didn’t write Spike too mean. I love Spike, but I love Spuffy more. Thanks, Spuf














































S

Chapter 16: ‘Wake Up To Breakup’


Buffy woke with a start and bolted up in the bed. She’d had a nightmare, not her first certainly, but it must have been a a horrific one. Her heart was thumping in her chest, only slow and heavy, but pounding so loudly that she could hear it in her own ears. An unfamiliar clock, above an unfamiliar faux fireplace mantel winked at her; 3:00 AM!

“Where, where am I?” she gasped, terrified.

“With me, luv,” came a British accent in the dark, “remember?”

Then she did begin to remember. Two warm arms wrapped around her, not Angel’s, that was for sure. This was ‘his,’ William’s arms; smaller, but somehow stronger arms that embraced her.

“What is it, Princess,” he cooed, concerned, “bad dream?” Buffy nodded against his chest as she clung to him like a frightened child.

“My daddy left again,” she whispered just like a little girl, “Hank, my daddy, he left mama and me, again.”

Spike clasped his vulnerable little bundle to him, as closely as he could.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he kissed the top of her head, “you’re safe, ‘I’m’ certainly not leaving.”

He felt her timid smile against his neck and truly hated himself for the harsh words he had spoken before. The threats, the tear inducing curses that had finally broken her and sent her back to their shared bed.

‘Jesus, Spike, you’re a real bastard,’ William taunted him. ‘I can’t lose her, not now,’ Spike hissed back at his softer, gentler alter ego.

Buffy snuggled into him, her warm breasts against his chest; her naked slim hips against his.

“I like it when you’re nice, William,” she murmered in his neck, “you remind me of my Will that I knew years ago.”



“Only for you, Princess,” he mumbled against her forehead, “I’m only that Will for you. You bring out the out the ‘ better side’ in me, Buffy, always have.”

She nuzzled into him even further, “Will,” she murmered, “will you sing to me. I know you like to sing and you have such a nice voice. Will you sing me back to sleep, please?”

Buffy sounded like a small child, even to herself and she hoped he wouldn’t chide her for it. He didn’t.

“Kay,” he answered, “I’ll sing for you Buffy. What do you want me to sing?”

With her eyes still half closed, she began to rock against him, “don’t care,” she giggled softly, “just sing something pretty, like you.”

(okay, I’m going out on a limb here, with a nod to the ‘Foo Fighters’ and a hey ya to David Groh)

Spike stroked Buffy’s head tenderly and began to sing so softly that it almost came out as a whisper:

‘Hello, I’ve waited here for you, Everlong
Tonight, I throw myself into and out of my head
Out of her head she sang’

‘Come down and waste away with me, down with me
Slow how, you wanted it to be, I’m over my head, out
Of her head she said’

‘And I wonder, when I sing along with you…if everything
could feel this real forever, if anything could ever be
this good again’

Breathe out, so I can breathe you in, hold you in; and
How I wanted to begin, out of my
Head, out of her head she sang

‘The only thing I’ll ever ask of you
You’ve got to promise not to stop when I say when,
She sang’

He noticed by the third stanza that Buffy had dropped off to sleep, her little soft kitten sounds echoed about them in the darkened room.

However, he couldn’t help himself, he just had to continue the song, whispering it into her ear as she slept. He only hoped that she somehow heard it in her sleep and knew how true those lyrics were, to him anyway.

Spike heard the music that came from the alarm clock on the end table next to the bed he shared with Buffy.

“Oh bloody hell,” he muttered, ‘Easy Listening music.” The alarm radio face show ‘7:00 AM’ and he realized that she would have to go soon. Her house staff would be back and she couldn’t possibly show up in that wrinkled little sundress in front of them.

“Fuck!” he groaned as he glanced over at her, his Buffy, with her honey blond hair fanned out on the pillow.

“She’s even beautiful in the morning,” he sighed, “all shagged out and tired from arguing.”

He snorted and shook his head, “you are truly fucked now, Spike Giles,” he told himself, “you’ll never, ever be able to let her go.”

Buffy woke up to William’s kisses on her forehead, her nose and finally her mouth

“I’m all icky, Will,” she whimpered, still half asleep. “I need to wash my teeth and my…oh my God!” she noticed the time on the clock. “I’ve got to go, William!” she cried frantically as she hopped out of bed and began to gather up her clothing.

“Stay,” she heard his whispered plea.

“Can’t,” she replied, almost reluctantly, “gotta’ get home. Maggie and Jenny are due back before 9:00 and I can’t sashay into my house like this.”

She slipped the little red sundress on quickly and sat to pull on her sandals.

“I have to go, Will,” she stated as she grabbed her purse. “It’s after 7:30 AM and by the time I get home to Sunnydale it’ll be almost 8:30. I can’t stay another minute.”

Buffy tried not to look at ‘him’ as she scurried about to collect her things. She had to get home. Although her house staff seemed to prefer her to Angel, she was sure she’d get more then a dissaproving look if she meandered into the Traver’s household wrinkled, beat out and looking totally ‘shagged’ this early in the morning.

When she’d gathered up her belongings, Buffy glanced back at William, still in bed, a look of abandonment on his face. “I have to go, William,” she said, “I’ve no choice, really I don’t.”

Spike got up from the bed, totally naked, like before and strode up to his lover.

“I know you have to go,” he murmered, “but I don’t have to like it.”

He kissed her forehead, again and drew her to him, “I want you to hear something, Buffy.” She looked up at him, wide eyed and attentive.

“You need to answer me, and make sure you understand where I’m coming from,” he told her. “First off,” he began, “let’s get it straight, I’m in control here, right?”

Yes, she nodded, wordlessly.

“Second, you are cutting those bloody jerks loose, immediately” Another nod from her. “Third, this thing between us,” he said firmly, “it’s far from over, understood?”

Buffy stared him straight in the eye, “yes, William, I understand.”

Before she could pull away, Spike buried his face into her soft hair, “see me tonight, Buffy.”

Although he worded it like a command, it came out like a plea and Buffy quickly responded with a shake of her head.

“I can’t, William, please don’t ask. If you want me to ‘cut them loose’ as you put it, I’ll have to do it tonight or tomorrow. Angel comes back Saturday night, remember?”

He nodded, he remembered all too well. She was right, as much as he wanted to see her, right away, she did have to figure out how to get rid of those morons and before Peaches blew back into town.

“Okay, Princess,” he sighed, “you’re right. You need some rest and time alone to put your house in order.”

Spike ‘was’ pretty sure Buffy was already making plans to kiss off all of the three amigos but he still felt let down about not seeing her that night.

Then a jealous thought struck him, ‘she better not be kissing any of those fucks!’

“You know,” he said, pondering something, “you could tell the ‘boys’ that you’re afraid that Angel is on to you. Wouldn’t be too far from the truth, luv.”

As he brushed her hair back from her face, he thought he saw a sadness in her eyes.

“Yeah,” she answered, “I’ll think about that.

“And Buffy,” he called out as she opened the door, “don’t be getting any ideas about a goodbye shag with any of them. Not even a kiss goodbye. Got it, cos’ I’m going to ask, know that.”

She didn’t even turn around to look at him, just nodded that she understood and whispered “Bye, Will,” and she was gone from the room.

Spike never felt more miserably alone in his entire life then at that moment.

Buffy sped along the highway that led back into Sunnydale. If she kept up her current speed, didn’t get stopped by a cop or highway patrolman, she’d be okay. With a a glance at the car radio clock, she saw that she had more then enough time to get home, strip off her clothes, start a load of laundry and jump in the shower before Maggie and Jenny got back from their day off.

“I can do this,” she chanted as she pulled into her driveway at precisely 8:30 AM. Without even locking her Camaro doors or checking the messages on her answering machine, she tore off her clothes and dumped them into the washing machine.

She ran, literally, up the stairs into her bathroom and turned on the shower.

After a quick shower, she toweled off and heard the voice of Maggie call out, “Mrs. We’re home.” With a sigh of relief, Buffy pulled on a silky robe and went down to greet her house servants.

After she welcomed home Maggie and Jenny, Buffy staggered upstairs to her room. She’d told both of the staff that she had the beginnings of a migraine and they were more then sympathetic.

“You need to get upstairs and into bed, Mrs.” Maggie advised, “we’ll get everything in order down here.”

Buffy lay in her marital bed, alone and feeling more then guilty for the last few hours she had spent with Will. Her private message machine blinked with three messages and she hit the listen button with reluctance.

“Hi, babe, it’s me,” boomed her husband’s voice on the tape. “I guess you’re still out with Willow and her snuggle buddy, Tara, huh? I won’t be home until Monday morning, now. Something’s come up. Catch ya’ later, luv ya, Ang.”

Frantically, Buffy listened for the day and time of her husband’s message: Thursday…8:30 PM.

“Something’s come up my ass,” she snorted, “I’ll just bet ‘something’s’ come up.”

Actually, she was relieved, Angel had called her last night, fairly early and she was more then covered. Even if he ever brought it up to Willow or Tara, which Buffy doubted, she was safe. No doubt the two women would cover for her. The only thing was, soon she’d have to explain herself to the two girlfriends, especiaclly if she continued to use them to cover her indiscretions.

“Make that indiscretion,” she corrected herself. After the edict by ‘William’ there would be no more plural in of the illicit affairs. Which, led her to ponder…how was she going to break off the ‘situations’ with Connor, Xander and Riley?

Actually, Riley was going to be the easiest, Buffy had no doubt about that. He was the same man/boy she’d known in High School; arrogant, egotistical and more then anything, afraid to rattle the status quo. With his wedding to Cordelia coming up soon, he would probably be relieved to cut any ties with Buffy, or anyone else for that matter. A simple cell phone call to him, and he’d be history; she was sure of that.

“Riley Finn,” she requested, all business like to the nameless secretary that answered his phone.

“Finn,” came the deep voice on the other end. “Hi, Riley, it’s Buffy Travers,” she stated lightly.

“Hey, Buff,” he sounded happy yet somewhat apprehensive. “Where you been, I thought maybe we could, you know, hook up again?”

“Oh, shit,” she hissed silently, then answered out loud, “uhm, I’ve been around.”

She tried hard to sound breezy and nonchalant, but there was an uncomfortable silence on the phone between them. Finally, she sighed and said, “Riley, we need to talk.”

If he was concerned, he did his best not to express it, but Buffy was sure she heard him mumble something like ‘shit’ or something like it.

“I mean,” she continued quickly, “I think we better call it quits, permantly, don’t you?”

If relief could be recorded and transferred by AT & T, then Riley would be imbedded in telephone history, right there with ‘Mr. Watson.’

“Wow,” he exclaimed somewhat stunned, “I mean, just like that?”

Buffy stifled a giggle, “just like that, Riley. I mean, you ‘are’ going to marry Cordy soon and I don’t think she’d like what we’ve been up to one bit, do you?”

Well, he couldn’t help but agree with that, so with mutual ‘take cares’ to each other; that was that.

Buffy clicked the off button on her cell phone and sighed in relief herself.

“That was easier then I thought,” she told herself. “I just hope Connor and Xander are that simple.”

Connor was supposed to come by on Saturday, their regular meeting time to ‘swim’ and spend quality time with each other. When he showed up, he was surprised to find the Traver’s staff apparently back from their Holidays, merely out on errands. He appeared even more surprised to be led to Buffy’s front living room to ‘talk.’

“Connor,” she began carefully as she handed him a Coke in the can, “I think we need to get some things cleared up.”

After Buffy had begun the ‘swan song’ her explainations became increasingly easier. Angel and her, were married and committed to each other. Connor and her, had been a foolish indiscretion that could ruin not only her own marriage but his relationship with Dawn. That is if anyone found out about it; which ‘could’ happen if they kept it going. This really got the young man’s attention.

“Okay, Buffy,” he responded, seemingly more concerned about getting caught then upset over their affair’s end.

“Yeah, I get it, Buffy,” he nodded slowly, not much expression in his voice or eyes.

Buffy patted Connor’s boney shoulder, regretting that she’d even brought him into this mess. Connor was a good kid, and this whole thing was her fault, she couldn’t fool herself.

“Oh, and Connor,” she continued, “I think you better call me Mrs. Travers, again, from now on. Especially in front of Angel, Dawn and pretty much everyone else.”

Apparently, the young man understood because he gave her a nod of agreement and stood up to leave. Young Connor recognized a dismissal when he saw one.

“Oh,” he turned at the door, “thanks, Mrs. Travers,” he smiled softly, “you know, for everything.”

If he was sad, he didn’t show it; he left the Travers household whistling some song Buffy had never heard before.

With Angel still out of town, Buffy had an extra day to plan for the ‘death blow’ of the Bander (yes I had to throw that moniker in here) affair. Xander was certainly going to be the hardest to deal with, she had no doubt about that either.

He was certainly going to be the most painful break, for her at least. Even though she had gone into these ‘affairs’ with a thirst for vengence on Angel, Cordy and anyone else involved; she still ‘knew’ that this was all wrong. Just wrong on so many levels and not really her, not the real Buffy Summers she had been raised as. Not anymore, anyway.

She knew Xander, if no one else involved, truly had feelings for her and breaking it off with him was not going to be pretty. As bad as she had felt about Connor, Buffy was even sorrier she ever got poor, sweet Xander involved in any of this God awful mess.

Buffy had called Xander at his construction company on Saturday morning. She used discretion, as always, and called him on his cell phone, however. He agreed, a little too easily for her taste, to come to her house on Sunday morning for brunch. On Saturday, before Maggie and Jenny left for their errands, Buffy informed them that she wouldn’t need them until Monday morning and encouraged them to go visit their families; not to bother to return home until Sunday night at the earliest.

If the two women suspected anything out of the ordinary, they said nothing; just accepted their employer’s generosity, once again, with thanks. Saturday night, alone in her and Angel’s bed, Buffy lay for hours and just thought about the next day. Xander would have to be handled gently; Buffy didn’t want to hurt him unnecessarily. The problem was, she knew no matter how tenderly she dealt with this break up, it wasn’t going to be painless for either of them. Even though she never loved Xander in that way, she did care for him deeply; just never how ‘he’ wanted her to.

At just past midnight, still unable to sleep, Buffy could swear she heard the sound of a Harley pass by her house. The engine seem to idle nearby.

“A Harley?” she asked out loud to the air, perplexed, “In this neighborhood?’

Sunday morning dawned clear and sunny, but even the lovely sunrise did little to brighten Buffy’s mood. She had lay awake, most of the night, trying to figure out just how to let Xander down in the most painless way possible. The problem was, she’d concluded, there was ‘no way’ to make it painless.

If Xander had been a stranger even, or even a mere acquaintance, it wouldn’t have mattered how or why she broke it off; but he was Xander for God’s sake. Her like second bestest friend in the entire world, for years? What the hell had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking, she also concluded by the time Xander rang the front door bell.

When Buffy opened the front door, it was apparent that Xander knew that the house staff was gone. He pushed through the door and swooped her off of her feet in a strong embrace.

Pulling her into a kiss, he groaned, “God Buff, I’ve missed you so much.”

Buffy felt physically ill. If she felt remorse before this, now she felt like a guilt ridden axe murderer.

“Xander,” she gasped, the air knocked out of her lungs, momentarily, by his bear hug, “put me down. We have to talk.”

She half pulled, half pushed away from him in the process. Xander looked confused, but he set her down gently on the couch in the living room; the same one their whole ‘affair’ had started on.

“What’s wrong, Buffy?” he stammered, “something’s wrong. What is it?”

That classic Xander Harris ‘puppy dog look’ in his eyes damn near did her in right there.

Buffy put her hand up in front of him, just to stop him from asking anymore questions.

“Don’t,” she ordered gently, not able to look him in the eye. “Just sit and listen, just for a sec, kay?”

When she finally got the strength to look at him she saw the concern and insecurity in his chocolate brown eyes.

“Xander,” she began, cautiously, “uhm, something’s happened. At least, I think it has,” she finished, daring another glance at him.

“Like what, Buffy?” he asked quietly.

“Well,” she began again, “I, uhm, have reason to think that Angel may suspect me of being involved with someone, you know?”

Xander looked terrified, for a moment, then he sat up straight and gave Buffy an ‘in charge’ kind of brave look. This ‘new man’ expression on Xander Harris would have been comical, if it hadn’t been to damn pathetic.

“Well,” he said slowly, “maybe that’s a good thing, Buffy. Yeah. It is a good thing,” he shot her a studly kind of grin. “It might make things easier, you know? You can tell him you want out of the marriage, it’s obvious that you’re not happy. We, you and me, can have a fresh start together! In LA, maybe!”

He looked at her, searching her face for some sign of encouragement or hope. Buffy stared back at him, dully, hoping that her dismal expression showed him that there was ‘no’ hope.

“Angel isn’t going to ‘go for it’ Xander,” she whipsered sadly, looking away from him.

“In fact, he’ll never allow me to leave. Actually,” she stared straight into those black, deep eyes, “he’ll see us both dead first. I mean before he ever lets me…..”

Xander jumped up from the couch and began to pace about like a nervous cat.

“Bullshit!” he cried, “we can go away together, Buffy. We can start up fresh, like I said before. Angel won’t find us and we can be you know, together.”

For all of his macho posturing, Xander’s last rambling rather petered out, pathetically and ended on a weak note.

“It’s over, Xander,” she stated in a quiet but firm tone.

Xander came back to the couch and just flopped down on it, next to her, totally defeated.

“So,” he muttered, “you won’t even try? Go to Angel, tell him that…..” his sentenced died off when he saw her shake her head slowly, “no,” she stated simply.

“I won’t go to him and hand him any ammunition against you, me or my marriage. Xander,” she turned to him, real tears trickled down her cheeks, “no matter what happened between you and me, I still love Angel and I do want to work out my marriage.”

He started to say something, but she shushed him with a finger to his lips, “you need to move on, Xand. Find someone who deserves you, it’s certainly not me.”

Something deep inside Buffy hoped that Willow might change her mind and return to Xander, though she doubted it.

“I better go, huh?” he asked in a shakey voice. Buffy could only nod, yes in response.

“Okay, Buffy,” he mumbled and stood up to leave. She braved a look into his eyes and saw some moisture there, “I’m sorry, Xander,” she whispered, “I’m truly sorry for everything.”

Xander nodded slowly, “I know Buffy, I just wish that we could maybe go someplace else, you and me, and you know, like I said.”

He sadly shook his head, “guess not, huh?” Buffy couldn’t look at him, but she shook her head to tell him ‘no’ once and for all. Before she could look at him, he’d reached the front door, “bye Buffy,” he choked out in a soft sob.

“Bye Xand,” she called back, her eyes closed.

When the door closed behind him, she allowed herself to curse William out loud, “damn you Spike!” she hissed, using his loathsome nickname, “right now I truly despise you!”

A/N: Okay, so I wrote Xander a bit sympathetically; I like Xander, just not with Buffy. Spike and Buffy belong together, really, but of course, you all must think that too, you’re here, right! Thanks, Spuf
































































































S

Chapter 17: ‘Beach Interlude’


After all of the drama of the past two days, Buffy just had to get out of her own house. Just get in her car and drive somewhere. So, now, after changing into a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, she grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and shoved them in her purse.

The Camaro purred all the way out to the shoreline of the Pacific. If she remembered right, there was a neat little hamburger stand just off the highway, a little north of the pier.

“Yup,” she giggled, “there it is.” She bought a huge hamburger, all the fixings and some fries, but no soda of any kind. The beer was still cold in her purse and she drove further up the coast to a place she recalled from childhood. Daddy used to bring her and her mom here during the summer. It was off the beaten track of the state beaches and near to some cliffs; there were tide pools close by. At least, there used to be.

Buffy pulled the Camaro over to the side of highway; grabbed the food and purse and scurried over the highway to the other side. It was almost sunset by now, the sky was a rainbow of pinks, blues and purples as the sun began it’s descent into the Pacific.

She pulled off her sandals and let her feet mush into the fine sand of the shore. The sand squeezed up between her red painted toes, still warm from the afternoon heat. It felt wonderful.

She had brought a beach towel, she always kept a clean one in the car and dropped it on the beach, close to the water. There was no one else in sight; she supposed because it was still fairly early in the season and the teens that inhabited the night hadn’t started coming out just yet. Or maybe it was because this particular place always seemed isolated and lonely. That’s why, even years earlier she had loved it so.

The hamburger was good, but hard to finish, especially since her tummy was pretty upset from all of the melodrama earlier in the day. Although she couldn’t finish her supper, she popped open a beer and half downed it in one or two gulps.

“Mmmmm,” she sighed as she half lay, half sat up on her elbows on the gaudy beach towel. The beer was cold and numbing, just the medicine she needed. It didn’t however, keep the vision of Xander’s brown eyes, showing his tears, his hurt, yes even ‘her’ betrayal.

“I’m sorry Xander,” she murmered as she watched the sun fall closer to the water, “I’m sorry I’m such a bitch. You deserved better treatment, especially from me. Please forgive me,” she whispered to the air.

Buffy took another swig from the bottle, momentarily forgetting what a lightweight she truly was when it came to alcohol. Whether it was the single beer, a figment of her imagination or really ‘nature’ at play, Buffy sat up abruptly when she spied some movement out a ways in the water.

“Dophins!” she cried enthusiastically, forgetting Xander, and everything else instantly.

“Freakin’ Dolphins!” There they were! Leaping out of the water, chasing each other in the waves.

She jumped up and practically danced around watching the display from the clowns of the sea. It looked like at least fifteen or so of the darling creatures frolicking about in the water and Buffy found herself weeping from the excitement of it. She hadn’t seen Dolphins since daddy had taken them to Sea World in San Diego, ages ago; those Dolphins were in tanks, these were free and wild.

“Damn!” she exclaimed with regret, “wish I had a camera!” The Dolphins were beautiful, gray, white and sleek. They leapt higher each time they came out of the water, and she swore she could hear their laughter from where she stood. However, it was only moments before they frolicked their way off down south and out of sight.

Buffy suddenly felt very sad and alone on the desolate beach and decided maybe it was time to go home. To what, she wasn’t sure, but she knew she needed to just get home.

“Maybe Maggie and/or Jenny will come home tonight,” she brightened up, “we can play gin or some other card game! Maybe watch some TV together!”

She began to collect her trash and things, but caught sight of a large pink cloud in the sky. It was just huge, fluffy and the color of cotton candy.

“Wow!” she cried happily, “that’s beautiful!” While she was watching the cloud saunter off south, after the Dolphins, she felt a chill and a series of tingles shoot up and down her arms.

“You sure are, Princess,” came William’s voice from behind her.

“Ohhh,” she groaned with a whine and roll of her eyes, “now my evening ‘is truly’ complete.”

Buffy spun around to confirm her worst fears, William had followed her to the beach! Before he could utter a word, she went on the offensive, “what the hell are you doing here!” she cried, throwing him a look to kill.

“Jesus, Princess,” he chuckled as he stepped nearer to her, “calm down, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Just came to make sure my girl was okay.”

She backed away from him to avoid his outstretched arms.

“I’m not your girl,” she said, bitterly, “I’m just your whore, remember?”

William’s jovial expression suddenly changed into a clenched jaw, his eyes became dangerous looking slits of golden fire.

“You,” he began in that deadly ‘stern Spike’ voice of his, “are not my whore. You,” he continued as he closed the distance, once again, between them, “are my lover, now.”

When he’d closed the distance between them, he pulled her body flush up against his own and tried, unsuccessfully to kiss her.

The little bitch actually pushed him away, again. Spike couldn’t believe it; she was rebuking, him, after everything that they’d talked about and done just two days earlier.

By the time he had pulled himself together, somewhat, Buffy was storming off in a huff down the beach towards her car. He stalked off after her, breaking into a run after she did. About twenty yards later, he literally tackled her to the ground and almost rolled them both into the cold, foamy water.

“Let me go,” she cried, pummeling his chest with her tiny fists. She was on top of him at first, but when he flipped her over onto her back and pinned her down, she gave up the struggle.

“Go away,” she sobbed softly, “I don’t want you here, William. I really can’t stand you right now so, please just leave me alone.”

She choked out the last part of the sentence while hot tears poured down her warm cheeks.

“No,” he stated, a mulish expression on his face, “not going anywhere.” Spike had followed her, but just to be sure she was okay and, ‘bloody hell; she was his girl!’

Buffy’s tears and rejection of him cut deeper then he cared to admit or show, so he covered his hurt with his patent defensive anger.

“What the fuck was Xander Harris doing at your house today?”

She looked at him as if he were a monster, insane or a bit of both, her face a mix of shock and anger.

“You’re still stalking me?” she asked, stunned.

“Never mind that,” he ordered, sternly, “just answer my question; what was Harris doing at your house today?”

A strong wave of jealousy washed over Spike as he thought, ‘if she gave him a goodbye shag or even a kiss, I swear to God I’ll hunt him down and rip his fucking throat out!’

“Answer me, Buffy,” he commanded, his eyes bore into her like lazers, no way was he going to let her out of this one.

“You, you told me to end it with them,” she stammered with a slight tremble, “that’s what I did. Xander, I had to see him, face-to-face, to say goodbye. You told me to. I did it.”

He noticed her voice sounded frightened, almost childish and he felt ashamed of himself for scaring her. He wanted to console her for some reason, but his baser nature again got the best of him and he continued his merciless interrogation.

Buffy watched Spike and knew he was ‘trying’ to reign in a jealous rage, but failing miserably. It would have been almost funny, if she hadn’t been so damned pissed at him. This ‘bastard’ had no business following her around like a damn bomb sniffing dog and that was exactly what he was doing.

He disengaged his arms from her, sat up and dug into his jacket for a cigarette, she assumed. Yes, he brought out a smoke and lit it, his hand shaking ever so slightly from some left over anger.

‘Why’s he so angry?’ she wondered as she followed suit and sat up slowly, ‘he’s the one told me to break it off with them?’

William never took his eyes off of her, just sat smoking, watching her intently, waiting for a more elaborate answer to his profane question, she presumed.

“You said to break it off, William. Like I said, I did,” she whispered, “I thought you wanted me to……”

He interjected hoarsely, “I wanted you to call him and break it off, not take him home give him a pity fuck, Buffy.”

She glared at him with a murderous look, but it was lost on him. At this time he wasn’t even looking at her, just staring out at the ocean.

“God,” she spat at him, “you really are an insecure bastard, aren’t you?” Now it was his turn to look shocked and betrayed.

“I did not ‘shag, fuck, kiss or even hug’ him goodbye, William,” she hissed, “I just kissed him off, like you said, but, I, I hurt him, Will.” One lone, silent tear betrayed her remorse as it slipped gently down her cheek. She followed his gaze out to the ocean and continued quietly, “I used him and hurt him. He truly cared about me. He cried,” she finished, totally ashamed of herself by now.

If she expected some tenderness or compassion, Buffy was sadly mistaken, instead, William turned on her, his face now burning red with rage, a look of murder in his eyes.

“You know better,” he growled as he grasped her wrists tightly, causing pain to shoot up her arms, "then to ever call me that bloody name!”

If looks could have killed, Buffy would have been dead, she just knew it. But instead of backing down, she raised her voice even louder and repeated the word again.

“Why shouldn’t I call you a bastard Will?” she hissed, smugly, “you really are, aren’t you?”

Spike took a deep breath and forced himself to not physically wipe that smug little expression right off of the bitch’s pretty face. He swallowed, hard, and looked evenly into her now emerald green eyes, “yeah, you’ve got me there, Princess,” he began, so calmly that it surprised even him, “and you’ve behaved like a true fucking whore lately, but you don’t see me calling you that, do you?”

He finished with a harsh mutter, but did not let loose of her wrists; just smirked at her evilly and this knocked the wind out of her sails a minute or two. Buffy looked away from him, red faced, the fresh tears began to silently fall down her face. She could only nod slightly, at first, but she finally found her voice.

“You’re right,” she whispered sadly, “you can’t help what happened between your mom and dad, wasn’t your fault. But me,” she shook her head and began to sob, “I could control becoming a whore, but I did it anyway.” She began to sob uncontrollably and buried her face into William’s firm chest.

“I’m so sorry, Will,” she choked out between sobs, “sorry I called you that name, I know how it hurts you. And like I said I’m still behaving like a whore, now I’m your whore. All’s I’ll ever be, I think.”

Her crys turned to wails as she literally wrapped herself in Will’s arms and burrowed into him. For his part, she finally noticed between sobs, he was doing his best to shush and comfort her, another big surprise in the last few days; Will could truly be compassionate.

He was mumbling something about her not being a whore, just sad and lonely, even a bit fucked up, but not a whore, especially not a whore to him.

“Buffy, luv,” he cooed as he pulled her chin up to face him, “let’s be honest, here,” he wiped some tears from her face and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Xander, the others,” he said softly, “you may have used them, but the truth is, they all knew you were married. They knew better, too. No one can put all of the blame on just you.”

Spike could feel and see that his comfort was having an affect on her. Buffy was visibly calming down, digesting his words and actually considering them. He was pleased with himself for many reasons. After all of those years, dancing around each other, the games, the bullshit, the harsh and snarky words to each other, Buffy was beginning to really ‘listen’ to him when he tried to be somehow positive with her.

It was hard for both of them, he knew that, to change the way they dealt with each other, but they just had to. This relationship depended on her forming a trust for him, even if it started kind of skewed in that respect. The opposite was true, also, he had to begin to trust her, even if it meant ‘making her’ come to him at first, any way he had to. Spike was confident enough to feel that his plan for Buffy and himself would work, even if it took a lifetime.

“Buffy, sweetheart,” he murmered as he ran his finger down her adorable nose gently, “you should see the color of your eyes!”

He caught himself in a near giggle, but it was funny. Her eyes were the color of a green eyed, pissed off cat that had just been woken up.

“You know,” he chuckled, cuddling her close to him, stroking her hair, “I’ve wondered for years, just what color your eyes really are.”

He swept his left hand over her forehead to lift the bangs from her damp eyes, “finally figured it out.” She half smiled up at him, curiosity getting the best of her, ‘yup, just like a cat,’ he chuckled inwardly.

“They’re the color of the sea, Buffy,” he told her with a quick kiss on her cheek. “You see,” he pointed out to the Pacific, “when you’re even slightly scared, your eyes are greyish or hazel. Like the ocean when a storm’s coming.”

Buffy looked out at the water and then back at him, her right eyebrow cocked up, puzzled. “Yeah,” he went on to explain, this time looking right in her eyes, “when you’re angry, or defensive, they get opaline green, like now. And Buffy,” he finished, huskily, “when you’re cummin’ they’re the color of emeralds.” Spike leaned into her mouth and kissed her lips, tenderly with his.

“Oh, Will. You always have known me best, haven’t you?” she whispered, her voice husky like his. Buffy just didn’t have any response to throw back at Will, he’d completely floored her once again. This guy was such a paradox, always had been, but it still never ceased to amaze her.

She knew, of course, about his poetic leanings. Even in High School, when she had been more privy to William’s inner most feelings and thoughts, she’d known, if no one else did. William Giles kept a journal; one that he ‘used’ to write in. Poetry, his thoughts and such, even some of his drawings were in that journal, ‘at least once’ she thought, with regret. She was pretty sure that ‘Spike’ hadn’t been writing in that journal in a long, long while; that his poetic nature had been dormant for some time.

“Buffy,” he murmered his eyes huge and indigo colored as they bore into her. “Yes, I have always known the real you, even if ‘you’ don’t. Or if no one else does, either,” he added quickly.

She nodded in agreement, “I suppose you’re right,” she finished with some reluctance.

“Buffy,” he mumbled shyly, “will you come home with me, tonight, please?”

Her heart jumped to her throat and once again she had to catch her breath and ponder exactly what she wanted. Part of her really did want to go, knowing it was past foolish, dangerously risky and completely stupid on her part.

The ‘sane’ Buffy decided instanly, however, that it was just not the right time, if it would ever be, for that step.

“I can’t,” she sighed, sincerely sorry, “my staff, they’re supposed to come home tonight. I just can’t, Will, it’s just too, you know, well, not the right thing. Not now, maybe not ever.”

He looked terribly dissapointed, but she noted he was ‘not angry’ with her and she was grateful for that.

William stood up, abruptly, and swooped her up from the sand in his arms. Before she could say a word or ask questions, he strode off with her to some rocks up against a rather large cliff. He sat down with her still in his arms; it always amazed her, how strong he was. Although he was not near as tall as Angel, or some other guys she knew, he was always the strong one, ‘in more ways then one,’ she thought ruefully.

Finally, he stood her on her feet, plopped himself down on the sand in front of a large rock and pulled her down into his lap. She watched in a daze while he unzipped her jeans and slipped them down her thighs, just enough to give him access to his apparent target, the crotch of her panties.

“What are you……” but she couldn’t finish, he stifled her question with another kiss.

“Just making ‘my lover’ feel good, sweetheart,” he purred into her ear. “I just want you to feel good, we don’t have to have sex, just want to make you feel special. Like you are, Princess.”

His words were so soft, gentle and enthralling that Buffy melted into his body. She buried her face into his neck and wrapped her arms about his shoulders. Will was doing some amazing things with his hand and fingers to her, down there and Buffy just allowed herself to concentrate on the wonderful feelings he was envoking in her.

“Like that?” he whispered into her ear, giving it a little nibble.

“Uh huh,” she purred back, her eyes half closed, her lips seperated just slightly. He kissed her mouth, almost chastely and she could feel his lips form a happy grin. Not a Spike smirk, but a real pleased William smile.

“See,” he whispered, huskily peppering her face with those lovely kisses, “I want my lover to cum for me and be happy. Because that’s what you are to me, Buffy. My lover.” His final statement ended anymore conversation about ‘that’ for the night and Buffy let herself float into an orgasm.

When she came, Spike properly pulled up her jeans and zipped them back up for her. Buffy seemed almost in a daze, he thought, secretly pleased with himself.

“Oh,” she whispered again, hazily, “I mean, is that it?” He laughed out loud, “for tonight anyway,” he responded, dropping another kiss on her forehead.

“No!” she cried, “I mean it was great, but I didn’t, I mean, I didn’t make ‘you’ happy, you know?” she asked with a blush.

“You always ‘do it’ for me, Princess,” he chuckled, “even when you don’t ‘do’ anything, okay?” She thought she understood, but she wasn’t sure.

“You mean, like I get you, you know, horny?” she asked shyly, bright red now.

“Yes, like I’m horny, and it’s okay, cos’ I know you’ll ‘take care of me next time. Like I said, I meant it, baby, I just wanted you to be ‘happy’ tonight. It’s enough somehow.”

She nodded, numbly, “okay, Will,” she giggled into his neck. “Thank you, Will,” she added, her little girl tone coming out again, “I do need to get home. Maggie and Jenny will probably be back any time now and I just can’t walk in and face them like this. You know, all ‘happy’ and all with Angel out of town.”

Spike could feel his face darken and his smile turn to a slow frown at the mention of that prick Angel. He changed the subject quickly, “when ‘can’ I see you Buffy?” he asked hopefully.

“I don’t know, Will,” she answered honestly, worrying her bottom lip with her blunt little white teeth. Although Angel’s name hung between them like a cloud, he noticed she didn’t mention ‘him’ again.

“I’ll have to see what I can work out. Is that okay?” she asked, peering at him anxiously and unsure.

All of him wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, “No! That’s not fucking okay. I’ll decide when you ‘can and will see me!’ But he decided to just shut his mouth for once and bide his time on this one. He honestly believed, right at that moment that Buffy would try her best to see him as soon as possible.


A/N: I had to write a scene where Buffy and Spike ‘got together’ without having actual, real down sex. I, unlike some of the ‘Powers That Be’ at ME have always felt and always will feel that Spuffy was much more then just sex. It had the potential to become and did for me, become in Season 7, an epic love affair. Anyway, I hope people are still reading this story. There will be few, if any more, Spuffy scenes without love making (notice I said love making? Buffy may be confused, but I’m not!) Please read and review, thanks. Luv, Spuf

Chapter 18: 'Working It Out'’


Angel got home from New York, as promised, early on Monday morning. He wondered into their house around 9:00 AM and Buffy tried to act excited about it. She was happy he was home, she was, but after everything that had happened in the last few days? She just couldn’t get that emotional over his appearance right now.

On one side, Buffy had a husband, who was probably screwing around on her with more then just one woman and as a wife, she felt betrayed and hurt. On the other side, she was basically being blackmailed by a sinister man into illicit sex; although it did help that said sinister blackmailer was extremely handsome, sexy and charming. Or maybe that wasn’t such a ‘help!’ As Yul Brenner would say in the ‘King And I’ “it is a puzzlement!”

Buffy made breakfast for Angel that morning herself, surprising half of the known world, she was sure. If anything was for sure in the Universe, it was for sure that Buffy did not cook, thus the hiring of Maggie. She hoped Angel wouldn’t think it too odd that his wife made his favorite breakfast; omelettes, toast and bacon, and might begin to really suspect something was amiss at home sweet home. But, he seemed genuinely pleased that she had gone to the trouble to fix all of his morning feast.

Apparently, William had convinced her husband that his darling wife, Buffy, was the epitome of married virtue and not to worry.

‘Score one for the home team’ she thought sarcastically to herself, as she poured another cup of coffee for her handsome husband. A guilty pang shot through her when she caught the adoring look in his eyes for her. ‘Remember,’ she told herself, ‘remember what he looked like screwing Cordy up against the Christmas gift you special ordered!’ That helped alleviate her guilt feelings, at least momentarily.

Angel, in an unprecedented move, decided to skip work for the rest of day and spend time at home with Buffy. It was going to be a very warm day and along with these surprising turn of events, he insisted that they take a swim together in the pool after breakfast. Buffy actually found herself looking forward to spending the early afternoon, on a weekday with her husband so she went upstairs to change into a bathing suit. When she emerged onto the patio, she found Angel lounging about on a lawn chair, wearing a pair of trunks that she’d lent to Connor once, when he was ‘coming around’ before.

A major ‘regret pain’ tore at her chest as she tried to look away from her husband and tried to forget how the trunks hung on the slim, innocent young Connor’s hips. Angel must have noticed her expression because he got a vexed look on his face and asked “what’s wrong, babe?”

“Nothing,” she answered lightly as she pushed the guilt down as fast as she could. “Just haven’t seen those trunks for a while, seems like they’re a bit big on you, honey.”

She thought this was a good cover and marveled that she could lie so easily, “you must be losing weight, I guess I’m just worried. Maybe you’re working too hard?”

Angel chuckled and shrugged, “yeah, guess I am working a little to much and too hard.” He grew quiet for a moment then stood up from the chair and walked over to her. “Buff, what say we go out to that swanky restaurant this weekend. You know the one up the coast you love so much? Just you and me?”

He reached out and ran his large hand down the side of her face, then pulled her close to him. Buffy could have just cried from the sweet gesture of her husband, but she caught herself.

“Yeah,” she mumbled softly, just before he kissed her, “I’d really like that Angel.”

Angel smiled, obviously ‘pleased with himself’ that Buffy was so ‘pleased with him.’ Before she could say anything more, he swooped her up in his arms and threw her unceremoniously into the cool water at the deep end of the pool, then jumped in after her. He swam underwater right up to her and picked her up from her knees. After he placed her, giggling and splashing the water after him, on his big shoulders.

“Put me down!” she screamed with laughter, “right now, Angel, I mean it!” But he continued to carry her around on his shoulders, continuously threatening to toss her backwards into the water. As much as Buffy enjoyed this horseplay together, it was a painful reminder of their early married days when they did tease and have fun together. Buffy missed that; apparently, so did Angel because he continued the silly play until she simply fell off of his shoulders from laughing so hard.

When she came up for air, Angel picked her back up in his beefy arms and carried her out of the pool straight into the pool room. In no time at all, they were both naked and her husband was actually taking time to make love to her on the comfortable bench.

Buffy tried to concentrate on what Angel was doing right then, but she kept having disturbing flashbacks of her and Connor in that same pool room just weeks earlier. That’s when it dawned on her; William must have gotten evidence from some source of her affair with Connor from this very room.

‘How?’ she wondered, a growing uneasiness in her tummy. Even more disturbing, at least at this point, was the fact that her blackmailing buddy may very well still have that ‘source’ planted somewhere in the building. And, the most disturbing thing of all? Why was she thinking about William at all? The answer? Buffy felt guilty, like she was ‘cheating’ on Will.

Spike lay in his massive bed, alone, jealous and miserable. He had gone about his business that Monday morning, intent on not thinking about Angel being back from New York. However, about noon, he couldn’t help but drive by the Traver’s house, just to check up on Buffy, and noticed that ‘dickhead’s’ black Mercedes was parked in the driveway; which told him that Peaches (his favorite nickname for Angel, besides the profane ones) had stayed home from work that day, with Buffy. Spike’s Buffy; his woman, not anyone elses, just his. Of course, the truth was Buffy ‘was’ married to Angel, not him, but…….

After he’d driven by their house, he drove to the nearest bar and proceeded to drink enough to feel better, but still be sober enough to drive home. At his apartment, which he usually really liked, he moped about for an hour before raiding his rather well stocked bar and drinking a pint of whiskey. All the while, he tried, without success, to block out the visuals of ‘his’ Buffy with ‘her’ husband having sex together.

“I hate that fuck!” he muttered as he stumbled from the bed, clad only in boxers and poured himself another straight drink. “He bloody waltz’s back into town and fucks my girl, like he has the right!”

If he’d been more sober, Spike would have seen the ridiculousness of the whole situation. After all, Angel and Buffy were married, whether ‘he’ Spike liked it or not; Angel did have the right to fuck Buffy.

“She just doesn’t have the right to fuck him!” he reasoned (or didn’t reason as the case may be). In any event, he was piss ass drunk, alone without Buffy and had no idea when he would see her again. “I’m so fucked!” he moaned just before he passed out on the couch.

Buffy and Angel went to bed early that night after an evening of good food, at home, and some DVDs. For the first time in months, Buffy felt at ease with her husband and had regained some hope that perhaps they could work their marriage out. Angel snored loudly beside her while she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling above them.

“Maybe we can work it out,” she pondered as she counted the ceiling tiles, trying to grow too weary to stay awake. “Maybe if I get pregnant, give Angel an heir and make the whole damn family proud for once. Maybe things can work out for the best?”

A nagging feeling, deep in her tummy, was working it’s way up into her chest and throat. ‘Will isn’t going to let this go that easy,’ she surmised as she glanced nervously at her husband asleep beside her. He’ll make this as difficult as possible; ego alone will push William into keeping me. It’s his nature.’

But there was more, Buffy realized that, William was obsessed with her, no question, and of all of the ‘destructive’ emotions in the world, excluding perhaps jealousy? Obsession was the strongest.

Spike woke up in an alcoholic daze at around 2:20 AM on Tuesday morning. “Buffy,” he groaned into the air. He got up, shakily from the couch where he’d fallen in a stupor and stumbled back to his bed. When he fell backwards into the mattress, he found himself staring right at the ‘picture’ on the wall of his bedroom. It was the only picture he had anywhere in his bedroom and it was of Buffy. Her hazel eyes were bright and huge as she stared into the photographer’s camera. The smile on her face reflected a simpler, happier time for Buffy. She was still only seventeen-years-old, her Senior picture, and she glowed with all of the promise that ‘their’ futures still held. Before all of that crap at the Delta Kai party, before Parker Abrams or college and eventually Angel; she was still William’s Princess Buffy.

This picture was the only one he had of her ‘solo’ and he treasured it, especially since he’d nicked it from Angel’s house at graduation. That he savored; made it all the sweeter. “Spike,” he sighed to himself, “you ‘are’ a pathetic bastard!”


A/N: A couple of ‘problems’ here. First off, when I originally wrote this story, I didn’t have Buffy feeling guilt or anything over Spike until much later. I think I wrote the ‘using’ stuff too soon, but I wanted to follow some kind of BTVS canon. I can’t feel too sorry for Angel as I’ve always thought he was self absorbed from the get go, my opinion only. Secondly, if you are reading this story, I’ve written Buffy into a corner, I’m sure of it so I’m going to have to tread carefully to get her out of it! Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

Chapter 19: ‘Pre-date Jitters’


Buffy woke up alone on Tuesday morning and frantically searched the room for Angel. He wasn’t there, but she heard the tell tale signs of the shower in the master bathroom. She sighed in relief that her husband hadn’t left for work yet, or maybe it was relief that he wasn’t still in bed with her? Even she wasn’t sure anymore.

By the time he was out of the shower, Buffy had risen and pulled on her favorite satin robe. Angel entered their bedroom half naked and whistling a jaunty tune. After he gave her a rather rakish grin, he pawed through his side of the walk in closet for an appropriate Tuesday ‘office’ suit.

“Did Jenny pick up the cleaning, Buff?” he asked, not bothering to look at her.

“Yeah,” she responded, absently, remembering the good old days when at least ‘she, Buffy’ got to do such simple things as picking up dry cleaning, attempting cooking, making love with her husband.

“I’ll be home early tonight, babe,” Angel informed her, “let’s go to dinner at Nino’s, I’m in the mood for Italian.”

Buffy nodded silently and slipped into the bathroom to draw a tub. When she lay down in the tepid water, she realized that Angel and her hadn’t shared a tub soak or a shower in well, forever. William and her had just showered together a few days ago. It struck Buffy that the shower that Will and her shared was more erotic then almost anything she and Angel had done, sexually, in ages.

Angel was gone to work by the time Buffy went downstairs, so she ate her toast and drank her coffee alone out on the veranda. Her mind was a swirling hub of visions and thoughts.

Buffy was filled with images of William and the things ‘they’ did together. The way Will looked at her, ‘took’ her (and of course, the way she let him take her), the way he sang that damn song to her, with her half asleep in his arms. The way he looked at her with those lazer blue eyes. Angel’s large brown eyes had ‘shut down’ years ago. They had become secretive and no longer mirrored his inner feelings or thoughts, at least not to her.

Will’s eyes were ice blue, clear and open in his feelings. The problem was, Buffy just never read those honest blue eyes before, not until now; when it was too late.

On an impulse, Buffy picked up her cordless phone and called Angel at work. She was almost ‘surprised’ when he actually took her call.

“Angel?” she mumbled. “Hi, honey,” he answered, warmly, “what’s up?”

Buffy took a deep breath and stumbled on, “I’d like to meet you for lunch, today. Can we?” Her heart seemed to thump up in Buffy’s throat, why she wasn’t sure. A part of her was afraid her own husband would say ‘no’ but the other braver part pushed forward. For some reason, Buffy just needed to be at Angel’s office today for lunch. Whatever the reason, Buffy was sure she needed to meet him there and just go somewhere together. Silly as it seemed, Buffy had a weird feeling that fate was pushing her to that damn office this very afternoon.

“Sure,” Angel answered simply, almost happily, “I’d like that Buff!” Something in Angel’s voice sounded ‘false’ but she shook it off and confirmed the time she’d be there.

Buffy pulled into the parking lot of her husband’s office building. She hadn’t been there since she ran into William the last time when he cornered her in the elevator. With a sigh of resignation, Buffy secured her ‘Baby’ the Camaro she loved so much, and punched the up botton of the parking structure elevator.

“I ‘can’ make this work,” she reassured herself. “I can get Angel back again, totally and we’ll be happy again.”

An alter ego Buffy voice, in the back of her mind, taunted her, “yeah, sure. You’ll do fine. Just cow tow to Angel, the Travers and give up yourself, Buffy. It’s in the bag! Sacrifice everything that was ‘Buffy Summers’ and all will be well!”

The annoying ‘voice’ kept it up: “don’t even think about catching Angel with Cordelia again, ain’t gonna’ happen, remember? She’s marrying Riley soon. It’ll be fine. Hey, even if he finds another snuggle bunny, you’ll deal, right? Hell, look at your life, your things, your possessions! You have it all girl, who cares if your husband is a cheating, lying, self absorbed son-of-a-bitch!”

This alter ego ‘voice’ was getting on Buffy’s nerves, definitely. “I haven’t exactly been an ‘angel’ myself,” she retorted defensively to the talky, invisible voice. ‘Talky’ didn’t have a comeback for that one.

Buffy sashayed into the outer waiting room of her husband’s office. If she was looking for a confrontation, like the last time, with Anya, she was sadly dissapointed. That new law clerk, Andrew, the one Buffy had pointed Anya to was on hand. He leaned over Angel’s receptionist’s desk, raptly listening to something Anya was telling him.

“And,” Anya was mumbling something softly, “I don’t care what they said about you in College, Drew (Drew?!), you’re not effeminent, okay? Honey, believe me!”

Anya finished with a wink. Buffy cleared her throat to announce her presence.

“Oh,” Anya, muttered, “Oh!” she cried out loud, pushing poor Andrew, albeit gently, from her desk. “Sorry Buffy,” the girl stammered, “I’ll ring you in.”

A warm, happy feeling bubbled up in Buffy. If Andrew and Anya had come to an understanding, so be it. She was happy for the both of them.

“That’s okay, Anya,” Buffy said magnanimously, “I’ll just go in myself.” With a smile to the couple, she showed herself into her husband’s office. Angel was busy scribbling something on a pad of paper before him and he barely acknowledged her.

“Uhm, Angel?” she started tentively. “Buffy!” he cried with true joy, “you’re early!” But he seemed pleased anyway.

“Where we going for lunch, Angel?” she asked as he slapped the pad of paper closed, shut his desk and locked it then stood to escort his wife out of the office.

“I thought we’d go to ‘Chani’s’” he answered. “We’ll have that great salad you love, french bread and a bottle of wine! What do you say, Buff?”

Buffy felt that pang of sadness and remorse shoot through her, he was trying, he really was. “That’s great,” she responded with mustered enthusiasm. “Can’t wait. It reminds me of the old days, in college.”

However, they ate their meal mostly in silence. When the tab came, Angel grabbed it, almost relieved to be through with the whole ordeal of lunch with his wife, so Buffy decided to broach the subject that had been on her mind since last night.

“Angel, honey,” she began quietly, “I was thinking.”

If her husband was wary, he hid it and just looked at her intently.

“I was thinking,” she forged on, “maybe we should consider a baby?”

Angel did not look happy. Nor did he look sad or even angry. Angel looked floored!

“Where in the hell did that come from?” he gasped, checking around to make sure no other restaurant patrons heard them.

“I don’t know,” she replied quickly, “just off the top of my head, I think.”

He gave her a patent Angel look; the one that said ‘I’m dealing with a mentally challenged five-year-old’, the one she hated with a passion.

“You know how dangerous you are when you ‘think’ babe,” he laughed, half-jokingly.

“I’m serious,” Buffy retorted stubbornly her chin jutted out in defiance.

“Buffy,” Angel began, his patient tone infuriating her, “you know that we’ve talked about this. No babies until ‘we are’ ready, both of us.”

Buffy shot him a pout, “I am ready,” she assured him, “and ‘I’ don’t recall really being a part of the discussion,” she finished.

“Well, I’m not ready,” he responded evenly, “not until I’ve been a full partner at the firm for at least a couple more years.”

‘Yada, yada, yada,’ Buffy echoed silently, bitterly. When Buffy tried to comeback with a good debate, Angel shut her down abruptly.

He waved his huge right hand at her and stated firmly, “end of discussion, Buff.” Buffy recognized a conversation dismissal when she saw one and promptly dropped the baby subject.

They rode back to his office, in his Mercedes, in silence.

Finally, “what time will you be home tonight?” she asked, almost indifferently.

“Around 5:00, I guess,” he answered with about as much enthusiasm.

“I’ll make reservations at Ninos,” she offered, too politely.

“Good,” he quipped. And that was the sum of their conversation.

Buffy couldn’t get out of his office fast enough. She flew past Anya (Andrew was still hanging about her desk) and exited the lobby into the hallway. Imagine her shock when she was grabbed by the arm (as gently as possible) and pulled into the nearest janitor’s closet.

“William!” she gasped at the the black clad figure that abducted her into the little room and bolted the door behind them.

“Hi, Princess,” is all he could say as he looked at her hungrily.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with a confused look on her pretty face.

“Checking in with Angel,” he mumbled, somewhat shame faced.

“Checking in?” she hissed, “you mean like, telling him about me? Us?”

Spike shook his head, then changed it to a nod. “I came to tell him that ‘our’ business, ‘Angel’s and mine’ it’s done. At least the business of you.”

He ran his fingers down her cheek, softly, but stopped at her chin when he saw that ‘look’ in her eyes. This was far past the ‘deer in headlights’ look. This Buffy look was one of betrayal, his betrayal, and it tore at his heart like a jagged knife.

“You came here to hurt me?” she whispered sadly, “to throw my stupidness at me, at my husband?”

‘No, never!’ he whispered hoarsely. No; he shook his head, firmly.

Spike had really come to end the business contract he’d set up with Angel about Buffy. He was going to give Angel his last report about Buffy, which would consist of nothing sensational, and end their little business dealings about her. Even more so, Spike had no intention of accepting the last payment from Angel for spying on his wife. He planned to use the fact that there was no dirt on Buffy Travers as a reason for not taking the final money installments. That should placate the great poof, Angel.

Something in Spike, some nobler instinct from his youth, the upbringing that Anne and Rupert Giles had given him would not allow him to take the balance of the money that Angel had offered him. That and more importantly, Spike’s feelings for Buffy. His very strong feelings for Buffy.

“Enjoy lunch?” he asked sarcastically, against his better judgement.

“Oh yeah,” she quipped back, nastily, “especially when my husband, you know, Angel, my husband, stuck his wet, hot tongue down my throat during dessert!”

Spike felt like pushing the little bitch up against the small room wall, ripping her panties off of her and fucking her into oblivion, but he pushed down his jealous impulse. He did however, push her up against the wall, not too hard though.

“You want me to go tell Angel about your little boy toys, Buffy?” he rasped as he held her up against the wall. “Want me to show him pictures, play tapes of your orgasms, however faked, with Xander Harris in his hot little car?”

He could feel his own jealous rage just radiate off of him as he stared into her gorgeous wide eyed green eyes.



William’s sneer made him look like a twisted, fallen angel and Buffy found herself shivering from fear. Or at least she wanted it to be fear. Sometimes, she wondered if she wasn’t as twisted and fallen as this platinum haired, blue eyed demon that she’d made a hellish pact with. Her thong suddenly felt tight and wet, but certainly not from fear.

“No,” she whispered, “please don’t tell Angel about any of it, Will, please.” She was ashamed of her frightened, weak, girlish voice, but she couldn’t help it, not right now anyway.

“I won’t, Buffy,” he whispered softly, stroking a long strand of hair from her face, “I’d lose you for sure then. I’m a romantic fool, not a complete imbecile.”

Buffy was at a loss as to just what William was trying to say to her. Sometimes she confused herself more then anyone else possibly could and it frustrated her to no end.

When Buffy dared another look at William, she was surprised to see a confused expression on his face. He visibly shook off the puzzlement and pinned her even tighter against the wall, “see me Thursday.”

Buffy knew an order when she heard one, but her difiant nature bucked the command and she shook her head in a definite no. “Can’t,” she said firmly, “Angel would get suspicious.”

William first looked hurt, then angry and through clenched teeth he said, “you sure as hell could meet Harris on some of those ‘golf’ Thursdays, couldn’t you?”

Buffy cursed Angel silently, “oh great,” she thought, “you give William Giles all the info he needs to spy on me and now he’s turning it against us both.”

Spike was more then pissed. Oh sure, Buffy could find time to fuck around with Xander Harris on Thursdays, when she was fucking him anyway, but she couldn’t make time for Spike?

‘Bullshit!’ he screamed to himself. “Meet me,” he ordered again, more firmly then before. He watched his sweet Buffy weigh out the pros and cons and almost sighed audibly when he read the final answer. She ‘would’ meet him. He could see that in her eyes.

“It’s risky,” she mumbled in a low, husky voice, “it’s real risky, William.” As if she had to tell him that?

“It’ll make it all the more exciting, luv,” he assured her with a kiss on her forehead. “Sides,” he continued seriously, “I told you; I’ve got your back, always.”

“Where? What time?” she asked mechanically.

“Remember that biker bar we used to sneak into in High School?” he asked her as he brushed more long strands of hair from her face.

She nodded reluctantly, “yeah, the one way out of town?”

His turn to nod. “Yeah, that one,” he confirmed, “just drive out there, Thursday afternoon. Try to be there by 5:00 PM, Princess. It’ll give us some time, I know Angel goes to golf right around 3:30 Pm or so, then doesn’t come home until after 10:00 PM.”

Buffy had to agree to this, William had done his homework, or maybe Angel had given him his schedule, who knew? “What is this, William?” she asked in disbelief, “a date?”

He chuckled and smirked, “why not a date?” She could only roll her eyes.

“We don’t have to go into the bar,” Spike assured her, “just meet outside and we’ll go somewhere.”

Buffy felt ‘odd’ about the ‘go somewhere’ but decided to keep her mouth shut about it for now, anyway. At this time, William had all of the cards in his hands, she didn’t. Hell, even Angel was dealing a full deck over her, but somewhere, somehow down the line? Buffy would take back control of her life, she just had to figure out how. There was something else, something that Buffy couldn’t quite put her finger on. She ‘thought’ it had something to do with William, but she just couldn’t put a name to it. Not at this time.

“I need to go, William,” she mumbled as she pulled away from him. “I need to go to my car and go home.”

Spike let loose of her, but not before placing a long, hard kiss on her lips. “Thursday,” he reasserted, “at 5:00 PM, no later. Please be there, Buffy,” he added. Then he was gone out of the tiny room. He headed into Angel’s office door, only stopping long enough to wipe Buffy’s lipstick from his mouth.

“I’d love to walk into that prick’s office with Buffy’s mark on me,” he chuckled as he opened the door. “Serves the pompous prick right. He doesn’t deserve her.” Spike had to wonder, briefly, as he strode into his nemesis, Angel’s office, if he himself deserved Buffy Summers.

Buffy kind of wandered through all day Wednesday and most of Thursday. If her husband was suspicious, he showed no signs of it. He played the respectful, loving husband and displayed no ‘problems’ in their marital life. Even the broached baby subject did not come into play in those two days, so on Thursday morning, when Angel toddled off to work, all was well, at least on the surface, at the Travers house.

“See you about 11:00 tonight,” Angel called back to her as he stepped out onto the back porch, “don’t wait up.”

She didn’t respond, just sat staring out the garden window, the one she had chosen. The little but expensive butcher block kitchen table (she’d also chosen) seemed awfully lonely this morning. Then she remembered, Maggie and Jenny had left for the day, wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. She was all alone in the big house.

“Well,” she sighed, “I won’t be alone for long, will I?”

Slowly she rose and went upstairs to take another shower and pick out her clothes for her ‘date’ with William. He’d mentioned something about her needing to wear jeans, God only knew what that meant.

“It’s just pre-date jitters,” she tried to convince herself. “Pre-date jitters! What the hell am I thinking?!”

For a brief moment, Buffy considered having a good stiff drink, even if it was before 10:00 AM. She shrugged off the urge and went ahead into the master bath to start the water. Buffy glanced in the full length mirror of her bed room, “you are truly a fucked up mess,” she told her reflection.


A/N: I shortened this chapter from the original. In the next chapter, Buffy and Spike will go on their ‘date.’ The ‘biker bar’ will appear again down the line, so please, if you read the next chapter, remember this place. Also, I’m going to try to incorporate a Buffy with more backbone in the next couple of chapters; at least where Angel is concerned.
Thanks, for reading, luv, Spuf

A/N: First off, thanks to everyone reading this fiction. Thanks to those who review, I know it’s hard to do that (for me to anyway). I’m really reading and considering the words the reviewers are posting. In this chapter, I have a ‘nod’ to ‘pj’ and that baby thingy!


Chapter 20: ‘The Date’


Buffy had no problem finding ‘Clem’s Bar’ even though it was way, way out of town down a small road off the highway. After all, when they were teenagers, the whole gang snuck into the place more then once. Of course, then it was called Jake’s or something, this Clem must have bought the place in the last few years.

“Leave it to William to remember this place,” she snorted ruefully while she scanned the radio for an audible station to listen to. She couldn’t believe her ears when she zeroed in on an old alternative music station that just happened to be playing the ‘Foo Fighters’ Everlong’ at the moment.

“Well,” she sighed and rolled her eyes, “isn’t that just special? Must be God’s little jest on me.”

While she’d been driving the last few miles, she thought about the baby conversation she’d had with Angel. It had been a mistake to even bring the maybe baby possibility up, she realized that now. Oh, Buffy wanted a baby, yes, very much, but she had to admit that at least some of her reasons for wanting a baby were selfish and unrealistic.

She absolutely knew, deep down that babies should be born to happy or at least stable couples. Not confused, discontented people who were struggling in unstable, unhappy relationships; like Angel and her. A baby would not fix their present problems, and nor should it be expected to.

Buffy and Angel had to fix their marriage, well before any baby made an appearance and helped complete their family unit. Right then, Buffy made a promise to herself not to bring up the baby subject again, at least not until Angel and her had repaired their broken marriage, and maybe not for a long time after that.

When she pulled into the crumbling parking lot of the bar, Buffy saw William right away. Fortunately, he wasn’t waiting inside for her; he sat propped up on that damn Harley, smoking a cigarette, as usual.

“Damn,” she mused, “sometimes he looks just like an angel.”

She giggled and purposely parked as far away from him as possible, “yeah, an angel alright, an angel from hell,” she muttered as she stepped out of the car.

William looked at his watch when he saw her pull in, she must have been close to on time, he didn’t frown.

“Hey,” he called approaching her, somewhat cautiously.

“Hi, Will,” she responded softly, ‘allowing’ him to put his hands on her. ‘How gentle he is,’ she marveled, briefly, ‘how tender and almost old-fashioned,’ courtly actually came to mind. Before he could kiss her, she pulled away quickly, “thanks for not making me meet you inside, William,” she nodded towards the old building.

He shrugged and gave her a small pout, apparently aware of the slight she’d given him by pulling away.

“So,” she mumbled without looking at him, “where are we going on this date?”

William pointed over to the Harley, “a picnic,” he answered simply, pulling her towards his motorcycle.

When they reached the red and black monster, Buffy flinched with fear, “I haven’t been on a motorcycle in forever,” she gasped, “William, I don’t know. What if……”

He didn’t let her finish, “it’s okay, Princess,” he chuckled, “I won’t let anything happen to you, promise.”

Buffy eyed the bike, nervously, “well, okay, if you say so, but what about helmets? We don’t have any?” There was no evidence of the protective helmets, so legally demanded in California.

“Buffy,” he whispered as he pulled her onto the bike, “you’re with me, I’ve got your back. I won’t let you fall off, get hurt or even be seen. I swear it, luv.”

She looked at him, the bike and the backpack and some kind of rolled up blanket tied to the very back of it. Buffy glanced at the bike, at William and then at the open road ahead of them, “let’s ride,” she said with determined defiance.

They did ride, down the highway, no helmets (let’s pretend this isn’t California, okay?), together for another few miles or so.

Spike was in heaven; at least his kind of heaven. Buffy was with him, her slim arms wrapped around his waist, tightly of course and she was actually laughing like a crazy, rebellious teenager again. Actually they were both laughing like those teens they had once been, years before and it made him delireously happy to just be with her like this.

When he suddenly turned off onto a dirt road, he felt her tense against his back and her hands grasp his waist even tighter. He placed his own large hand over both of her tiny ones and clasped them, reassuringly.

“God,” he thought tenderly, “she’s got such petite hands, but I know they’re strong, just like all of her. She’s just forgotten how strong she is for the last few years.”

They pulled up to their destination, a rather moderate body of water at the end of the tiny dirt road. It was too big to be called a pond and too small to be considered a lake, but Spike had discovered it years before, just after his friendship with Buffy had dissolved back in High School.

Buffy jumped off the stopped motorcycle and took in the ‘pond’ in disbelief. “I never knew this was out here, William,” she squealed with delight.

“Found it some time back,” he responded, “I’m not sure too many people know it’s here, Princess.”

Just the tiniest tinge of jealousy tingled in Buffy as she wondered who else Will had brought here. She dismissed the tinge and asked in a mischivous tone, “and just what other girl have you brought out here, Mr. Giles?”

He put the blanket out on the ground by some rocks and tossed the back pack on top of it before he answered evenly, “none, Buffy, you’re the only one.”

In her heart, Buffy knew he was telling the truth and for some puzzling reason, she was relieved that ‘she’ was the only female Will had shown this to. William plopped down on the blanket and motioned for her to sit with him. While he pulled some bread, cheese and what appeared to be a jug of wine out, he explained when and how he found this isolated marvel of nature.

“Came out here one night, alone,” he said matter of factly as he poured the wine in some paper cups. “We were Seniors in High School and I guess I was upset about something, you know?”

Buffy had a feeling what ‘that something’ was but wisely decided not to confirm it. He broke off some bread for her and handed her the brie he’d brought as he continued.

“I drove out here, pretty much blindly and a bit drunk. Stumbled onto this place, smoked a joint and stayed until dawn.” With a smirk and a shrug, he finished simply, “been here from time to time since. Always alone. That’s about it.”

Buffy just nodded and attacked her simple meal with relish, very hungry and a little tired after all of the rushing earlier.

“Sorry this isn’t more fancy, Princess,” he murmered across the blanket to her with a smile. “It’s not much, I know, but well you know ‘a jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou’ you know all that nonsense.

Buffy giggled, which caused him to blush uncontrollably. “Will, you really amaze me,” she laughed outright this time. Spike raised his left eyebrow, the scarred one, to inquire exactly how he amazed her. She set her wine cup down and looked at him square in the eye.

“You try to act like such a bad ass guy, all tough and stuff. But deep down you’re still the sensitive poet at heart. I mean,” she waved at the food and the scenery, “you bring me on a picnic for a date; set a feast and all and quote Omar Khayyam to me, all poeticy and stuff.”

He could feel his face get real hot and red from embarrassment, but Buffy quickly reassured him, “yes I remember Omar Khayyam, believe it or not and I think it’s sweet William, your spouting poetry, honest. I’m not making fun of you, okay?”

With a silent nod of his head, Spike downed his cup of wine.

To change the subject, quickly as possible, Spike asked Buffy how her mum, Joyce was.

“She’s okay, I think, anyway,” she answered quietly. “I haven’t even spoken to her in a long while. I need to talk to her, see her, really.” It was almost a whisper that he could barely hear. “She’s been seeing a nice guy, Ted’s his name, up in Santa Barbara. I don’t know if they’ll ever marry or anything, but I’m glad she has a companion. Someone to spend some quality time with, a real equal and all. He certainly seems to beat out my own dad that way,” she finished.

“Hank?” he questioned. “Still living with that secretary of his, Darla what’s her name.” She spoke no more of her dad, or mom.

Buffy looked at William, he seemed miles away even if he was only a few feet off from her on the blanket. “How is your mom, Will?” she asked.

“Okay,” he answered a bit too quickly. “Of course,” he continued, “she’s the one solely responsible for little Guinevere, now.”

Buffy dared a look at her companion, “how’s Drusilla,” she inquired, cautiously. She felt William flinch, rather then saw him do it, but he responded, almost too casually, “she’s the same, Buffy. No change there, not likely to be any either.”

Her heart jumped to her throat and she felt like a real bitch for bringing up William’s half sister, Drusilla.

“I’m sorry, William,” she mumbled, “I shouldn’t have……” but he interrupted, “it’s okay, Buffy. If anyone has any right to ask about my family, even Drusilla, it’s you and your mum, Joyce.”

Drusilla Giles had been the dark haired, apple of William’s stepdad’s, Rupert Giles, eyes. She had possessed a rare beauty, even in childhood that had naturally drawn people close to her. Buffy and her mom, Joyce Summers had been no exception. The younger Summer’s female, lacking a sibling of her own, quickly took to Dru, as the family called her, and looked on her as a little sister.

However, Drusilla had always been a bit ‘different’ then other girls. She was always fragile emotionally, but terribly talented, artistically. When the girl, a while after William and Buffy’s falling out, had developed into a talented violinist, Rupert and Anne Giles had enrolled her in the legendary Ethan Rayne’s music class.

Mr. Rayne was an old friend of the Giles’ family and everyone thought that this would be the course that would capitulate Drusilla into the world of fame and recognition. Hopefully, this would bring the girl out of her own Universe of visions and dreams that had plagued her all of her life.

Apparently, the Gile’s trust in Ethan Rayne had been misguided and he took a terrible advantage of Drusilla, seducing and litterally raping the girl before she was even eighteen-years-old.

Outside of the Giles’ family, only Buffy and her mother, Joyce were privy to all of the sordid details. Drusilla had conceived a child, a girl, she called Guinevere after the King Arthur tales she loved.

Rupert, William and even Joyce pursued justice for Drusilla against Ethan Rayne, with a vengence, and the man was sentenced to twenty years for statutory rape of a minor. Poor, fragile Drusilla never recovered and went into a tail spin of psychotic episodes. After Rupert Giles died, Anne, Will’s mother took her only daughter and granddaughter back to England to live.

“William,” Buffy mumbled, “I’m sorry about Drusilla, about Rupert and everything, always was sorry.”

Spike looked at her, then glanced away abrubtly, “it killed him, you know?” he shook his head sadly, “it killed poor old Rupert when Drusilla fell apart completely.”

Buffy couldn’t say anything, just stared off at the ‘pond’ and tried to think of something consoling to say.

“And, little Guin, Buffy,” he choked out, “she doesn’t even know that my poor sister is her real Mum. She thinks me Mum, Anne, is her Mummy and Drusilla is her odd auntie. Poor Dru can’t even be a mother to her.”

She watched him, her pain inflicted Will, carefully, when she asked the next question, “is that fucker, Rayne still in jail?”

William looked at her in disbelief, apparently stunned that she’d used that kind of language, “yeah, prick’ll be in jail for some time, I hope, anyway.”

Buffy shot him a malicious smile, “hope that fuck rots in prison, Will,” she hissed.

He could only smirk back at her, momentarily.

While he watched Buffy in a kind of stunned stupor, she literally crawled, like a cat, over to him. Her luscious arse was stuck up in the air as she slinked over to him across the blanket. When she reached him, she shimmied down onto his lap, burrowing herself into his crotch.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, even as he wrapped his arms about her body. “Life just isn’t fucking fair, William Giles,” she whispered in a silky voice, into his ear, which set off a multitude of tingles in his whole body. Buffy leaned over and kissed his mouth, a kiss that was mixed with passion and comfort.

“Buffy,” he rasped, “Buffy, what you do to me.” It was a statement more then a question; an unnecessary one, since the bulge in his jeans made it quite clear just exactly what ‘she’ did to him.


Spike was embarrassed by the tears he’d started to shed a few moments earlier, when they were discussing his mother, sister and his darling neice, Guinevere. If Buffy noticed them, she seemed to ignore them as she began to rock on him, making him harder then he had been.

William was watching her intently, his misty eyes were a cobalt blue and his cheeks were streaked with a lone, traitorous tear or two. Buffy pretended not to notice his tears, she began to stroke his face, neck and arm with her fingers, an overwhelming surge of compassion enveloped her.

He hadn’t worn that damn duster tonight, just a black tee shirt and black jeans, so when she allowed her hand to travel down his chest, to the pocket on his tee she felt it. The tell tale bulge of a condom in his tee shirt pocket.

“What a good boy,” she purred in his ear, “you remembered,” while she pulled out the rubber. She stood up abruptly and pulled her jeans down off of her hips and legs, dismissing any fear of a passerby stumbling on them, not in this isolated spot.

She bent over and unzipped Will’s jeans, quickly then settled onto his knees, “put this on,” she commanded, handing him the condom. He obeyed, of course, but his face was a mix of confusion, desire and curiosity.

“Buffy,” he stammered, “we don’t have to…..” She shook her head, defiantly, “yes we do,” she insisted.

Buffy whispered in his ear, “yes we do,” and Spike’s control just fell to pieces.

“Please, Buffy,” he whimpered, “just please do it.”

She lowered herself onto him, agonizingly slowly, tortuously inching herself down on him. “Like that?” she purred in his ear.

“Oh, God, yes,” he gasped, “just like that.” Spike was afraid, terribly afraid because he knew he wouldn’t last long, not with his Buffy doing what she was doing. He wanted to last, wanted to last forever, just to please her and help her be happy, as much as he could anyway.

Buffy lowered herself onto William, slowly, sure and steady. What had started as a show of compassion was quickly turning into an act of empowerment. Her empowerment. She felt an overwhelming, all encompassing sense of power that she had not felt in years, or maybe never.

As she rode Will, up and down, back and forth, side to side, she experienced such a feminine power over him that was so intoxicating that it surpassed a drug high (or what she remembered of a drug high from college). This was Buffy at her best, sexually; not out for revenge; not out for mere self pleasure or the pleasure of her partner.

This was Buffy the consoler, the great healer of the this scarred man underneath her, completely and utterly in control. Because, William was not only scarred physically, he was scarred even more so, emotionally and mentally.

Buffy was going to make it better and right now, this was the way to accomplish that. “How’s that, Will?” she asked huskily, “like it?”

Spike was truly lost in this, Buffy was riding him, tenderly, yes, but so sure, so confident in herself. It made him feel both weak and strong at the same time and he was losing control, rapidly.

“I won’t last long, luv,” he gasped, “not if you keep that up.”

She actually licked his cheeks, licked the remnants of his warm tears, “don’t care,” she murmered, “I want you to cum, fast and hard. Do that for me, Will,” she ordered.

He kissed her pretty mouth, wrapped his hands around her slim hips and helped her pump up and down on his crotch, “anything you say my beauty,” he panted.

“Good boy,” she purred again, “that’s my good boy.” Too soon he began to feel the tenseness in his balls, warning him that it wouldn’t be much longer until he came.

“Buffy,” he whimpered, “Buffy I want you, want you so much. It’s all I think about. All I can ever think about anymore, being here with you, like this,” he rambled on, feeling a bit foolish, but unable to control his words. “Oh God, Buffy, I want you, I need you too, always!” he cried out loudly as he came with a force that surprised them both.

William slouched back against the rock he had been laying against after he came. Buffy rubbed herself against him for a minute or so longer and came with a shiver, then collapsed against him.

They lay there, wrapped around each other for minutes, not saying anything, just basking in the afterglow of their orgasms, their sweat intermingled. She had buried her head into his neck, savoring the musky scent of his skin, unable to stop herself from licking his sweat, sensuously.

In all of her life, she’d never felt such abandon in her sensuality; almost as if she found the control she’d lacked for so long. It was not only exilerating, it was liberating and she relished it.

“Fuck Buffy,” he groaned into her ear, “that was bloody amazing! Thank you, Princess,” he whispered, “thank you, thank you for that.”

She felt him shiver now; in pleasure, gratitude or even maybe fear, she wasn’t sure, but it filled her once again with a sense of feminine power.

“I do this to him,” she thought proudly, “I cause him to feel this way.”

Later, after they had both calmed down somewhat and he’d discarded the cumbersome condom, they lay on the blanket and looked up at the dark sky above them. Their hands entwined together,

“That’s Andromeda,” William was saying, “she was Perseus’s lover in Greek mythology, remember, Buffy?”

She nodded and pointed up at another set of stars, “what’s that one, Will?” she asked curisously. “The North Star, luv,” he chuckled, “come on now, you must know that one. If you’re ever lost, just follow that one, you’ll find your way home.”

Buffy smiled at him shyly and sighed with contentment. “Oh shit!” she suddenly sat up, “it’s got to be really late, Will! I’ve got to go!” Sure enough her rolex blinked 8:30 PM tauntingly.

“Oh damn!” she cried, we have to get back William, I’ve got to get home. Angel’ll be home before 11:00!” He nodded, reluctantly and began to help her pack up the blanket and remnants of their supper.

Once they got back to her car at Clem’s, she hurried into it and reved the motor. William followed her home, at least as close as he could get without following her right up her driveway. With a wave, at the end of her block, he turned off to go home.

Buffy took a quick shower, thankful that Maggie and Jenny were off tonight and crawled into her king sized bed. She thought about the events of earlier in the evening and pondered her own actions. Not only had she felt self empowered for the first time in years, she was a little more then ‘hot and bothered’ by the memory of the things William and her had whispered to each other and had done together.

A part of her was anxious for Angel to get home; the other part feared the duplicity that might occur if her husband came home and tried to claim his marital rights. After the ‘sensuous encounter’ she and William had had, sex with her own husband, tonight, seemed almost obscene. Fortunately, around 11:30 PM, when Angel screeched into the back driveway, Buffy realized that he was more then too drunk to ‘claim’ anything from her that night.

Spike lay in his bed, looking at Buffy’s picture on his bedroom wall.

“If that fucking prick comes home and shags her,” he hissed, “I’ll just wanna’ rip his throat out and shove it up his arse!”

His jealousy over Buffy scared him sometimes, but he supposed that whole thing was moot; she knew the truth now. Knew she was his weakness; her power over him was out of the bag and he really was not sorry about that. After all, with a woman like Buffy, her feminine power could be capable of making a man like himself strong, even a better person, maybe.

“Buffy,” he whispered at her picture, “I swear to God I’ll get Angel out of both of lives someday. Short of murder, I’ll do it.” Spike just hadn’t figured out how to do it, yet.


A/N: Okay, another long chapter, sorry. This was actually one ‘really, really long’ chapter, but I divided it into two shorter ones. Hope you are all still reading my story, in the next chapter, Buffy ‘will’ hopefully stand up to Angel a bit more.
Thanks, luv, Spuf

Chapter 21: ‘Rockin’ The Boat’


Angel, for once, did not work, travel or avoid Buffy on the weekend. They actually went out to that nice restaurant, up the coast, that she loved so. The Grotto was it’s name.

Buffy was pretty impressed with Angel, actually, he was more attentive then he’d been in months; taking time to open doors for her, seat her himself instead of allowing the Maitre’d to do it. He actually ‘listened’ to her for once, seemingly enjoying even her political debates with him and everything.

She couldn’t have been more surprised and enjoyed the ‘old Angel’ immensely. Even so, thoughts of William crept into her mind from time to time, stealing up on her at the oddest moments.

After a lovely weekend with her husband, Buffy was more determined then ever to try and fix their marriage, hoping against hope that when it was time to let Will go, he’d accept graciously and just ‘go.’

“Yeah,” she mused, “that’s gonna’ happen.”

On a whim, she picked up the nearest phone in the house and said in her best ‘valley girl voice’ to no one, of course: “hello, Hell? This is Buffy, heard the temperature’s dropped to 30 below down there.”

It was Monday, Angel had left for work just about an hour before and she decided to take advantage of the gorgeous Sunnydale, CA morning. She jumped into her Camaro and headed out to the beach, just to walk along the pier and maybe have a soda or something.

When she got to the almost empty beach parking lot, she realized that it was only the start of June and the local kids were still in school. Of course other folks, working ones, were where they were supposed to be, at work.

“No wonder I’m so out of it,” she sighed sadly, “I don’t have kids, don’t work. God, I don’t ‘do’ much of anything, do I?”

Buffy had forgotten to turn off her cell phone and the annoying little tune that Angel had programmed for her sounded shrilly. She reluctantly answered, thinking it might be her husband, but it wasn’t, it was William.

“Hi,” he said simply. “Hi, Will,” she answered rather at a loss for anything to say.

“Whatcha’ doin’ Princess?” he asked warmly.

“Nothing,” she replied quickly; she so did not need William showing up right about now to ‘see her.’

“I hear the ocean, luv. Unless you’re watching a Jacques Cousteau special, I’m guessing you’re at the seaside, right?”

She nodded, absently, which was pretty dense, really, unless he could actually ‘see’ through the phone lines. Which, she was pretty sure even ‘he’ couldn’t do that.

Before he could offer to meet her, she blurted, “I’m meeting someone for a late breakfast!”

The other end of the line went deadly silent then he asked, evenly, “who?”

Buffy scrambled about in her mind to come up with someone, fast, someone acceptable to him.

“Willow!” she shouted a bit too loudly, “I’m having breakfast/lunch, I mean, a late breakfast/early lunch with Willow. She’s off of work today, so we’re meeting up. Never see her too much anymore, you know, since Tara came along and all.”

William seemed to buy this explaination, surprisingly. “Have fun, then, luv,” he told her softly, then asked about this coming Thursday.

“Yeah,” she stammered, relieved that he bought her story, “we’ll work something out, kay, Will? I’ll call you Wednesday and make plans.”

This seemed to placate him and he said tenderly, “I miss you Buffy.”

She really went into panic mode at that and shouted, “the line’s breaking up, I have to go. Call you Wednesday.” Buffy clicked off the phone and tossed it back into her large tote bag. “Oh, shit,” she muttered in exasperation as she pulled the darn thing out again.

Dialing Willow’s home number quickly, she thought to herself, “I hope Wills is really off today and can meet me here, like now. I just can’t tell big ‘lies’ to William.” Too much duplicity, even in Buffy Travers screwed up life, had it’s limits.

On Tuesday morning, before he left for work, Angel mentioned going to the Country Club for dinner on Friday night, just the two of them. No other couples, no business meeting crap, just them out for dinner and maybe a dance or two.

Then, he had added that maybe they could run up to his Dad’s cabin at the lake early on Saturday morning.

“Stay until Sunday night, you know. What do you say, babe?” he asked. Buffy quickly agreed to it, happy that Angel seemed to be really trying to make time for her and their marriage. Although it was only Tuesday, she began to plan what she would wear, what time they’d go, what they would take on their getaway, etc. She found herself actually getting excited about a simple night out with her husband and a long put off trip to the lake.

Tuesday night went well for Angel and Buffy. They ate dinner, laughed a bit, had some wine. It reminded her of the old days when they were first married and she felt more confident that they could fix their problems, despite all of the obstacles that surrounded them. Around 10:30 PM, while they lay in bed, snuggled together, just talking, for now, Angel got a call on his private line.

“Yeah,” he answered, curtly, clearly perturbed to be bothered while he was conversing with his wife. “Dawn, for God’s sake, calm down,” she heard him mutter, sternly. “Yes, I get it, I know, yes. We’ll talk tomorrow morning, now just stay away from mom and go to bed!”

Buffy looked at him, “what’s wrong with Dawn?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

“Oh, nothing,” he responded off handedly, “I’ll talk to Dawnie tomorrow and then you and I will discuss it. She’s not even eighteen yet, you know? She’s being a little bitch, typical really.” Well, yes, Dawn could be a bitch, a real big one, but for some reason her husband’s statement about his sister bothered her.

The next morning, Buffy and Angel sat at the breakfast table. He had talked to Dawn a little earlier on the phone and seemed unusually quieter then he’d been in days.

“Angel, is Dawn alright?” she asked carefully.

“Oh, her and mom are at each other’s throats again,” he answered in frustration. “Dawnie wants to go to Dad’s, down in LA for a while, just til’ things cool off here at home.”

Buffy felt an uneasy feeling begin in the pit of her stomach and make it’s way up into her throat.

“Well,” she said slowly, “maybe that would be good, for a while anyway, don’t you think?”

Angel nodded his head then cleared his throat, “thing is Buff,” he stammered, “Dawnie wants me to take her there, tonight, actually."

She glanced up at him, he seemed concerned enough, earnest enough, “well, maybe you should take her, Angel. You could go, drop her off and head right back home?” she offered, hopefully, not wanting to ‘rock the boat.’

“It’s not that simple, babe,” he responded, concentrating on his oatmeal, “I think maybe ‘we’ better go with Dawnie, stay a few days and kind of smooth the waves down there for her. With Dad and all.”

He looked at her, trying to read her expression, she could tell. “Oh,” she whispered, not looking at him.

“I mean,” he continued, “I have business I can handle in LA; you can shop in the big city. I’ll swing some clubs with Dad this weekend. It could be kind of fun, don’t you think, Buff?”

She felt a small wave of outrage begin to flow up into her throat; her husband was well aware of how uncomfortable she was with Frank Travers.

“Can’t you just drop Dawn off, Angel?” she asked, “I mean, you know how your Dad feels about me? He can’t stand me.”

Angel slammed his spoon down on the table, startling her and causing her to jump. “You know, Buffy,” he said harshly, his face hard, “I’m a little tired of this ‘poor me’ crap with you. My father does not hate you, period.”

Buffy felt the hair on the back of her neck rise and thought ‘to hell with rockin’ the boat!’ “You know what?” she hissed back, “you’re right. Your ‘Daddy’ doesn’t hate me; I don’t exist to him. In fact, I don’t register on the Frank Travers’ radar screen, at all!”

He didn’t have a retort for that, she noticed, at least not for about a minute or two.

“Well,” he started slowly, measuring the words of his reply, “you certainly were not my folks first choice in a wife for me, Buff. That’s not really big news. But, they have come to grips with our marriage, at least. After all, you weren’t the #1 deb of Sunnydale they hoped I’d marry, now were you?”

Buffy wanted to slap him! Just reach over the table and knock the smug shit eating grin right off of his face.

“They’ve come to grips with our marriage!” she cried out, stunned by his audacity. “How ‘diplomatic’ of your ‘folks’ that is,” she quipped sarcastically.

“Buffy,” he sighed, “you have to get over the fact that you just came from the wrong side of the tracks and ‘made’ real good. Get over it! I have!”

This was a direct order, she could tell and it rankled more then any of the bull he’d spouted off a few moments before.

“You pompous ass!” she hissed at her husband. “Get over this. I’m not going to LA with you and Dawn. Not to your dad’s, where I’m treated like a social disease by him and his latest mistress or looked down her lousy nose job by your brat of a sister, Dawnie dearest!”

Angel looked at her in disbelief. Almost as if someone had told him that his father, Frank Travers, had voted a straight Democratic ticket in the last State election!

“You have to go, Buffy,” he said through clenched teeth. “Like I said, you can go shopping in some ‘real’ stores, take Dawnie to Rodeo Drive. We’ll catch a play at the Schubert, but you ‘are’ going. End of conversation.”

Buffy threw her nice, cloth napkin down on the table and stormed out of the kitchen into the dining room. There she ran smack dab into a red faced Maggie, who apparently had heard some of the conversation in the kitchen.

Without so much as a how do you do, Maggie whispered conspiratorily to Buffy, “stand your ground, maam,” then slipped back into another room.

“Oh, I’ll stand my ground, alright,” Buffy mumbled harshly.

Buffy felt Angel enter the living room, about thirty minutes after she had plopped down on the expensive sofa in there.

“Buffy,” he called to her, calmly enough, “I’m packed and ready to go. You go upstairs and pack yourself a small bag, quickly. We need to pick Dawnie up in less then a half hour.”

As if he had to rub her nose in it, Angel sat his large Armani overnight bag down next to the sofa. She didn’t answer him, just continued to flip through some stupid magazine she’d found on the coffee table.

“Buffy,” he sighed, the growing agitation in his voice was more apparent, “go upstairs and get packed. We’re leaving, now.”

With a firm shake of her head ‘NO’ Buffy tossed the magazine back on the table.

“Buffy,” he muttered impatiently, “you are ‘my wife’ and you are going with me to my Fathers. It’s not real becoming of you to disrespect me or my Dad this way, babe. You know better then this. Family comes first with us Travers and if this is about the damn lake thing. We’ll go another time!”

Again, Buffy could just stare at him in shocked disbelief. “Not becoming of me?” she gasped wide-eyed. “Disrespectful of you, and your Dad? Oh that is rich!” she chuckled. “When has your father ever respected me or mine, Angel? And apparently, the apple of disrespect does not fall far from the tree! And family first, honey! Oh pulease!”

Angel gave her that ‘now what the hell does that mean?’ look of his.

She stood up, turned her back to him and laughed loudly, “let’s talk ‘disrespect’ shall we Angel?” He swore softly but she didn’t let it stop her; she was on a roll.

“Your Sainted Father, Frank Travers, moves to LA and proceeds to take up with every kind of bimbo the city has to offer. Is that respecting your mother, Angel?” She was looking at him with what she was sure was a very smug expression on her face.

“Oh, and,” she continued, “how about you guys, you and darling little Dawnie? You run off to Daddy every time things get a bit rough around here for both of you. A man who couldn’t even stick around long enough to actually help ‘raise’ his daughter? But keeps his wife tied to him legally in a sham of a marriage? Talk about a slap in the face to your own mother!”

It was Angel’s turn to look smug, “just because your own mother jumped the marriage ship the minute things got rough, Buffy. I wouldn’t throw stones if I were you.”

Buffy strode closer to Angel, “do not even go there, Angel Travers,” she hissed at him. “Just because my mother had the guts and the self esteem to divorce my dad when she caught him screwing around on her; and yours didn’t? Don’t push me, or this matter Angel. Not if you know what’s good for you!”

By this time, Buffy and Angel were practically circling each other; like a couple of predatory wolves in the wild. It was kind of ironic really, because something that Angel may have forgotten, or never knew at all? In nature, it’s the ‘Alpha Female’ wolf that rules the pack.

“I’m not going, Angel,” Buffy confirmed with a growl, “that’s final. You go, run your brat little sister down to Daddy’s in LA. Go kiss his and his most recent bimbette’s butt while you’re down there, too. You know the one he’s shacking up with now? What’s her name? Sushimi, Tofutti? I can’t keep track of them anymore.”

Angel looked like he could commit murder right about now, but Buffy would not back down from this, not this time. “You know Buff,” he snapped back at her, snidely, “you better get to a doctor, I think you might be going through early menopause or something. You’re acting like a real whack job lately and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why!”

He finished his remarks in a high pitched yell that could probably be heard in the next county, or at least the next block. However, Buffy was past caring anymore. At least for now.

“Oh, that’s right,” she hissed in response, “blame my being opinionated or outspoken on some female hormonal thing! That’s so like you Travers men, isn’t it? A woman actually speaks up for herself, or shares her true feelings and you guys go all Neandrathal on us and think we’re having female problems! Geez! I give up!” she shouted and stormed past him in a huff.

Angel grabbed her arm, non too gently, “you never complained about me or our marriage before, Buffy,” he glared down at her, “not like this, anyway.” The loudness in his voice had lessened, thankfully, so she decided to follow his suit and try to calm herself down a bit.

“No, Angel,” she began evenly but with a glare to match his, “but I should have complained before this, long before this.”

Angel seemed to ponder this last statement, briefly and let go of her arm. With a shrug, he turned around and grabbed his lone suitcase from next to the living room couch.

“What are you going to do with yourself while I’m gone to kill time, Buff? Get another pedicure, or two? Or three?” His voice was quiet, but his tone was downright snarky.

“I’m probably going to have dinner with Willow and Tara, hang with them for a day or two,” she mumbled softly, not even looking at him. “I don’t know, but probably that, anyway.”

He sighed loudly, “you sure spend a lot of time with those two…..I’m beginning to get concerned, Buff, you know?”

If looks could kill, Angel Travers would be struck dead, instantly, right where he stood.

“How dare you!” Buffy hissed as she closed the gap between them. “How dare you even imply anything like that about me and my good friends!” She was livid and stood up to her full 5’2” heigth until their faces were just inches apart from each other.

“Willow and Tara are in love with each other. They have a mutually respectful relationship and are equal partners. Something sadly missing from most of the other marriages, relationships and situations going on in this one horse town!”

To his credit, Angel ‘did’ look ashamed of himself. The truth was, Buffy had no intention of doing ‘anything’ while he was gone, except maybe catch up on some reading, alone; and definitely doing a lot of thinking, alone.

“Just go, Angel,” she muttered shaking her head. “Just go pick up your sister and get the hell out of here. I can’t take your presence right now, not anywhere near me. Besides, you’re already fifteen minutes late to your mom’s aren’t you? I’m sure Dawnie dearest has already upped the whine level to a ‘red alert’ and may even be heading into hysterics by now. Frankly,” she added, “I don’t want poor Helen to have to deal with it.”

By this time, Buffy’s back was turned to Angel so she couldn’t see his expression, nor did she really care to.

“Okay, babe,” he sighed in resignation, “I’ll see you in a few days. Be careful, okay?” She just nodded and didn’t look around until she heard the front door close behind him.

Buffy lay on her bed and just stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. It seemed that she had been doing a lot of this kind of thing lately and she still hadn’t solved any of her problems, not really.

In her heart, she knew she needed to be truly alone for the next few days, so she again gave Maggie and Jenny the rest of the week and weekend off. It was the least she could do, they did have to listen to all the crap that went on earlier and if Buffy wasn’t still so damn mad, she’d be respectfully embarrassed. Next she had to get in contact with William and officially cancel tomorrow night with him.

“It’s not like I’ll be actually lying,” she assured herself, “I’ll just tell William that Angel cancelled his regular golf game and I can’t meet him.”

It wasn’t too far from the truth, Angel did have to cancel his Thursday night golf game, even if it was to go to LA for a few days. William didn’t have to know about that part.

When she called William on his cell phone, she knew he sounded dissapointed and thought he sounded sceptical about her excuse. He seemed to accept her explaination, again, and she dismissed her doubts as paranoia. That night, for supper, she opened a can of Star Kist Tuna toasted some bread and ate all alone.

She’d TIVO’d today’s episode of All My Children and intended on watching the latest escapades of Erica and Kendall Kain, all by herself, tonight in bed.

“What fun,” she mused, sardonically, as she lay down on her comfy bed after a nice warm soak in the tub. Switching on the TV, she input the taped TIVO numbers and proceeded to watch Kendall try and seduce Ryan Lavery for the umpteenth time in forty-eight hours.

“What a bitch!” she chuckled about Kendall. The next morning, she woke up with the TV still on, some innane infomercial rambling on about weight loss or something.

About 8:00 AM, her phone rang and she picked it up promptly, almost afraid it was Angel this time. It was, unfortunately.

“Hi, babe,” he said, like nothing at all had happened the day before and all was well on the Travers’ home front.

“Hi, Angel,” she responded curtly, “what’s up?” The silence was deafening but he finally explained why he had called.

“I’m down in LA, at Dad’s,” he mumbled, “I need you to do me a favor, okay Buffy?”

She didn’t respond and apparently Angel took this as a ‘yes.’

“I need you to give Spike Giles an envelope, tonight. He’ll be there, at the house this evening, around 7ish. I owe him the money, Buff, need you to do this for me.” He repeated the request so quickly, that Buffy barely could respond.

“What!” she gasped, “Spike! Here!”

Angel didn’t let her go on, “yes, Buffy. I know you hate the guy, but I don’t want to look like a welch and Spike doesn’t ‘mind’ stopping by to pick it up. You gotta’ do this, babe. He’ll just stop by and get it, then leave. No worries, honest. Why not just tape it to the front door and run off somewhere?”

Buffy’s mind was a mass of swirling thoughts and she was getting quite dizzy from them. Angel would not take no for an answer. William would be by around 7:00 PM to ‘pick up’ some damn money her husband owed him. Therefore, Will knew that Angel was gone, therefore, he knew that she, Buffy was all alone, at least for the night.

Briefly, she wondered why Angel owed William money, but decided that was the least of her problems. Angel, the son of a bitch, must have called William the minute he hit LA, or before, and arranged this little transaction.

“Probably hubby’s way of getting back at me for not going with him. He would think of something like this, especially still believing that I detest William so much! The mind game playing SOB!”

She was just livid, more because William had caught her in a lie then actually ‘seeing’ him, here at her own home.

At about 6:45 PM, that night, Buffy stuffed the right amount of cash into an envelope, taped it on the front door and grabbed her purse to make her escape from the house.

“Better to face William later,” she surmised, “when I can come up with a good cover for myself.”

Assured that this was the best course of action, Buffy opened her front door to make her escape to her Camaro; only to run smack into William standing there, black duster and all. And, boy, judging by the look on his face; was he pissed!

“Going somewhere, Princess?” he asked casually.


A/N: Can you believe I almost wrote this as one chapter with the previous one? Yikes! Lots of Spuffy in the next chapters and I might try and explain just what was going on in Buffy’s mind that night in HS. I might save it til’ later though, like I originally planned.

Thanks, Luv, Spuf

A/N: “Danger, Danger Will Robinson!” This chapter contains possible offensive content to some people. Be warned, if you do not like ‘aggressive Spike.’ I love Spike, but I don’t feel that an author(ess) can write him without a spot of roughness sometimes. Buffy is still a bit ‘confused’ at this time, so please keep that in mind.

Chapter 22: ‘Guest Room?’


“Going somewhere, Princess?” he asked casually.

Buffy’s first gut reaction was to slam the door in his face and make a run for the border. But before the door could actually shut and lock, William had stuck his dock martin clad foot in the door frame and stopped it.

“Let me in, Buffy,” he ordered harshly with a frown.

“No,” she retorted stubbornly, “this is my house, my home. You’re not supposed to be here!”

He shoved the door opened, violently, propeling her back a good five to six feet into the living room entry.

“I was invited,” he growled, “remember?” He sauntered over to her, even as she backed away from him.

“Get out!” she shouted at him, “get out or I’ll, I’ll,” he stopped dead in his tracks and crossed his arms in front of him.

“You’ll what Buffy? Call Captain ‘Riley’ Cardboard and his band of boy scouts? Call Angel in LA? Just what will you do, Princess?” His fine mouth was twisted in one of his patent smirks.

Buffy plopped down on the sofa and buried her head in her hands in utter defeat.

“Why’d you lie to me Buffy?” he asked softly. “Why didn’t you tell me Angel left town without you. That you were alone here?”

She looked up at him and teared up, “because I wanted, no I needed to be alone, William. Can you possibly understand that?” she asked him again, “can you even comprehend how much I just need to be alone right now?”

William sat down beside her, near enough for their legs to touch, but he didn’t put his hands on her.

“Christ,” he mumbled under his breath, “I need a smoke.”

In a surprise move, even shocking herself, Buffy reached in his duster pocket and pulled out his pack of Marlboroughs and his silver lighter.

“Brother, so do I.” She lit one of his cigarettes, took a deep drag like she did it every day and then handed it to him.

Spike took the offered cigarette from her and took a deep, long drag himself. She was staring, unfocused, on the coffee table in front of them.

He watched her, intently, for a moment or two then said softly, “I guess I thought we’d come to an understanding Buffy. I mean after the other night, at the pond, what we talked about, did together. I assumed that we were past the bullshit and lies now. Guess I assumed wrong, huh?”

‘God, he sounded like an incredible ponce right then,’ especially to himself.

“I don’t know, William,” she sighed, “maybe you did assume wrong. Maybe not. Just don’t know what to think anymore.”

From what he could gather, Buffy and Angel must have had a real row before he left for LA. When Angel had called him from there, Spike’s first impulse was to go over and beat on Buffy’s door until she let him in; called the police or shot him to death. It was Spike who’d cooked up the little plan to come collect his money from Buffy, however, Angel didn’t seem too negative about it, from the start.

Since her husband believed that Buffy hated Spike with a passion, he could only assume that the great ‘pouf Angel’ was playing some kind of mind game with his wife. Why else would he encourage Spike to go to his home, especially with him gone and force Buffy to face her supposed mortal enemy?

“What a prick you are Angel,” he reminded himself, although ‘that’ wasn’t really necessary, pretty much common knowledge, that. ‘No, Spike was allowed at the house by Angel for one reason only, to ‘annoy’ his wife.’

“What’s the money for?” she finally asked. “Last and final payment for following me around?”

William shook his head, “no, luv,” he responded with a smirk, “I told you before. I don’t want any money for that. Getting’ my payment from you; betterin’ money, you know?”

She flinched, involentarily, “go to hell!” she hissed at him, stood up and stormed to the front door. “Get out!” she ordered him as she pointed at the door.

He stood up and walked slowly towards her, “Buffy, I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. Dammit girl, you know I always say the wrong thing,” he finished with a whine.

“Get out of my house,” she commanded him again, much louder now; ignoring the fact that the Hopes next door might be able to hear her. Then she remembered, the Hopes were out of town, on a family vactation; as were the Jamesons on the other of their house. “Out, William. Now!”

Spike felt like the walls were crashing in around them. He never did learn when to keep his big mouth shut and he wanted so much to just take back the last few minutes.

“Buffy,” he began, but she cut him off.

“OUT!” She looked as if she could just murder him right now and of course, he found it very arrousing.

“Christ,” he muttered, “she’s sexy even when she’s enraged. I’m so in deep.” He took just a moment to weigh his options and decided to go with an offensive move.

“No,” he stated simply.

“What!” she screeched in disbelief.

“No,” he repeated, “I’m not leaving.”

Buffy stood there in wide-eyed shock for a minute or two then made a mad dash for the back of the house. Probably to escape through the back door, Spike assumed. Buffy was fast, but Spike was faster.

He caught up with her, just before she’d made the kitchen door. Instead of tackling her, like he’d done at the beach that day, he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the stairwell that led to the second floor.

“Where’s the bloody bedrooms in this mansion?” he growled, even though he seemed to have a pretty good idea already.

“Screw you,” she spat at him, breathlessly.

William actually chuckled as he took the stairs, two at a time! “Oh, you are going to, precious,” he kissed her mouth at the top of the stairs.

Making sure he saw it, she wiped off his kiss with determination. “Find the bloody bedroom yourself you, you cad you!” she cried.

He stumbled, but caught himself, “bloody? Cad? Thought I was the only Brit here tonight, luv,” he laughed. “Guest room?” he asked simply at the first closed door?

She didn’t answer right away. “No,” she mumbled with a hot blush, “Angel’s and my room.”

With another growl, Spike stormed past the offensive first room and stopped at the next closed door.

“I don’t shag in another man’s sheets, Princess,” he informed her. “Guest room?” he looked at the oak door before them.

She didn’t answer, just kind of nodded, shyly.

“Well, alright then,” he crowed, quite pleased with himself.

In a purely dramatic gesture, he litterally kicked the door of the room open and tossed Buffy unceremoniously on the queen sized bed. He slammed the door behind them and stripped off his duster, which he tossed on a chair by the closet.

Before he started on the rest of his clothes, he noticed that the walk-in closet had a false front, made entirely of one long, tall mirror.

“Well, well, well,” he purred, “look what’s behind door number 2?”

Buffy lay on the bed, blushing like a virgin school girl at the Prom. It was bad enough that Will had re-enacted the stair case scene from Gone With the Wind, but to pick ‘this’ room? The one with the huge mirror that reflected the whole bed in it.

“Oh, God,” she groaned, “I can just imagine how he’ll utilize this!”

Right at this moment, he was peeling off the his jeans to reveal, big surprise, that he was not wearing any kind of underwear.

“Oh,” she squeaked, then closed her mouth, so tightly that she wondered if she’d ever be able to open it again. Will dropped to his knees beside the bed, his face just inches from hers.

“Lose the clothes,” he ordered, rather gently for an order, “or I’ll tear em off of you,” he warned.

She nodded, but couldn’t seem to move one way or the other. “Maybe you better just take them off of me, Will,” she whispered slyly through half closed eye lids.

“Whatever my lady wants,” he responded sweetly as he gently pulled her top up over her head.

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,” he murmered adoringly as he unclasped her bra from the front and slipped it off her shoulders.

She was beyond words at this point, so she just lay back on the bed, her head at the foot instead towards the headboard. When he unzipped her jeans, all the while looking at her eyes, she could only shiver in anticipation.

‘Surprise, Will,’ she smiled smugly when she saw his surprised, but pleased look. Buffy was sans panties too, just like him.

“Mmmmm,” he purred again, “ my yummy little Buffy.” He yanked her jeans off of her and tossed them on his clothes on the chair. By now, he was positioned on his knees, hovering over her like some big jungle cat.

“Damn,” she thought, “but he is striking!”

Spike lay over her hot, tiny form, careful not to put too much of his weight on her. He kissed her warm mouth and stroked her body sensuously. Buffy wrapped her arms around him and pulled him tighter to her body all the while writhing up against his own frame.

“God you’re beautiful, Buffy,” he rasped, “can’t keep my hands off of you.” They lay there, kissing deeply, their moans filled the tiny bedroom.

“Turn over, baby,” he commanded gently. She did as he asked, trembling slightly from fear, apparently not quite sure what he had in mind.

“It’s okay,” he whispered tenderly as he nibbled her ear, “I promise I won’t hurt you. You do believe me, don’t you baby?”

He grabbed a pillow from behind him and gently placed it underneath her golden head, “please tell me you believe me, that you trust me,” he pleaded.

“I believe you. And I trust you,” he heard her whisper back to him.

He raised her hips up, ever so slightly and positioned against her sweet little cunny.

“Will!” she gasped, “you don’t have a rubber on! How……” she tensed up beneath him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he shushed her with a silky voice. “Do you think I would ever do anything that was going to endanger you or harm you my sweet?”

When she shook her head, he damn near came right then, but managed to rein in his control.

“I want to feel skin on skin this time, Buffy. Don’t you want to?”

‘Uh huh’ she nodded. “That’s my good baby,” he murmered as he stroked her back and bottom. “We’re gonna’ take this slow, Princess,” he assured her, “I don’t want to hurt you, or scare you. Just wanna make you feel good, okay?” She nodded again.

Buffy felt William push slowly into her, filling her up when he had entered her completely.

“Look up into the mirror, Princess,” he whimpered, “look up and see what you do to me.”

She did and was amazed at the scene reflected back at her. Will looked like he’d died and gone to heaven, his half closed eyes were glazed over in pleasure and his jaw was clenched in a tight control; as if it would keep him from cumming right then.

“We’ve never done it this way, have we, sweetheart?” he panted, nearly groaned in pleasure.

“No,” she moaned back, “not til’ tonight, Will.”

He pulled out slowly and pushed back inside of her, even more slowly.

“You should see your beautiful little arse, Buffy, dear. It’s all flushed and slick with sweat, just invites me to push into you.”

She was losing it; quickly. The first tinges of an orgasm were beginning in her tummy and shooting in both directions, right through her whole body.

“Will!” she gasped, “I’m gonna’ cum, Will. I can’t help it. It feels too good!”

He began to pump harder now, thrusting into her deeply, but still being careful not to hurt her, “cum for me Buffy,” he begged. “Cum for your man.”

Had Buffy been able to speak, even long enough to get a couple of words out, she would have told William that he was not her man. But she didn’t have the strength to even open her mouth, much less the desire.

“Oh, Buffy,” Will groaned beside her, his damp arms were wrapped around her body, possessively. He had cum right after she did, roaring her name in his release.

“Yeah,” she groaned in agreement, unable to say anything more.

“Damn,” he moaned again, “I’m bloody thirsty.” Buffy looked at him, dazed for a moment, then blinked to clear her vision. “Want a beer?” she mumbled. “Oh yeah,” he panted back.

Spike waited for Buffy to come back upstairs with the beer. In the meantime, he wanted a cigarette so bad he almost broke down and lit one up. She appeared with the opened beer, somewhere between here and the kitchen, she’d pulled a slinky little robe on.

“Thanks, luv,” he smiled at her as he took the bottle from her little hand. “You didn’t need to get dressed, luv,” he chided her with a wink. She blushed bright red, an adorable habit of hers that he just loved to see.

He had propped himself up on a pillow by the headboard and Buffy climbed back up next to him. As he drank the beer down, quickly, she sat crossed legged, her knees touching his side. The nearness of her intoxicated him and he couldn’t help but reach out to touch her slim right calf.

"You are so not my man, you know,” she said firmly without looking at him.

“Yeah I am,” he responded with his usual Spike bravado, “you just don’t know it yet Princess.”

She shook her golden head, defiantly, “no,” she stated again, with just a tad less determination this time.

Spike chuckled, “I am, little one,” he insisted and pulled her to him before she could deny it again.

Buffy lay next to him on the bed, a bed, thankfully, that she and Angel had never shared. She couldn’t exactly explain why, not even to herself, but for her and William to have sex in any bed Angel and her had shared would have been just yucky. Not because it was such a slap at Angel, she realized, but because it would have upset Will. It was all very disturbing, this bizarre affair between her and William.

“When does he get home?” Will asked a bit too casually. Buffy shrugged, “oh, Sunday I guess, so he said.”

He reached over and took her chin in his hand, “I want you to come to my place, tomorrow, Buffy.” His eyes were so blue, they reminded her of the sky after the rain; clear, clean and open.

“I……can’t, it’s too risky, (yada yada; same old song and dance that we all know), but she stopped herself with the word ‘I.’ The memory of her argument with Angel replayed in her mind; ‘you weren’t their first choice in a wife for me, babe’ he’d said. ‘Wrong side of the tracks, who made real good’ he had actually said that!

“Okay, Will,” she relented this time.

“Really?” he asked, kind of stunned, but happy.

“Yeah, really,” she giggled. “Just give me your address, point the way and I’ll be there. Sane or not, I’ll come over.”

He looked so happy, so very happy in a kind of stunned, ‘can’t believe’ any of this way. Buffy had some selfish motives for going to William’s place, too. She wanted to see how he lived for some reason. How he decorated his apartment, kept house and even what kind of art he hung on his walls. For some innane reason, it was important to Buffy to see how his bed looked, what sheets and such he had on them, even if he smoked in his own apartment.

“Buffy,” she sighed to herself, “you are truly one screwed up girl.”

Will just lay there smiling like a Chesire Cat at her. “Thanks Buffy,” he murmered while he stroked her arms with his hands. “It means a lot to me.”

She nodded and smiled weakly, “You have to go soon, Will. I can’t have anyone see you leave here too very late, it would get back to Angel and oh man.”

He sighed, “I know,” he agreed reluctantly, “I’m just glad you’ll be with me tomorrow night.”

A/N: Sigh, I hope this chapter didn’t offend ‘anyone’ at all. I was up a creek with this one alright. On one hand, we have Buffy who’s just starting to ‘wake up’ and smell the coffee again with her self confidence, especially where Angel is concerned. Then, we have Spike, who would never let her get away with blowing him off the way she did, especially not after the ‘pond’ incident. So, maybe you can understand my dilema? Hope so. (oh and forgive the GWTW nod from Tabula Rasa!) Oh, and one more thing, please don’t be afraid to review, good or bad.
Thanks for reading, luv, Spuf

Chapter 23: ‘The Art of Independence’


Buffy woke up to the sound of her bedroom telephone, located on her end table, ringing rather loudly. If she didn’t remember that she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol last night, she’d swear she was hungover. Apparently, woozy as she was, there was more then one kind of hangover and some had absolutely nothing to do with booze.

She glanced at the alarm clock and noted it was past 8:30 AM and the caller ID on her phone alerted her to the fact that she was about to speak to her husband, if she answered it that is. Reluctantly, she picked up the phone and tried to muster up ‘some’ enthusiasm for another episode of ‘Travers Family Feud’ which she was sure, no doubt, would progress right into the bonus round.

“Hi, babe,” Angel greeted her rather cautiously, she thought anyway, “hi back,” she answered, her tone a text book in neutrality.

“What’s up?” he asked cordially.

“Well, I’m not,” she answered mechanically, then had to bite her tongue to keep from quipping out loud, ‘but you should have seen your buddy Spike last night!’

“Buffy I’m really sorry that I had to send Spike over for the money last night. But I really didn’t want to seem like a welch and all, you know?”

Oh, she knew alright, ‘guess it’s better to seem like a prick then a welch, huh Ang?’ she thought wickedly.

“It’s okay, Angel,” she started to say, then suddenly changed her mind and decided to say nothing.

“So,” Angel continued with a chuckle, “old Spikey, hasn’t changed much has he?”

Buffy fought the urge to make a real smart ass retort and opted to just remain silent, momentarily, anyway. She debated, inwardly, on whether or not to let her husband know if she even talked to William, much less ‘let’ him in their house. She opted for something ‘near’ the truth and told him that while she’d taped the money filled envelope to the front door, ‘Spike’ had come a bit early and she had no choice but to face him.

“He insisted on coming in for a minute and counting the money,” she lied boldly, “he also asked me about my Mom; how she’s doing, you know. Spike’s always liked my mom. He wasn’t here long and there’s not much more.”

‘Yeah,’ she thought sarcastically, ‘that’s because I spent most of the night washing the ‘much more’ out of our guest room sheets.’

“Well,” Angel began in his annoying, patronizing tone, “I guess if you’d come with me, like I wanted, you wouldn’t have had to see the bastard, huh, Buff?”

He seemed so very pleased with himself that Buffy couldn’t help herself, “so you sent him over here; the thorn in my side, my bane since High School, to what Angel? Humiliate me for disobeying you? Teach me a lesson?”

Angel couldn’t answer that one right away which irritated her even more.

“When are you coming home,” she finally asked, more then annoyed.

“Sunday,” he answered rather coldly, “going golfing with Dad Saturday, at a decent course for once.”

‘Good! I hope you and Dad crash your stupid golf cart in a lake, or the very least sink into a sand trap!’ she thought nastily. “See you Sunday Angel. I’m going to Willow’s tonight for dinner, we’re going to rent some DVDs. I’ll be late home,” she stated, silently daring the man to say just one negative word about it.

“Be careful, babe,” he sighed audibly, “don’t drink too much, okay? You know how alcohol and Buffy don’t mix well.”

Buffy answered with a ‘hmmm’ and hung up the phone, not even bothering to respond to his ‘I love you.’ She hadn’t slept well all night and she wasn’t sure if it was the thought of going to William’s place today or the plans she’d been forming for herself. Either way, she hadn’t fallen asleep until well past 3:00 AM.

Buffy punched Willow’s home number into her telephone the minute she hung up with Angel.

“Hi!” came the red head’s happy greeting.

“It’s me Wills,” Buffy answered, “can we meet for breakfast, today. I really need to talk to you about some things.” Willow explained briefly that she was getting ready for ‘summer college classes’ but that Buffy could come over to her apartment for bagels and coffee if she wanted.

“Tara is already at school, getting her class ready for Monday, I’m supposed to meet her for lunch at the ‘Book Store’ café near campus. But we’ve plenty of time Buff,” she assured her, “to talk before then. Just come over as soon as you can.”

A surge of warmth enveloped Buffy, Willow was always there for her, always, even since Jr. High. “Okay, Wills. I’ll stop and get Starbucks and those great apple turnovers you love! Be there in an hour, okay?”

After a quick shower, Buffy threw on a pair of jeans, her suede calf boots and a baby tee and headed to the nearest Starbucks. By the time she’d knocked on Willow and Tara’s apartment door, she’d already formulated her whole conversation in her mind.

Willow seemed thrilled to see her and quickly led her to the couch, placing the lattes and turnovers on the coffee table. Their apartment, although rather confined, was a mix of the mystical world and whimsical fairy tales. Buffy was just awed by this place, every time she saw it, especially the Pegasus like fixture that Tara had abscounded from an old merry go round and set up in the middle of the living room.

“So Buff,” Willow chirped happily as she bit into her turnover, “what’s up? You sounded pretty of the cryptic when you called, everything okay?”

Buffy took a deep breath, “I was thinking of going back to work Wills. Well, not exactly going ‘back’ to work. I’ve never really worked, but I mean, I guess what I mean is; I want to work in my Arts field.”

The red head contemplated Buffy’s words for a moment then broke into a huge smile, “that’s great, Buff. You’d do great at anything you choose to do! You think maybe a museum or something? The Sunnydale Art Gallery has an opening, I know because……oh wait,” she paused in her ramblings, “uhm, what does Angel say?”

Buffy scowled briefly, “Angel doesn’t know yet,” she admitted to her best friend.

“Oh,” Willow mumbled under her breath. “Uhm, what do you think ‘he’ll’ say about all this, Buffy?” she stammered, biting into her turnover again.

“Oh, you know Angel,” Buffy laughed somewhat nervously, “he’ll go ballistic, at first, head to the nearest golf course or bar and drink too many martinis while he crys to the bar tender about how women just don’t understand. After that, he’ll come home and proceed to brood for a week or so, maybe two weeks or so, and then virtually ignore me for as long as he thinks it will take to get me to change my mind. Nothing too overreactive, the usual, you know.”

Willow broke out into laughter, spitting apple turnover and latte all over the coffee table, “well you don’t seem too worried, at least,” she added, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You know, Wills. It’s funny,” Buffy said, thoughtfully, “I’m not worried about what Angel thinks at all, not at the moment. I’m just worried that I won’t be able to find anything that suits me.”

Red, as her friends had nicknamed Willow sat quietly for a moment then, “you know Buffy? Tara has a lot of connections with the Sunnydale art circle. That’s why I know there’s an opening at the SunnyD Art Gallery, the one your Mom used to manage part time. If I remember right, it’s an ‘Assistant to the Curator’ kind of position, something right up your alley. Don’t you think?”

Buffy began to feel excited; oh just a tinge, really, down in her tummy that promised to blossom into a full blown ‘happy’ that might even develop into a nuclear explosion of estatic. That is, of course, if something came of this ‘assistant’ thing.

“Do you think Tara would like give me a reference or something, Wills?” she asked hopefully.

“I know she would, Buff! Tara thinks you’re just swell and she knows how smart you are about art and stuff. It’s in the bag, Buffy, I just know it!”

“I’ll talk to Tara at lunch today,” Willow promised, patting Buffy on her arm. “I mean, Tara can refer you, but in the long run, it’s going to be you that gets the position. On your own merit.”

Buffy looked lovingly at her friend; Wills always knew just what to say, how to give encouragement and strokes to her friends. “Thanks, Wills,” she sniffed, tearing up, “you don’t know what this means to me.”

Red hugged Buffy warmly, “I’d do anything for you Buffy, anything to see you happy or at least content with your life. I worry about you, Buffy.”

With a shake of her golden head, Buffy chuckled, “don’t worry about me Wills. The 4th of July is in less then a month and I’m about to declare my own Independence!” This struck them both as funny and they laughed for a while over it. “Willow,” Buffy began, suddenly serious, “I need to ask a big, big favor of you.”


“Sure,” Willow answered, “anything.”

Buffy stood up and paced about the room for a minute then faced her friend. “What are you doing tonight?” she asked Red carefully.

“Nothing too much, Buffy,” she answered, “like I said we’re preparing for summer classes and Tara and Il will probably do paperwork all weekend. Why? Do you want to come over? Have an old fashioned girls night? Rent scary movies and eat popcorn?”

Willow looked so young to Buffy just then, so full of life and almost innocent.

“Well, no, Wills,” she mumbled, “actually I need you to cover for me.”

The red head looked confused, “cover for you? Like how Buffy?”

Taking another deep breath, Buffy sat back down by Willow and looked at her in the eye, “I need you to cover for me with Angel tonight. I mean if he does call you; which he probably won’t, but if he does. I need you to confirm that I’m around here, somewhere,” she finished weakly.

“I see,” Willow said softly, “why? Kind of a secret agent kind of ‘I Spy’ thingy?”

Buffy felt sick for a second, “no Wills it’s not an I Spy kind of thingy. It’s an ‘Angel would go nuclear and come after me with a gun thingy.” She dared a look at Willow who had grown even paler then usual and deadly quiet.

“Do I really want to know?” she asked Buffy quietly.

“No,” Buffy said firmly, “and I don’t want you to really know ‘everything’ not now anyway. It’ll make it that much easier if Angel does call you or something. It won’t be as big a lie if you don’t know the whole truth and I know how you hate lies and deceit Wills. I’m sorry about this, but this is something I have to do and……”

Before Buffy could finish, Willow put her arms around her and hugged her tight, “don’t say anymore. I’ll cover for you, Buff. You’re my bestest, bestest friend, well next to Tara and if you have to do this, whatever it is, I’ll help you.”

“You’ve always stood by me, Buffy,” the red head continued, “when Xander and I got together; when I got with Tara. Heck even back when we were kids and you helped me cope with my nutty family. You’ve always been my best friend, well, like I said, next to Tara now.”

Buffy felt tears well up in her eyes, “thanks, Willow,” she whispered. “I think it’s great that Tara is your best friend. Lovers, husbands, boyfriends and girlfriends should definitely be best friends to us. I just wish Angel was mine, but he’s not and hasn’t been in a long time. Listen,” she hesitated a moment then continued, “I promise, when the time is right, I’ll tell you and Tara everything. For now, I’ll leave my cell on all night, I mean the whole time and if Angel calls you first or anything, just call me and I’ll call him back, just like the ‘telephone game’ we used to play. I know it’s confusing, but well, it’s the best I can do for right now.”

After she’d left Willow’s, Buffy drove home, much slower then she ususally would. She felt awful about getting Willow involved in all this William mess, but was more then happy about the chance to work in her career field. Buffy pulled over to the side of the road and speed dialed William’s phone number.

“Hello,” he greeted over the line. “It’s me Will,” she said shyly. In all of her twenty-eight years, Buffy never got the hang of calling guys, no matter what the reason and always felt a little funny about it.

“Buffy,” he replied warmly, “where are you?” A slight tingle started in Buffy’s lower back and traveled quickly up her spine, “I’m coming back from Willow and Tara’s,” she answered, not really knowing why she felt the need to answer that question. “I’m,” she hesitated, the tingly feeling had now traveled to her neck and was coursing up into her brain.

“Buffy? Are you okay, luv?” he asked with concern. “I’m fine, William,” she finally replied, “I’m really good, just a little nervous about coming to your place.”

Spike tensed, worried that maybe Buffy had changed her mind about coming, decided it ‘was’ too risky or something.

“I’m still coming,” she blurted as if she had read his mind. “I’m just a little tired and jumpy from last night and everything. And,” he heard her sigh softly, “I guess I’m overwrought about a decision I’ve come to.”

He was a basket case by the time she’d finished her last sentence, worried that she had decided to dump him completely and consequences be damned. A part of him wanted to shout at her and tell her that she was stuck with him whether she liked it or not. The other part wanted to admit to her that he would never really use that crap he had against her, he couldn’t. He was simply in too deep now and always had been, really.

“What decision is that, Princess,” he asked, trying hard to sound light hearted.

“Well,” she began cautiously, “I’ll explain more when I get there, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to go to work, soon. Something in my field of Art and all. I was at Willow’s talking to her about it and she thinks Tara McClay might be able to put in a good word in for me. Like I said, Will, I’ll tell you more, later.”

For a minute, Spike thought he might have a heard wrong; this was simply too good to be true. No one in the world wanted Buffy to pursue her dreams as much as he did, certainly not that oaf of a husband of hers. Spike was savy enough to know that Angel kept Buffy tied down by keeping her from her ambitions, her desires for herself. Where Spike admired the depth and inner strength of Buffy’s mind, heart and soul, Angel desired the insecure, needy child that he had helped to create in her..

(Here it comes!) Spike loved the woman in Buffy, Angel was obsessed with the girl. It had always been that way, from day one, even if Buffy had never realized it.

“I think that would be bloody fantastic, Buffy,” he told her honestly.

“Well, I don’t have it yet, Will,” she giggled, “but I’d sure like to give something like this a try. It’s what my Mom used to do here in Sunnydale and no one was a better teacher then my Mom, you know?”

He seemed genuinely pleased by what she had told him and now, she was really excited about getting to his place to discuss it more.

“Will, it’s only about 12:00, but would it be okay if I came over now? I mean if it’s alright?”

There was a long pause from him, then, “I’d really like that Buffy, of course, if you want, come right now.”

She really did want to go there now, sit and talk to him, although she couldn’t quite figure out why it seemed so important. “Like I said earlier, I’m a little nervous about coming to your place. I guess I’m worried someone there might recognize me or my car?”

Another silent pause, “tell you what. What if you park at a nearby Strip Mall, I’ll come and get you. It’s easier for you if I bring you here and besides, there’s not a lot of people around right now, being a workday and all. Are you wearing pants or something? Something that’ll do on a motorcycle?” Seeing as how what he said made sense and that she was wearing jeans, Buffy agreed to his plan.

Following his directions to the Strip Mall, Buffy found it easily and found ‘him’ waiting for her on his motorcycle. ‘No wonder he wanted to know what I was wearing,’ she surmised. After securing her car, Buffy slid onto the back of William’s bike, a little more secure then the last time she’d done this, and let him whisk her to his apartment.

Although she was nervous about going to William’s place, Buffy’s curiosity had gotten the best of her, once again, and she just had to find out what it looked like. They got there in less then two minutes, parked and headed up to the second floor of the secured building, to apartment #10, his apartment.

“Come in, Princess,” he opened the door for her and showed her inside. Buffy stepped inside the living room of what appeared to be a moderate sized apartment unit. The first thing she noticed, was the black leather couch in the middle of the room, ‘leather and black,’ she giggled to herself, ‘figures.’

The carpet was almost a beige color, but it was the roll top desk in the corner of front room that caught her eye immediately.

“Oh my God!” she cried out loud, almost skipping up to the desk, “this is an English Edwardian roll top desk, Will! And it’s mahogany! Do you know how special this is Will?”

Spike knew exactly how ‘special’ this was, but he just smiled at her and shook his head. “Why don’t you tell me, Buffy,” he queried.

“It’s like major special, Will,” she crowed, “it’s from the 1880’s and Oh my God, it’s just perfect!” He smiled at her warmly, taking joy in her joy of her own knowledge about such things.

“Can I touch it?” she asked with a certain reverance. “Of course, Princess,” he chuckled, “you can touch anything you want.” She blushed profusely, he noticed with pleasure, at his double innuendo, “go ahead,” he assured her.

Buffy ran her slim hand over the roll top and then down the middle drawers to the banded marquetry work that made the desk so special.

“It’s magnificent, William,” she whispered in awe, “truly a work of art.” When she turned to look at him, he saw the traitorous tears in her eyes.

“What is it, Buffy?” he asked, concerned, “why’re you crying, luv?” With a shake of head, she looked away from him, “it’s just that I love these kinds of things. The antiques, their craftsmanship and all of the history that goes with them. I just, I mean I don’t have these kind of works in my house. Angel only likes modern art and decorations,” she finished rather bitterly.

He couldn’t answer that one at the moment. It was bad enough that she brought up that dick’s name, but it pissed him off to no end that Angel would even have control in almost every aspect of Buffy’s life. Even the interior decorating, as if Peaches had any taste in that department.

“Buffy,” Spike murmered, careful not to approach her too closely, “I know how brilliant you are in antiques, art and everything that goes with them. I’m just sorry that you haven’t been able to pursue your dreams or your field of study. Please believe me, luv, any kudos you give me about my choice in home decorations is music to my ears. I know how keen your eye is for these things.”

The look of appreciation that she gave him caused his heart to skip three beats. ‘Damn you Angel,’ he grumbled inwardly, ‘just what have you done to break Buffy?’

Buffy glanced around the living room quickly, searching for something else to use to change the direction the conversation had taken. That’s when she spied the only piece of artwork in the room, hanging over the mantle piece of the faux marble fireplace. Perfectfly, evenly hung, right in the middle of the room was a print of ‘Christina’s World’ by Andrew Wyeth, Joyce and Buffy Summers’ favorite American painter.

“William,” she gasped, “I can’t believe it! That’s my favorite painting by an American artist! I can’t believe you have it hanging in your front room!” She stood in front of the reproduction, her mouth open in awe, “I can’t believe you have this. I just can’t believe it Will. You know,” she whispered, “it always reminded me of your sister, Drusilla. The bluffs, her staring at the painter’s farmhouse. It always put me in mind of poor Dru’s fragility, her secret world.”

Buffy felt Will’s hand take hers, “yeah,” he whispered back, “always put me in mind of that too.” They just stood together, connected by the joint admiration of the painter and his work.

After a quiet moment or two, Buffy felt William lean over and kiss her neck, pulling her into an embrace. It’s not that she minded his show of affection, but she so did not want it to escalate, at the moment into something sexual. She had come here, early, to talk to William, discuss some things that she needed to get out. Here he was, getting all naughty right off and it bothered her that he wanted to take the afternoon to ‘that level’ so soon.

He began to pull her to what she assumed was his bedroom and at first, she reluctantly allowed him to lead her there. When they got into his bedroom, Buffy was overcome by the pure masculine essence in there. The king sized bed was covered in a black satin comforter, pulled down just enough to show the tan sheets that lay beneath. A mahogany end table sat next to the bed, but it was the mahogany chest of drawers, George II era, circa 1745, if she wasn’t mistaken, that took Buffy’s breath away.

“Will!” she yelped, causing him to cease the assault he’d started on her mouth with his kisses, “what!” he jumped slightly startled, “what’s wrong?”

This time she didn’t ask if she could touch the dresser, she just reached right out and stroked the fine wood with her fingers. “Nothing’s wrong, Will,” she sighed, “this is such fine furniture. I can’t believe you have these pieces. Where did you get them? From Anne and Rupert?”

Spike wasn’t sure what kind of game Buffy was playing now, but he wasn’t in the mood to join in the fun. He wanted nothing more then to push her down on his bed and shag her into oblivion and she seemed to just want to play ‘name that antique.’ First off, he wasn’t exactly ignorant himself in the finer points of art, and secondly he had to wonder if this just wasn’t a ploy on her part to avoid sleeping with him.

“Yeah,” he spat out quickly, “that’s it, I got it from them. So let’s forget that and take advantage of my big, rather comfy bed right there, luv. Come on, crawl into the sheets and give ‘your’ art to me good, Buffy.”

His crass words caught in his throat when he saw the look of hurt and betrayal that she shot him and he was immediately sorry for what he’d said, but it was too late.

“You incredible asshole!” she cried as she ran past him and out of the bedroom.

“Buffy!” he shouted after her and immediately followed suit, “wait, I’m sorry. Just……”

Buffy was headed for the front door, which was ludicrous he thought, because her car was over three miles away at a lousy Strip Mall and Spike was the only way for her to get there. He certainly had no intention of taking her back there right now; he had to fix this first.

“Stay away from me,” she hissed with venom, “stay the hell away from me you moron!” Buffy slipped past William, who had almost, but not quite, cornered her by the front door and then headed back into his bedroom. With a quick slam of his door and a turn of the lock, she was completely seperated from the idiot and alone to conjure all kinds of imaginary tortures to place on William Giles.

“You snake,” she muttered, “you one track minded snake in the grass! I come here, early, to discuss my career, art and happy things and……”

William called to her from the other side of the door, “open the door, please Buffy, luv,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry for being so crude, really. Open the door and we’ll talk it out. We can just talk and I’ll listen to anything you want to say. I mean it Buffy, please open the door.”

She leaned with her back against the locked door and slid down onto the floor, her butt plopping down on the beige carpeted floor. “Go to hell, Spike!” she hissed, “you’re just like Angel, a self absorbed moron with no thought to anyone ‘cept yourself and your enormous dick! I detest you both right now!”

She heard the growl from the other side, “I’m in no way like your prick of a husband, Buffy. And I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from mentioning the ponce every other sentence! Especially in the same sentence as ‘my dick!”

Buffy slammed her head, dramatically against the door, “screw you, Spike!” she shouted, “you’re a nasty, selfish monster and I’m a fool for ever coming here!”

Spike was at a loss as what to do, something he didn’t experience too often, therefore he didn’t have any fast anwers for. He knew he’d screwed up, big time, but he couldn’t fix the problem if he couldn’t talk to Buffy. He lit a cigarette, his safety device and then a thought dawned on him, and he headed into his kitchen to find his tool box under the sink. When he’d returned to the bedroom, he brought an adequate screw driver with him, one that would unlock his own locked bedroom door.

“Buffy,” he said evenly, “I’m going to unlock this door, if I have to take the damn thing off of it’s hinges, so, please, unlock it yourself, or back away from the door.” He heard her hiss again, “go to hell!”

With a shake of his head, he proceeded to unscrew the hinges and remove the door completely. “Listen to me!” he ordered when he’d removed the door, set it aside and saw her run behind the other side of the bed. “Buffy, dammit, listen to me!”

She shook her head violently and ducked behind his bed, “don’t you come near me, William!” she commanded angrily, “don’t you take one step towards me!”

He was relieved to hear her call him William instead of Spike again, so he dared to step closer to her. “Buffy, honey,” he began.

“Don’t you honey me you creep!” she retorted, “if you truly cared about me, truly cared like a man should, you’d respect me and listen to me. You’d make sure I was heard and everything. If I’m such a honey, why do you and every other man want to screw me first and ask questions later?”

“Buffy,” he said softly, “I don’t just want to screw you, okay? I mean it, I do want to listen to you and hear what you have to say. If I’m an insensitive prick, I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just that to have you here, with me? It’s rather overwhelming for me too and I guess I didn’t react well to you being here. It means more to me then you know, Buffy and I’m sorry if I’m such a bloody idiot that I don’t know how to show it other then the want I have for you. Please forgive me and let me talk to you. Hell, at least let me see you!”

She tentively poked her head out from the side of the bed, “well,” she hesitated, “you promise to keep your nasty hands to yourself?”

He nodded sincerely, “promise and hope to die,” he crossed his heart for good measure.

“Okay,” she relented and stepped out from the side of the bed, cautiously, “but I’m not going to bed with you.” ‘At least not right this minute,’ she added silently.

“Look,” he said softly, “you seem more then tired and I don’t blame you. Everyone throws a lot of exhaustive crap at you Buffy, including me. Why don’t you get undressed, crawl into bed and get a nap. I’ll go out into the other room, won’t bother you and let you rest. When you get up, if you want, we’ll talk some more and I’ll truly listen to you. Does that sound acceptable to you, luv?”

She tried not to, but she let a slight smile slip out on her mouth. “Okay Will,” she murmered with a traitorous yawn, “I am kind of tired. I didn’t sleep well last night and I’ve had a real emotional day. I’ll just slip in here, go to sleep for a while and when I get up, I’ll come and talk to you.”

William winked at her and backed out of his own bedroom. “Oh,” he added from the other room, “I’m whipping up some dinner for us later; nothing special just some shrimp scampi. Does that sound good, Princess?”

“Sure,” she yawned loudly. When she was sure he was truly settled in his front room, she slipped out of her jeans, shoes and shirt, leaving only her demi-bra and thong on. She crawled into the clean crisp sheets and immediately closed her eyes to rest, “William Giles,” she whispered to the air or maybe to a Higher Power, “I think you might have some real potential.”


A/N: Again, I’m trying to save this fic and need input. The art, antiques and Spike’s support of Buffy’s decisions for herself about a job and all are my way of giving the couple a common ground to build a relationship. I don’t want to give up on this fiction, I’ve worked very hard on it and it means a lot to me. That’s why I try to write some personnal notes into the plots. Christina’s World is one of my faves and certainly my own mother’s favorite and I used to work for a couple of Antique dealers so I thought it would be nice to include Spuffy in the mix. Please read and review. Thanks, Luv, Spuf

Chapter 24: ‘Whenever I’m Alone With You’


A/N: (of course!) I actually finished this chapter yesterday, but held off submitting it for a couple of reasons. I’ve a feeling I might be submitting too many chapters, too quickly, something someone else concurs with, but I don’t know, so, here goes the next one.


Spike sat on his sofa wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, in his left hand was a beer and in his right a cigarette. A soccer match, Manchester United to be exact, was playing on the telly and he tried to concentrate on the game.

“God I’m a bloody fool,” he groaned to himself. “Why can’t I shut the hell up, just once and think before I open my big mouth?”

He took another swallow of the beer and a long drag on the cigarette, “you’d think I’d learned by twenty-eight to read a woman like Buffy better then I did today.”

She’d been so excited by the painting and the stupid bloody desk, why’d he have to go and screw up everything by letting his baser nature take over again. All she wanted to do was talk to him about her idea of going to work, really talk to him. As if his opinion really mattered to her and he had to go and put moves on her, try to get her into bed.

“Asshole,” he called himself for the umpteenth time, “Spike, you’d fuck up a one car accident.”

By the time United had made their first goal, he was feeling pretty bad about himself. “If only she’d wake up soon,” he thought wistfully, “I’d make sure I would listen to her and hear what she had to say.”

He sighed out loud and got up to go get another beer, more for just something to do then out of desire for it. When he got back to the couch, he saw that he’d missed another goal by ‘his’ team and swore under his breath, “bloody hell, I’m missing everything today!”

He plopped back down on the couch and fought the urge to light another smoke, he knew how Buffy truly detested cigarettes even if she’d taken a drag of his last night. That thought reminded him of what they’d done later in ‘her’ house, upstairs in that pleasant little guest room and a slow smile formed on his lips.

“How can I not want her like that, when we’re together, especially since she just oozes sensuality. Even if she doesn’t have a clue as to much power she has over wankers like me. I wonder why she doesn’t realize her own sexual power?” This thought puzzled him and had for years.

Buffy woke up, fully aware of where she was this time and stretched slowly like a cat would from a deep sleep. She felt fully rested for the first time in ages and almost hated to get out of Will’s comfy bed, even if she was alone in it. A glance at his alarm clock told her she’d slept for a good three hours in that bed.

“Wow,” she hummed contentedly, “I needed that. I’m just glad I stood my ground and didn’t give in to…..”

Before she could finish her thought, her eyes fell on the picture above the King George dresser. A teenage version of herself, her Senior picture, stared back at her, causing her to bolt up in bed, stunned.

“I didn’t see that originally,” she gasped, “how did he get that? We weren’t friends when those came out, I never,” but again her thought was interrupted by another one.

She clamored out of his bed to take a closer look at the picture and confirm her suspicions. “That little sneak!” she muttered, “that is the picture, frame and all I gave Angel at the end of High School. William must of lifted it from the Travers house!”

For some reason, this struck Buffy as funny and she began to giggle like a school girl. Instead of being angry at William for having the picture, she was glad that he’d taken something from her husband, even if Angel and her weren’t together then.

“Serves that lousy creep of a husband of mine right!” she said as she wandered out into the living room to find Will.

She found him sitting on the couch, his back to her watching some sports thing on the television.

“Well hello Sleeping Beauty,” he called to her warmly without turning to look at her, “how was the nap?”

Buffy walked around to the front of the couch, unconcerned that she was only half dressed and plopped down next to him. When he didn’t put his arm around her immediately, she reached up and brought it around her shoulders herself. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.

“The nap was terrific, William,” she responded honestly, keeping her eyes on the guys running around on the 36” screen before her. What’s this, field hockey?” she asked pointing at the TV.

William burst out into laughter, barely able to reply to her question, “no, luv,” he choked out, “it’s what’s known as ‘real’ football, at least to most of the world.”

Buffy looked at the screen, then at him, “no it’s not football!” she huffed at him with a pout, “where’s the helmets and the big shoulder pad thingy’s. Where’s that brown pig-skinned ball they’re always passing around? Angel follows those guys from Oakland, you know, the big scary looking pirate like guys. The Radicals? No, the Raiders, that’s it!”

Spike tried to overlook Buffy’s mention of his hated nemesis, Angel, and stopped chuckling long enough to explain the difference between American football and ‘soccor’ to her. It was pretty hard on him to not just grab her and kiss her, she was doing that pouty thing with her lower lip and he never could resist it. Reining in his lust, he began to explain the difference between the two sports ending with, “I like American football, but prefer real football, like the rest of the world.”

She stared at him for a moment, rolled her eyes and gave her shoulders a slight shrug, “I can’t stand any of it,” she said simply then, “hey, I know it’s really early yet, but I’m starving. When’s supper?”

He broke out in laughter again, happy to see Buffy craving food as he always thought she was just a tad too thin. 'Funny,’ he mused, ‘when ‘I’ve seen’ her eat, she really puts it away. Wonder why she’s so tiny?’

“Okay, Princess,” he stood up, pulling her with him, “I’ll just go slave over a hot stove while you come keep me company in the kitchen, such as it is.”

Buffy eagerly followed him into the tiny kitchen area that was connected to a dining room that was bigger then it. The shiny black appliances were spotless and striking against the bright white kitchen walls.

“You sure do like the color black, don’t you Will?” she asked curiously, “why?”

He pulled a baking pan out of a bright white cupboard and set it on the stove, “don’t know really, just do,” he finished with a shrug.

“You said something about shrimp scampi?” she reminded him, licking her lips, “I’m pretty good with that. Can I help?”

Spike turned around and smiled at her, delighted that she wanted to be a part of it, made him feel closer to her somehow. “Okay, luv. I learned a recipe to ‘bake’ the shrimp in the oven, not saute it on the stove. There’s a pot in that cupboard, if you’d take it out and start some water for the rice pilaf, that’d be fantastic.”

He noted that she hurried to the cupboard and found the pot with a certain childlike enthusiasm. It tugged at his heart, ‘she wants so much to ‘do’ things for herself’ he thought sadly, ‘be a real part of just simple things. Why’d she marry such a controlling wanker like Angel anyway?’

“There’s white wine in the fridge Buffy, would you open it for me? I use it in the scampi. Why don’t you pour youself a glass, luv. I know how much you enjoy Chardonnay and don’t worry, it’s a California vint.”

Normally, Spike would have done the opening and pouring himself, but it seemed important to Buffy to do for herself and he knew how savy she was about wine and such.

Buffy opened the fridge, pulled out the wine and opened it like a professional with the cork screw William had handed her.

“Mmmm,” she hummed as she took her first sip, “ice cold and KJ’s at that!” She looked around the tiny kitchen, “what else can I do,” she asked, eager to get her hands into anything she could.

“Pretty much cooks itself, luv,” he replied, preheating the oven then washing his hands in the sink. “There’s salad, but I made it already so it’d be ice cold. Only way for salad to be as far as I’m concerned.”

She had to agree with him there so she sat down on one of the dining room chairs, where he joined her quickly with a beer.

“About earlier, sweetheart,” he began softly, his blue eyes were cautious and it made her blush and look away from him. “I’m sorry I cornered you like that and made you feel bad. Please look at me, Buffy,” he pleaded gently, touching her hand with his tenderly.

When she met his gaze again, she could read the sincerity in them, “it’s okay, Will,” she whispered shyly, “I understand, I really do. It’s just that I figured maybe we could converse a little more, at first anyway, you know?”

“Yes,” he answered, “now at least I know and understand. And Buffy,” he continued, clasping her hand more firmly in his, “it’s not okay, what I did. It was stupid, ignorant and selfish of me. Especially because it upset you, made you unhappy and angry.”

He could see she was considering his words, seemingly believing in them. Her little white teeth worried her bottom lip; another of her habits he’d always adored, right up there with the pout thing.

“I mean it Buffy,” he went on, firmly, “believe it or not, I didn’t bring you here to cage you up or hold you like some kind of bleedin’ sex slave. I brought you here to share a part of my world. That and to give you a place that well, you can feel freer in; maybe be more at ease, be more yourself, I guess.”

Spike felt a euphoric rush shoot up through his body when he looked into those emerald green eyes of Buffy Summers and realized that she believed him, every word he said. Which was good, because he’d meant all of it, no matter how difficult it was to tell her so, especially to her face. There was a happy glow in her green eyes as she guided his left hand to her lips and kissed his palm tenderly.

“And I know that, now, Will,” she murmered softly.

The timer on the stove beeped loudly, causing Buffy to jump up from her chair and hurry over to it. Turning off the bell and oven, she lit the stove top and looked questioningly at William, who still sat at the table, studying her as if in a daze.

“Well, oh pal of mine,” she chuckled at him good naturedly, “are you going to finish what you started here, or leave me to my own devices in ‘your’ kitchen?”

This seemed to wake him from his daze and he actually blushed quite red when he reached her at the stove. ‘Must of caught the ‘pal’ thingy’ she giggled to herself happily. It was right then, when she caught sight of him again, dressed only in his boxers that she remembered she was wearing a bra and panties, nothing more.

“Oh, God!” she cried, “Will I have to go get dressed, can’t eat like this!” Now it was her turn to blush red.

“Why?” he asked with a smirk, “I think your outfit is perfectly appropriate for dinner with me.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at him, but decided to just leave it; truth was she felt perfectly comfortable just as she was, which totally surprised her, apparently most of all.

“I’ll make the rice,” she announced firmly in her ‘that’s the end of that subject’ tone and set about boiling the pilaf he’d set out. She was fully aware that he was behind her, watching her intently and without looking about she asked lightly, “you going to stand there, checking out my butt or you gonna’ be of some use and at least set the table?”

He took the hint and began to take dishes out of another cupboard and placing them on the dining table. “Bloody hell, but she loves to order me about!” she thought she heard him mutter under his breath, but in a warm, good natured way. It made her smile.

They ate in a comfortable silence, as if they had talked enough for a while and just needed to sit quietly and enjoy each other’s company. Buffy finally broke the silence by complimenting Will on the scampi with honest enthusiasm, “Will this is delicious, better then most restaraunts. How did you learn to cook like this?”

He blushed again, shrugged non-chalantly and reminded her that he’d been on his own since he was eighteen-years-old.

“I get tired of food out, luv,” he admitted, “learned to cook to survive..”

She thought about it for a minute, “well, if you cook other stuff this good, you could be a professional chef!” He blushed red again, she noted with delight and went back to finish the last of her shrimp.

“Want to hear some music?” he asked suddenly. To which she nodded her reply while she chewed her last shrimp and rice gleefully.

He hurried over to the CD unit by the TV and flipped through some selections, finally settling on one which he input and turned it up. Strains of The Cure’s ‘Love Song’ filtered through the room and Buffy shot William a ‘what’ kind of look.

“Well I do listen to stuff besides the Sex Pistols and Clash from the 80’s, sweetheart,” he said defensively. Besides,” he said shyly, taking her empty plate from the table, “this song reminds me of you, somehow.”

“How?” she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

‘Oh just great, Spike,’ he derided himself for being so damn mouthy, ‘now you’ll have to explain the whole ice skating thing to her and she’ll think you’ve been stalking her since high school. Which wouldn’t be too far from the truth,’ he reminded himself. He sighed loudly and pulled her up gently from her chair, leading her back to the couch.

“The dishes,” she began to argue, but he shook his head and pulled her down to sit next to him.

“I used to watch you ice skate,” he blurted out quicker then he’d intended.

“You what?” she gasped, apparently stunned by his admission.

“I used to watch you ice skate,” he repeated with a mumble. “I’d go to the rink you skated at and stay out of view. Watched you most times, I think, even went to those little shows your Mum insisted you enter. Went as much as I could or knew about and did it until you quit skatin’ all together. I know what you’re going to say, Buffy,” he sighed again, unable to look at her.

“I’m a real bloody ponce and a stalker to boot, but in my defense; I loved the way you looked when you skated. You just flew over the ice like a fairy princess, or somethin’ and you seemed so free and so sure of yourself then.” He shook his head sadly, “I never understood why you stopped. You seemed to love it so.”

‘Because my control freak of a husband couldn’t ice skate, nor did he care to try and learn. I suppose he thought it looked unmanly or something or, God forbid, he might look foolish. So, he berated me and my connection to the sport until I finally just gave it up and stored my skates in the attic of our house.’ But to him, she answered simply, “I outgrew it,” and changed the subject abruptly.

“Would you replay that song, Will? The ‘Love Song’ by Robert Smith? I just love it and I want you to dance with me to it, right now.”

William looked horrified, “I can’t dance, Buffy,” he stammered, “I’ve got two right feet, really. I’d step all over your tiny feet and probably cripple you for life, please don’t ask.”

Buffy wouldn’t be dissuaded, “I know you can at least slow dance, William Giles. I remember you at the Prom, dancing with that Cecily Adams, your date. And why didn’t you marry her, Will,” she asked softly, “you were engaged at one time, what happened? If I can be so nosey to ask.”

He grabbed the cigaraette pack he’d left on the coffee table, “she wasn’t the right girl, Buffy,” he mumbled, “she always thought I was beneath her anyway.” He lit up a cigarette and she didn’t have the heart to remind him that she hated smoke, “and,” he continued, “if you remember that night right, I kept watching you and that Parker idiot you were with.”

She giggled, “Parker wasn’t an idiot, William, he just wasn’t the right guy for me,” she ended by taking his hand in hers. “Anyway,” she muttered, “you were not beneath Cecily, Will. If she wasn’t the right girl, then so be it, but you certainly weren’t below her. Her loss, anyway,” she shrugged and again dropped the subject.

“Come on,” she stood up and pulled him with her, “let’s dance Will.”

Spike had no choice but to hit reset and turn back the disc to ‘Love Song.’ When the first strains of the song played over the amps, he embraced Buffy in his arms and began to rock slowly to the beat. He tried real hard to ignore the fact that both she and he were in a state of undress that defied restraint on his part at least. Her little lacy bra and panties did little to cover her and pressed against him the way she was, he’d have to fight real hard and heavy to control his passion.

‘Love Song’ By ‘The Cure’ lyrics by Robert Smith:

‘Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel
like I am home again. Whenever I’m alone with you,
you make me feel like I am whole again’

“Will?” she whispered in his ear, “I don’t suppose it ever get’s cold enough around here to actually freeze that pond of yours, huh?”

No, he shook his head, sadly.

‘Whenever I’m alone with you, you make feel like I am young again, whenever, I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am fun again.’

“That’s too bad,” she sighed, “cos’ I’d really like to skate for you, somewhere in the open. Somewhere you can watch me, without hiding in shadows.”

‘However far away, I will always love you, however, long I stay, I will always love you. Whatever words I say, I will always love you, I will always love you.’

She ran her hands up and down his back, slowly, feeling the rippling of his strong muscles.

“I’d be careful, luv,” he warned, “you keep that up and we’ll be dancin’ in bed real soon. Not that I’d mind, but I want you to…..”

Buffy rested her hands on his boxer covered butt and squeezed him to her, “who says I don’t want to be dancing in bed with you, Will?” she rasped in his ear. Slowly, she backed them both into his bedroom, swaying to the music that still played on the stereo. Laying down on his bed, she took his handsome face in both her hands, “you want me, don’t you Will?” she asked boldly, for her at least.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice hoarse with lust, “always.”

“More importantly, you truly care about me, I mean truly care, don’t you?” Buffy asked, wistfully.

Will looked into her eyes, his own half closed from desire or fear of rejection, she couldn’t be sure. “Yes, Buffy,” he rasped, “I’ve cared about you from day one.”


Spike peppered Buffy’s forehead, cheeks and finally her mouth with his kisses, careful not to be too rough with her. Only because he wanted so badly to take this slowly, really draw it out for her. She seemed to want it that way and he wanted what she wanted more then anything in the world. More then that, he wanted her to feel good, warm and fullfilled physically. He heard the last refrain of the song:

‘Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am free again. Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am clean again.’

“Buffy,” he murmered in her ear this time, “I want to taste you again. It’s all I’ve thought about for days and I just have to have you that way. Say you want it, Buffy, please.”

The look in her eyes was really enough of an answer, but he had to hear it from her mouth, “I want it, Will,” she sighed huskily. Wasting no more time, he lowered his mouth down to where his fingers had been just a moment before, down in her hot center.

“Oh Buffy,” he moaned as he tasted her again, “you’re ambrosia to me, the wine of the Gods.” Buffy writhed beneath his mouth as he brought her to realease, “Oh God, Will!” she cried out as she came, “God I love the way you do that to me! The things you say to me!”

“I need you in me, now!” she commanded forcefully, pulling him up to meet his mouth with hers. “Slow,” she whispered as she returned his wet kisses, “slow and sweet, Will. I know you want it that way too. Don’t you?”

He nodded and pushed slowly into her, “yes. I can barely hold back with you Buffy, but I love it slow and sweet, anything for you. Anyway you want,” he groaned in pleasure as he pulled out of her halfway, then pushed back in, agognizingly tender.

She felt the corded muscles of his neck and shoulder blades as she ran her hands down his quickly dampening back. His taut abs rubbed against her bare breasts, causing a sweet sweat to break out on both of them, “you’re gorgeous,” he whispered, kissing her mouth again.

“So are you,” she replied, thrusting up to meet him.

“God, Buffy,” he moaned again, “what you do to me.”

They finished, together, which was always a good way to finish in any one’s language. He lay above her, his body and hers, entwined, mingled with the sweet sweat of sex .

“I’m all gunky, I’ve got to clean up, Will,” she murmered into his ear, “let me up so I can wash up, okay?”

Spike nodded lazily, reluctant to let her break away from him, even to freshen herself. “Come back soon,” he mumbled hazily, “don’t be gone too long.”

She giggled and scurried off to the bathroom to wash up as she called it. When she returned, she brought a clean, warm wet washcloth with her, “you need to be cleaned up too,” she insisted, a sly gleam in her eye.

Without waiting for his consent, she began to wipe his privates with the tepid cloth while he lay, his eyes closed in contentment.

“Keep that up, luv,” he growled, “and you’ll be all gunky again, as you call it, real soon.”

Buffy giggled again, mischieviously, “oh don’t you wish,” she quipped and hopped up, presumeably to deposit the washcloth in the bathroom.

“Don’t I know,” he hissed, grabbing her to him when she returned to the bed.

Laying together, their hands clasped between their close bodies, Buffy looked over at him. He was half asleep, she gathered; his eyes shut tight and his breathing had become slow and regular now. Not the panting they’d shared together just moments before.

“Will,” she whispered in his ear, stroking his hair gently.

“Hmmm?” he murmered, sleepily back, his eyes still closed, a half smile on his mouth. “Do you suppose that we could maybe do what we did last night?” she asked seductively.

Will’s eyes flew open at that request and he favored her with a huge grin. “Hell yes, Buffy!” he yelped, “no problem!”

Buffy squealed in delight, “oh goody,” she cried with delight, “it’s just too darn bad we don’t have a mirror this time!”

She was asleep beside him, her soft hair fanned out about her head, covering his pillow in a golden spray. Spike lay propped up on his left elbow, watching her sleep, happy that she looked so contented. He reached out and ran his hand down the side of her face, careful not to wake her.

“Will,” she whispered dreamily in her sleep as she cuddled his hand to her face. The simple sound of his name from her caused such a surge of warmth to spred through him that he had to restrain himself from waking her right then. However, he opted to just continue ‘thinking’ things out in his head.

Truth was, he’d already formulated most of his plan to bring down Angel Travers, even enlisting the aid of his friend and part-time business partner. The problem was, it was risky, really risky, at least for his friend and himself. If it wasn’t done just right, both he and his buddy would be implicated in the whole mess that was Angel’s illegal dealings; but, it was the safest way for Buffy to break free from her husband.

Spike had been serious as a heart attack when he told her that first night they were together that divorce would not be an option for Angel. He, Spike knew very well what Buffy’s husband was capable of and it scared him for her, what Angel might do to her or have done, anyway.

Angel Travers very rarely handled his own really dirty business, delegating such things to others was more his style. As far as himself, he could handle Angel any day of the week, even if he had to do some jail time to accomplish it, but there was his business partner. The man had a wife, a small child and another baby on the way, and Spike didn’t want anything to destroy their family unit.

Anyway, Spike didn’t want to go to jail, ever; it would mean not being able to be with Buffy. Besides, ultimately, Buffy had to be the one to decide when it was right for her to completely break free of Angel. Until then, Spike wouldn’t put the plan into full motion, but the minute she gave him the sign; he’d start the wheels turning that would bring her husband to his knees.

‘ Right now, though, Buffy was not near ready to break away from Angel, not completely,’ he thought to himself, sadly. “And not quite ready to hear how I really feel about you, Princess,” he murmered to her.

To say that ‘he truly cared’ about Buffy was an understatement, but she just wasn’t ready to ‘hear’ the words from him yet. So, for now anyway, he’d have to be content to say them to her in his own mind, or in a whispered breath. Which he did, right then as he watched her sleep.

“I love you, Buffy. God, I love you so much!”


A/N: Another way too long chapter, but oh well. I felt that I had to bring out the fact that Spike was plotting Angel’s downfall, but……like he told himself, ultimately, it’s Buffy’s call when it’s time for her to rid herelf of the Angel albatross. Oh, and I know that the adage really is “two ‘left’ feet” when talking about lack of dancing talent. But, Spike is left handed so I thought I’d better make that ‘right’ feet. Please review, good, bad or indifferent. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Thanks, luv, Spuf

25: ‘Interview Chapter With A Curator’


A/N: This is a mere interlude between a lot more Spuffyness. I only allude to Spike and Buffy’s encounters here because I wanted to concentrate on Buffy’s pursual of a career and such. Thanks, Luv, Spuf


William was sound asleep next to her, spooned up against her with his arms wrapped tightly about her back and shoulders. Buffy glanced around the room to the clock and gasped, “Oh God, it’s nearly midnight. I’ve got to get home!”

While she was trying to figure out how to loose herself from him, without waking him up, it dawned on her that he would have to take her back to her car at the mall.

“Oh damn!,” she muttered, “I can’t go anywhere without waking him and he looks so darn cute asleep.”

His hair was all mussed up and there were little blond spikes that stuck up here and there all over his head. A part of her knew she should get home, but the other part, the ‘isn’t he adorable asleep’ part told her to stay here in this comfy bed, with this comfy man.

“Oh well,” she sighed in resignation, giving into to her ‘isn’t he adorable’ part, “might as well be comfy and stay for the long overnight haul.”

It wasn’t as if there was anyone waiting for her at home and the gardner could have cared less if she wondered into her house after daylight. Both sets of her neighbors were on vacation, and anyway, surprisingly, the entire neighbohood seemed to mind their own business. No one would even know she’d been gone all night, nor would they care that Buffy Travers had not ‘gotten home before dawn.’

“Besides,” she giggled under her breath, “Will’s so lovely when he sleeps, he seems like an angel.”

A thought came to her, “angel my ass,” she mumbled a little louder, “he sure doesn’t ‘sound’ like an angel. Especially when he’s whispering little hot naughty things in my ear when we’re making love.”

‘Making Love!’ she thought stunned, ‘did I just say that?’

“I spose you’re plottin’ your escape Princess?” he said with a smirk, his eyes still closed tight.

“You’re not even asleep you big faker,” she squealed and began to tickle him mercilessly.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he grabbed her and pinned her arms up above her head, against the pillows, “only I get to tickle, you, and I feel more like kissin’ you right now then teasing you, so……”

He began an assault on Buffy’s neck with his lips that trailed down to her left breast, looked up at her and smiled wickedly, “still want to escape?”

Buffy giggled uncontrollably, “no!” she choked out, “I’ll stay all night, I mean if you want me to.”

She suddenly became quiet and he stopped licking her nipple to stare at her, “bloody hell, Buffy, I want you to stay all week,” he responded honestly.

“I can’t,” she whispered shyly, “but I’ll stay tonight with you Will.”

Spike broke into a huge grin and rolled onto his back, pulling her up on top of him. “I know you can’t stay all week, luv,” he whispered, brushing her silky hair out of her face, “just wish you could, that’s all.”

A warm feeling began in his stomach and slipped up into his chest as he stared into her warm green eyes. She had a little half-smile on her lips, her hair was what could only be described as wild all about her head and she wore the look of an extremely well shagged lover.

Even after their sleep, she looked all kiss swollen and sated, just like he must look right now. It just made him feel so happy and good about them both that he had to bury his face in the side of her neck; he felt like he might tear up from happiness and didn’t want her to see it.

“I really should get home before 8:00 AM, though, Will,” she said, her little face scrunched up in thought. “No need to tempt fate and I have a ton of things to do today.”

He looked at her, tried to smile, but only succeeded in a pout, “yeah, I know,” he sighed. “Would you come back this evening Buffy?” he asked hopefully, trying to read her face for an answer.

She twitched her pretty mouth and gazed into his eyes, thoughtfully, “yeah, I will come back tonight, Will,” she smiled. “But I can’t stay too late, I wouldn’t dare to. Can I park at the little mall again and have you drive me here? I probably could stay until say 11:00 PM or so, if that’s okay?”

Spike ran his hand down the side of her face, “that’d be great, Buffy,” he murmered, placing a chaste kiss on her warm cheek.

“I wish I could take you on a real date, Princess. Someplace real nice,” he said wistfully. “Oh, I know, too risky, someone might recognize you,” he added somewhat sadly, “just wish I could take and show you off all over.”

It was Buffy’s turn to run her fingers lightly down his cheek, “it’s okay, Will, honest. Believe it or not, I really like your place and I ‘do’ feel comfortable here. Please don’t worry about it, kay?”

He nodded then changed the subject, “what do you want to do? What do you want me to cook you?” She giggled, a delightful sound to his ears and he longed to hear it so many more times.

“Why don’t we watch movies, maybe order a pizza!” she squealed like a teenager. “Hey, I know,” she sat up, cross legged on the bed next to him and continued, “we can order a pizza and those hot wing thingy’s you use to love! You still like them, don’t you Will?”

He felt his heart stop for a minute and he had to catch his breath, ‘she remembers,’ he thought happily. “Yes, luv,” he chuckled, “I still love them and I think the bloke that invented them is a bloody genious!”

With a gentle tug, Spike pulled Buffy back down on top of him and shot her a mischiveous smirk, “that settled,” he purred, “what was that about ‘little hot naughties in your ear?”

Buffy hurried into her house, via the back door. It was nearly 9:00 AM and she needed to get out of yesterday’s clothes and into another shower before it got too late. The answering machine by her bed blinked two messages at her and she felt her heart jump up into her throat.

“Oh shit,” she hissed, “please, please let it not be Angel, please!” She didn’t suspect it was Angel, since he would have called on her cell phone or at least called Willow’s and since her friend never called Buffy, she was pretty sure all was safe on that end.

After punching the listen button, she heard her mother’s voice, “Buffy, it’s Mom. I haven’t seen or heard from you in ages. Is everything okay there? Give me a call when you can, dear. Love you.”

Willow’s voice was on the next message, but it turned out to be her friend just letting her know that ‘all was clear’ (leave it to Wills to be cryptic!) and that she’d discussed the Gallery thing with Tara.

“Give us a call later today, Buff,” Willow chirped, “maybe you can drop by and talk more to Tara?”

She called her Mom back first and had a nice long chat with her, ending the conversation by promising profusely that she would come up to Santa Barbara and visit, soon. Joyce Summers would probably not visit them in Sunnydale, Buffy knew her mother disliked Angel, deeply.

After making herself some coffee, Buffy settled down to return Willow’s call. Tara answered and told Buffy she would be happy to give her references, but that she would need her transcripts and records from the University. More importanly, Tara assured her that she’d help set up an interview with a Curator, who was a good friend of hers.

“Olivia D’ Brisset is a wonderful woman, Buffy,” Tara gushed. “She’s smart, married with two kids, but really independent and knows where she’s going. She’ll just love you Buffy, like we all do.”

Buffy made plans to go to Willow and Tara’s for lunch and chat the whole thing over. “This is so cool,” she sang. The shower felt great and she decided to wear a pretty sundress to their apartment, so she could go to Will’s later, kind of dressed up. Today felt so special to her that she wanted to look special too and kind of thought that Will would like her in the little powder blue sundress. Buffy just couldn’t wait to talk to the girls about the position at the Gallery.

Tara answered their apartment door when Buffy got there about 1:00 PM that same day. Willow was somewhere in the kitchen and Buffy could hear the banging of pots and pans as she prepared their lunch.

“Well, do you think you might like to interview with Olivia, Buffy,” Tara asked as she sipped a soda right from the can.

“Like!” Buffy squealed, “I would so ‘love’ to have an interview at the Gallery. My Mom worked there you know, well before she left for Santa Barbara, after I got married and all,” she finished on a sad note. The young woman sitting in the chair across from Buffy gave her a sympathetic look, but said nothing.

“You’ll need your transcripts from the University, like I told you. That would normally take a little while for you to get, but I’m going to get them sent to Olivia on Monday. In fact, I’ve already talked to Olivia today and she’s all set to speak to you as early as this Tuesday. I mean if you really want to?”

Buffy couldn’t believe her ears and began to squirm around on the couch with unhidden excitement, “oh Tara, do you think I could! That would be so awesome, I mean just to get into an interview that soon would be fantastic!”

Right then, they were interrupted by Willow who came flying out of the kitchen door with a platter of something and place mats.

“Slops on!” she cried cheerily, “hi Buff!” Tara and Buffy both jumped up to help the red head set the table and serve their lunch, which seemed to consist of a totally vegetarian diet. Which of course, was just fine with Buffy, especially when the whole time they ate, they talked about the Gallery, her chances of working there and art.

Willow never once brought up the subject of last night’s covert operation in which she’d played a part of. Either she trusted Buffy to tell her everything when she felt it was time, or had decided not to discuss it in front of Tara at this time. The afternoon just flew by, and Buffy heard the ‘Felix the Cat’ clock on the wall meow four times, signaling that it was now 4:00 PM.

“I should go, guys,” Buffy said, standing to prepare to leave, “I’ve got some plans and I really should get going.” Tara waved goodbye from the couch, Willow stood up to walk Buffy to the door.

“Buffy,” Willow said to her lowly just before she left the apartment, “please be careful, we really care about you, kay?” Buffy nodded and gave Willow a warm hug of thanks and left.

On the way home, Buffy dialed Will’s number; he answered on the second ring and sounded so pleased to hear her voice.

“Can I come over about 5:30 or so, Will,” she asked shyly, still embarrassed about calling men in general.

“Of course, Princess,” he responded warmly, “come when you like. I’m just here, waiting for you. Just ring me before you get to the mall, I’ll come over and pick you up.”

Buffy smiled, ‘why do you pamper me so much William Giles’ she thought to herself, ‘and do I really deserve this?’

“I’ve got an interview with the Gallery Curator on Tuesday, Will,” she crowed into the phone, too excited to keep it to herself any longer. “We can talk about it when I get there, over our pizza and hot wings, but it looks pretty good and all. I just can’t wait!”

She heard his pleased chuckle from the other end of the line, “that’s wonderful, Princess,” he said sincerely. “I’m sure you’ll knockem off their feet, luv.”

When she pulled into her driveway, it dawned on her that Will’s reaction to her good news was exactly how she wished Angel’s could be. But, the truth was that her husband would never be that elated about it, not in a million years.

Sunday morning came way too early for Buffy. As promised, Will had seen that she’d gotten herself home before midnight, even following her on his Harley to the end of her block. However, it was only half past 7:00 AM and Buffy heard the sounds of the back door being opened, with a key naturally, evidence that her dear hubby was home from LA.

She had not mentioned anything to Will about her uneasiness regarding Angel’s reaction to the job interview, which was probably the best thing. Will seemed to bristle at Angel’s name and that seemed reasonable enough, he was sleeping with the man’s wife after all. Buffy had also come to the conclusion, however deceitful, that she would not mention the possible position at the Gallery to Angel, at least not until it was a sure thing. There was no need to rock the boat anymore, especially since the Gallery thing might not work out.

If and when she got the position, then Buffy would come up with a plan to ease Angel into the idea as gently as possible. After all, it would do none of them any good to get all worked up over it; she was going to take the position, if it was offered to her, and that was all there was to it. Angel’s ‘pride’ be damned.

“Hey Buffy,” Angel nodded at her when he entered their bedroom, “how’s it going?”

He tossed his Armani overnight bag into the walk-in closet and set at the end of their bed.

“Okay,” she mumbled, not looking at him, “how are you?” If Buffy didn’t know better, she’d think they were a couple of teenagers on a first date; they were that uneasy with each other now.

“Okay,” he sighed and flopped back onto the bed next to her, “all of them started to get on my nerves, Dad, Tofutti,” and he chuckled here which caused her to smile, “and even dear little Dawnie.”

Buffy looked over at her husband and tried to remember when they’d been really happy together; it seemed like an eternity ago.

“When will Dawnie come home,” she asked quietly, not sure she even cared anymore.

“Not sure,” Angel responded, “her big birthday thing that Mom has planned for weeks is in a couple of months; I’m sure she’ll be around for that. Also, the fact that Connor will probably bug her until she gets back will be a big draw for her.” Buffy flinched at the name of Connor, but pushed it aside as best she could.

“Well,” she sighed, “maybe it’ll be good for both Dawn and your Mom to be apart for a while. I know that when I was seventeen it was pretty rough between my Mom and me. Give them some time, it’ll work out.”

Angel reached over and took her hand in his, “I missed you, Buff,” he murmered.

“Good,” she responded, “remember that the next time you ‘try’ to stomp all over my feelings and my pride.”

Before either of them could say more, Buffy jumped up and rushed into the bathroom, “I’m going to take a bath,” she called out, “if you want coffee it’s all set up to go on the kitchen counter. Maggie and Jenny should be back in a couple of hours and they can make some breakfast.”

She thought she heard him say something like ‘sure babe’ but she couldn’t be sure, she’d already turned on the bath water.

All of Sunday night and Monday evening, Angel and Buffy side stepped each other pretty successfully. Of course he had work to go to on Monday morning, so Buffy was free to just have some alone time and think about her interview at the Gallery on Tuesday. Like she’d promised herself, she hadn’t told Angel anything about it and she intended to keep it that way, until at least, she got the job.

By Monday night, Buffy had been victorious in avoiding any physical contact with her husband, sexual or otherwise. Not that he had pursued the issue; no, he seemed more then willing to avoid the physical aspect of their home life, completely, which was fine by Buffy. As much as she’d like to fix her marriage, the thought of having sex with her own husband simply annoyed her at the moment and she couldn’t explain why, even to herself.

They ate their Monday night meal in total silence and soon afer dinner Buffy headed up to bed. She could hear Angel downstairs, listening to some Barry Manilow ( ‘Mandy’ for God’s sake) and probably drinking himself into a stupor. When he stumbled up to bed, almost after 11:00 PM, he plopped into their bed with a heavy thump.

“Buff,” he slurred drunkenly, “I wanna’ play.” She feigned a very deep sleep and he eventually passed out

Buffy’s appointment with Olivia at the Gallery was at 10:00 AM, sharp.
After Angel had gone to work at 8:30, Buffy frantically tried to pull herself together enough to make some kind of a positive impression on the Art Curator. She’d chosen a simple navy blue skirt, the hem line hit just above her knee, with a sleeveless white silk top and two inch pumps. Tara had called her Monday night to tell her that Olivia had indeed received her transcripts from Sunnydale U. and was very impressed with her.

Buffy choked down a piece of toast and some of Maggie’s famous coffee and rechecked her look in the mirror for the twentieth time. Her hair was up in a loose bun, the make-up was definitely subdued and she had to admit, she looked pretty darn smart, even to herself.

“Here we go,” she bolstered herself and headed to the Camaro.

Olivia D’Brisset was everything Tara had said she was and much more. The woman was stunning in looks and stature. To Buffy, Ms. D’Brisset resembled a beautiful Egyptian Queen; tall, dark and self assured. She’d seen statues of Cleopatra VII and Olivia came about as close as a living model could to that formidible woman. Not only was she beautiful, Olivia had the most interesting British accent, a mix between upper class English with just a hint of Jamaican to it.

“You come highly recommended Buffy,” Olivia was saying, “I put a lot of stock in what Tara McClay has to say and she says you are perfect for this position. But, I’m curious, what do you say, Buffy?”

Buffy hesitated just a moment then stated with a new found confidence, “I say I’m perfect for the position also, Ms. D’Brisset.”

The lovely Curator smiled warmly, “I do believe I agree with both you and Tara, Mrs. Travers,” she responded. “Now, here’s the problem; the position is part time and doesn’t have medical benefits or pay exceptionally well, but I think you might be quite happy in it. What do you say Buffy, you want to give it a go?”

With a shake of her golden head, Buffy assured Olivia that money was not a priority for her, neither were medical benefits.

“I see,” mumbled Olivia, “that says a lot Buffy. You seem to really ‘want’ this position and it’s important that you develop a true love of the work. You will start off assisting me, part time, here at the Gallery. Eventually you’ll be taking on more responsibilities as I will be going various places to purchase art for the Gallery. I think you have the right stuff Buffy, in fact, I know you do.”

“So what do you say, Buffy?” Olivia D’Brisset asked again.

“I say when do I start?” Buffy answered with her own excited question. Olivia showed the Gallery’s newest employee around the premises, starting with ancient studies to the works of the Dark Ages.

They came to a painting that struck Buffy as particularly ‘dark and gothic’ and she just had to ask her now employer, “who’s that? This painting looks circa 15th century and ‘he’ looks really evil.”

With a sigh, Olivia assured Buffy that yes, the man in the painting was more then evil. “That, Buffy,” she said softly, “was Vlad Tepes, or Vlad the Impaler, the son of Vlad Dracul of Romania.”

Buffy nodded, “I know this guy, he’s the one Bram Stoker based his Dracula on, right?”

Again Olivia nodded, “too true, unfortunately, this monster in the painting was more of a horror then any man could imagine.” Buffy shivered and they passed on to the next piece of art.

Buffy left the Gallery, her heart beating a mile a minute and she felt like she was on top of the world.

“I got the job,” she sang in her car, toodling down the main highway, “I got the job!”

Then, she suddenly burst into happy tears and had to pull over to the side of road. She needed to talk to someone, the people she cared about most. Her first instinct was to call Angel at the office and tell him her wonderful news, then she remembered, he wouldn’t think the news so wonderful. Willow and Tara would be in the middle of their summer classes and she hated to bother them. Mama would be at her own museum position in SB and frankly, Buffy wanted to talk forever with her about her new job.

That left one important person, perhaps the one that supported her the most about her new found career in her field, William. She dialed his number, nervously, hoping he’d answer his cell phone.

“Giles,” came his clipped accent and masculine voice.

“William?” she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Buffy!” he cried, concerned, “what’s the matter? Are you alright? Talk to me, where are you? Buffy dammit, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Will,” she choked out, “everything’s great, honest. I got it Will, I got the position! Can you believe it?”

Spike gasped in relief, he’d been a wreck when he first heard her tear choked voice at least until she could explain why she was crying.

“Yes,” he responded fairly calmly, “I can believe it Buffy. I can believe in anything you want to do, because I believe in you Princess. Always have.”

There was a pause between them as Buffy apparently tried to catch her breath, “I start Thursday! I know I’m going to love it and I can’t wait to get started!”

He took a deep breath, not really wanting to ask the next question, but compelled to, “what does Angel say, luv?”

Another long pause, “I wouldn’t know,” she quipped, “I haven’t told him yet, although, I doubt if he’ll be as thrilled as you are.”

Trying to suppress a growl, Spike thought to himself, ‘he better not deride you, my love. He better not berate you, chastise you or even raise his voice to you. If he does and I find out about it, I’ll rip his throat out and shove it up his arse, twice!’

“It’ll be fine, Buffy,” he said instead, “and I’m so proud of you Buffy, you have no idea.”

“Hey,” he said suddenly, “why don’t ‘you and I’ celebrate, Thursday after your first day? Peaches will be golfing with Captain Cardboard, you and I can do something special, anything together. What do you say Buffy?”

Buffy giggled soft and low, “I say okay, Will, but answer me something. Just why do you call my husband Peaches?”

He thought about it for a moment then finally answered, “I guess it’s something I came up with to describe his ‘peachy’ personality, luv,” he laughed.

“Riiighght,” Buffy responded drawing out the right. “I’ll see you Thursday Will,” she promised.

“See you Thursday, Princess,” he answered, “I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll set something up, okay?” She confirmed it and clicked off the phone, never hearing his last sentence; “I’ll miss you until then, Princess.”


A/N: I skipped over any real intimate scenes between Spike and Buffy because I wanted to concentrate on her future career. I’m wondering, did anyone get the ‘home before dawn’ nod I threw in from Restless. Which by the way still confuses me to know end! Forgive me for the Vlad the Impaler nonsense, just wanted to throw some vampire lore in there someplace. Please read and review. Thx, Luv, Spuf

Chapter 26: ‘Miracles’




Buffy was so stoked that night, she could barely wait until Angel got home from the office to tell him about her new job at the Gallery. She tried to keep her uneasy feelings at bay, the ones that said ‘he won’t care; he’ll be angry; he’ll put you down’ and most of all “Travers women don’t work Buffy” speech!’

“He’ll be happy for me,” she tried to convince herself, “he’ll love the idea that I’m getting on with my life and not nagging him about babies he’s not ready for.”

‘Yada, yada, yada,’ the bad little Buffy voice whispered in her ear, ‘he’ll tell you that any job you have or position you hold will be beneath you Summers!’

“Maggie,” Buffy shouted suddenly, trying to dispel the bad Buffy voice, “do we have everything to make Chicken Marsala?”

Angel came home, tired and edgy, as usual, so Buffy tried to lighten things up a bit around the house. She had Maggie making Chicken Marsala, she had some generic pop music playing on the stereo and she herself was wearing a pair of beautiful silk house pajamas, the ones Angel had bought her in Maui years before.

Her husband grabbed the new mail, first thing, and began to thumb through the papers quickly, “what’s for dinner?” he asked, not bothering to look up at her.

“Chicken Marsala,” she answered, somewhat posing by the stairwell, hoping to catch his eye.

Finally, he looked up at her, “wow,” he whistled softly, “you look great, babe!”

Buffy refrained from breaking into the Halleluja chorus from the Messiah and scampered over to her husband, “I’ve got something to tell you,” she said excitedly, “but I want to tell you at supper, kay?”

Angel nodded his large dark head, yes, and followed her into the dining room.

They were eating their wonderful Chicken Marsala and drinking a rather lovely Rodney Strong Cabernet when Buffy decided to broach the ‘Gallery subject’ to Angel.

“I have a really big thing to tell you, Angel,” she said giddily, “I mean it’s so cool and all so please let me just tell you and then we’ll discuss it, okay?”

Angel grinned, happy to be eating pasta again, and nodded for her to continue.

“I’ve taken a position at the Sunnydale Gallery!” she squealed, unable to contain her excitement any longer. Her husband looked like he looked when he didn’t win Prom King back in High School, then he slammed his fork down and stood up from the table.

“You what?” he roared angrily.

“I’ve taken a job at the Gallery,” Buffy whimpered, much less giddy then before, ashamed of herself for her weakness.

“Are you insane!” he shouted wildly, actually throwing his arms about.

“Not the last time I checked,” Buffy quipped back, somewhat irritated by this reaction of her husbands, no matter how expected it might have been.

“Why do you feel the need to humiliate me and my family, Buffy?” Angel asked, his hands clenched into fists.

“Why is it that my taking a job is such a ‘humiliation’ Angel?” she retorted, her anger level was getting dangerously close to ‘ballistic’ by this time.

“I give you everything you need, Buffy,” he growled through clenched teeth, “why is it you have to prove some femnist power bullshit and take a job when you know how ‘small’ it makes me feel?”

It was Buffy’s turn to stand up and push the chair back behind her, “I’m not trying to make you feel small, Angel,” she hissed at him, “if you feel small it’s because you have the problem, not me. I just want to do something with myself, my time and energy. I can’t just sit around here, getting pedicures and hair weaves to pass the time. I need to do something constructive with myself!”

Angel threw his napkin on the table, “if you’re so God damned bored,” he spat, “why don’t you go down to the Public Library and volunteer your time to reading to the toddlers? You love kids so damn much, go teach them to mind or something!”

“I can see this was a mistake,” Buffy shook her head sadly, “I should have known.”

Angel grabbed her arm and pulled her into the living room, “yes, your going behind my back and taking some podunk job in a stupid two bit gallery is a mistake, babe. So you just go and call whoever you have to and tell them you’re no longer interested.”

‘But I am interested’ she screamed in her head, ‘I deserve to have a dream for myself!’.

“No,” she said out loud, “I’m not going to give up my new job, I need it to keep my sanity at the very least!”

He towered over her anyway and right now his large lumbering frame would be intimidating to Attila the Hun.

“So,” he snorted, “just like that. You’re going to defy me and take some second rate job to what Buffy? Prove yourself?”

She nodded in her defense and added, “I don’t have to ‘prove’ myself, Angel but if you, as only a Travers could, consider this an act of defiance, then so be it!”

“You know,” Angel sighed, “I have that golf tournament on Friday, the one in San Diego. I was going to ask if you wanted to go this time. Riley Finn is going, of course, and Cordy wanted to join him. Thought you’d like to go along and maybe keep Cordelia company while Riley and I tag team the other doubles and kick their asses. But I guess you might be a bit too busy, huh? Your new job and all?” His sarcastic voice just grated on Buffy’s last nerve.

Buffy tried not to scrunch up her face in an ‘ewww’ expression at the mention of Cordelia and Riley.

“Yeah, I’ll be too busy at my job,” she lied. Actually, she wasn’t expected at the Gallery except on Thursday, Saturday afternoon and then again on Monday morning. Instead of berating Angel for his non-support, Buffy asked innocently, “when do you leave for San Diego?”

Angel brooded for more then the usual alloted time then responded, “Thursday night. Riley and I were going to drive down and take Cordelia and you with us. Make a real turn around of it, thought you gals might like to see Sea World or something.”

Buffy couldn’t help it, she just had to roll her eyes in sarcasm, “so you and Retro Riley Finn thought that Cordy and I would be content to go see some dolphins do tricks? Watch you good old boys knock balls around the greens?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes and shake his head, “you know, Buff,” he mumbled, “it was just this kind of thing that your Mom pulled, that finally drove your Dad away from her and from Sunnydale.” Buffy had to think about this one, yeah, for like a nano second or so.

“No, Angel,” Buffy sighed, “my Mom didn’t drive my Dad away from SunnyD. I believe the real culprit was a dye job red-head named Candy, behind the wheel of a Mazda Miata that finally literally ‘drove’ my Dad away from Sunnydale. As I recall,” she continued snarkily, “the skank drove right up to our house on Revello Drive and……”

Angel interrupted her trip down memory lane, “so you’re not going to support me at the tournament?” he asked in disbelief.

“So you’re not going to support ‘me’ in my new job?” she retorted in even more disbelief. He couldn’t answer that; just hung his head down like a whipped puppy and couldn’t or wouldn’t even face her.

“Go to the tournie, Angel,” she muttered in defeat to him, “just go and have a real good time. I’ll go to my new job, enjoy the hell out of it and hope that my new boss, Oliva D’Brisset finds it in her heart to maybe treat me to a celebration on Thursday night.”

She felt so beaten down right now, so kicked and run over by her own husband. But without missing a beat, “Oh, Angel?” she called back to him, even as she walked away, “tell Cordy to say ‘hi’ to Shamu for me.”

Spike lay in his massive bed, feeling lost and alone without Buffy by his side

“I really need a healthy hobby,” he told himself. “Maybe I should start putting model airplanes together or something?” he laughed bitterly. He got up from the cold, lonely bed and found a pack of cigarettes on his coffee table.

“Wonder what’s going on in the Travers’ house tonight,” he asked himself for the hundreth time. A part of Spike wanted Buffy to be at peace in her own home, the other part wanted, no needed, for her to be at war with Angel.

“I wonder,” Spike said to thin air as he took another drag of his cigarette, “I wonder if Buffy knows how really devoted I am to her. That there’ll be no one else for me now that she’s back in my life?”

He took a swig of some Jack Daniels right from the bottle, “does she think of me in her pious, righteous marital bed? Does she think of me when that prick husband of hers is shaggin’ her senseless? Does she know how I restrain myself from going over there and kicking the fuckin’ door in to drag her out of that prison he’s built for her?”

He finished off the bottle and tossed it onto the couch next to him, “do you wonder what I’m doing when we’re not together, Princess,” he mumbled sadly as he stumbled back to bed.

Buffy lay in her big King sized bed and stared at the ceiling above her, more indifferent then ever to it.

“Wonder what Will’s doing?” she thought. “I wonder if he misses me at all?”

‘Of course he does you simpleton,’ bad Buffy voice whispered in her ear. ‘Don’t you get it yet, Buffy the Brainless?’ nasty little Buffy voice taunted.

‘Okay, girl,’ the annoying little voice continued, ‘I’ll spell it out for you…..L is for the way ‘he’ looks at you; O is for the only one who’s so true blue; V is very very extraordinary and E is even more then anyone you ‘think’ you adore! ‘And LOVE is all that William has for you….’

Buffy covered her ears with her pillow, “shooooshhh!” she whispered at the taunting little voice, “who said anything about LOVE anyway?”

‘He did,’ bad Buffy voice retorted, ‘you heard him, when you pretended to be asleep, remember? I certainly do!’

“Do you know how damned annoying you are bad Buffy voice?” the real Buffy asked in exasperation.

The next day, Angel left for the office way more then too early and Buffy had to accept the fact that her husband was pissed beyond words.

“Over what?” she thought indignantly, “me wanting to have a career? Keep busy? Have a life for God’s sake!”

At around 10:30 that morning, Buffy dialed Will’s cell phone number, again, a bit gun shy of calling a male at all.

“Giles” his masculine voice echoed over the line. “Will?” she asked shyly, “it’s Buffy.” She could ‘feel’ the change in the man’s demeanor in seconds, “Buffy, luv!” he purred, his silky voice sent shivers up her spine.

“I just wondered,” she stammered, “I mean about Thursday and all. Did you still want me to come over to you know, celebrate? I mean I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

He practically shouted his delight, “of course, Princess! I was even thinking that maybe we could ‘go out’ somewhere. Not some posh place, of course, know you wouldn’t want to be recognized, but maybe someplace more low key, like that bar that’s called Clems’?”

Buffy pondered this offer a moment, “yeah,” she sighed, “I’d like low key for once. But, do you think they’ll have those hot wing thingys you love?”

William chuckled low and soft, “I know they will, trust me, Princess,” he answered warmly. “And Buffy,” he added softly, “you could never be an intrusion.”

Again, Buffy and Angel succeeded, brilliantly, in avoiding each other all of Wednesday evening right on into Thursday morning. It was made simpler, by the fact that Angel didn’t even come up to sleep in their bed on Wednesday night, he sacked out in one of the guest rooms. Which was just fine by Buffy. When she awoke on Thursday morning, Angel had already left for work and left behind a note explaining his plans for the next two days:

‘Buffy,’ it began simply enough, ‘I’ll be back on Saturday afternoon. I’ve packed already and we’ll just be leaving this afternoon, around 3:00 PM, to drive to San Diego. I really wish you could have come with us, I’ll miss you and I’m sure that you and Cordy could have had a blast together. Try and ‘rethink’ this decision of yours and when I get back, we’ll talk.’ Love, Angel.

“Oh yeah, Angel,” Buffy hissed, “I’m sure Cordelia Chase and I could have a real hoot together. Maybe even discuss ‘your’ sexual techniques.”

After conjuring up that little scene, Buffy was more then pissed with her husband again, she was furious and couldn’t wait to ‘go out’ with Will that evening. Buffy was supposed to drive to a park close by Will’s place, where he’d pick her up and drive her to this Clem’s Bar. She had no idea why he liked this place so much, it seemed kind of rough to her, but she supposed he could handle himself in any situation. And, of course, there was no way in hell that anyone in this ‘pseudo biker bar’ would ever recognize her or know who she was married to.

Anyway, Buffy wanted to go out and have some fun, get loose and drink beer, maybe even play pool with Will and eat way too many of those hot wings he loved so. She would have to wear some nice pants to work, maybe a short sleeved sweater and her black satin like Gloria Vanderbilt pants and her leather boots. “That should be appropriate for work and just cool enough for Clems,” she reasoned happily.

Her first day at the Gallery was everything she had hoped it would be. Olivia was the utmost in cool, at least so far, and practically exhausted Buffy in just a couple of hours, showing her around the Gallery and explaining what was expected of her.

“I think you’re going to like it here, Buffy,” Olivia commented at the end of the day. “I think I’m going to love it here, Olivia!” Buffy responded enthusiastically.

When it was time to leave, Olivia told Buffy to have a good time at her celebration that night, with her husband. Buffy had told her that she was going out to celebrate her new job that night and Olivia just assumed it was with Angel.

“Yeah like Angel would ever celebrate this!” Buffy thought to herself as she drove to the park to meet William. He was waiting for her when she pulled into the designated spot for them to meet each other.

“Hi love,” he murmered softly, “you look great.”

Buffy really did look great to him, but she always did and she always did just what she was doing right this minute. Blushing like a school girl, looking at anything but at him, “hi Will,” she responded softly.

He held out his hand to her and she took it shyly to let him lead her to his Harley, ‘still shy with me,’ he chuckled to himself, ‘after everything we’ve done together, said to each other. God I love you, Buffy.’

She let him get on first, then slipped onto the seat behind him; he could feel her nervousness.

“Bike won’t bite, Princess, but I just might,” he laughed at her gasp and started the motorcycle, grateful for the tightness of her little arms about his waist. Halfway to the bar, Spike had an inner debate with himself. Either he would have to pull off somewhere and kiss Buffy senseless or he'd have to forcibly ‘move’ her hands up from where they were now settled.

Her tiny little hands weren’t exactly on his crotch, actually they were just above it. The problem was, Buffy only had to talk to him or be ten miles within his radar, and he got turned on, so having her warm hands on his stomach caused him to practically jump out of his skin. Fortunately, Clems was not too very far from there, so he just had to force himself to practice some self control and wait until later, when hopefully, he wouldn’t have to be so restrained with her.

“Uhm, Will,” Buffy stammered when they pulled in to the parking lot, “that’s an awful lot of bikes out here. You think we’ll be okay in there?”

Spike burst out laughing, “yes love, I think that we’ll be fine. I promise these guys won’t bite you, most of them have their wives or girlfriends with them. Anyway, you’re with me, I promise ‘no one’ will bother you. Except me of course,” he added with a smirk.

With a roll of her green eyes, she took his arm and reluctantly allowed him to lead her into the rather ‘rustic’ looking place.

“Oh,” she said, surprised when they stepped inside, “this isn’t so bad, is it? Do you come here often?” This time Spike just smiled and pulled her further into the well lit bar room, “not a lot, but let’s just say I know people here, and no, before you ask, ‘those’ people do not know you, promise.”

Two guys at the first pool table called out, “hey Spike,” and Buffy raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him, “I thought you didn’t come here ‘a lot’ she asked him skeptically.

“Coincidence,” he mumbled. “Hey Spike,” called another local from the bar, “who the hell is that?”

He felt Buffy stiffen slightly and began to wonder if this was such a good idea to have come here. “My girl,” he shot back, coolly, not even looking at the guy.

A loud burst of laughter broke out amongst five or six of the patrons, “Jesus, man, it’s about time! We were getting concerned about you. Jack over there had a bet going that you had a thing for Clem here!”

They began to laugh louder and Spike could feel the red heat of anger begin to creep up into his face.

“Bugger off, mate!” he growled back at them. Buffy squeezed his arm, “they’re just playing, Will,” she whispered, “please don’t start something. I wanna’ play pool and drink beer. It’s okay, I promise, just laugh along with them, for me.”

He stopped in his tracks and looked at her, ‘God, what a woman,’ he thought to himself in awe. “I’d walk through fire for you Buffy,” he whispered in her ear, then pulled her close and kissed her passionately.

Buffy was somewhat lost in the moment and didn’t hear the whistles and cheers from the crowd around her, right away that is.

“Oh shit, Will,” she hissed, “everyone’s watching us!” She pulled away quickly, but couldn’t help but giggle and blush, “I think these people like you Will,” she said softly, “they seem to be happy I’m here with you.”

Will smiled down at her, ignoring the loud laughter and good natured remarks of the patrons, “yeah, guess they do, Princess,” he murmered and nuzzled her forehead with his lips. A dark haired stocky man behind the bar, presumably Clem, piped up, “that’s enough, guys. We’ve all seen a lady before, let’s not act like a bunch convicts out on a pass from prison.”

The other customers seemed to accept what this guy had said and went back to their activities, not so much less loudly, but more focused on what they were doing. William led Buffy up to the bar, “this is Clem, Princess,” he introduced her to the apparent owner, “this is,” he hesitated, “my girl,” he finished abruptly.

“Hi Clem,” Buffy smiled at the serious looking man behind the bar.

“Hey, Spike’s girl,” he chuckled, shooting William a dubious look.

“Two Fosters on tap, nachos and those hot wing thingy’s,” Will ordered, winking at Buffy warmly. “Uhm, Will,” she whispered as Clem went to place the order to the kitchen, “I have to go to the potty, where is it?” She glanced around nervously, more then a little apprehensive to go into the bathroom, much less alone.

“Well,” he smiled, “the potty as you so charmingly put it, is right through that entryway there, by the phone. And don’t worry, I’ll watch you all the way to the door and back again, I cross my heart.”

He looked so serious, well kind of serious anyway, that Buffy had to stand on her tippy toes and kiss his cheek tenderly, “I know you will,” she murmered and headed to the ‘potty.’

Clem came back with the two mugs of beer and set them in front of Spike, careful not to spill any of the contents.

“So,” the shorter, darker man leaned over the bar and looked Spike straight in the eye, “you ever gonna’ tell ‘your girl’ that you own half this place?”

Spike glared at his best friend and business partner, “someday,” he grunted, “but not today mate.” The bar tender shrugged and concentrated on a spot on the bar between them. As he wiped the area slowly, he seemed to be deep in thought.

“Spike. Have you thought any more about what we discussed, I mean this plan of yours to get Buffy away from her husband?”

With a nod of his blond head, Spike sighed deeply, “yeah, I have, about a million times. But it’s like I said before Clem, it’s Buffy’s call and right now, she’s not givin’ me any ‘destroy Master Angel’ vibes. But when she does, mate, I’ll slip in and have me that one good day.”

Clem nodded his understanding, “yeah Angel O’Connor is a first class prick, that’s for sure. I never understood Buffy and him, she always seemed too smart to get taken in by him. You know, Buffy’s prettier then she was in College, not that she’d remember me or anything. My wife Sophie used to have a couple of art classes with her, always said that Buffy had a natural eye, or something like that.”

Spike sighed sadly, “yeah she did, but somewhere along the line, our Buffy got lost and forgot her dreams. Hopefully, she’s findin’ them again.”

“I want to dance!” Buffy was on her third beer, hadn’t touched the nachos or the hot wings and was feeling more then ‘happy’ right at the moment.

“I want to dance Will!” she cried a bit too loudly, even she knew that.

“Uh, love,” William was saying, much too softly for William really, “this isn’t The Bronze there’s no dance floor?” He gave her a kind of ‘are you okay’ look.

“Oh,” she pouted, “you’re right, there is not a freakin’ dance floor, is there?” Will was saying something about ‘eating’ something or something like that, “don’t want to,” Buffy whined, “I wanna dance, don’t care about a stupid dance floor!”

Some disembodied voices began to chant ‘yeah Spike, the lady wants to dance’ and ‘dance with her Spike’ someone else shouted ‘I’ll dance with her if you won’t, man.’

“Yeah, Spike!” Buffy giggled loudly, “Manny, Moe or Jack’ll dance with Buffy if you won’t!” Will was smiling at her now, his killer ‘I’m smirking at you love cos’ you’re making a total ass out of yourself but you are still adorable’ smile that she liked so much!

“Okay, Princess,” he chuckled, “we’ll dance, but then,” he added firmly, “you will eat something.”

“Okay, Will,” she sighed happily as she clasped his arm and let him lead her over to the ancient juke box against the wall.

“Why don’t you pick a song, Princess?” he purred in her ear. He watched as she scanned the selections before her, perfectly aware that she had no idea what any of this particular genre of music was.

“I don’t know any of these songs, Spikey,” she slurred, just slightly.

“I’ll pick the song,” he offerred galantly. Buffy nodded at him and whispered slyly, “something slow, Will. I want to have an excuse to snuggle up close to your killer body!”

Spike scanned the selections himself, finally coming to the perfect choice for both Buffy and him. He punched in the numbers and pulled her over to clearing in the barroom floor that had just magically appeared seconds before. Pulling her flush up to his body, he wrapped his arms about her tiny frame and prayed to God that he wouldn’t end up looking like a total ponce in front of everyone here:

(Miracles is by the Jefferson Starship; lyrics by Marty Balin)


‘If only you believe like I believe, baby
We’d get by
If only you believe in miracles, baby
So would I
If only you believe like I believe, baby
We’d get by
If only you believe in miracles, baby
So would I’

“Do you believe in miracles, Will?” she mumbled against his shoulder as they rocked to the slow beat of the song, one she’d never heard before.

“Occasionally,” he answered her simply.

‘I might have to move heaven and earth to prove
It to you, baby
So we’re makin’ love and you feel the power
And I feel the power
Then there’s really nothing that we can’t do
If we wanted to baby
We could exist on the stars
It’d be so easy
All we gotta do
Is get a little faith in you’


“I believe in miracles, Will,” she sighed dreamily, “but then again, I still believe there might be a Santa Claus and even an Easter Bunny!”

Spike grasped her even tighter, “you believe in anything you want Princess,” he murmered.


‘Oh I’ve been (to) so many places
I’ve seen some things
I know, love is the answer
Keeps holding this world together
Ain’t nothing better
Ain’t nothing better
And all the answers to our prayers
Hell, it’s the same everywhere, baby

Nothing ever breaks up the heart
Only tears give you away’


“I believe in you Will,” Buffy whispered, a lone tear trickled down her cheek and
onto William’s shoulder.

She felt him slowly run his hands down her back to the hem of her sweater and slip just one of them up under the soft fuzzy material, “I believe in you too, Buffy,” he cooed, nuzzling her hair with his mouth.


‘Then you’re right where I found ya
With my arms around ya
Oh baby, baby, baby, love is a magic word, yeah
Few ever find in a lifetime
But from that very first look in your eyes
I knew you and I had but one heart
Only our bodies were apart
(and that made me crazy)
That was so easy, so easy
I had a taste of the real world
When I went down on you, girl’

“When we leave here, Will,” Buffy purred in his ear, can we go to ‘our pond’ and cuddle all night? Angel’s gone until Saturday, can we Will? Just you and me go? I promise I’ll eat some hot wingy things and nachos and won’t drink another sip of beer.”

She felt him tense when she mentioned Angel’s name, but then Will just relaxed completely in her arms. “Yeah, we can do that sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear, causing a tingly sensation to shoot down into her neck, “all night he rasped.” .

‘I can hear windmills and rainbows
Whenever you’re talkin’ to me
I feel like swirling and dancin’
Whenever you’re walking with me
You ripple like a river when I touch you
When I pluck your body like a string
When I start dancin’ inside ya
Oh, baby, you make me wanna sing
Yeah, baby, baby, baby, baby
Oh yeah, all right!

“Buffy,” Will murmered so low she could barely hear it above
the song and noise of the bar. “I love you, you know.”

She could feel
a wetness on her face and knew those tears weren’t her own. “I know,” she whispered back, “thank you Will.”


‘Oh, Baby we’re sure doin’ it tonight
Everytime you come by, let me try
Pretty, please with sugar on it
That’s how I like it
I can’t even believe it with you
It’s like having every dream I ever wanted
Come true
I picked up your vibes
You know it opened my eyes
But I’m still dreamin’ yeah
And you’re right where I found ya
With my arms around ya.’


When the song finally ended, Spike looked down at Buffy who seemed to be in some kind of a daze or something her eyes closed tight and a smile of contentment on her lush lips. He glanced around the bar to find most of the patrons watching them intently, almost as equally mesmerized by the couple on the makeshift dance floor.

Somewhere from behind Buffy and him, somebody, Spike suspected Clem, started to clap slowly, setting off a chain reaction from the whole bar, male and female, of claps and whistles. Buffy snapped to and glanced around, the bright red blush on her face signalled the end of their little dance interlude together.

“Come on Princess,” he murmered, “let’s go get you something to eat.”

She nodded at him, “I’m hungry Will,” she sighed, “but we’re still going to our pond, right?”

Spike sat in a booth away from the crowd and pulled her onto his lap. “Oh, yeah, love,” he assured her, “we’re still going to our pond.”


A/N: Is anyone still reading this chapter? Please don’t think that Buffy is going ‘the 3 Faces of Eve’ on us (the bad Buffy voice) it’s just a way for me to vocalize or visualize her inner conversation. I know the dance scene was a bit hokey, but hey, I’m hokey, okay? Please review if you would like to, constructive criticism and all that! Thanks, Luv, Spuf

Chapter 27: ‘Because I Want To’

A/N: Okay, I’m moving this up a notch, slowly, but surely. My time line here is a bit wonky, so please bear with me. This chapter, for those of you keeping up, begins about two weeks after the dance thing at Clem’s. We have to assume that Spike and Buffy have been seeing each other secretly off and on for the past two weeks whenever it’s possible. Sorry for scrunching up the time, but I’m running out of chapters and there’s still some ‘heavy’ stuff to come. Thanks, Luv, Spuf


Buffy closed the inventory log that her boss, Olivia, had her going over for the past three hours. She had been working at the Sunnydale Gallery for almost two weeks now and loved it so much that she hated having to leave to go home. Sadly, she found every minute away from her own husband quite freeing for some reason, especially the moments she was with Will.

As much as Buffy knew that her connection with Will was wrong on so many levels, she found ‘their’ time together, William’s and hers, to be liberating for her. William simply seemed to understand Buffy more, at this point in time, then anyone else in her life right now. Even Willow and Tara, who now ‘knew’ first hand that there was another man in her life, couldn’t fill the space that Will could, the need she had to be with him.

It was that simple and that scary for Buffy. Although Willow and Tara agreed to ‘cover’ for Buffy when necessary, they asked that she not tell them who this mystery man was, for now anyway. It simply made everything easier for everyone.

In fact, on this very Thursday night, Buffy had told Angel that while he went off to play golf, drink and God knows what, with Riley Finn, she was going out for ‘fun’ time with the girls. Actually, she was going to Will’s place for dinner and ‘conversation’ and she had spent more then a few evenings and days with him there. No matter what else in her life, Buffy was deeply grateful for the ‘friendship’ that Will and her had formed and she dreaded having to give it up. When Buffy joined Will at his apartment, she would park her car at an appropriate distance away.

He would pick her up and drive her to his apartment and they would eat some wonderful concoction he’d come up with, talk and inevitably sleep together. No matter how long they had together, sometimes just a few hours, Buffy came away from Will’s feeling a completeness in her life that she had not felt in a long time, maybe not ever.

“Hey, Princess,” Will called out to Buffy when she pulled up into the mall parking lot.

“Hi, Will,” she said shyly, somewhat embarrassed by her own bashfulness. No matter how much they shared together, Buffy was still shy around William; it didn’t make much sense, but there it was.

“Hungry?” he asked bluntly. “Always,” she replied just as bluntly.

When they got to his place, Buffy stepped in the front door and was met by the most wonderful aroma, “what’s for dinner?” she asked boldly.

“Quiche,” he replied simply, “and before you say one smart arse thing, yes, real men eat quiche.”

‘Apparently, they cook it too,’ she mused with a giggle.

“Oh, I know you’re a real man, William Giles,” she piped up even as she slipped off her pumps and curled up on the leather sofa. The smirk he shot her was more then enough of a response to her innuendo.

“How’s work?” he asked her, bringing her some wine in a glass.

“Great,” she answered truthfully, “exhausting for some reason, but in a good way.”

Spike plopped down closely beside her on the couch, wearing what he hoped was a dazzling smile.
The closeness of Buffy always made his black jeans fit just a bit tighter, especially in the crotch and he still felt embarrassed by this fact. As honest as he’d been with Buffy, Spike, deep down inside, still felt shy about how aroused she made him, just by talking to him.

“I’m going to not only be working on Thursday, every other Saturday and Monday, now I’m going to be showing up on Wednesday at the Gallery!” she told him, obviously more then pleased about this.

“That’s wonderful, Princess,” he murmered to her, tenderly pushing a strand of golden hair from her face.

Spike took a sip of his beer and looked at her, this remarkable woman that he loved more then life.

‘You keep doing it Princess,’ he thought to himself, ‘you just get more and more independent from that prick you’re married to. Pull further and further away from him until you ‘know’ you don’t need him at all. And I’ll be there, Buffy, for my one good day.’

“What?” he asked her out loud when he saw the inquisitive look on her pretty face. Her eyes were so wide and soft right that very minute, more so then ususal and he could tell there was something she wanted, no needed to talk to him about or ask him about.

“I was wondering something,” she began with shy hesitation, “actually, I’ve always wondered something about you.”

Spike smiled at her, “what? Ask away, luv,” he finished, sitting even closer to her, his hand on her thigh.

“I was wondering,” she stammered again, “when your Mom, Anne, went back to England with Drusilla and Guinevere, why didn’t you go with them?”

Spike felt like his heart would stop beating that very instant, but he swallowed, hard and tried to answer as best he could.

“I guess because England just wasn’t my home anymore, Princess,” he muttered, “if it ever really was.”

Buffy nodded, but she still looked confused so Spike tried to explain to her satisfaction.

“I mean, look,” he whispered, gruffly, “my own real Dad wouldn’t marry my Mum, even though she was pregnant with me. He was a real piece of work, that one, though Mum never says nothing against him. Some Royal Air Force bastard that couldn’t stick around long enough to give me a proper name.”

Buffy cringed, remembering back to that evening on the beach when she’d called Will that hurtful name, cutting him to the bone, she was sure. As if he read her mind, William took her hand in his, “it’s alright, Princess,” he murmered, “I realized a long time ago that I’m not the bastard, my real Dad was. And besides, Mum did alright for herself, marrying old Rupert and all. A damn sight better then if she’d been stuck with my real old man.”

This still didn’t answer her real question so she asked Will again, ‘why didn’t you go back with your Mom?’

Will stood up and got another beer, a ploy Buffy noticed he did when he had to ‘think things out’ in his head, before he answered her.

When he came back, he had that look of determination on his face, the one that told her he’d come to grips with whatever he was going to tell her.

“Buffy, luv,” he said softly as he took her hand again, “I stayed because I felt this was my real home now. That and I found it hard to look any of them in the eye anymore, Mum, Dru and poor Rupert, who insisted on adopting me when I was only three-years-old. After Rupert died, it was even harder for me to face my Mum and Drusilla, and little Guinevere was the hardest of all. I just couldn’t face the fact that I’d let them all down. I should have protected Drusilla more, like Dad and Mum tried to do. I failed them, Buffy, all of them.”

Buffy reached out and took his hand in her tiny one, “I bet ‘they’ don’t feel that way Will,” she whispered and kissed his cheek softly, “I know how much Drusilla loves you.”

‘And you,’ Spike mused to himself. ‘I wish I could tell you Buffy, how many times my poor little sis told me I had to stay here, in Sunnydale to protect you. My ‘golden Princess’ needed me more then she did, or my Mum, or Guinevere. She was right, Buffy, you needed me much more then anyone, even if you never knew it. Drusilla knew, she knew I could help free you, especially from that evil dark knight, Angel, as she called him. Dru always said that I was the shining white knight that would help Princess Buffy escape the dark knight’s evil power.’

“Besides,” Spike grinned at her, snapping out of his reverie, “we wouldn’t be here, now, together, like this, if I’d of left, right?”

Buffy grinned back at him, “true,” she chuckled, “selfish as that is, I’d miss out on our time together and I’m thankful for it Will, I am, truly.”

She sat for a moment and thought about what he’d said, about what ‘they’ now had together, then she finally got up the courage to ask her next question.

“Will,” she whispered, snuggling down into his arms, “all that junk you had on me, that awful, gross stuff you threatened me with…..”

Will suddenly flinched, she could feel his whole body tense up, “yeah,” he rasped.

“You never were going to give that to Angel, were you, Will. Never were going to use any of it against me. Any of it?” Buffy asked softly, all ready knowing the answer before he gave it.

“No,” he whispered huskily and she knew he was telling the truth, without even looking at him.

She turned to look up at him, her eyes slightly misted from tears, “good,” she whispered, stroking his cheek again, “because I want you to know something. You don’t have to hold me here, Will, I come here, to be with you, because I want to, not because I feel like I have to. Okay?”

He nodded, his own blue eyes misted with tears, “okay, Princess,” he whispered back to her lovingly, lightly kissing her forehead.

“I value our time together, Will,” she murmered as she kissed his lips gently, “it’s not much to say to you, not what you want, I know, but it’s a lot for me to share with you. I hope it’s enough, for now, anyway.”

Will pulled her closer, “it’s everything for now,” he murmered hoarsely.

Buffy began to run her soft full lips down the side of his left cheek, then to his neck and finally to his chest, which was conveniently bare. Spike only wore a pair of black jeans, nothing else, and was he ever thankful for that! Running her mouth down to his chest, Buffy ran her tongue over his nipples, something that she did that never failed to amaze or arouse him, fully.

“Keep it up, Princess,” he moaned, “and I’ll…..” but he didn’t finish because she had unzipped his jeans and pulled his penis out of it’s confines.

“You’ll what?” she purred as she ran her hot little tongue over the his other head.

“Jesus, Buffy,” he groaned even louder as she continued doing a most marvelous thing with her sweet mouth. He fought back a wave of jealousy, the one that asked, ‘where the bloody hell did she learn to do that so well?’ Instead, Spike just lay back against his couch, his hands clutching her head and let Buffy work her own special magic.

“I’m not going to last, baby,” he groaned again, his eyes half closed in pleasure.

Buffy paused long enough to quip with a smirk, “I think that’s the idea, Will,” and went back to what she’d been doing, so very well.

Just before he came, Spike begged Buffy to stop and come up to him, but she shook her head stubbornly.

“I mean it, Buffy,” he growled, “get up here, I want to be in you when I cum.”

Without waiting for her to make a move, Spike pulled her, carefully that is, up yanked her pants and knickers down, thrusting her onto himself in one smooth swoop.

“I said,” he growled again, “I want to be in you when I cum!” Then he began to kiss her mouth like a starving man.

“Will!” she cried as she came, her body shivering in pleasure.


Later, they lay, wrapped up in each other’s arms on the couch, both sated and drowsy. Buffy fought to keep her eyes open, but she was quickly loosing the battle.

Will just lay spooned up into her, their front sides together and slicked with pleasant wetness.

“Mmmm,” she purred against his chest.

“Bloody hell yeah, Mmmmm,” he echoed with a chuckle, stroking her damp hair. They lay there for a few minutes, just trying to calm their breathing when suddenly, William bolted up in a panic, “my quiche!” he cried.

Before he could untangle himself from Buffy, she clutched him to her and forced him to look at her . She knew her expression told Will of the sad desperation in her heart.

“This,” she rasped staring into his gorgeous blue eyes, trying to convey her inner fears, “it’s a mess, isn’t it?”

Will returned her gaze, but his eyes held a glimmer of hope, “yeah, Princess,” he whispered, kissing the end of her nose, “it’s a bloody mess, right now. But I’ll fix it, I promise.”

Spike paced around his apartment, like a nervous cat, or an expectant father. It was Sunday afternoon and he hadn’t seen Buffy since yesterday, Saturday evening, which by his standards was just way too long to go without her. His love had somehow convinced her moron husband that she worked ‘every’ Saturday at the Sunnydale Gallery, instead of every other Saturday or two and he was ever grateful for that.

Buffy could steal away from that prick, Angel, and spend her Saturday with Spike, however, it just killed him by inches, to have to let her leave his bed and go back home.

“Yeah, I know,” Spike grumbled to himself, lighting another cigarette, “Buffy ‘avoids’ dear old Angel, like the plague, at home, anyway, but……”

Spike wasn’t a stupid man, but he was a man in love, with a married woman. He looked at the beveled mirror above the entertainment center, “would you avoid Buffy sexually if you were her husband?” he asked his reflection. “Hell no!” his mirror image responded with a smirk.

Opening his third beer in an hour, Spike flopped down on his leather couch, the one he and Buffy had made love on Thursday. Yesterday, they’d actually made it to his bed, giggling and laughing all the way as Spike pulled every bit of clothing off of her, almost frenzied. Buffy’s little ‘this is a mess’ speech, regarding their affair, had alarmed him on Thursday. Oh, he’d reassured her it was alright, or was going to be, but Spike hadn’t totally explained just how or why it was going to work out for them.

“I think it’s time, mate,” he said to himself, even as he reached for his cordless phone.

Clem answered his home phone on the fourth ring, “what’s up, Spike?” the man asked cautiously.

“Angel’s luck just ran out,” Spike said answered evenly, “it’s time.”

Buffy wondered around her big two-storied house all day Sunday, just waiting for Angel to come home. He was out golfing, big surprise, with Riley, or some other generic club partner, this Sunday afternoon.

“Sometimes I think Angel’s in love with one of his caddies,” Buffy sighed as she sat down on her beloved sofa. It’s not that it mattered anymore, really, Buffy had come to grips a few weeks ago, that she was losing more then a passing interest in what Angel did lately. The problem was, Buffy had always been more then a tad afraid of the unknown, and until Angel came around, she would fret over what would happen when he did.

‘Would they fight, argue? Would her husband try to claim his marital rights? Did she want him to?’

“What a freakin’ mess,” she grumbled to herself, watching out the front bay window of her living room. Little Devon Jameson Jr. rode his tricycle down the sidewalk in front of her house, his dad following closely behind.

“I dated you, a couple of times in High School, Devon Jameson Sr.,” she chuckled to herself, “you kissed me in the back of the gym one day. Wonder if you remember that?”

Angel took that moment to come through the back door of their house, “Buffy!” he called out, slightly impatiently she thought.

“I’m in the living room,” she answered indifferently. Her husband strode into the room and right up to Buffy, “I have to go to LA tomorrow,” he announced, his expression was a mix of smug and apology. Buffy shrugged, “Dawnie missing SunnyD?” she asked.

He nodded then seemed to ponder something for a moment or two, “yeah, she’s missing Connor.”

She noted that she actually didn’t cringe this time when her young indiscretion was mentioned, “how special,” she merely muttered.

Then, “you know, Angel,” Buffy began, her voice just a little condescending, “I’m beginning to wonder if your two law partners might be thinking they’re missing a third wheel?” After all, Angel was out of the office and away from home an awful lot.

“It’s a business trip, babe,” Angel assured her, “for about a week. I’m going to clean up a little mess in LA, pick up Dawnie and bring her home about Sunday. The firm depends on me to ‘clean little disasters up, you know that Buff. I’d ask you to go with, but…..”

His smug expression made Buffy want to ‘yak’ but she controlled herself.

“Well, of course, I’m working,” she retorted, picking up the new copy of Sci-Fi Monthly from her coffee table, wondering why she even subscribed to the stupid thing anyway.

“Well of course,” he responded, the smugness in his tone fell about three levels. “Okay,” Angel responded, with a lot less bravado then before, “you work, I’ll work in LA and everybody’s happy, right?”

‘Right’ Buffy nodded without looking up at him again.


A/N: I had Buffy mention the fact that Angel is ‘out of the office’ a lot because it’s convenient for ‘me’ to have him gone as much as possible. Spuffy depends on it! In the next chapter, Buffy and Spike will go on a little getaway! Please read and review, even if it’s not ‘good’ news.
Thanks, Luv, Spuf
























Reviews 2 >
viewstory.php?action=printable&sid=3188viewstory.php?action=printable&sid=3188


../back
↑ Go To Top ↑

Chapter 28: ‘Mothers, Daughters, DeSotos and Ice’


A/N: Okay, uh a really stupid title, I know it, but there it is! Anyway, I hope people are still reading this story. Thanks if you are and please review if you can, luv, Spuf.


Buffy lay alone in her’s and Angel’s bed, thankfully, while her husband worked downstairs in his study. He was leaving tomorrow for LA, and apparently, he had some homework to do for the office before he left. Just a few moments earlier, he had come up the stairs to check on her, only to find her feigning sleep.

She really was trying to sleep, but a lot of crap just kept playing out in her overworked mind. ‘I wonder,’ she thought to herself, ‘if Angel has a woman, or women in LA, too?’

Not that it should matter anymore, Buffy’s adultry was right up there with Angel’s by now, she was sure of that. With a sigh, she turned to adjust the alarm clock by his side of the bed and noticed the green light of his private phone, ‘Angel is talking to someone,’ she reasoned, just as she reached for his phone, ‘I wonder who?’

“I know Dad,” she heard her husband’s voice on the line, “but Buffy isn’t Mom and probably never will be. I’m just surprised that she hasn’t rebelled against me before now, stubborn little brat that she is.”

Frank Traver’s baritone voice boomed in response, “well knock her up and keep her busy at home. A couple of kids and she’ll be begging for a Nanny in no time, just so she can go to the gym three times a week or get her hair done. I’m telling you son, get her pregnant, she’ll fall back in line.”

Buffy heard her husband’s sigh of frustration, “yeah, well I’ll think about it Dad,” then changing the subject, “How’s Dawnie?”

She returned the receiver of Angel’s phone very carefully, although it was difficult, trying to see through the red film of anger and humiliation she was experiencing.

“That stupid prick!” she hissed, “the both of them! Daddy tells Angel to ‘knock me up’ and he’ll think about it! As if I don’t get a say, or it takes Daddy dearest to encourage him! Jeez!” When Angel came to bed, well past midnight, Buffy again pretended to be asleep and he didn’t even try to wake her.

Monday morning came bright and early and Buffy woke up to find herself alone, again in her bed. She heard the shower going in the master bathroom and glanced at the alarm clock on the end table. ‘7:00 AM’ she thought, ‘good I hope he leaves as soon as possible!’

Angel, finished with his shower, sauntered back into their bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Morning,” he grunted at her as he pawed through his closet for some clothes.

“Morning,” she responded, really trying to sound chipper and all but only managing to sound somewhat indifferent.

Suddenly, her husband, who was famous for the ultimate ‘brood’ look, the one he was wearing right now, dropped the towel from around his waist and literally leapt from his position by the closet into their bed, laughing like a kid.

“Come on baby,” he chortled, landing in a heap on top of her, “give Daddy some Buffy lovin’”

Buffy was stunned, past stunned actually, Angel hadn’t done something like this in ages, lately he’d been so damn broody and well, dull and certainly distant.

“I, I’m, I don’t, I…..” she stammered, not quite sure just ‘how’ to react to ‘fun, interested Angel’ again. So, she just gave in and lay there while her husband claimed his marital rights. Oh sure, she sighed and moaned at the right times, even threw in a couple of ‘oh mys’ when she thought it was timely, but in her heart, Buffy couldn’t help but feel miserable, she felt that she was cheating on Will.

Angel went off to LA, a real smile on his face and Buffy took a long hot bath, sobbing the whole time, thinking of Will. When she finally finished her soak, she wrapped herself up in a silky pink robe and lay back down on the bed.

It took a whole five minutes before she dialed Will’s number, taking a deep breath, she prayed he’d answer the phone.

“Buffy?” he greeted on the second ring. ‘Will must have gotten Cell ID,’ she surmised.

“Yeah, it’s me, ” she whispered. “What’s wrong, Princess?” he asked with concern. “Nothin’, not really, just wanted to talk to you. Is that okay, Will?” she asked meekly.

“Course it is, luv, but are you sure you’re okay?” She nodded, another stupid move, the man couldn’t ‘see’ her through the phone for God’s sake!

“I have to work tonight, you know?” she said, stating the obvious, but not sure of what else to say, she just needed to hear his strong, masculine voice.

“I know, Princess, I wish I could see you,” his tone was so wistful that it near broke Buffy’s heart.

“You can!” she blurted suddenly.

“Angel left for LA, just a little while ago. I’m alone for almost a week, except for work of course. Do you want to see me this week, Will?" she asked, ashamed that her tone sounded more like a whimper then a request.

“Of course I do, sweetheart,” he responded, “any time I can. You come over any time you want, I’ll be here…waiting for you.”

Buffy felt a sense of exhileration, mixed with a tinge of sympathy; ‘he loves me,’ she thoughtly sadly, ‘he loves me and is willing to just wait around for me.’ For a moment, Buffy felt like the total bitch she probably really was.

“I’d like that, Will,” she murmered, “I like being with you. You believe that, don’t you?”

He said yes and she suddenly felt ten times better then just a few minutes ago, “thank you Will,” she whispered. “I’ll call you, if that’s okay, right after I get off work tonight.”

The sound of expectant silence echoed over the line and Buffy waited for Will to answer her. “Buffy?” he began quietly, “will you spend the night with me?” She didn’t even have to think about that one, “yes,” she answered warmly.

Buffy got ready for work that Monday, humming to herself and thinking about spending some safe quality time with William. Just before she left for the Gallery, she dialed her mother in Santa Barbara on her own cell phone.

“Mom?” she greeted when Joyce Summers picked up, “hi honey,” her mother answered happily.

“Hi Mom,” she responded, trying not to sound suspicious, but failing as usual.

“Is everything alright , honey?” her Mother asked, sounding worried.

“Mom, I need a favor from you,” Buffy said carefully, “a big one.” Joyce assured her that she would do anything for her only daughter.

“I need you to tell Angel, if he calls, that I am definitely there, or getting up there to your place or around there in some way. Will you do that, Mom?”

Joyce didn’t say anything for a few moments then she finally answered her daughter, “yes, I will, Buffy. And I won’t ask questions, for now anyway, but I want you to come up here, for real, soon, and tell me just what the hell is going on and why. I’m going to go with, for right now, that Angel is being a complete idiot about something and you need time to yourself, but I’m warning you Buffy, if this is something else, I want answers, and soon!”

Spike strode into ‘Clem’s Bar’ a man with a mission. He searched the bar for Clem himself and found him behind it, dutifully wiping out glasses and mugs, stacking them up evenly against the wall.

“Hey Spike,” the short dark man called out to him.

“How about a drink, mate?” Spike asked, ignoring the clock above the mirror that glared the still early morning hour at him.

“You drink too much, friend,” Clem stated, pouring a whiskey for him anyway.

“Less then before,” Spike shot back with a smirk and downed the shot of alcohol.

“Less then before what? Or should I ask, before who, Spike?” Clem grinned at him.

“Her, Buffy,” is all Spike could reply to his friend. “Is everything getting started,” Spike asked, a wicked grin spread on his own face.

“Oh yeah, it’s getting started,” Clem chuckled, pouring his business partner another shot. “I’ve got just the right amount of information, for now, on Angel Travers going out to the right sources, right where it’ll do the most good.”

Spike nodded, contently, then sipped this shot, slowly, “you know, mate,” he chuckled, “I can’t wait to see the look on Angel Traver’s face when he realizes he’s goin’ to ‘hell’ and just who helped send him there!”

Clem smiled at his best friend, “yeah, that’ll be priceless.” He finished with his own wicked grin.

Spike made some phone calls, just before Buffy was supposed to meet him at the park that Monday night. He had made plans for the both of them for that night, the next day and night, then she’d have to go back to the Gallery on Wednesday. With the ‘poof’ out of town, Spike was going to take full advantage of his time with Buffy. His cell phone rang, shrilly, it was his Buffy.

“I’m on my way to the park, Will,” she mumbled, shyly, “will you meet me?” As if she had to ask.

“Course I’ll be there, waiting for you, luv,” he answered, “uhm, did you bring some extra clothes with you?” She did.

“Good, cos’ we’re going out of town tomorrow, someplace you’ll like, promise.” Buffy was silent for a moment then she whispered, “I’d like that, Will, thanks.”

When they got back to Spike’s apartment, he wasted no time in pulling Buffy flush against him and kissing her senseless. It helped that she didn’t put up a fight, not that she had of late, but her eager responsiveness was even more of a turn on to him.

“Buffy,” he gasped as he carried her into his bedroom and laid her back onto the bed, tumbling on top of her.

“Will, I’ve missed you,” she cried out as he assaulted her mouth and neck with his lips.

“Missed you,” he echoed her sentiments, pulling her clothes from her body as he continued his kissing assault down her neck onto ther chest and now bare breasts.

“Oh God,” she hissed as he licked and sucked her nipples, hungrily.

He started to say, with a smirk, “I don’t think God has much to do with ‘this’ Princess,” but then thought better of it. ‘God has to have ‘everything’ to do with this,’ he mused, ‘this is as close to Heaven as I’ll ever surely get.’

“I have to taste you,” he rasped, running his mouth down past her breasts to her tummy, then lower to her still covered target he was searching for.

Buffy giggled wildly, “if you want a taste, you’ll have to take my pants off youself!”

He halted his kissing and looked up at her with a half smile, “is that a dare, Princess?” he asked, delighted.

“Yup!” she laughed happily, “it’s a dare, Will!”

Will began to run his lips wildly across her bare tummy and tried to tug the zipper of her pants down to gain access to his ultimate destination.

“Stop!” she shrieked, laughing loudly, “that tickles!”

He pursued his prey with relentness abandon until she was giggling so much that she began to cry.

“I’ll stop,” he purred, “if you’ll lay still and let me remove this roadblock,” he pulled lightly at her pants again.

Buffy suddenly stopped laughing, uncontrollably, and just stared at William, with a somber expression. “I’d like to let you remove the roadblock, Will,” she mumbled, looking straight at him, “but I’m scared.”

William returned her somber gaze, “me too,” he admitted softly, “but I think it’s worth it Buffy.”

She ‘thought’ she knew what Will was talking about, but she wasn’t quite sure enough. Instead of pursuing the present conversation, she clasped his head with her hands and pulled him gently up to face her.

“I need you,” she whispered truthfully.

“I love you,” he stated sincerely.

“If you love me,” Buffy moaned into his mouth, “then please, start with the kissing and shagging, already!”

Never one to let her down, Will began to kiss and lick her lips, mouth, chin and neck, going back down to her breasts and sucking them gently.

“Oh Will,” she sighed breathily, “that’s just so wonderful, please don’t stop loving me.”

He paused for a moment, from his ministrations, “as if I could ever stop loving you Princess,” he smiled up at her.

She gazed down into his adoring blue eyes and couldn’t bear it, she had to have his mouth on her lips again and their bodies connected in all ways.

“Come here,” she commanded, pulling his head back up to her, bringing his lovely lips down on hers.

“Be in me,” she whimpered her order, “please,” she begged this time.

He finally got her darn zipper undone and yanked her pants, panties and all down and off of her, then returned his face to hers where he again kissed her relentlessly.

“Is this what you want?” he growled, thrusting up into her.

“Yes,” is all she could manage in response.

When she woke up the next morning, Buffy was totally relaxed and rested. Will was still asleep beside her and again she was reminded of the young man she’d first known years ago in High School.

“All the young dudes,” she giggled, “that’s what you are, right this minute William Giles.”

Her bed partner turned over in his sleep, mumbling something under his breath, “my Buffy,” he whispered, or so it sounded like to her.

“Yes, Will,” she whispered back, so low no human ear could detect it, “I’m afraid to admit it, but I do believe that I ‘am’ yours, here anyway,” she added, placing her hand over her heart. She let him sleep, carefully untangling herself from his arms, then quietly going about her morning routine.

Searching around in the kitchen, Buffy found coffee and proceeded to brew some for the both of them. Soon the pleasant aroma of Folgers filled the apartment and before she knew it, she heard Will call out to her, either still in his sleep or in a panic; Buffy!

“I’m here,” she called back, “I’m coming Will.” When Buffy got into the bedroom, she found William sitting up in bed, his hair a mass of curls and spikes (just like she adored it).

“Where’d you go?” he asked with a pout. “Just to make coffee,” she replied, airily, jumping up onto the bed to join him.

They snuggled together for a while, chatting about nothing in particular, but enjoying their comfortable conversation.

“So,” Buffy finally broached the subject, “just what are we going to do today and where at?”

Will gave her a mischievious grin and winked at her, “I’m not telling you until we’re almost there, but first we’ve got to stop at a storage place I have to ‘get’ something there.”

Buffy was so curious by the time they’d showered, eaten breakfast and headed out to this storage place, on his Harley, that she couldn’t stop talking about it.

“What is it, Will?” she whined at least five times on the road, sounding just like an impatient child, “where are we going?”

He never said a word back, just chuckled from time to time and ignored her pleadings. Finally, they got to a storage place and Will pulled up to a unit, pulled out keys and opened up the garage door. What met Buffy’s eyes both shocked and delighted her.

“No Way!” she shouted, gleefully. “I don’t believe it, Will!”

Sitting in the storage unit, was William’s DeSoto, his very beloved car and one of Buffy’s most pleasant teenage memories.

“I love this car!” she cried out with glee, even clapping her hands together, “are we going to ride in it, Will?”

Her face was both hopeful and flushed with excitement, it tugged at Spike’s usually cynical heart; but then again Buffy always did melt his heart.

“Well, that is the point of being here, luv,” he chuckled, taking her little hand in his. “Come on, I know it’s gonna’run, I come by and start it up once in a while, just to keep it going.”

He led her to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for her, enjoying her obvious joy in the old treasure. When they left the storage yard and headed out on Highway 101, Buffy couldn’t contain herself any longer, she began to ask a million questions a minute.

“Okay, so where are we going; when will we get there?”

Spike smiled at her, but again ignored her questions, that is until they had been driving about thirty minutes, south on the highway.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart,” he winked at her, reaching over to wrap his right arm around her shoulders.

“Where? Oxnard?” she answered her own question, somewhat puzzled.

“You just answered your own question, again, Princess,” he chuckled softly.

Sure enough, they were getting closer and closer to the City of Oxnard, California, famous for well, ‘strawberries.’

“Will,” she stammered, “uhm, I know that you know that I love strawberries and all, but I mean, the Festival isn’t on yet and…..”

Will laughed at her, causing her to sigh first then pout. “Yes,” he responded, still laughing and squeezing her shoulder gently, “I know how much you love strawberries and no, we’re not here for any Fruit Festival. I’ll tell you now why we’re here, but you have to promise that once we get there, you will do what I want you to. Promise, Buffy?”

Buffy looked him over, trying to read his body language and figure out just what this mystery thingy was he wanted her to do. She assumed it didn’t have anything to do with sex, they could have done something like that anywhere, so she took a chance and promised she’d do what he wanted at their destination.

“Okay, Princess, we’re here,” he said pulling into the parking lot of a mammoth domed building. A sign bearing the title of ‘Oxnard Ice Skating Rink’ blared down at her.

“Ice skating?” Buffy gasped in disbelief, “you want to go ice skating?”

William looked her straight in the eye, his own blue eyes gleamed wickedly, “no,” he began, “I want ‘you’ to ice skate for me.”

Buffy still sat, in stunned disbelief, first looking at the rink, then back at Will.

“Will,” she sighed, “I haven’t skated in years, I don’t even know if I still can. Besides, if I skate, you have to!” she commanded.

“No bloody way in hell, Princess!” he yelped.

“What’s a matter, Spikey,” she purred, sarcastically, “afraid you’ll look like a ‘ponce’?”

He shook his head, “no, Buffy,” he insisted, “afraid I’ll fall and break my fuckin’ neck, or some other vital part of my anatomy!”

She burst out into laughter, “so the ‘big bad’ is really a ‘big baby’ right?” she asked, poking him in his ribs.

“I’m not a big baby, Princess,” he responded evenly, “but I’m not a bloody idiot; and I’m certainly not coordinated, not like you. I’d fall and bust up some important appendage, but remember, luv, you promised me, you’d do what ‘I’ wanted and I want you to ice skate for me, today. Right now.”


A/N: This last chapter was supposed to be longer and more enlightening into the Spuffy story. It will be included in the next chapter. The next chapter will give some insight into Spike and Buffy’s relationship, now and in the past and just why things happened the way they did years before this. It’s kind of an angstsy chapter, the beginning of a couple of angstsy chapters actually. Hope you read! Please review. Thanks, Luv, Spuf

Chapter 29: ‘Beneath You’


A/N: After writing some pretty angstsy stuff on my other fic, I had to sit back and just go with flow on this chapter, here. I promised angst, but this is only semi-angst! Thanks, Luv, Spuf


In the end, Buffy was the only one who hit the ice at the Oxnard skating rink. Literally, the rink was completely dark when they got inside and she wondered if she’d be able to skate at all.

“It looks closed, Will,” she whispered, rather dissapointed as they entered the cold, empty dome, hand in hand.

“It’s okay, luv,” he assured her, patting her hand, “I’ve got it on good authority that this rink is definitely open, for you that is.”

Buffy shot Will a ‘huh’ look, but followed him over to where a little old man sat, playing solitaire of all things. If she didn’t know better, she’d thought that this guy was just waiting for them.

“Mr. Giles?” the old guy asked, confirming her suspicions. “That’s me, mate,” he chuckled, pulling out his wallet and dropping a Master Card on the small table the man had his cards laid out on.

“I had to search pretty hard, Mr. Giles,” the old man chuckled, “but I finally found a size five pair skates. Cleaned them, sterilized them, just like you ordered. Hope the Mrs. And you enjoy the rink all to yourself!”

Apparently, Will had arranged this little escapade completely, even having the old guy open the rink, which normally would have been closed at this time. Before she could say anything about it, Will motioned her to sit down on a bench and began to unzip the leather boots she wore, only to replace them with the skates he’d had provided.

Without looking up at her, he mumbled lowly, “don’t ask, just skate, okay, Princess?”

She nodded then thought better of it, “okay,” she responded softly, “but I don’t know Will, I haven’t done this in years, I’m not sure if…..”

He smiled up at her, “I’m sure enough for both of us, just skate for me Buffy, please.”

‘Who in the heck could turn down that?’ she asked herself. When he’d laced her skates up, she stood, a little shakily on them, trying to remember the ‘feel’ of the them. Heck she was just trying not to fall on her butt at this point.

For the first thirty minutes, Buffy just skated around the rink, very carefully, while Will watched intently, a pleased smile on his lips. When she passed by him, for the tenth time, at least, she slid over to where he sat on the bench, right next to the ice.

“Sure you don’t want to join me?” she asked, coquettishly.

“Hell no!” he laughed, “Buffy I’d kill myself, honest. I just want to see you enjoy yourself, so go and enjoy already.” By the time an hour had gone by, Buffy was thrilled to find that she could actually do some simple leaps and bounds, even a couple of cautious spins. Finally, all pooped out from the joy the whole experience had brought her and very tired from trying to just stay on her fee, Buffy skated over to her lover.

“That’s enough Will,” she panted, her breaths showed in tiny streams of fog between them. “I’m just too out of practice for this, too out of shape.”

William smiled at her warmly, “you were fantastic, Princess,” he said warmly. “But if you want to stop, that’s okay, we have someplace to be in another city, anyway. Come on then." He offerred her his hand and pulled her up onto the stand area so she could remove her skates and they could leave.

A little while later, Buffy and Spike were driving north, back up the 101 highway, past Sunnydale, past Santa Barbara and even passing up the beautiful San Luis Obispo area.

“Just where are we going,Will?” Buffy asked innocently, snuggling up against next to him in the car.

“San Simeon,” he answered simply, keeping his attention on the road ahead of him, even though it was near impossible with Buffy so ‘close’ at his side.

“San Simeon!” she gasped excitedly, bringing another smile to his face.

“Someone told me about this really great beach house to rent, right on the shore of the ocean. So I rented it, for tonight, would have done the whole week but I know you have to be back to the Gallery tomorrow evening and all.” He was very pleased with himself indeed, when he saw the happy look on his Buffy’s pretty face.

Buffy wriggled around in the DeSoto’s front seat, unable to contain her glee at going to San Simeon for the night. She hadn’t been there since she was a young girl, it was one of the places her Daddy used to take her Mom and her, that is before he left them, permanently. San Simeon was one of the most beautiful places along the coast of California and certainly rich in history, abundant in art lore. Hearst Castle, the ‘ranch’ of the William Randolph Hearst family, was nestled up in the rolling hills that ran right along the coastline. Of course the Hearst family had turned over the old estate years ago to the State of California, but they still owned a lot of the surrounding acres, even continuing the ranch activities that old man Hearst had loved so much in his lifetime.

“Can we see the Castle, Will?” she cried enthusiastically, “do you think we can get in?” The ‘Castle’ which was really an elegant ranch house, was replete with artistic treasures, rare statues and gorgeous architecture, mixed up into a conglomeration that somehow ‘worked.’

“Course we’re going to the Castle, for you luv,” he chuckled, squeezing her tightly to him, “wouldn’t let you miss it.”

Buffy felt silly but she couldn’t resist clapping her hands together, just like she did when Daddy Hank had taken her there, years before. Suddenly, she fell very silent, something was niggling the back of her mind and she was pretty sure of just what it was.

“Will,” she whispered as they drove through the quaint little village of Cambria, “thank you for everything. For the skating, this, just everything. It means so damn much to me, I can’t even tell you how much.” She felt the threat of tiny tears at the corner of her eyes and tried to brush them away, somewhat embarrassed.

“It’s okay, Princess,” he murmered, tightening his grip on her shoulders even more, “anything for you.”

Buffy was in ‘Heaven’ at least for her. They had booked two tours in the ‘Castle’ and Buffy was simply estatic with both of them. Tour Two took them through some of the guest rooms of ‘La Cuesta de Encantada’ the other name of the Castle. This also included various works of art that Mr. Hearst loved and collected, then there was the baroque ceilings in the various rooms they toured. The tapestries alone could keep Buffy busy for a week, just trying to take all of them in. When that tour was finished, William hurried her to the Tour Four encounter, which ended up at Buffy’s other love, ‘the Wine Celler.’ By the time they finished with their tours and were heading back down the winding road to the highway, it was after 5:00 PM.

“Hungry?” Will asked, probably fully knowing the answer to that.

“Famished!” Buffy squealed in response, still reeling from the beauty she’d just experienced, “can we get a pizza, Will?”

“Okay,” he laughed, “pizza it is, but from where?” They looked around the rather isolated town of San Simeon, someplace that appeared to ‘roll up the sidewalks’ by sundown.

“Hmmmm,” Buffy squinted looking around for any signs of a Pizza Hut or some other place that offerred her beloved dish. “I don’t think we’re getting pizza tonight, Will,” she pouted, “but hey, there’s always Mexican food!”

She pointed to an adobe like building that advertised the best Mexican food and cactus margueritas in the County, so Will pulled in. The host seated them and brought them bright shiny menus, ones that advertised all kinds of Spanish delicacies.

“Your Senora is muy bonita, Senor,” the youngish waiter grinned at Will and winked at Buffy.

“Don’t I know it mate,” Will chuckled, good-naturedly, in response.

When they’d finished their meal and their ‘Cactus Maggies’ Buffy and Spike drove to the beach house that he had rented. He watched her scurry about the place, excitedly, running from point to point, unable to stand or sit still for even a second.

“Oh, Will!” she cried happily, “it’s right on the beach, just like you said!” She threw open the shuttered doors that led to the private veranda, “God I love this place!” she shouted out to the ocean, causing Spike to join her on the balcony of their place.

“God, I love you, Buffy,” he murmered softly in her ear.

“I know,” she mumbled, accepting his arms about her, leaning back into his chest. Some local teens, or maybe even surfers had started a bonfire on the beach, just yards from their balcony and it lit up the shore and part of the now midnight blue sky like fireworks.

“Will,” she whispered, staring out at the scene in front of them, “I think maybe we better get some things cleared up. Things from the past and all.”

She felt him tense up, but continued, “it’s important that we talk about what happened, you know, back then in High School. I need to tell you some things and you need to know about them.”

If he was wary, he didn’t show it, just stood behind her, his muscular arms held her in an embrace.

“About that night, at Delta Kai, I mean,” she began. “You don’t have to explain Buffy, I understand, really,” he assured her.

“No, you don’t,” she stated sternly. “I don’t think you understand at all, I certainly didn’t, not until a few years ago, so please, just let me tell it to you.”

“Back then,” she sighed, snuggling even further into William, “we were all friends, just that, right?” She felt him nod in agreement against the back of her head. “You and Angel,” she began, then paused, “I have to mention Angel in this Will. He’s really a big part of all this past history for both of us and I’m going to have to mention him, okay?”

Will nodded again, silently.

“Anyway, you and Angel were like ‘Immortals; like Gods’ to me Will. Needless to say, your reputations, with the girls that is, preceeded both of you. While I was in awe of you guys, I was also more then intimidated by you both. You could have any girls you wanted, any of them and I’m sure you both did. But for all of your macho bravado and egotistical swaggers, I knew in my heart that you both ‘cared’ for me, at least in a kind of little sister way.”

“One night,” she continued, “when you weren’t with us, the regular group that is, probably out getting laid in the back of your car or something.”

Buffy felt Will flinch and nuzzle his lips into her hair, “it’s okay,” she chuckled, “if I was more bold or experienced back then, I’d certainly have been the one in the back seat with you, okay. Anyway, suffice to say, you weren’t with us that night. Angel, me, Willow, Xander, even Cordelia, Holden and Amy, gosh even Harmony and Devon Siles were together, in the Harris basement. We’d been drinking, heavily, for us and decided to play a game of ‘spin the bottle/go in the closet.’ It was Angel’s turn to spin and as fate would have it, the bottle landed on ‘me.’ So, true to the rules of the game, we went into the stupid closet together.”

“I was completely clueless, of course, as to what I was supposed to do with Angel in there. After all, my previous boyfriend turned out to be gay in the end and all’s he’d ever done was kissed me and felt me up once or twice. Angel, drunk as he was and experienced as he was was up for more then a few kisses and gropes, you know?”

Again, William tensed up, but mumbled something about her going on with the story.

“Angel had me pinned to the closet wall within seconds and had moved from kissing to assaulting my body within minutes. What was I supposed to do? I had no idea what this hot, experienced guy wanted, so I just went with the flow and kissed him back, a few times, let him feel me up, which did nothing for me, really, and groaned at what I thought was the appropriate times.

Apparently, Angel caught on to me, my real disinterest and pushed me away, non too gently saying; and I’ll never forget this one….
‘you’ve got a lot to learn about men, kiddo!’

I rushed out of the closet, promising myself I’d never talk about this humiliation to anyone, least of all Angel, who never even remembered that night, ever. He’d been too drunk at the time.”

“I’m listening, Princess,” Spike whispered, “but I don’t see how this pertains to us and that night at the frat bash.”

Buffy clutched his hand, the one resting on her shoulder, tightly. “It’s really simple, Will,” she mumbled, “when you followed Riley and me up the stairs, all in the name of nobility and everything, you were my white knight, my champion. Then, later, I mean when it got all ‘hot and heavy’ between us, I couldn’t help but think of Angel and me, in that disgusting little closet together. His words cut me like a knife, even when it was you and me, together. I never felt like I was above you Will, I felt like I wasn’t good enough for you, I was beneath you. I’d see that look of dissapointed contempt in your beautiful blue eyes and feel even worse about myself then I had with Angel.”

Spike felt like he couldn’t breathe, for about a minute or so, then he released his breath in relief. “So now, Angel and the Chase bitch?” he asked.

“Just a reminder of what a loser I am, Will,” she answered, letting the tears come now, freely. “I mean, if Angel after six years of marriage finds me wanting, what’s going to happen to you and me? How soon until you find me, you know, beneath you, unsatisfactory as a lover…”

“Fuck Angel!” he hissed, spinning her around to face him. “Fuck him and his bullshit mind games. You’re not beneath me, Buffy,” Will insisted, desperately, “you’re everything to me. You’re everything any sane man could want in a lover; warm, responsive and very, very sexy, I swear to God, Buffy! And for the record, I haven’t been with anyone else since you and me got together, no matter how fucked up that was!”

He pulled her so close and held her so tightly that she found it hard to breathe. “I love you Buffy,” he declared again, “I’ve loved you since, well since a long time ago and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that prick of a husband of yours convince you that the fault is in you. It’s him, Princess, he’s a fuckin’ monster, a number one loser and an all round menace to society. I love you,” he whimpered, clutching her desperately, “I love you so much!”

Buffy buried her face into Will’s chest and let the tears flow even more, “I need you, Will,” she rasped, “need you so very much.”

They stumbled, together, off of the balcony, through the front area and into the bedroom of the beach house, kissing each other on the way.

“I need you,” Buffy gasped, pulling at Will’s clothes frantically.

“I love you,” he rasped back, “God I love you so much!” He ripped her top off of her and pushed her down onto the bed, gently as he was capable of, and fell down on top of her.

“Want you,” he mumbled against her mouth, “want you too,” she responded, pulling his body as close to her as she could.

“Fuck me!” she commanded him, yanking his unzipped jeans down below his slim hips.

“Gladly,” he responded as he ripped her thong off of her and enthusiastically thrust into her.

“Oh, God, Will!” she cried out as her lover slammed into her body with all the force he could. “Tell me!” he ordered her now, “tell me what you want!”

Buffy matched Will’s pants and his rythm, thrust for thrust, “I want this,” she moaned, her voice husky with pleasure. “I want this and you and everything you can give me, Will!”

He pounded into her, “who do you want, Buffy?” She began to kiss his mouth, his jaw, his neck, “you! Only you, Will! I only want you fucking into me, giving me everything you can, all that you can! Dance with me, Will! Please don’t ever leave me!”

William stopped thrusting long enough to look her straight in the eye, “I’ll never leave you. I’d take a stake in my heart first, Princess!” Then he began to dance with her even more.

The next day, on the way home, Buffy and Spike were silent, for most of the time anyway. By the time they’d reached her Camaro, parked at the little strip mall, they had pretty much come to a mutual agreement, silently, if not verbally. Buffy would want only him and visa versa, and he’d never leave her, excpet unless he died first. It was a pact they’d made during sex, but a pact it was and as good as any legal contract, as far as they were concerned anyway. The night before had been an epiphany of sorts, especially for Buffy and she had let herself go totally, more so then with anyone else, ever. Even Angel.

When they got to her car, Spike sighed, wistfully, “do you think that you could see me tonight?” he asked. Buffy looked at him shyly and smiled, “yeah, spose I could,” she purred, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“See you tonight, luv,” he called to her as she took off in her car.

For the couple of days, Buffy and Spike fell into a routine. She went to work, he did what he did for work and they got together at his place at night. Buffy always checked in at home, careful to make sure that her husband was placated as to her whereabouts, who she was with and all.

On Thursday night, Buffy and Will lay in his bed, sated from sex and just talking together like lovers tend to do when she sat up looked at her picture above his dresser.

“I want to go see my Mom,” she stated matter-of-factly, “I need to see her and talk to her.”

William set up next to her and wrapped his arms about her body, “okay, luv, I’ll take you up, tomorrow if you want,” he offerred.

“Don’t have to, I can drive myself,” she responded with a pout.

“Of course I don’t have to, Princess,” he kissed her cheek, “I just want to, that’s all.”

Buffy pondered his offer for a moment or two then sighed, “yeah, I want you to, Will. Can we leave first thing tomorrow morning?”


A/N: All right, in the infamous words of Thursten Howell III, ‘hey luvies!’ on a scale of 1 to 10 in the Spuffy realm, this was a angst reading of about 3 for me, maybe less. That means, that future chapters will be much more angst ridden, just a warning from the authoress! I tweaked the ‘Beneath You’ from the show to make it about Buffy’s insecurities, instead of insults on Spike. Thanks for reading my silly little fic and please review if you can! Love you all, Spuf

Chapter 30: ‘She Isn’t Miss Perfect’



Buffy hurried through the front door of her house, already late to meet Will at Clem’s bar. They were going to meet there, for some weird reason, and then drive up to Santa Barbara to stay the night in some obscure hotel. When she had called her Mother last night from Will’s, Buffy had been cryptic about the reason for her trip up north.

“I need to talk to you Mom,” she explained, briefly, “you know, about what we discussed before. I think we need to suss this out in person.”

Of course Joyce wanted to see her daughter, she was always complaining about how little they got together and she missed that. It was almost 10:00 AM by the time Buffy pulled into the parking lot of Clems bar.

She saw the DeSoto, parked outside the building and checked quickly to see if Will was inside, he wasn’t. A little confused, she entered the building only to find Clem behind the bar and Will sitting on one of the stools.

‘Good thing I’m somewhat comfortable about coming in here,’ she mused as she smiled and waved at Will from the door. He came over to her, planting a chaste kiss on her cheek, then led her back to the bar. There were only a couple of patrons inside, naturally, it was still early in the day and Buffy felt okay about sitting down.

“Be right back. Give my girl some coffee, mate,” Will smiled, squeezing her shoulder lovingly and leaving her alone with the dark haired man behind the bar.

“Hi,” he grinned at her. “Hi, Clem,” she responded, taking the coffee eagerly.

“So,” Buffy began, sipping her coffee and watching the stocky man go about his work, “how’s Sophie?”

Clem turned around, a pleasantly surprised look on his face.

“Did you think I didn’t remember you?” she asked, slyly, giggling.

He pulled a stool on his side of the bar over and sat down on it, sliding his coffee cup over to where they sat.

“Guess not, Buffy,” he smiled, “we didn’t exactly travel in the same circles after all.”

Buffy nodded, “yeah, we didn’t, but I remember Sophie, very well. She was in a couple of my classes and I really liked her. What happened to her?”

He chuckled, “I married her. We’ve got a two-year-old boy and another baby on the way.”

She smiled warmly, “I’m glad for both of you.” Buffy hesitated a minute then asked, “how is it you know William?”

Clem looked around the bar, apparently searching for Will. When he didn’t see any sign of him, he turned his attention back to Buffy.

“Well, that’s a long story,” he responded, “one I think Spike should tell you, not me.”

She nodded again, then asked, “I suppose you know I’m married, right?”

He blushed profusely, “yup, and I know who to, but don’t worry, Buffy,” he assured her, “my loyalty is to my friend Spike, okay?”

Buffy gave him a soft smile, “okay, Clem.” Will chose that moment to come out of the back of the bar and plopped down next to Buffy.

“How bout some breakfast, luv,” he smiled at her, “the ‘chef’ in the back makes great omelettes.”

Buffy gave him a quizzical look, “okay,” she sighed, “that’s it. What’s going on here?” Clem laughed, Will blushed and Buffy got frustrated. “Well,” her lover finally stammered, “I kind of own some of this place.”

On the way up to Santa Barbara, Buffy grilled Will about the bar and a lot of things.

“So,” she started, “how long have you been in business?”

Will blushed again, “a while,” he responded.

“Hmmm,” she murmered, reaching over and running her hand up his thigh, “just what other legitimate business ventures are you into, Spike?” she grinned.

He chuckled, “most of my ‘business ventures’ are legitimate, Princess. Sorry to dissapoint you.”

‘I wonder,’ she thought. They pulled into into the parking lot of the Montecito Inn, in Santa Barbara. Buffy still felt a little odd about this kind of thing, it kind of made her relationship with Will feel less then stellar, but she went along with it. For some reason, she just felt compelled to.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you, pet?” he asked, joining her on the balcony of the room he’d rented.

“No, Will, really. I’ll be fine. It’s going to be enough of a shock for my Mom to realize her daughter isn’t ‘Miss perfect’ if you go…..”


She hadn’t been to her Mom’s Santa Barbara house in ages, but had no problem in finding the spacious ranch style building. Buffy had borrowed Will’s old DeSoto to go see her Mom and get some things straightened out, a few things anyway. Even though she had grown a little distant from her Mom, since she’d married Angel that is, her opinion and emotional support was still very important to Buffy.

Spike had stayed at the Inn; Buffy left him sitting on the couch, watching Passions on the cable stations of the telly, as he called it.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy knocked on her Mother’s front door, feeling ‘funny’ that she should be so nervous about being there.

“Buffy!” Joyce Summers squealed, pulling her only child into a warm embrace. “You look great, honey,” her mom gushed, eyeing her up and down.

“You too, Mom,” Buffy echoed; her mom did look great and she was glad. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Joyce Summers.

“Come on,” Joyce pulled her through the house and onto the patio in back. “I’ve got some lunch out and some mirmosa poured. Everything we need for a nice long chat together!”

Buffy smiled and sat down on a recently purchased whicker chair on her Mom’s patio. “Good, because we have a whole bunch to talk about, Mom,” she sighed. They sat together on the patio, enjoying the gorgeous day, eating California Cuisine and drinking mirmosas, when finally Buffy decided to begin their ‘chat’ in earnest.

“Mom,” she began carefully, setting down her glass on the little glass and whicker table between them, “there’s something I need to tell you. Something I’m not sure you’ll like, and I’m not sure I’m too proud of, but, I need to tell you, now.”

Joyce took a sip of her own mirmosa and watched her daughter over the rim of her glass, “there’s another man, right?” she asked suddenly.

Buffy sat up, a bit stunned by her Mother’s question, but she nodded, averting her green eyes from her Mom’s honest blue ones.

“Yeah, there is, Mom, but it’s not just that, there’s more. I caught Angel with another woman a few months ago, right in his office,” she snorted.

“I can’t say I’m shocked by that one, honey,” Joyce mumbled, causing Buffy to stare at her, even more surprised. “Angel is and always has been just like his father, honey,” her Mother sighed, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. So,” she continued, sipping her mirmosa, “this other man, does he love you?”

‘Geez, Mom, get right to the point much,’ Buffy thought with a smile.

‘Yes, Mom, he loves me so bloody much!” Joyce hesitated, a funny expression on her face, “well, then, I guess my next question would have to be, do you love him?”

“I can’t say for sure,” Buffy answered honestly, “I know I care for him, a lot. He’s been like a rock for me, Mom, even if the whole affair started like a bloody Hollywood horror story.”

Joyce eyed her daughter, seemingly sizing her up before her next question. “Do I dare ask who this ‘other man’ is?”

Buffy stood up, paced around for a while then stood in front of her mother. “Do you really want to?”

With a sorrowful laugh, Joyce took her daughter’s hand. “No, I don’t want to, honey,” she responded, “in fact, I’m pretty sure I don’t have to. It’s William Giles, isn’t it?”

Buffy felt like she was going to faint, “how’d you know?” she stammered, barely able to breathe.

“Well, first off,” Joyce began, “you’ve used the term ‘bloody’ at least twice in the last five minutes and unless you’ve gotten some new British friends….” Her mother, squeezed Buffy’s hand warmly.

“Secondly, I’m not blind, I saw that one-of-a-kind car of his when you pulled up front.”

Here, Buffy giggled.

“Third, William is the only man I know of that is strong enough, or loves you enough to stick by you, no matter what. Even if it means putting up with your being married to that pompous ass Angel."

“Do you hate me, Mama,” Buffy asked, timidly, sitting on her mother’s lap and curling up into the security there.

“No, I don’t hate you, I love you more then anything, Buffy. I just wish….”

Buffy looked up into her mother’s blue eyes, “wish what?”she asked, cuddling her head into Joyce’s chest.

“I just wish you were happy, honey. As for William, I’ve known about ‘that’ for years, and it doesn’t shock me, just makes me sad a little.”

Daughter looked up again at mother, another ‘say what’ expression on her face.

Joyce chuckled warmly, tightening her arms about Buffy, “I’ve watched you and William for years. The way you two have danced around each other, the way you’ve ignored his feelings for you. In fact, two days after your wedding day, he showed up at the old house on Revello Drive. God, but he was drunk, drunker then anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“Tell me more,” Buffy ordered softly, snuggling deeper into her mother’s lap.

“Well,” Joyce murmered, stroking her daughter’s blond head, “he was drunk, miserable and yes, pretty angry. I don’t know if he was still drunk from the night before, or drunk from that very morning, but he was smashed, either way. He stumbled into the front room after I opened the door, ranting on about what a bloody idiot Angel was, how he’d ruin your life, and so on. I felt so sorry for him, I fixed him hot chocolate, with those little marshmellows you love and made him sleep it off on the couch.”

“When he woke up, I tried to open his eyes to some harsh truths, like how he should go back to England, help Anne and Drusilla with little Guinevere,” here Buffy flinched, “but he still insisted he was needed here. By you.” Buffy couldn’t believe it, Will had been there, all the time, just like he’d told her, waiting, watching her from the shadows.

“Finally,” Joyce continued, “I seemed to have suceeded in calming him down, temporarily and noticed he was looking at our painting ‘Christina’s World’ the one you loved so much. I couldn’t help it, I insisted that he take the painting with him, when he finally sobered up enough to leave, and keep it for himself. It seemed to comfort him somehow and I couldn’t stand to see his heart breaking, it made me so sad.”

By the time Joyce had finished, Buffy was crying softly against her chest, clutching onto her Mother’s body like a small, desperate child.

“I screwed up, Mama,” she sobbed rocking in her Mother’s arms, “I could have been contented with a simple, decent life. With a man I could have respected, loved and built a good life with, I just fucked everything up and I’m not sure if it’s fixable.”

“Buffy!” Joyce tsked and cringed at her daughter’s use of the ‘f’ word but then, “everything is fixable, honey,” she advised. “Leave Angel if you have to, do you have any other choice?”

Buffy wiped the tears from her face, “it’s not that simple, Mom,” she sniffed, “Angel isn’t going to let me go without a fight, or something worse.”

Joyce tensed up, but kept stroking her daughter’s hair, “oh,” she whsipered, “I see.”

They sat in silence for a few moments then Buffy finally murmered, “I sold out my happiness and freedom for a ‘name,’ a new car every year and a life’s membership to the Sunnydale Country Club.”

Joyce continued to rock her daughter in her arms, stroking her head tenderly, “oh Buffy,” she sighed in sympathy.

Buffy drove back to the Montecito Inn, slowly, contemplating everything she and her Mother had discussed earlier. As much as she tried to pay attention to her driving, her mind wondered back to something Joyce had said, just before Buffy had left to go back to William.

"What’s the plan?” her Mother had asked.

“Plan?” Buffy wondered aloud. “This is William Giles, Buffy, there has to be a plan to free you from Angel Even if it’s a bad one.”

Apparently, Buffy’s Mother had recognized the kind of man Angel truly was, even before she had. A real monster. Sighing, Buffy flipped on the DeSoto’s radio, wondering if it even worked anymore. It did. William had programmed every button to KROQ, an LA based alternative radio station.

“Figures,” Buffy giggled, happy to hear some music that Will loved so. Her ears perked up when she heard the first strains of tune playing:

(okay, retro plot line here! The Cure’s Lovesong)

‘Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like
I am home again. Whenever I’m alone with you you make
Me feel like I am whole again…..’


Suddenly, Buffy gunned the motor and sped off to get back to the Inn as fast as she could.

“Will!” she called as she hurried into the room, searching for him, frantically.

“Out here, Princess,” he greeted from the little balcony, waving at her. He was smoking a cigarette, dressed only in his regulation black levis. She tossed her purse on the couch and scurried out to join him.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” she panted breathlessly, “it’s important, but I can’t tell you now. It’s gotta’ be just perfect when I do. Maybe at our pond, but somewhere near home, not here in this hotel room, okay?”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him, “okay, baby,” he murmered, “you tell me when your ready.”

Buffy snuggled into him, reluctant to let loose, but she did. “Come on,” she purred, taking him by the hand, “we’ve got some ‘things’ to discuss in the bedroom.”


A/N: Short chapter for me! Nothing too angstsy this time, maybe just a little. I’m afraid that the next chapters are going to be full of angst for true Spuffy lovers, so…..

In the mean time, thanks for reading and please review if you like. Luv, Spuf

Chapter 31: ‘I’ll Miss You Something Awful!’



Relationships were tough, Buffy ‘Summers’ Travers got that. Even the most forthright, upstanding and ‘normal’ relationships were a pain in the ass to anyone in them. Will’s and hers wasn’t tough; it was rough, hard and past ridiculous; it was sublime.

‘But damn, the love making was great!’ Buffy assured herself, watching Will sleep in the overpriced Inn they were staying at. A sudden thought grasped her and she leaned over to her lover’s ear.

Whispering softly, barely audible, “Will,” she sing-songed. He didn’t stir, just lay there in a dead to the world stance, a smile of contentment on his face. “Willie,” she murmered again, this time adding a little lick of her tongue to said ear. This time, Will made some movement, turning over onto his other side, his back to her. Buffy sighed in frustration.

“William Giles!” she cried, loud enough to wake him and half the hotel, “wake your delicious, sexy British arse up and face me!”

Will bolted up from the bed, his eyes still closed from sleep, “wha, what did I do now?” he stammered. Buffy burst out into laughter from watching her lover clamor around in their borrowed bed, lost in sated sleep and private dreams.

“You shagged me senseless, Mr. William Giles,” she hissed, “then you fell fast asleep and left me here ‘alone’ still horny for some unknown reason and still wanting you.”

He opened his gorgeous blue eyes at that declaration and smirked at her, “still wanting?” he inquired, his naughty, scarred left eyebrow raised in question.

“Still,” Buffy giggled, snuggling down into him.

“Well, bloody hell, Princess,” he chuckled, “we can’t have that, now, can we?”

Buffy entered her house, she was calling it her house now, not her’s and Angel’s home, since neither of them seemed to be there much anymore. At least together.

Checking the phone messages, she found out that her husband hadn’t bothered to call there either, ‘just as well,’ she surmised, ‘I’m past caring to talk to him.’

Will and her had gotten back to Sunnydale fairly early that morning, in time for her to shower again and get ready to go the Gallery for a few hours that afternoon. Later, after work, she was going to Will’s place to be together, something she had begun to look forward to regularly.

She caught a look at herself in the full length mirror of her bedroom, ‘you look good, Buffy,’ she told herself proudly, ‘you look happy for once.’

After she’d stripped down and slipped into a nice warm tub, Buffy relaxed and thought about her conversation with her mother. One of the things that kept coming back to her mind was something her Mom had asked her twice.

“What price is your happiness worth, Buffy,” Joyce had asked her, “what would you sacrifice or suffer through to be happy?”

She stretched out in the large tub, relishing the warm mixture of water and bath oils she’d used.

“Mom’s right,” Buffy whispered, “no price is too great to pay for happiness, or freedom.” Will felt the same way, she knew that and was fully aware that he’d back her leaving Angel tonight if she wanted to. In fact, Will would encourage it.

The problem was, Angel wouldn’t back her, ever, if she decided to leave him; he’d make her and Will’s life a living hell, or worse.

Earlier, Will had mumbled something about a plan he had, him and Clem to convince Angel to let Buffy go, but she hadn’t asked him to expand on it and he’d dropped the subject.

Buffy had become more and more agreeable to getting away from Angel, but a part of her feared him immensely and worried about his reaction to her leaving.

‘What a mess,’ she muttered, dunking her whole upper body into the tepid bath water.

When Buffy finished her bath, she wrapped up in a huge plush towel and padded out into her bedroom to prepare for work.

She found Angel sitting on the comfort chair she’d bought from Saks, years before.

“Angel!” she gasped, startled, “you frightened me!”

Angel laughed heartily, “sorry, babe. Just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give you a scare.”

Buffy became agitated, but tried to cover it, “thought you were staying in LA until tomorrow,” she stammered, pawing through her wardrobe for an appropriate work outfit.

“I finished early, decided to pack Dawnie up and drag her home a day early,” he explained, coming up behind her and wrapping his huge arms about her.

“I’m late for work,” she mumbled quickly, pulling away from him and carrying her black pant suit to the bed.

“Oh, right, your job,” he muttered, obviously cut by her indifference to his presence.

“Anyway,” he sighed dramatically, “I’m home and I was wondering, could we go out for dinner tonight, just you and me babe?”

What could Buffy say or do? Of course she had to go with whatever her husband wanted at this point, even if it meant disappointing the man she…..’

“Sure,” she murmered, pulling on the pants of her suit, “we can go out.” Hurrying about, getting ready for work, Buffy blatantly avoided any physical contact with Angel, something she was sure he noticed. She was dressed and now sat on her little vanity chair, brushing out her long golden locks.

“Where are we going for dinner?” she asked trying to feign interest.

“The club,” he stated simply, already searching about the bedroom for the Saturday Wall Street Journal. “Hopefully we won’t see anyone there that wants to join us for dinner,” he grumbled, finally finding his precious paper.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “hopefully not.”

The minute she got to the Gallery, Buffy dialed Will on her cell phone.

“Buffy?” he asked, concern in his voice. “I can’t see you tonight, Will,” she whispered, glancing around her boss’s private office. “Angel came home early, he wants to go to dinner tonight……I’m so sorry.” He didn’t say anything for a minute or so then, “I know you are, Princess, I’m sorry too. I’ll miss you something awful.”

Buffy thought for a minute then murmered, “I really, really……will miss you and can’t wait to see you again. Please believe that.”

This seemed to placate Will and Buffy clicked off her phone. “It’s going to be a long evening,” she stated out loud, ignoring the funny look Olivia gave her when she entered her own office.

Buffy went through the motions that night. At the ‘Club’ during dinner, she pretended to listen to Angel and even be somewhat interested in what he had to yammer on about. However, her thoughts kept going back to Will and what she wanted to tell him, in person that is.

“Anyway,” Angel was rambling on, while shoveling filet mignon into his mouth, “I closed the deal early in LA. Course that’s no big deal, I’m the number one guy at the firm, you know Buff? Buff?” he repeated, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Yes!” she cried, bolting up in her chair, “you’re number one with a bullet, Angel. I know.”

He smiled at her warmly, “you’re looking great, Buffy,” he said, rewarding her with a roguish wink, as if he hadn’t seen her in years. “In fact,” he added, gulping his whiskey, “you look better then you have in ages. I’m beginning to think this ‘job’ of yours is doing you some real good.”

‘Doing being the key word here, and not job wise,’ she mused, trying not to laugh out loud.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that I let you go back to work,” Angel reasoned, “I mean, you look great and at least you’re not nagging me about babies that we’re not ready for.”

That did it, Buffy was getting ready to go ballistic any second, but pushed the urge back down, “yeah,” she smirked, “you’re right Angel, neither one of us is ready for children.” Then she let the subject drop and concentrated on her Cordon Bleu.

That night at home, Buffy rushed up to their bedroom and quickly washed up for bed, hoping that her husband would become caught up in some sports program on ESPN or even paperwork from the office. It was getting to the point that Buffy could not stand for Angel to touch her in any way, shape or form.

Once again, she saw the green light of Angel’s private line flash on her receiver and stealthly picked up the phone, holding her hand over the mouthpiece.

She jumped when she heard Will’s voice on the other end of the line, “it’s done,” he stated simply.

“Good,” Angel responded, “about time. And, Spike,” he continued, “make sure that all the ‘t’s’ are crossed and the ‘I’s’ dotted, kapish?” No answer. “Kapish?” Angel asked again.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Peaches,” William responded. Silence.

“Hey,” Angel chuckled sarcastically, “I’d think a big stud like you would be out, hunting pussy tonight, being Saturday and all, what’s up, Spikey, dry spell?”

Again, silence then Will spoke, “I’ve found someone, Peaches, a wonderful woman. But then again, you wouldn’t know a wonderful woman if she came up and bit you on your arse, would you?”

Angel chuckled loudly, “oh shit, stop the presses, Spike’s in love.”

More silence and Buffy held her breath.

“By the way, Angel, how’s your gorgeous wife?” Angel didn’t respond right away and Buffy strained to hear any kind of breath or reaction.

“My wife, Spike,” Angel finally said, “is no concern of yours. Just remember that, she hasn’t been your concern for over ten years and she’s not now. Besides, she could care less if you died in a alley, no, make that a filthy gutter.”

William chuckled and said “night, Peaches,” then hung up. When Angel came up to bed, Buffy did her best to pretend to be asleep.

On Sunday, Buffy slipped out of her marital bed early in the morning, before Angel could wake up. She pulled on her pretty little pink silk robe and wandered into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

‘Wonder what Will’s doing?’ she pondered, a bit insecure.

“There’s not been anyone since we got together, Princess,” he had assured her; she believed him.

“Will,” she whispered to the empty air, tears threatening in her eyes, “there’s not been ‘anyone’ for me either, promise.”

Buffy hoped against hope that Angel would leave for the day, go play golf or something, anything to give her a moment’s time to herself; time to collect her thoughts and feelings. Pouring a cup of hot Starbucks brewed coffee for herself, she sat at the kitchen table and mulled over the heavy thoughts that invaded her mind.

“Buff,” Angel called out to her an hour later while she sipped her third cup of coffee on the patio. “I’ve got some business to take care of, gotta go, but I’ll be back about 5:00 tonight. That okay?” He looked so damned innocent, her husband, all scrubbed and flushed from his shower, wearing the Levis she’d bought him just a couple of months ago.

Buffy shrugged indifferently and concentrated on her Sunday Times crossword, “whatever,” she quipped at him.

‘Business, I’ll just bet it’s business,’ she grumbled to herself, “Chase business!” “Have a nice day,” she sang as he strode out to the garage and his beloved Mercedes. “Oh, and Angel,” she added, “I’m going to the Gallery for a few this afternoon, see you later tonight.”

Buffy listened intently while her boss, Olivia, explained some details of an art purchase she was going to make in Chicago.

“It’s really important, Buffy,” Olivia said with her musical accent, a mix of British upper crust and Jamaican overtones. “This art sale in London could be a great boon to the Gallery, much like the one your Mother secured before she left here.”

With a nod of her golden head, Buffy assured Olivia that she understood exactly what she was saying. Olivia was going to Chicago to purchase some pieces, Buffy was to keep things going on the straight and even here at the Sunnydale Gallery. Due to the tuteledge of Olivia, Buffy should have no problem in dealing with anything that came up while her mentor was gone.

Olivia was in her office, finishing up some last minute details before she went on her four day buying trip to Chicago. Buffy was tidying up some paper work and cataloging some new Gallery purchases. This was nothing unusual or out of the ordinary for either of them, although this was the first real business trip that Olivia would be taking since Buffy joined the Gallery. While she sifted through the voluminous amount of mail that the Gallery got daily, Buffy seperated each and every piece into their proper stacks. Junk, advertisements, requests and even endowment suggestions, last but not least……personal mail.

A plain white envelope caught Buffy’s eye, one addressed to her, solely, via the Gallery. She plucked it up and in one swift movement, opened the unobvious envelope.

When she read the paper inside, what it said and implicated? Buffy was immediately spiraled into a state of shock.

On simple lined paper, the kind an elementary school student would use, was printed the five letter word:

WHORE!

In bold, black letters.


A/N: Well, someone in Sunnydale knows about our two ‘Spuffy’ love birds! I’ll give you all a hint; it’s not Angel. Thanks for reading, please review, luv Spuf

Chapter 32: ‘Winning’


Summary: The note sender is revealed as he and Buffy confront each other!


‘WHORE’!

The word glared at Buffy like an angry neon sign, causing her to feel faint.

“What the hell?” she finally was able to mumble, turning the white envelope in her hand over to check the addresses. That’s when she remembered, the letter had been hand delivered, no addresses, no stamp.

Someone had taken the trouble to drop this thing into the Gallery mailbox themselves, but who? Buffy sat down and just stared at the innocent lined paper, unaware that Olivia had rejoined her in the office.

“Buffy?” her boss’s melodic voice broke her trance, “is everything all right?”

She looked up at Olivia, quickly trying to hide the trepidation in her green eyes, “I, uhm, I’m fine, Olivia.”

The letter and evelope were quickly deposited in the little trash can by her desk and Olivia nodded slowly, “okay, Buffy. It’s just, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

With a shake of her blond head, Buffy assured Olivia, again, that she was fine, just a little tired.

“Maybe you should go home, get some rest?” Olivia suggested, but Buffy was adamant about ‘that’ and assured her, she was fine, wanted to stay around awhile.

“Well, alright,” Olivia stammered, “if you’re sure. I’m going to run by home for a while, then I’ll be back to finish up a few things. Just finish going through the mail, you can work on the cataloging tomorrow after I’m gone to Chicago. I wouldn’t leave right now, but my husband is in charge of dinner tonight, some kind of roast, he’s hopeless and if I don’t go home….” She smiled at Buffy and rolled her eyes.

“Of course, Olivia,” Buffy smiled weakly, willing the color in her face to come back, “I’ll be fine. Go on, save the roast.”

This brought a laugh from them both and Olivia grabbed her purse and left the Gallery. As soon as Buffy heard the door close and saw the exit door light flash, she pulled the little note out of the trash can.

“Who?” she wondered nervously.

“Angel?” she whispered, truly frightened. “No,” she assured herself, “too cryptic for my husband, he’s not that creative. Then who?” she asked the empty room, again, a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of her tummy.


Buffy pulled her cell phone out of her purse and debated calling Will, right this minute, then hesitated.

“What’s Will going to be able to do?” she asked herself. “He’ll just go ballistic and start kicking random ass around Sunnydale, because someone had the nerve to call me a whore!”

This actually brought a small smile to her face, “how can I be a whore? We love each other.”

There, she’d said it out loud, once and for all, she loved Will, loved him with all her heart and soul. Now she just needed to tell him to his face, but first, there was this little problem to work out.

Her cell phone began to ring in her hand and she answered it eagerly, hoping it was Will calling her and ready to tell him everything, consequences be damned.

Imagine her surprise when Xander Harris responded to her ‘hello.’

“Xander?” she gasped, “what are you doing, calling me here and now?”

He was silent, “Xander?” she repeated.

“Figured it was the perfect time, Buffy,” he finally spoke, but his tone was off, not warm and friendly at all. “No one’s there but you, right? I mean your boss left, Gallery’s closed for the day, heck even the cleaning crew don’t show up today. This is about as good as time as any for us to ‘talk’ isn’t it?”

Buffy suddenly felt faint again but she pulled herself together and sat up in the chair, “no, Xander, it’s not a good time to talk. Not now, not ever, we’ve talked before, there’s nothing to talk about.”

Again, Xander was silent on the other end then, “oh, but I think it’s the best time to talk, Buff. I know you got my special delivery and I know that you’re more then curious as to why I sent it.”

She didn’t say anything for moment, trying to collect her thoughts, think up the right response to him.

“Xander, I don’t know what you’re playing at, or why, but if this is some kind of game, or threat or whatever, I think you should be aware that….”

Xander interrupted her with a wicked laugh, “don’t even think about threatening ‘me’ Buffy, especially with dropping your fuck buddy’s name. And in case you’re even considering calling that bleached freak you’ve been screwing, don’t bother. I get even a twinge of a sense that Spike is coming after me, or any sense of danger to my body….I’ll have another letter sent out, this time to Angel.”

“Where are you?” she finally asked him, afraid she already knew the answer.

“Right outside your little Gallery, Beautiful. Now, just open the locked back door, quickly, and let me in. We’ll have our heart-to-heart in your office, okay?”

‘God, he sounds so cold, so evil,’ Buffy shuddered violently, feeling ill again.

“You stay as far away from me as possible,” Buffy hissed in warning.


“Oh, don’t worry, bitch,” Xander hissed back, “I wouldn’t touch you now with a ten foot pole. Not after you’ve fucked that punk.”

With a flinch, Buffy did as he told her and unlocked the back door, electronically.


He sauntered through Buffy’s office door, like pompous royalty, ‘finally made it, huh, Xand,’ she thought ruefully, ‘you’re real important now, hold all the cards, right?’

Buffy stood up straight, her arms crossed over her chest, head held high.

“That’s close enough,” she informed him cooly when he’d just stepped inside. She tried to read his chocolate brown eyes from this distance, but they were closed to her, closed and secretive.

“Okay, Xander,” Buffy began with the offense mode, “what the hell is this about?”

Xander just stared at her through narrowed eyes, a look that was not particularly attractive on him, she thought.

“First let me ask you something, Buff?” he countered with a smirk, “when did this ‘thing’ with Spike start? Right after us? Before? Did you break it off with me for him? What?”

Averting her eyes from his, she set down in her chair and drummed her fingers against the desk, nervously, “after,” she lied easily.

“Did you leave me for him?” She couldn’t speak, just nodded her head slightly.

“Why?” he growled, “does Spike have a bigger dick then me, what?”

Buffy fought back the urge to quip, ‘well, actually, yes he does, thank you.’ Instead she just remained mute, staring at her little desk calendar and trying not to panic too much.

“I didn’t leave you, Xander,” she mumbled, still not looking at him, “there was no ‘you and me’ to leave or break off. If you thought it was more then just a casual affair, I’m sorry, it wasn’t. I think you better be aware of something. I caught Angel with another woman, someone we both know; should I tell you who it is?”

Buffy relished the mix of puzzlement and pained look on her now adverary’s face, “I could care less who your precious Angel is fucking around with, Buffy. I only care about who you’re doing these days.”

She stood up and walked around to the front of her desk, sitting on the edge of the wooden frame, “why?” she asked simply.

He shrugged, “let’s just say I’m ‘interested’ for personal reasons.”

Nodding slowly, to bide some time, Buffy pondered her next question. “Okay,” she started, “you wouldn’t come within twenty feet of me because I’m having an affair with Will.”

Xander smirked, “Will? How cute, nicknames. What does he call you? His bitch?”

Buffy tensed up and resisted the urge to knock the shit out of the smirking hulk in front of her.

“Like I said,” she continued through gritted teeth, “you don’t want me anymore, thank God! I get that. So, what’s this about?”

Xander took a step closer to Buffy, who backed hopped off her desk and went back around to her chair.

“Like I said,” she hissed, her own green eyes narrowed into slits, “don’t come any closer to me.”

He seemed to pay attention this time and stopped walking closer to the desk, “okay,” he sighed, “I won’t come nearer. And in answer to your question, ‘this’ is about winning. My winning for once.”

Buffy tilted her head to one side, she just knew she looked like a confused idiot, “what winning, Xander? Winning what?”

The man before her bore little resemblence to the boy she first met in grade school, nothing like the troubled teen she adored in high school and certainly nothing like the man she’d slept with out of revenge just months before this.

“Why did you sleep with me?” he asked suddenly, his eyes bore the same pained look that he had when Buffy had told him they were over. She couldn’t answer that one, she had no quip, smart remark or logical excuse, she just shrugged.

“Was it because of Angel and this woman?” he answered his own question with another one. Buffy nodded, deciding to opt for the truth, this once anyway.

“So,” she hesitated then went ahead and asked boldly, “this is about winning for you? And just what do you win in this Xander?”

He looked down for a minute then responded, “I win justice Buffy, which is better then nothing, I guess.”

Buffy was totally at a loss now, “huh?” she gasped, “what justice?”

Xander looked around and found a chair sitting close by the door, pulling it over to him, he sat down and crossed his legs, almost casually.

“You see, Buffster,” he replied evenly, using the endearment he’d called her in school, “I am a big loser, we all get that. No, don’t try to shake your head and deny it, we all know what a big laughable loser Xander Harris is. Well, then, I got you, finally, after years of pining away for you, worshipping you from afar, all that shit. Anyway, you seduce me, come on now, sweetheart, you know ‘you’ did.”

She had to cop to that, at least internally, she had seduced him, no matter how willing he was to be seduced.

“I had Anya, left her for Willow who left me for Tara. Then you come along, flash those big green eyes at me, beg me to fuck you with them and I fall into your little web of whatever the hell it was. Although, I’m guessing revenge would pretty much describe it, anyway, you dump me. All your ‘I love Angel, we need to work it out, he’s dangerous crap. I really believed it Buffy.”

Buffy was ashamed of herself, ashamed and so much more, however, it didn’t give Xander the right to come in here and spout off about winning, losing and revenge, he had no idea.

“Move this along,” Buffy muttered, hopefully cruelly, “I’m meeting Will in an hour.”

Xander stood up from the chair, “don’t think so, Buffy. You won’t be meeting your precious Will anymore, at least not to fuck him. The next time you meet him, well, it’s gonna’ be your last time.”

She stared at him, shocked, “what are you saying Xander? You’re going to stop me from being with the man I…..”

He began to laugh, “oh, let me guess, you love him, right? You two love each other? That’s just adorable, Buffy, really.”

Buffy didn’t respond, she hadn’t even told Will she loved him, how could she tell Xander or anyone else that first.

“I won’t stop seeing him,” Buffy stated stubbornly, her little chin jutting out with defiance. “I don’t have to, not for you or anyone else.”

Xander finally took the initiative to move closer to her, closing in on her desk and leaning onto it with clenched fists, “you’ll stop seeing him, Buffy. If you don’t I’ll personnally go to Angel and tell him everything about you and Spike. I can just see the expression on his stupid face. Wonder how long it’ll take him to beat the shit out of you and have a hit put out on him? What do you think, an hour, two? You and Spikey aren’t the only ones who ‘know’ your husband, Buffy. He’s pretty well known in some circles and not for his great hair style and good natured personality.”

Buffy sunk back down into her chair, struck by the fear that hearing the truth can bring. Xander smiled at her evilly, “still not gonna’ stop seeing him?” he asked smugly.

“What are you, Xander? Angel’s newest ‘butt monkey’ or something? What if I tell him about you and me? You know, in my marital bed? Think he’s going to just blow that one off?”

He seemed to ponder this for a minute then retorted, “and you think he’s gonna’ believe you? A lying whore who’s screwing a punk ass who’s little better then a street thug?”

Buffy swung her arm around to slap Xander, but he caught her arm with his huge hand, “Will’s a better man then you’ll ever be, Xander,” she hissed, “and just for the record, do you think you were the only one I ‘fucked’ for revenge? Think again.”

She returned his smug look, pulled her arm out of his hand and sashayed back around the desk. “Besides,” she gave him a parting shot, “Will and I are past fearing Angel Travers, we’ll do anything to be happy, so fuck off and go crawl back under your rock!” ‘There,’ she crowed to herself, ‘stick that in your pipe and smoke it, asshole!’

“Well, that’s real Romeo and Juliet of Captain Peroxide and you, Buff, but I think you’re forgetting a few details here.”

Buffy flinched despite herself, “what details,” she asked, her voice tense and harsh.

“It’s not really just about you and lover boy, is it? I mean, think about the other planets in your Spuffy (had to throw that in there!) Universe. What about Joyce? You think Angel’s gonna’ just let you walk off with Spike Giles, knowing that your Mommy dearest would just ‘love’ that! I mean, she’s always been under the Gile’s spell, hasn’t she? Wonder what mischief hubby could cook up for her? Then there’s Anne Gile’s, oh and deranged Drusilla, the walking loony toon. How’s that kid of hers anyway, you know, Guinevere? Hey isn’t Ethan Rayne due to get out of prison soon? Bet he can’t wait to go lay claim to his ‘love child,.’ Especially from a nut job like Drusilla Giles. Bet Angel could really help a guy out in a custody battle, even if the object of battle is over in England? Do you think Angel has any friends in England, Buff? Any powerful contacts?”

She sat down heavily in her chair, considering what Xander had said. “Xander?” she murmered sadly, “when the hell did you become such a prick?”

“I learned, Buffy,” he responded indifferently, “learned from the best. You, Angel, Willow and trash like Spike. I’m not going to be a loser anymore, now I get to win, even if I just get to see the rest of you miserable. I don’t have anything else but misery now, might as well get to be the big ‘winner’ for once.”

Buffy muddled over what Xander had threatened and blurted out, “I could just tell William. You know he’d track you down, kick your sorry ass all up and down Sunnydale. Then rip your stupid head off for good measure.”

She stared Xander down, hoping to scare him, at least a little. “If anything happens to me,” Xander growled through clenched teeth, “I have a friend who will send all kinds of little ‘love letters’ to Angel, immediately. You and Spike’s lives won’t be worth a plugged nickel. Your mother will be put through hell and oh, yeah, Spike’s precious little neice will end up with her father, now there’s a lovely thought. I mean, Ethan is such a model citizen and all, makes your honey look like a Saint, doesn’t he?”

Buffy knew defeat when she saw it and fought to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes.

“I have to tell Will in person, Xander. Tell him we’re through. Just like I did you. Please, Xander, give me that much,” she hated the weakness in her voice.

“I’m feeling generous, Gorgeous,” he chuckled, “go tell Spikey you’re dumping him. In fact, I think it’s really poetic justice if you do. Just wish I could be there for it.”

With that, Xander turned and stomped out of the office, not even bothering to look at her. She sat for a good thirty minutes before picking up her cell phone and speed dialing Will’s number.

“Hi, baby,” came his cheerful voice.

“Hi,” she whispered, fighting back the tears, “I need to talk to you, Will. I need to see you.”

William sounded so happy to hear from her, he must have thought she wanted to just be with him, and she did, really she did, only this time was going to be their last time together.

“Tomorrow,” she murmered, “I’ll come, meet you at the park, okay?”

He readily agreed, but then asked her if everything was alright. “It’s fine, Will, honest. I just need to see you.”

Once she’d hung up the phone, Buffy broke down and sobbed, her heart breaking.


A/N: I’m rounding up a posse and going after Xander, who’s in, and who’s bringing the rope? Anyway, I hope people are still reading this story and please review, kay? Thanks, luv Spuf

Chapter 33: ‘I Can’t Love You’


A/N: Strap on the seat belts, Spuffy lovers, it’s going to be a ‘bumpy’ ride! Thanks, Luv, Spuf


Sunday evening, Spike sat alone on his couch, drinking a beer and watching some stupid soccor game on the telly. He couldn’t get the sound of Buffy’s tone out of his mind, ‘something wasn’t right about it. Almost as if she had been crying or was ready to,’ he thought nervously.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” he reasoned trying to push the uneasy feeling he had away. Spike ‘knew’ Buffy in every sense of the word. At this point in time, there was nothing they hadn’t shared or done together, emotionally or physically, so he knew when something was off about her. Something was definitely off here.

Picking up his phone, he called Clem at home, this being his night off at the bar.

“Hello,” came his friends deep voice. “Clem, it’s Spike,” he responded, “I’m wondering mate, are you sure that Captain Cardboard’s crack bunch of investigating boys got that information I had you send them, on Angel?”

Clem burst out laughing at his friend’s nickname for Captain Riley Finn, the guy really was a stiff SOB and Spike’s moniker for him always cracked him up.

“Yes, Spike,” he assured him, I’m more then certain that the Sunnydale Police Department, inept morons that they can be, got the info and even as we speak are trying to figure out what to do with it.”

Spike talked briefly about the bar with his friend, then hung up the phone.

“I cannot wait to watch your sorry arse get hauled off to prison, Peaches,” he said out loud with a smirk.

“I’ll have to be sure to be standing right next to my Buffy when it happens, a big smile on both of our faces. We can both wave ‘bye bye’ as they drive you off. Hope Finn’s the one driving you!”

He got up and got another beer, resisting the urge to skip into the kitchen like some bloody ponce. If everything went right, the timing of this plan of his, everything, he and Buffy could be together, officially in no time at all and he would finally have everything he’d always wanted.

Tossing the beer cap into the kitchen trash can, he went back to the rather boring soccor match on TV.

‘Wish Buffy was here,’ he sighed wistfully, ‘nothing’s right when we’re not together.’

Spike tried his best not to think about Buffy and Angel, together at their beautiful, huge house tonight. It made him extremely jealous and tempted him to just go over there and kick their door in, pulling Buffy out of that prison she shared with Angel.

Buffy hadn’t said it to him, not once, but he just knew she loved him, Spike, not that overbearing arse she was married to, not anymore, anyway.

“Maybe she’ll say it tomorrow,” he mumbled softly, his mood brightening, “maybe Buffy’ll admit she loves me like I know she does.”


Buffy went to bed before 8:30 PM that Sunday night, pleading an oncoming migraine as an excuse to not spend time with Angel. He had come home from his ‘business’ as promised about 5:00 that evening, whistiling jauntily and gave her a roguish wink and a smile in greeting.

The moron hadn’t even noticed Buffy’s pain, never even realized she’d been crying for hours. Right at that moment, Buffy hated Angel Travers more then anyone else in the world, even more then Xander Harris.

‘Angel gets to be happy,’ she thought, her jaw clenched tight in anger, ‘Xander gets to ‘win’ as he put it. I have to break Will’s heart and my own in the process.’

Traitorous tears began to spill down her swollen cheeks and she was thankful that her horror of a husband was not paying one bit of attention to her.

Even at supper, Angel virtually ignored her, chowing down the perfectly marvelous roast beef dinner Maggie had produced that day. Buffy only picked at her food, actually just stirred the slices of meat and potatoes around to make it ‘look’ like she ate something.

Her stomach was so bound up in knots that she couldn’t have eaten a thing, but she could down her wine in no time flat. Reaching for the bottle of cabernet on the table in front of them, Buffy noticed Angel finally watching her with actual interest in his expression.

“What’s wrong, Buffy?” he asked, concerned, “you never have more then a glass of wine with dinner. Something troubling you?”

She averted her eyes from his puzzled brown ones, “no,” she mumbled, “I’m tired and feel a headache coming on. No big, okay.”

But to herself she said, ‘gee Ang, you think something might be a bit off with me tonight? How insightful of you, you worthless, cheating piece of shit! Now, because I’m a stupid, selfish bitch, I’m stuck with you forever, like a major albatross slung around my neck!’

Buffy really did have a major headache, which was probably a good thing at this point. Angel had had that ‘come hither’ look in his eyes just before she had begged off from being in his presence, due to the headache. The last thing she needed or wanted was to have her husband come claim his marital rights on the night before she had to devestate the man she really loved.

However, even though she had taken a pain killer and laid down by 8:30, it was now near 10:30 PM and she still lay awake, tossing and turning in her empty bed. Her husband was downstairs, God knows doing what and she could have cared less about that, or him anymore.

“I really messed things up,” she sighed, starting to cry again, or to continue to cry, really. “I’ve gone and bloody fucked things up royally, Will.” She turned her face into her pillow and sobbed quietly.

Buffy waited until Angel had gone to work Monday morning to arise from bed and prepare for the day. She felt like she’d been drugged, heavily, which wasn’t too far from the truth, since she had to pop another pain killer about midnight to even fall into some form of sleep.

A long soak in a cool tub helped her wake up a little, that and one of Angel’s ‘happy’ pills his Doctor had prescribed a year or so before. Never one for booze or pills, Buffy was not too happy with this turn of events in her pathetic life.

‘If I’m not careful,’ she derided herself, ‘I ‘will’ turn into a Hollywood horror story for sure.’

For some reason, she found it necessary to choose carefully her outfit for the day, “what do you wear to a living funeral? Black, or a neutral grey?” Her sarcastic sense of humour did little to lighten her melonchaly, but at least she could still laugh at herself.

Will was supposed to meet her at ‘their’ park at 10:00 AM, sharpe.

“Just about Monday Brunch hour at the Club,” she reminded herself sourly, while driving to Sunnydale Central Park, “how festive.”

All the way to her destination, Buffy kept reminding herself about how she had to pull this one off.

‘Be strong, Summers,’ she chanted, ‘don’t look into Will’s eyes, you cannot fool him or lie to him, especially when you look into those indigo orbs of his.’

When she pulled up into the huge parking lot of the park, her tummy did a flip flop as she spied Will’s motorcycle already there.

“He must be at the bridge by the lake all ready waiting for me,” she surmised, a monumental longing welling up inside of her. She hadn’t even admitted that she loved Will, not to him anyway, and now she would never be allowed to.

Buffy found Will at the bridge, sitting on the ledge, swinging his long legs over it, ‘just like a school boy,’ she thought wistfully. He smoked a cigarette, of course, and Buffy realized that she was even going to miss that part of him, the chain smoker that he was. His mixed scent of tobacco, leather and sometimes alcohol was destinctfully William’s and she’d remember it until the day she died.

“Will,” she called out to him, although it was unnecessary, he had spied her approaching and stood up, brushing off the back side of his black Levis in the process. Will closed the gap between them and took her in his strong arms, squeezing her tightly to him. “Hello, Beautiful,” he murmered, kissing her passionately.

She let him hold her, for just a moment or two, before she pulled away from him. The look of confusion on his handsome face produced a sharp pain to shoot through her whole body, ‘I can do this,’ she assured herself for the hundredth time that morning, ‘I have to.’

“Will,” she whispered, “we have to talk, really talk here. You need to listen and I need to tell you some truths that neither one of us, no, I mean that you might not want to hear. So please, just let me back up a bit and you stay right where you are. No touching, please Will?”

Her pleading seemed to have made an impression and he just nodded his blond head, never taking his eyes off of her. Buffy stepped back three or four steps, she wasn’t sure and averted her eyes from his, not daring to face him full on.

“We, I mean you and I,” she stammered, trying to find just the right words to say. She had practiced since yesterday, her big swan song with him, but for some reason, the little speech she’d repeated time and again had escaped her when she needed it most.

“Just say it, Princess,” he said evenly, “you and I what?”

Buffy found a focal point to stare at. A mama duck and four baby ducklings quacked and swam around in the lake water, just next to the bridge they stood on.

‘Looking for us to feed them,’ she mused, trying not to cry right then.

“We have to stop seeing each other,” Buffy mumbled softly, ‘there, she’d said it, hope the Powers that be were satisfied.’

“What!” he gasped, taking a step closer to her, even as she backed up two.

Spike could not believe his ears! What the bloody hell was his love going on about? Stop seeing each other! Jesus, it’d be a cold day in hell before that could or would happen!

“Buffy,” he rasped, desperation overwhelming him, “what the hell are you saying?”

She finally looked up at him, her green eyes filled with pain and the hint of tears, somehow giving him a false sense of hope.

“We need to break up, Will,” she responded hoarsely, quickly averting those beloved emerald orbs again.

“Why!” he roared, whether then asked, “what the fuck is going on here, Princess? What’s this about?”

Breaking the ‘closeness gap’ rule, Spike stormed over to her, clutching her to him possessively.

“Why are you saying this, Buffy?” he asked, huskily, searching her eyes for the truth.

“Because it’s true, Will,” Buffy’s words were barely audible to her, much less him.

She pulled away from her darling Will once again.

“I’ve decided,” she began weakly, trying to find some strength in her tone, “to try and work things out with Angel. He’s my husband Will,” she whimpered, ‘great Buffy, wimp out now,’ she chided.

“Last night, we talked, really had a couple discussion and he wants to make things right, so do I,” she lied so easily now, that is as long as she didn’t look Will in the eye.

William grabbed her roughly, “well I don’t want you two to ‘work things out,’ Buffy,” he cried harshly, “I could give a fuck in hell whether Angel’s decided to come ‘round now and be ‘Husband of the Year’ or not. And I know you, Buffy,” he growled, “you’re past caring if your marriage works out or not. Besides,” he whined, “you don’t love Angel anymore, you love me!”

Buffy forced herself to look at him, sternly she hoped anyway, “when did I ever tell you ‘I loved you’ Will,” she said coldly.

“Didn’t have to,” he insisted stubbornly, pulling her flush against him once more, “don’t you think I can feel what’s between us? Think I’m a complete moron, Buffy? I love you and you love me, that’s just the way it is. Ain’t going to change, now or ever!”

She began to shake her head and pushed him away from her, turning her back on him.

“I don’t love you, Will,” she lied again, “I love Angel. He wants children now,with me and…..”

Will grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him, “so do I!” he shouted hoarsely, “I want you, children and a future with you!”

Buffy felt her resolve crumbling at that but took a deep breath and once again looked down at her perfectly pedicured feet, “I’m just using you Will,” she whispered.

“I used you to make myself feel stronger and better about ‘me’. It was wrong and cowardly and it’s killing me,” she stated in a strong, but shaky voice.

“I’m sorry William. I can’t love you. But if you love me, really love me like you say you do? You’ll let me go and do what I ‘have’ to.”

Spike just stared down at her, disbelieving the line of obvious lies this woman, his woman, was telling him.

“You do love me,” he countered forcefully, “I know you do, Buffy.”

She just shook her head again, still staring down at her french tip toe nails, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Do you love me, Will?” she finally mumered sadly.

“Yes,” he answered immediately with a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomache.

“Then please let me go on with my life, my marriage. Don’t hurt me anymore, Will, please. Don’t contact me, come around me, and please, Will, don’t ever tell Angel about us. It would kill me, I mean that,” she choked, “it would break my heart. And, I know you would never purposely hurt me, would you?”

Buffy chose that moment to finally meet his loving gaze.

“No,” he rasped, his vision blurred with his own tears.

“Goodbye, Will. Please don’t follow me or try to stop me,” Buffy pleaded softly as she turned and hurried back across the bridge to her car.

Spike on the other hand just stood where she left him, staring after her, tears of pain streaming down his face.


A/N: Okay, I toned down the angst here, really. Made this chapter a lot shorter then I had intended because, frankly I’m having a ‘spufette’ angst party going on here at home and couldn’t take much more. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter (!) okay, maybe not enjoyed, but got something out of it. I’m going to give a little heads up here: This ‘does she/doesn’t she’ stuff isn’t going to drag on too much here. Personnally, I couldn’t take another BTVS season 7 if my life depended on it! Please read and review. Thanks, Luv Spuf

Chapter 34: ‘Gonna’ Run Huh?’


A/N: Short, short and shorter chapter for me, sorry.


For the first week after Buffy broke it off with Will, she was okay. All right, she was wasn’t okay, she was miserable, but she sure played the part of a ‘keeping it all together’ kind of gal.

She ran her and Angel’s household, like always; went to work on the days she was supposed to, like always and socialized with her friends, like always.

The fact that Olivia was having Buffy come into the Gallery more often now. Especially while she was gone on business, helped the young confused woman keep her mind busy.

Thursday evening had been the hardest night of all for Buffy as it was one of the times she would have gotten together with Will. Instead, this Thursday she had joined Tara and Willow at The Bronze for dinner, where she informed them that she was working things out with Angel.

Her ‘affair’ with the mystery man was officially over. Willow had hugged Buffy, “it’s for the best, sweetie, I’m sure,” the red head had comforted her, while Tara just nodded her head gently. Buffy did not miss the look of sympathetic concern that passed between the two lovers.

By the time Sunday night had come, Buffy was missing whole meals and had lost over five pounds already. Something that did not suit her already too tiny frame at all.

The only reason she was ‘resting’ at all, was because she was sneaking her husband’s sleeping pills off and on before bed. Finally, by Sunday, Buffy was so thin and had such dark rings under her eyes, that even Angel ‘had’ to notice.

At dinner he stopped shoveling food into his mouth long enough to ask her if something was wrong, “I’m worried, Babe,” he mumbled with a mouth full of roasted chicken. “You’re too damn thin and you look like you haven’t slept in a week, what’s wrong?”

‘What’s wrong?” she responded in her own mind, “ Well, for starters, Angel baby, I miss my blue-eyed lover. Miss the closeness we shared and the love we made. Funny, how now, when it’s too late you look at me with so much concern in your closed dark eyes.’ Buffy rolled her green eyes in exasperation.

‘What’s wrong?’ she continued her inner convo. ‘I miss the open blue oceans of Will’s eyes, his adoration of me, his belief in who I really am, not who ‘you’ think I should be. What’s wrong? I want him back, my William; the poet, my lover and everything we could have had together. But you wouldn’t understand, the only thing you’ve ever loved Angel, is yourself.’

Instead she answered out loud, “not a damn thing,” curtly and went back to shuffling chicken and salad around on her plate. Angel looked stunned by Buffy’s simple profanity and sighed but said no more during dinner.

By the time Sunday came around, Spike was beyond being okay, he was miserable, plain and simple and did no acting to hide it. He holed himself up in his apartment, drinking himself into a stupor nightly while listening to angstsy alternative rock music.

Spike tried to convince himself that Buffy ‘had’ just used him, like she said, never really cared for him, but the romantic poet in him knew differently.

“She loves me,” he muttered, drinking Jack Daniels right from the bottle, “she loves ME!”

Why his Princess had decided to reject their love, throw him out like so much garbage, he didn’t know, but there was something evil afoot here and it had nothing to do with Buffy loving Angel. That much, Spike knew for sure.

Still, he drank himself into a stupor every night, afraid that if he didn’t, he’d not be able to resist the urge to storm over to Buffy’s house. If he allowed himself to do that, he’d not be able to stop himself from kicking her fucking oak front door in and dragging her out of there.

So, every night for a week, Spike would drink himself into a near coma, listening to alternative rock, angstsy songs. For some reason, his new favorite was ‘Time is Running Out’ by Muse.

TIME IS RUNNING OUT (Muse)

I think I’m drowning
Asphyxiated
I wanna break this spell
That you’ve created

You’re something beautiful
A contradiction
I wanna play the game
I want the friction

You will be the death of me
You will be the death of me
Bury it
I won’t let you bury it
I won’t let you smother it
I won’t let you murder it

Our time is running out
Our tims is running out
You can’t push it underground
You cant’t stop it screaming out

(that’s enough, sorry)


The music blared on full volume, so Spike wasn’t surprised on that Sunday evening when a loud pounding sounded at his own apartment door.

“Go the fuck away!” he shouted, not caring if the person outside heard him or not.

“Spike!” came Clem’s strong voice, “open the door man, now, or I swear to God I’ll kick the damn thing in and you’ll have to pay for it!”

Spike stumbled over to his front door, forgetting he wore only a pair of boxers and opened it slightly, “what the fuck do you want?” he asked his friend gruffly.

“I want to talk to you, Spike,” Clem answered, a little bit calmer then before. “I want to help you, friend.”

Shaking his blond head, Spike let Clem in but muttered bitterly, “no help for me, mate.”

“Man, Spike,” Clem mumbled looking around the apartment, “you look like shit and so does this place. Forget to clean up lately?”

Spike groaned and clasped his throbbing head, “did you come to deride my housekeeping or are you here for a real reason?” he growled. “If you’re here to to tell me to ‘buck up’ then you can ‘fuck off’ and leave now!”

With that, Spike opened another bottle of Jack Daniels and poured it into a 16 ounce glass with ease, “wanna’ drink?” he smirked at Clem.

‘No’ Clem shook his head. He sat down on the couch and eyed his best friend with concern. “Have you eaten lately, Spike?” he asked, apparently already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, matter-of-fact I have, last time Buffy was here I…..”

Clem raised his hand in a defensive gesture, “too much information, man. Sit your ass down and listen to me,” he ordered.

Surprisingly, Spike did just as he was told, although he more fell onto a chair close by and not the couch.

“How long are you going to lock yourself up in this hell hole you’ve made, Spike?” Clem asked, looking around at the usually neat apartment. “How long are you going to hole up in this self exile you’ve made for yourself? A week, a month? How about forever? Why don’t you just drink yourself into a coma and make everything easier for you and the rest of us?”

Spike stared at his friend in surprise, this guy had some balls to talk to him like that.

“I’m going away, going home,” Spike suddenly blurted out.

Clem looked mildly surprised for a minute then stood up slowly.

“Gonna’ run, huh?” the dark haired man chuckled, “gonna’ just drink yourself blind for a while then run off to where? England? Put as much mileage between you and the woman you love as you can? Jesus Spike, I figured you for less of a coward then that!”

“What the bloody hell am I supposed to do, Clem?” he screamed. “She told me she didn’t love me, wanted to work things our with that fucking moron she’s married to!”

Spike kicked the coffee table and then stood there for a few seconds, “bloody fucking hell! That hurt!” he cried and flopped back down on the couch.

Clem laughed out loud, “good! At least you can still feel something!” Sitting down on the coffee table, facing his best friend, Clem got a serious look on his face. “So, you really believed her, huh,” he asked Spike, “believed she doesn’t love you?”

Spike couldn’t answer that one.

“Well,” Clem sighed, “I think Buffy does love you, very much. The young woman that sat in our bar and talked about you that morning loves you very much, Spike. Maybe even more then you deserve, but there’s no accounting for taste.” He smirked good naturedly and chuckled.

“Look,” Clem continued seriously, “I don’t know what happened between you and Buffy, what she said, what you yelled, you know, all that crap that happens between two people in love, but, I know this. You love Buffy and she loves you, I’m am sure of this. You say you’re going back to England, okay, go, but first don’t you think you should go to see ‘your girl’ and tell her you are leaving and she ‘is’ the reason why. If you don’t Spike, if you don’t go to her and tell her, you’ll regret it until the day you die. I’m sure of that too.”

Spike sat, staring at his rather blurry looking friend, pondering his words of wisdom. “Yeah, you’re right, mate,” he whispered, “just hope ‘my girl’ doesn’t have me thrown out of her Gallery on my arse.

That night, after Clem left his apartment, Spike flopped into his bed, the one he and Buffy had shared a week or so before. Spike hadn’t bothered to change the sheets, unusual for him, he washed them at least once a week, but this time he’d left them on longer.

They smelled of Buffy, of him and their love making, all vanilla and tobacco, their intermingled scents. He had come to a decision, Spike had; he’d go over to Buffy’s Gallery tomorrow, waltz in and use any excuse to see her and talk to her.

If she turned him away, well then so be it, he’d go ahead and leave this fucking town; away from her, his Princess and go home to England. Only, he hoped that she wouldn’t turn him away, he hoped and prayed that she would fall into his arms and come home with him, here to his apartment, their ‘haven’ and their own paradise.

Spike had once promised Buffy, not so long ago that he would never leave her. More then anything, he wanted to so keep that promise, more then the one he’d made a week before, not to contact or see her. He ‘had’ to see her.

Buffy was cataloging some new items that Olivia had purchased in Chicago on her buying trip. Monday was busy, even at the quiet Gallery she worked at, so it kept her mind occupied, well, kind of occupied anyway.

She was just finishing up an inventory of the new American Artist collection when she heard her boss, Olivia say to someone, "an original Christina’s World! Oh, Buffy Travers will be so thrilled. Let me go get her!”

Olivia hurried into Buffy’s office, visibly excited by something. “Buffy!” she cried happily, “there’s a young man here, British, he’s got a lovely endowment for the Gallery. I think it might be your Mother’s original print of Andrew Wyeth’s ‘Christina’s World’ and you must come see it!”

Buffy stood up numbly and headed for the showroom, more then certain that this was indeed her Mother’s original print of the painting and just who this British man was.


A/N: Okay, I’m going to go do some real life stuff now. I wanted to write and write this chapter until I’d had Buffy and Spike confront each other, but…..anyway, I’m going to keep ‘my promise’ and have some Spuffy……oh never mind, just read the next chapters, you’ll see! Hehehehehehe, please read and review, thanks, luv Spuf!

Chapter 35: ‘Who Else Could It Be?’

A/N: This is another one of my ‘connector chapters’ one that
might seem a bit unnecessary at this time, but might be important later. Actually, I’m winding this fic down, believe it or not; only a few more chapters left. Thanks luv Spuf


Buffy walked into Olivia’s office, fully aware of just ‘who’ awaited her in there. Sure enough, Will sat in the visitor’s chair, his left leg, nervously slung across his right one.

Olivia led Buffy into her office, happy to introduce the two young people and all over the original ‘Christina’s World’ print that this fellow Brit had brought into the Gallery.

“Mr. Giles,” Olivia gushed, “this is Buffy Travers, she is my assistant and I am sure her own Mother, Joyce owned this print…..”

Olivia must have seen the ‘look’ that passed between Buffy and Will because she stopped mid-sentence and glanced first at her, then at him.

“I think introductions are unnecessary,” Olivia murmered, wisely, “I’m going out into the showroom, I’ve work to do. Good day Mr. Giles.” With a nod to William and Buffy, Olivia left her own office quickly.

Buffy could not look at Will, she averted her green eyes from his blue ones and asked softly, “why are you here?”

William stood up and closed the gap between them, trying not to be too intimidating to her, “I have to be here, Buffy,” he responded evenly, “I have to see you.”

She walked over to the office door and closed it then faced the man she loved, “I asked you not to try and see me, Will,” she murmered. “You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t be anywhere near here.”

Although Buffy tried to be stern and brave, tried not to show her inner feelings, she just knew that she was a ‘neon sign’ of her emotions. It made her feel weak.

Again, Will came closer to her and his nearness caused her to tremble a little, but she stared at him in the eyes, determined to make him understand.

“I don’t want you here, Will,” she repeated her previous lie, “I just can’t have you here. Please go away now.”

“Liar!” Spike hissed at her, his eyes narrowed into two blue slits of fire.

“What?” she gasped with wide green eyes.

“I said,” he growled deeply, “you are a liar!” He had closed the gap between them until he was just inches from her face, he could feel her hot breath on his skin.

Buffy began to shake her head in denial, “I told you, I can’t have you here, Will…..”

Before she could utter another lie, Spike pulled her to him roughly, crushing his lips against hers. They seemed to melt together, molding their bodies together in their embrace and kisses.

Suddenly, Buffy pushed him away abruptly, “Stop it!” she cried, stepping far back from him, rasping, “you need to leave now Will. Please, just go, take the painting with you and don’t ever come back here!”

Spike stood, shell shocked for a moment or two then shook it off, “I’m leaving Buffy,” he announced gruffly, staring her down. “I came here to tell you I’m going home, to England. I’m going to help my Mum with Drusilla and little Guinevere. I won’t bother you anymore, Princess.”

As an afterthought, he added, “I can’t bother you from almost five thousand miles away, right? But, I’m giving this damn Gallery the painting; it’s my right and my choice to do so. You have no say in it.”

Somehow, Spike felt smugly righteous in his declaration, especially the leaving part, it somewhat put salve on his wounds. ‘Hope she’s fuckin’ miserable,’ he thought viciously, then immediately felt remorse for his evil thought.

Buffy digested his words slowly, her mind numb with confusion and instant pain.

“You’re leaving?” she asked in disbelief.

William nodded, his silence alone broke her heart a hundred times over again; but, what could she have expected? She sat down in Olivia’s plush desk chair, as pale as a ghost, she was sure. All of her energy and fire, even her words abandoned her in a moment’s time.

Gazing, unfocused at her boss’s desk, Buffy felt Will’s intense blue eyes on her, watching her. He seemed to clock her reaction to his announcement.

“Buffy,” he whispered harshly, leaning over the chair she sat in, “Buffy!” he cried out this time.

“Huh?” she snapped to attention, nearly falling backwards out of the chair, causing Will to grab and steady her.

“Baby,” he murmered tenderly, stroking her arm gently, “I really only came to say goodbye. Thought I owed it to you, okay, to both of us. Please believe me, Buffy darling, I would never hurt you or try and cause you any more pain then I already have. I love you Buffy, always.”

Spike gazed at his love, the one woman in the world that could bring him to his knees in a second’s time, as always, she was lovely, even if she’d definitely lost too much weight. She wore those little black pants she’d worn the night they’d danced at Clem’s Bar together, something he’d always remember and cherish.

Later, at ‘their’ pond, they had made love together, her hot little breaths gusting on his bare chest, murmering their lover’s words to each other.

“It was ‘always’ making love for me, Buffy,” he stated suddenly, “it was always love on my part, for you. I love you, always have and always will.”

Buffy stared up at him with those huge green eyes of hers, he saw tears in them.

“I know,” she whispered softly, “I…..”Before she finished the sentence, Buffy wriggled out of Spike’s embrace and said simply, “I’ll miss you in Sunnydale Will. I’ll miss you.”

She didn’t even look at him. “Bye Princess,” he murmered, backing away from her, “take care, baby. I love you.” He turned and walked out of the office.

Buffy sat back down in her boss’s chair, so stunned that she could barely think clearly. Will was leaving, going thousands of miles away and he was leaving her; no, he was leaving because of her.

She was so deep in thoughts of her own private pain, that she had not even noticed Olivia had returned to the office and was now watching her from just a few feet away.

When Buffy heard Olivia clear her throat, she looked up at her, knowing that she must have looked at least a bit deranged, like a deer looks when it’s caught in headlights.

“Buffy?” Olivia called to her softly, her melodic voice just dripped with concern.

That did it for Buffy, she broke down and began to sob uncontrollably, past caring if her own boss saw her behave in this manner. Buffy hung her head down and covered her face with her hands as she continued to weep desperately, ignoring Olivia’s pleas to tell her what was wrong.

When she got no verbal response from Buffy, just her desperate sobs, Olivia hurried up to the chair she sat in and threw her arms about her, pleading again, “Buffy, please dear, tell me what is wrong? What can I do to help you?”

Buffy just shook her head, still in her hands, the pain wracked her body causing her to shake violently and causing Olivia to really panic.

“Buffy, I’m going to call your husband for you, is he at work now?” Olivia asked with concern.

“No!” Buffy cried, clutching at her boss frantically, “don’t call him, Olivia, please! I don’t want him, I don’t want him here!” She began to sob even louder, especially when Olivia began to stroke her long golden hair softly, much as she would do to comfort one of her own small children.

“All right Buffy,” she cooed to her, “but I’m going to call Tara and her Willow, someone you are close to, must come here and help you, at least talk to you. Now, I’m going to step right over here to my desk and ring them, okay?”

Buffy nodded her head against Olivia’s shoulder, just a little bit calmer in the knowledge that her beloved best friend Willow and her love Tara might soon be there for her.

Not thirty minutes had passed before Buffy heard both Tara and Willow’s voices through Olivia’s office door. By the time they got there, Buffy had calmed down a little bit, she was just sniffling now instead of the wailing she’d been doing earlier.

When Willow saw Buffy, she grew even paler then she usually was, worry was etched all over the red head’s face and Tara didn’t look much better.

“Buffy, honey!” Willow rushed over to her friend and embraced her tightly, “what’s wrong sweetie? What happened?”

Buffy looked up at her dear friend, then up at Tara and on to Olivia who took that opportunity to excuse herself and leave her own office, closing the door behind her.

“He was here Wills,” Buffy began to cry again, her voice cracked from pain and tears, “he came by to tell me he’s leaving Sunnydale and……” she couldn’t finish, she just snuggled deeper into Willow’s embrace and cryed softly again.

“Who was here Buffy? Spike?” Willow asked quietly.

Buffy gasped and looked at her friend, stunned that Willow knew just who her lover really was.

“I’ve known it was Spike since day one, Buff,” Willow explained, gently stroking her honey blond hair.

“Who else could it be? I can read you like a book Buffy Summers and when you even alluded to a lover, I guessed it was Spike. No one could ever affect you the way Spike does and you were so affected that way in our apartment, from the start.”

The red head smiled, tenderly at her best friend, “the look on your face, in your eyes; a mixture of aggravation, frustration and ‘I can’t wait to see him again’ was a sure sign. At least a sure sign that for ‘you’ it was Spike Giles. We’ve all seen it for years, honey, well, that and the fact that you must have said ‘bloody’ three times during the course of the conversation. You may not have realized it, but I heard it and put two and two together.”

Willow had to chuckle, evoking a slight smile from Buffy. “So honey,” Willow sighed, glancing up at Tara and then back at Buffy. “I think you better start from the beginning and tell us everything. If you do, maybe we can help you somehow and I am sure you’ll feel much better. In fact, I know you will.”

Through her tears and sporadic soft laughter, Buffy told both Tara and Willow what had happened between William and herself over the past couple of months. She even confessed to them about Xander, but said nothing of Riley, Connor or just who Angel was having the affair with, it would have served no purpose.

Of coure, she didn’t share her most intimate moments with William to them, but just talking about their short time together did make her feel better, even if they would never have that again.

This is when she would start to cry, her sense of loss caused Buffy so much inner pain, although deep down, she knew she deserved some of it.

When she told them about Xander’s part in her and Will’s break up, Buffy felt Willow tense up against her, “I’m so going to kick his ass!” Willow hissed.

“No Willow!” Buffy cried, burying her head into her friend’s shoulder again, “if Xander finds out about this, he’ll go straight to Angel. So many lives will be ruined, please don’t go there, please!”

Willow said nothing more, just nodded for Buffy to continue her story. When she had finished, Tara came around the desk and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “d’do you love him, B’Buffy? D’do you love Sp’Spike?” she stuttered softly.

“Yes,” Buffy responded without a moment’s hesitation, “I love him more then anything in the world.”

Tara picked up the intercom on Olivia’s desk and called over it to Buffy’s boss. Olivia suddenly reappeared in her office and joined the three young women by her desk, visibly relieved to see Buffy doing better anyway.

“We’re going to take Buffy home, now Olivia,” Tara informed her quietly, but Buffy broke in with a cry of denial.

“No! I don’t want to go home! Angel might be there, like a bloody spider waiting in his web to entrap me! I can’t go home, Tara, Willow please don’t take me…..”she broke off from her frantic pleading to gaze desperately at the three women.

“No, no honey,” Tara comforted her and patted her arm. Willow and I will take you to ‘our’ place for the night. Willow, will you call Angel and tell him that Buffy is terribly ill and can’t make it home tonight? Tell him we tried to get a hold of him earlier and couldn’t.”

Willow nodded and helped Buffy up from the chair, leading her out of Olivia’s office.

“You take the next few days off, Buffy,” Olivia ordered gently, “get some rest and for Heaven’s sake eat something! You’re skin and bones, girl.”

Tara opened the door and watched Willow and Buffy start through it, “you can spend the night at our place, Buffy,” she explained, “you won’t have to face Angel tonight. This way you can get yourself together a little more, face him tomorrow. I think that might help, don’t you?”

Buffy nodded and smiled ‘yes’ allowing Willow to lead her out of the office. “Thank you Olivia,” she told her boss in passing. “Thank you guys too,” she whispered to Tara and Willow.”



A/N: In the next chapter, three friends will band together to reunite our Spuffy couple! Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

Chapter 36: ‘Because She Loves Him’


Summary: As Buffy’s health and Spike’s mental health deteriorates, three of their friends cook up a plan to reunite the couple.


Buffy sat on Tara and Willow’s couch, a mug of Tara’s hot herbal tea clutched in her hands. Willow had stopped at some DVD rental place and picked up a couple of movies for them to watch; ‘Simply Irresistable’ and ‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’ two of Buffy’s favorites.

The red head had also stopped at the DoubleMeat Palace and bought a ton of greasy burgers, fries and onions rings, like Olivia had said, Buffy was skin and bones.

Around 8:00 PM, Angel called the apartment to talk to Buffy, but Willow told him she was sleeping, “she’s really ill, Angel,” Willow lied, well kind of lied. Buffy was ill, it was true, but a ‘love sickness’ is something that cannot be explained away and maybe cannot be cured.

What Buffy needed was William Giles and visa versa, to cure them both; the only problem was, this illness might be fatal to both of them.

“We’ll make up the couch for your bed, honey,” Willow told her, heading to the linen closet for some bed clothes, “is that okay?”

Buffy just nodded and kept watching Sarah Michelle Gellar make and ass out of herself over some random guy in Simply Irresistable.

“Oh, Will’s,” she suddenly cried out, “I love this song!” ‘Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered came on in the closing credits causing Tara and Willow to snuggle up on the couch together with Buffy.

As if on cue, the three young women began to sing out the lyrics, trying to do their best to sound like Kim Novak in ‘Pal Joey’:

‘I’m wild again,
beguiled again

A simpering, whimpering
Child again, bewitched, bothered
And bewildered, am I’

‘Couldn’t sleep, and
wouldn’t sleep when love
came and told me
I shouldn’t sleep’

‘Bewitched, bothered
and bewildered, am I’

Suddenly, Buffy stopped singing and got the saddest look on her face, one that matched the sadness in her heart., one she couldn’t hide from the two other women.

Tara jumped up and pulled Willow with her, “we should get to bed now, Wills,” she said, “school tomorrow and Buffy needs some sleep.”

Willow leaned down and hugged Buffy tightly, “it’s gonna’ be okay, Buff, I promise,” she whispered into her ear. Buffy just nodded her head and mumbled a good night to the two women, then got up and went into the bathroom to wash her flushed face.

She looked into the bathroom mirror and for the first time noticed how gaunt her face truly looked, “I look like walking death!” she gasped, stunned.

“Will must have been shocked to see me like this! I’ve got to pull it together.”

For a minute or two, Buffy pondered the day, her feelings for Will, Tara, Willow’s and Olivia’s generosity, “I’m going to go see my Mom,” she decided. “I’ll drive up in a couple of days, have a real heart to heart with her, again, she’ll know how to help me cope with this.”

The next day, Buffy reluctantly went home to Angel, praying he would not bother her about her ‘illness’ or anything that had happened the day before.

When she got home, of course he was at work, which was just fine with her. Buffy shuffled into her bedroom, stripped down and then drew some bath water.

After she soaked for a while in a nice warm tub, she got out and dried off, then snuck another one of Angel’s sleeping pills, ‘gotta’ get some real sleep,’ she told herself, ‘I’ve got to pull it together and get back on track.’ Once she had dried off, drank a ton of water and slipped on a pair of silk pajamas, Buffy slipped into her bed sheets and closed her eyes. Immediately, she was sound asleep, dreaming of Will.

Since that day at Buffy’s Gallery, Spike had gone home, stayed drunk, again, and holed up in his apartment for over three days. He had not done a damn thing to make arrangements to leave Sunnydale and Buffy behind, he just hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it.

‘She looked like walking death,’ he reminded himself, opening yet another beer and picturing Buffy in his mind. Buffy had lost weight, something she definitely didn’t need to do and her skin was so pale, there were dark bluish rings under her eyes and everything.

“She’s miserable,” he hissed out loud, “fuckin’ miserable as I am, all signs point to it. Yet she turns me away, rejects me. I just don’t bloody get it.”

He picked up his remote, flipping through the cable channels, randomly, settling on some stupid TBS movie playing.

“Oh bloody hell!” he groaned, “Summer Catch? Freddie Prinz Jr. is such a….” A knock came at his front door.

“No one’s home!” he shouted, turning up the volume on the moronic movie just to drown out the persistent knocking.

“It’s Clem,” came the deep voice of his friend and business partner, “open the door Spike. We’ve got something to tell you.”

‘We?’ Spike wondered curiously, “we who?” he barked out, pulling on his shirt over his jeans.

“Well, you stubborn SOB,” Clem barked back, “if you’d open your damn door, you’d find out. But, I’ll tell you out of the goodness of my heart. It’s Willow Rosenberg, her friend Tara McClay and me of course, the only friend you’ve got in the world. You better open the door, Spike,” he threatened, “I think you’ll want to hear what the two ladies have to tell you.”

Willow Rosenberg spoke up from outside the door, “it’s about Buffy, Spike,” she called, “we need to straighten some things out about her. Please let us in, okay?”

Spike stumbled to the door, glancing around to make sure that the apartment was at least presentable to guests. ‘What the hell?’he wondered to himself.

Spike let Willow, Tara and Clem into his apartment, reluctantly, wondering what the hell any of them had to tell him about Buffy.

‘Okay,’ he reasoned, ‘Willow is Buffy’s best friend right? And this Tara must be Willow’s girl so I guess maybe they do have something to say about Buffy?’

“Hi, Spike,” Willow greeted, “long time no see, this is my girlfriend Tara McClay. We called Clem, asked him to bring us here; we need to talk Spike, about Buffy.”

Spike nodded at this Tara bird, glared at Clem in embarrassment and smiled at Willow, “good to see you Red,” he responded with mock gruffness.

“Hi, Sp…Spike,” Tara smiled shyly, “I’ve heard a lot about you, from your Buffy that is.”

‘Buffy?’ Spike questioned silently, ‘so Buffy told Willow and this Tara about us? Now I’m compeltely confused.’

“Sit down then,” Spike motioned to the couch, he and Clem took the two chairs.

“I’m going to cut to the chase here, Spike,” Willow began, her face tinged with a blush, “Buffy told Tara and me everything about you and Buffy, I mean the parts that she could tell that is.”

The red-head blushed profusely, causing Clem and Spike to chuckle.

“That’s how we, Tara and me knew to get in touch with Clem to find you,” Willow continued quickly, keeping her focus on Tara. “Buffy told us all about the bar, the pond, hope that was all right, how you two got together….”

Again, Willow and Tara both blushed, but the blond girl nudged her girlfriend and encouraged her to continue.

“Anyway, she also told us about your ‘break-up’ and why and everything…..”

Here, Spike broke in gruffly, “why? Because she bloody well doesn’t love me, she loves that fuckin’ moron she’s married to!”

Willow and Tara gasped and Clem glared at Spike, “Geez, man, crude much! Do you ever think before you open your mouth and speak, Spike? Why do you think these ladies came all the way over here to ‘tell’ you something, because you’re such a good host?”

Spike sat back down and hung his head, ashamed for his outburst and language, “sorry,” he mumbled lowly, “go ahead, Red.”

Tara spoke up this time, “it’s okay, Sp..Spike,” she stuttered softly, “we know y..you love Buffy and how hard this is for b…both of you.” She then nodded at Willow, patting her leg with her hand, “go on sweetie,” she told her.

Willow took a deep breath, it appeared to Spike that she was concentrating on each word she had to say to him.

“Spike,” she began, almost in a whisper, “Buffy is miserable without you. I want you to understand this, it’s important that you realize just how much she, well, she misses you and needs you in her life. Please don’t say anything until I finish because this is really hard for me, Spike, honest, for Tara and me both. Clem was nice enough to bring us here, knowing how much you love Buffy and frankly, I shouldn’t say this, Buffy should, but she ‘does’ love you Spike, so much.”

When Willow told Spike that, he smiled softly, ‘yeah, I know she does Red, so how come she left me?’

He was so confused by now, that he couldn’t vocalize anything, just nodded his blond head and tried to understand what Red and her girl were trying to tell him.

“Buffy fell apart after you left the Gallery the other day. Olivia was so worried she called Tara and I to come get her and take her home,so we did, to our place.”

Spike flinched, remembering again how thin poor Buffy was, how pale and tired, “is she all right, Red?” he asked worriedly.

“No,” Willow answered honestly, “like I said, Spike, she’s miserable without you.”

‘Then how come she’s not with me?’ he asked himself again, “why doesn’t she want me anymore?” he asked Willow, his voice sounded like a small boys and he was ashamed of himself.

“She does want you, Spike, she does, but something happened, or should I say someone happened and Buffy felt like she ‘had’ to break it off with you. Not because of Angel, Spike, I mean that.”

Now he was even more confused, what or who had convinced Buffy to stop seeing him, now, when they were so close to being able to be together.

‘Who?’ he asked Willow silently.

Willow was quiet for a moment, she looked as if she was considering ‘not telling’ Spike who was behind all this, then, “I’ll tell you Spike, but you have to promise me something. Give me your word you won’t go after this person, hurt them, or harrass them. If you don’t promise and I trust your word Spike, but if you don’t promise me? I won’t explain another thing.”

She looked at him so seriously that Spike almost laughed, but he was too uneasy to even chuckle at the moment, ‘it better not be who I think it is,’ he warned his inner being, afraid that it was exactly that moron behind all this.

“Promise,” he told her, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Xander Harris threatened Buffy that he would tell Angel everything about you and her. Then for good measure he reminded poor Buffy that Angel wasn’t above hurting not only you guys, but Buffy’s mom. He even mentioned Ethan Rayne and his connection to your sister, their baby and your Mother, Spike.”

Willow shook her head sadly, “I can’t believe Xander would do this, it’s just not him at all.”

Spike was on his feet and headed to his front door, bike keys in hand, the minute Willow had said the name ‘Xander Harris.’

Clem leapt up to stop him, grabbing him by the arms, “no way, man,” the shorter dark haired man hissed, “you promised, Spike, swore. It’s not going to do any good to go after Harris.”

“Let me go, Clem,” Spike growled dangerously, “I’m gonna’ go rip that fuck’s head off and drop kick it into the Pacific Ocean, then I’m going to tear the rest of his worthless corpse into little pieces and…..”

Tara stood up, she’d been silent most of the time but now she said plenty.

“No you’re not, Sp..Spike,” she said with determination, “you pro..promised Willow you’d leave Xander alone, and I know you wouldn’t lie. Especially if you know it’ll just kill B..Buffy if anything happens to you or your family and her own. Pl…Please, please try to calm down, besides, Xander is gone. We, Willow and m…me, sent him away, out of town, that is.”


Spike stopped struggling with Clem long enough to ask Tara just how Willow and her had accomplished ‘sending’ Xander Harris out of town.

“Well, at the risk of sounding like a bad mobster movie,” Willow piped up, “we made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He won’t be back to Sunnydale for a while, that should give you and Buffy plenty of time to work things out and make some decisions. Say it’s enough Spike, please. If you go after Xander, Angel will find out everything, I’m sure of it from what Buffy told me, it won’t do any of you any good. So please, Spike, let Xander go, for now, anyway.”

Spike just nodded, but he was still picturing Xander’s bloody head flying into the Pacific Ocean.

“Buffy doesn’t’ know we’re here, Spike,” Willow continued as he and Clem sat down once again on the chairs.

“You have to understand, Buffy is terrified of Angel and now Xander, too. Although Xander is gone and Angel is clueless, it’s going to take some pretty major work to get Buffy to meet with you and work all this out. I hope you understand, Spike, it’s really tough for Tara and me to try and help Buffy and you get back together. Neither of us are really big on seeing Buffy threaten her so called marriage, but, Angel has been awful to her, yes, we know about that too. And, there’s the fact that Buffy and you love each other, it makes her happy to have you in her life. I want Buffy to be happy, Spike, she means so much to me and she’s always supported my decisions, helped me get through my miserable childhood.”

Here Willow clasped Tara’s hand warmly, “Buffy is a good friend, Sp…Spike,” Tara added, “she’s always been there for Willow, we want to help her now.”

Spike sat quietly, for once, thinking about what the two women and Clem had said, done for Buffy and him by telling him all this.

“Thanks, Red, Tara,” he mumbled softly, “I promise you both, I’ll try and make Buffy as happy as humanly possible.”

Buffy sat in the back of Willow’s Altima and watched the scenery as they drove out of Sunnydale, north to Santa Barbara. She was really happy that Wills and Tara had offered to go with her to Joyce’s house, frankly, she enjoyed the company, although the drive wasn’t long. The only thing was, Willow seemed intent on taking a rather long way around to get to the main highway north.

“I haven’t been out this way in ages, Buff,” Willow had mumbled from the front seat, “just wanted to see it again.” With a shrug, Buffy went back to her thoughts, wondering what her Mother was going to say when she told her ‘almost everything’ about the past few months, even about Xander and his sudden personality swing.

‘I guess I can finally tell Mom that I do love William,’ she sighed sadly, ‘too bad it’s way too late now.’

Snapping out of her sad reverie, Buffy realized that Willow was driving right towards the place where the Inn that she and Will had spent their first night together was.

‘Oh, God,’ she sighed to herself, ‘I don’t think I can look at it as we pass it. It’ll break my heart again, I miss him so much even if….’

Suddenly, Willow turned quickly into the parking lot of the Inn and pulled up to the back area. Buffy was shocked to see Will’s motorcycle there, right in the same spot it had been the first time.

“Willow,” she gasped with panic, “what the hell is this? Why are we here, why’s William here? I don’t understand, what’s….”

Tara turned around, smiling softly and reaching over the seat to take Buffy’s arm in hers, “it’s ok..kay, Buffy. Sp..Spike is here to talk to you.”

Willow joined her girlfriend and smiled warmly, although blushing, at Buffy, “it’s true Buff,” she added, “we told Spike everything and cooked up this little trip to your Mom’s to cover for you with Angel.”

“Oh my God! My Mom, she…..”

Willow chuckled softly, “knows your not coming to see her Buff.”

At that moment, Buffy didn’t know if she was relieved, scared, happy or a little pissed at the two girls over the spy games, but she quickly decided that she was thrilled.

“What about Xander?” she muttered, terrified that he might find out.

“Xander is no longer involved in any of this, Buffy,” Willow responded softly, “he’s not even in Sunnydale right now. Tara’s Uncle Ronald has a construction company in LA, he’s working on a major job.”

Willow clasped Tara’s hand in hers, “she asked her Uncle to hire on Xander as a subcontractor. Xander couldn’t turn it down so he’s gone, for at least a month. I encouraged him to ‘get away’ from Sunnydale for a while, and he actually listened to me. He won’t be around to bother anyone anymore.”

Buffy was stunned, she couldn’t believe her friends had gone to so much trouble for her. As if they read her mind, Willow and Tara reminded her what a good friend Buffy had been, especially to Willow over the years.

“We love you Buff,” Willow said shyly, “we want you to be happy too.”

“I’ll never forget this,” Buffy murmered, leaning over the seat, hugging both women together. “You guys are the best and I love you both,” she added, “thank you. I really love him, Wills,” Buffy finished looking at the door, #7, “I just wish I’d have realized that he was the long haul guy a long time ago.”

Tara just patted Buffy’s arm gently, Willow said, “your guy’s waiting, go on Buffy. And please, Buffy,” she stammered, “tell Spike you love him this time, don’t let another chance go by. Life’s too short to let happiness slip away and he so needs to hear that you love him. Okay?”

Buffy didn’t even try to stop the tiny tears that formed in her eyes, “I’ll tell him first thing, Wills, I promise. And thank you,” she whispered hugging Willow and Tara again before she hopped out of the car. Buffy waved goodbye to the two women. Taking a deep breath, she knocked softly on door #7.


A/N: Okay, now that was just hokey, I know! Couldn’t resist all the sappy stuff. Does anyone reading this get that I’m not a big Jr. fan, I have reasons, honest, but that’s just my opinion. Anyway, I know that this whole chapter was far fetched: 1) Willow and Tara would probably not be too happy to encourage Buffy and Spike’s affair, but this is fiction, what can I say. 2) A Mother wouldn’t be too thrilled either, but Joyce always liked Spike better then Angel, so maybe she’d go along with it.

Thanks for reading. Next chapter is the Spuffy reconciliation, then just a few more chapters. There is angst coming once again for our couple. Please read and review, I hope someone is reading this, still. Thanks, Luv Spuf

Chapter 37: ‘Reconciliation/Consumation’


A/N: I gave myself a few ‘challenges’ before I wrote this chapter. It’s kind of a short one for me, anyway. 1) Either Buffy or Spike has to say the phrase ‘crazy ass in love’ during the chapter; 2) Spike has to recite poetry to Buffy; 3) No where in this chapter will either Angel or Xander be mentioned even in a death threat! Okay, I succeeded in pulling this much off. Please read! Luv, Spuf


Buffy knocked softly on door #7 of the Inn. Her heart raced, pounded actually, in her chest, excited to see Will again, so privately, hoping he would hear her out.

‘Of course he’ll hear you out, nimrod,’ her naughty Buffy voice interjected with glee, ‘he loves the hell out of you girl, pull your head out of your ass and open your eyes. Oh, and open your mouth, this time, Buffy, tell your guy you love him!’

Will opened the door of the Inn and Buffy took in his beloved face and body, especially his cobalt blue eyes. In that nano second that passed between them, Buffy saw everything she needed to; William loved her, needed her and wanted her forever. Their connection was total and their fate was sealed at that very moment.

Will held out his hand to her, ‘pianist’s hands,’ she thought tenderly. ‘William has the hands of a pianist, or artist. I noticed that before, wonder why I never really put it into a conscious though, or verbal thought before?’

Buffy took his artist’s hand and allowed him to lead her into the room, where he stopped in the middle and turned to her, “we can just talk if you want, Princess,” he murmered shyly, “like I promised before. I know you were kind of roped into this tonight and….”

Before he could finish, Buffy wrapped her arms around Will’s lean body, bringing her lips to his left ear, “I’m glad, Will,” she whispered.

“I’m glad I got roped into being here, and I do want to talk with you, but first, I have to tell you something.” Screwing up her courage, Buffy nuzzled her mouth into Will’s neck even as he hugged her tighter then before.

“I love you, Will,” Buffy purred, running her lips lightly around the shell of his ear. “I’m crazy ass in love with you and I want to be with you, only you, William Giles. Do you believe me?”

Spike felt tears form in the corners of his eyes, but he really didn’t give a rat’s ass at the moment, Buffy had admitted it. Finally after ten years, her marriage to the wrong guy, his and her crazy relationship and a break up, (even ME’s drawn out angstsy long season 7! Okay, sorry)! Buffy had admitted the truth, she loved him and all those years just melted away, leaving just her and him, alone together in this room.

“I believe you, baby,” he answered, his voice husky with emotion. He ran his hands down her arms and kissed her soft mouth simotaneously, “I believe everything you say to me, Buffy, always.”

Buffy smiled at him lovingly, “good, cos’ I could never fool you, Will, never. Hard as I tried.”

Clasping her tightly to his body, Spike murmered into her mouth, even as he kissed her, “I’ll love you forever, Buffy. Can’t help it, I’m in love with you, your stubborn spirit, quick mind, beautiful eyes, absolutely luscious body, compassion, warmth and oh yeah,” he grinned wickedly, “even your cute crooked nose.”

She squeaked in protest, “I so do not have a crooked nose!” she gasped in mock anger.

“Okay,” he kissed said nose, “it’s not crooked, but it’s cute.”

This seemed to placate her and without another word, Buffy broke their embrace, took his left hand and led him to the bed.

“I think it would be best if we ‘talked’ here, Will,” she grinned mischieviously, “of course we could put the ‘talk’ off until later, huh?”

Spike matched her grin, “bloody hell, Buffy, we can put the talk off all night if you want!”

Buffy resisted the urge to tear Will’s clothes off of him, she wanted to undress him, oh yeah, but gentle and all slow- like. She reached up and began to tug the black tee shirt up over his chest and shoulders, “tell me you love me again,” she murmered as she slid the material up over his handsome head.

“I love you, always, ” he responded softly, never taking his eyes from hers.

“Tell me that you want me, Will,” she purred her command.

“Again, always,” he answered, reaching out to pull her top off, then her jeans.

“Let me,” Buffy offered sweetly as she unzipped his jeans and slid them down over his hips, then his thighs, then his legs. They finally stood, face to face, almost totally naked, well he was naked, she still had on her thong by this time.

“Tell me that you, that you…..”Buffy couldn’t finish, she felt like her throat was closing up, her heart was racing and tremors shot through her tiny frame.

“Tell you that I’d what, Buffy, darling,” he asked softly, running his long, slim fingers through her golden hair. “That I’ll love you forever? Already said it. But, I’ll say it again; I’ll love you forever, Buffy. I’ve loved you from day one, I’m always going to love, want and need you.”

“You have artist’s hands, Will,” Buffy sighed suddenly, clasping his hands into her tiny ones. “You have hands of a painter, or a sculptor, maybe even a pianist. I always ‘saw’ that, but never said it, I want to say it now, silly as it seems. I love your hands, Will. I love you.”

When she’d finished speaking, Buffy leaned up and kissed him full on the mouth, almost shyly, as if what she had said may have embarrassed both of them.

Will smiled into her lips, “I love you, love your hands, lips, mind and eyes, even your croo…I mean cute nose, even your stubborness, Buffy. I love you, all of you.”

Buffy giggled, then flung herself back onto the bed, “well if you love me so much, Will Giles, then come and show me!” She burst into a gleeful chuckle, even more so when Will leapt on top of her.

He stilled her merry laughter with his passionate kisses, running his lips down her chin to her neck then to her bare breasts.

“Oh, Will,” she sighed dreamily, “you’ve got such nice lips!” Smiling, he suckled each of her little nipples then continued down to her tummy, barely skimming her flesh there with his yummy mouth. Now Buffy giggled again, ticklish as she was at that particular place, “stop!” she cried laughing, flaying about on the bed, trying not to kick Will accidently.

“Nope!” he growled playfully and continued to lick and nibble her tummy relentlessly.

“I mean it Will!” she laughed hysterically, now, “I won’t be able to control myself, I might kick you in the head by accident!”

Finally, William stopped, but only long enough to give her the most dazzling grin, then he slipped his head between her thighs and began to lick and nibble another much more sensitive place on Buffy.

Spike, listened to his love moan and groan in delight as he tasted her again and again. Buffy was incredibly responsive to him when he did this, but bloody hell, she was responsive to everything he did. Just like he was with her.

When she was so close he could feel her begin to cum, he concentrated on her most sensitive part of her luscious cunny, bringing her over the edge. By the time he’d finished, he was so hard he almost couldn’t move up her body to position himself to thrust into her, just like he wanted to.

“Make love to me, please Will,” Buffy suddenly whispered, her green eyes wide and searching. “Please, Will, real nice and slow, no rough stuff this time. I need you, so much, but I need nice and slow to consumate our reconciliation. Do you mind, Will? I mean if you want…..”

Spike stared down into the face of the woman he loved more then life itself, “I’ll do nice and slow, baby,” he murmered, kissing her lips with a smile. I’ll do nice and slow, tender and sweet. Fuck Buffy, I’d go on national television and shout ‘I Love Buffy Summers’ from coast to coast, live. I’d go on international television and….”

Buffy giggled softly, “okay, I get it, Will. You’ll do tender and nice for me.”

He entered Buffy so agonizingly slowly, that he thought he might start crying from the sheer tortureous pleasure of it. Buffy was writhing underneath him, encouraging him with her passionate words.

“Like that, baby?” he asked, his voice husky and straining to control himself.

“Yeah, just like that baby,” she moaned, clasping her arms around his chest and back, accepting his gentle kisses on her mouth and cheeks, giving hers to him in return.

“Buffy,” he rasped, pushing himself up on his hands and knees to give himself more leverage, “I want to watch you from here,” he explained, pushing into her, never taking his eyes from her green orbs. Every other gentle thrust or so into her, Spike leaned down and kissed some part of Buffy’s beautiful face. Without meaning to, unable to help himself, he began to recite something, softly to her, that suddenly came to his mind:

‘I have been here before,
But, when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore

You have been mine before…
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at the swallow’s soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall, I knew it all of yore.

Then, now, perchance again!
O round mine eyes your tresses shake!
Shall we not lie as we have lain
Thus for Love’s sake,
And sleep, and wake, yet never break the chain?


Buffy broke down and began to weep when Will had finished his poem, it was too much emotion at once. More then she had ever felt at any one time; overwhelming, endearing and overpowering for her.

“Baby,” Will stopped thrusting gently, looking at her with concern, “was it that bad?”

She wept openly, shaking her head fiercely, “no,” she finally choked out weakly, “it was just so beautiful. It made me happy, sad and well, kind of shy all at once.”

William dropped his body on top of her, spooning her into his strong arms while kissing her everywhere he could reach his lovely lips.

“It’s true, Princess,” he whispered, nuzzling her and beginning his gentle rythym once more. “We have loved like this once before; love like this doesn’t just happen, it’s written in the stars and heavens. And whether we are asleep or awake, the chain of love between us will never be broken. Believe me, Buffy.”

She nodded and thrust up to meet his movements, “I believe you. I’ll always believe you, Will.”

Later, after they had cum together, they lay on the bed, entwined in such a way that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

“I love you, Buffy,” he murmered.

“Love you too, baby,” she whispered back.

Will chuckled, “what?” she asked innocently with a blush. “It’s just that when you call ‘me’ baby, makes me feel all tingly inside, Princess.”

Buffy began to giggle again, “tingly? The Big Bad of Sunnydale says ‘tingly’?”

William pulled her even closer to him, “want to feel tingly all over again too?” he asked, raising his left eyebrow and smirking.

“Oh yeah,” Buffy answered with a breathy moan, snuggling into him, “no question, we’re going to both feel really tingly, all night long!”

He ran his long fingers down her arms to her hips, causing her to shiver in delight.

“Was that one of your poems, Will?” Buffy asked shyly, “it’s beautiful.”

He smiled and shook his head, “nah, sad to say it’s not. My poetry sucks Buffy, surely you remember how bad it was, back when?”

She propped herself up on her right elbow, “I remember some of your prose, sweetheart, it was pretty good, honest.”

Spike gave her a ‘huh’ look and actually blushed, “come on Buffy, don’t push this. You know my stuff sucks and I’m not sure this is going a direction I like.”

He smiled anyway, just to make sure she understood that he wasn’t mad, just embarrassed by the poncey turn of conversation.

“No, really,” Buffy persisted, “I remember some of your stuff, you read me some once. Please recite some of yours, Will, please. It would make me so happy, honest.”

With a shake of his head, Spike began to run his hands over Buffy’s rump and around to her front side, trying to change the subject, take her mind off the poetry nonsense.

“No,” she chuckled, clasping his persistent hands, “I want to hear some of William the Poet’s prose. I’m not backing down here, baby. Give it to me!”

Again, Spike raised his left eyebrow, “give it to you?” he asked in mock surprise. “Yes, give it to me! Your poetry, for now that is!”

So, with a sigh of defeat, Spike began to recite his terrible prose from years before.

‘At least one thing’s for sure,’ he reasoned, blushing from embarrassment, “Buffy’ll recognize that the poetry is all about her.’


Once he had embarrassed himself completely, by reciting a good thirty minutes of his bloody rotten poetry, Spike buried his head into Buffy’s chest and groaned.

“That was the most embarrassing thirty minutes of my life,” he admitted through gritted teeth.

“It was lovely, Will,” Buffy gushed happily, “just lovely. It made me cry!”

True to her word, when Spike looked into his love’s eyes, he saw real tears there, ‘just wonder if their tears of joy or pain?’ he wondered ruefully.

“Let’s eat!” he suddenly blurted out, remembering the food he’d brought with him for Buffy. Jumping up from the bed and pulling her with him, Spike trotted into the kitchenette, dragging her along.

“I’ve got champagne, baby,” he chortled, “we’ve got strawberries and cream,” he turned and gave her a wicked wink, “some bread, that brie you love, oh, lets’ see, hmmm.”

Buffy actually pinched his bare bottom with her beautifully manicured fingers, “okay,” she sighed with resignation, “buy me off with food, I’ll take that. But, Will, your poetry ‘is’ beautiful, I mean it.”

He gazed down into her emerald green eyes with adoration, “so are you, Princess,” he whispered, nuzzling his face into her cheek, “I love you more then life.”


A/N: Sigh, okay, corny, sappy, hokey (is there any other descriptive words I forgot?) I wanted to give a complete chapter, albeit a short for me, to Spuffy here. The poem is called ‘Sudden Light’ by Dante Gabriel Rossetti and I just love it. I think it combines the BTVS ‘eternal Spuffy love’ theme and is as valid today as then.

Anyway, please read and review if you so choose and please, love Spuffy, the real Spuffy that we all adored in BTVS. It’s so hard for we writers to capture the real Buffy/Spike and their love for each other. Thanks, Luv, Spuf

Chapter 38: ‘Confrontations’


A/N: This is a really long chapter, in fact it’s in two parts and I’m rating it NC-17 for language and sexual violence. This is the chapter where Angel really gets ugly, however, I have toned it down from it’s original concept, just couldn’t make it ‘that ugly.’ Thanks for reading, luv, Spuf





They made love as much as they could, taking time to explore each other’s bodies over and over again. William and Buffy remapped each other’s bodies, every curve and muscle, every inch of flesh they could, with their hands and mouths. Finally, sated from sex and exhausted from their emotions, they fell asleep wrapped in each others arms.

After spending over thirty-six hours in that room together, making love, eating and just talking to each other, Buffy and William discovered more about each other and themselves then ever before. Will woke up first from their ‘nap’ he lay propped up on his left elbow, watching Buffy sleep on, wrapped up in her dream world.

Suddenly, without warning, she flinched in her sleep and cried out, “Angel, No!” causing Spike to cringe.

‘What the hell?’ he asked himself, giving in to the urge to wake her from her troubled rest, ‘great, she’s dreamin’ about that wanker!’

He knew that wasn’t fair on his part, Buffy was married to the fuck after all, and by all accounts, this was not a particularly nice dream for her.

“Buffy,” he whispered urgently, trying to wake her, “Buffy, wake up Princess, you’re havin’ a bad dream.”

Buffy’s eyes flew open and she bolted up in bed, her body trembling all over.

“Oh, Will,” she gasped, clinging to him in fear, “I had the most awful dream. Angel came after us, here, right this morning, Will. He shot you, killed you dead!”

She knew it was a nightmare, nothing more, but it had terrified her, it seemed so very real to her.

“He found out about us, Xander told him and then he came here and shot you, right in front of me.”

Grasping onto his body, still trembling like a leaf in the wind, she began to cry softly, “I couldn’t save you, Will,” she whispered harshly, I tried, but I was too late.”

William began to stroke her, almost cooing to her, telling her it was alright and that Angel had not found out about them.

“When he does, Buffy,” he murmered in her ear, soothingly, “it won’t matter anymore, we’ll be free of him once and for all.”

Buffy wanted to believe him, she loved him and he loved her, all of her feelings for Angel were gone, well, except the contempt she now held her husband in.

“How are we going to be free of him, Will?” she asked with wide serious eyes.

That was when Will told her all about his plan.

When it came time for Buffy to go home to her dreary prison of a house, it was harder then hard, it was near impossible for her to leave. For both Spike and her; he did not want her to go.

On Sunday afternoon, when it was impossible for her to stay any longer without alerting Angel, Buffy reluctantly showered again and got dressed slowly. Even in the shower, with him, Spike could feel her fear about going home, facing that moron she was married to.

‘God I hate that prick!’ he hissed silently, watching her gather her things up and repack the little overnight case. He just hated the fact that she was going home to ‘him’ the bane of his existence and now, hers. Spike knew in his heart, without even asking Buffy, that she avoided any physical contact with Angel, always, anyway she could accomplish it, and he was thankful for that. The thought of that bloody fuck touching his Buffy made him physically ill, as it had for years.

She had finished gathering and packing her few things, when she suddenly pushed the little bag aside and leapt back on the bed to rejoin him, “I love you!” she cried desperately, pulling him into her embrace.

“Oh, luv,” he moaned just as desperately, “I love you so much,” his arms were like a vice on her, encircling her tiny body, nearly squishing her.

“I’m going to hate going home, Will,” Buffy whispered even as he peppered little kisses on her face and lips. “I hate it there, at that damn tomb I claim to live in. Do it, Will, ruin Angel, bring him down and get him out of our lives. I don’t think I can stand to look at him any more.”

She began to cry softly, burying her head into his bare chest and soaking his warm flesh with her even warmer tears.

“I’ll take care of Angel, Princess,” Spike whispered back to her as he stroked her golden hair and warm, wet cheeks. “Don’t you worry, baby,” he added with a smirk, “Angel won’t be able to hurt us or anyone else, I promise.”

She nodded against his chest, snuggling down into him even closer then before, “make love to me?” she half-asked/ half-ordered him, gazing up into his eyes, lovingly.

“God, Buffy, you don’t even have to ask me that.” He quickly began to undress her.

Finally, when Buffy couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer, Will drove her to Willow and Tara’s apartment where she had left her car for the weekend. Will clasped her to him, kissing her passionately before letting her get into her car to drive home.

“I love you, Buffy,” he called softly as she sat in the driver’s seat, “love you too,” she responded meeting his gaze and smiling.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?”

He nodded and stared at her wistfully, waiting until Buffy had pulled out of the apartment parking lot and gotten to the end of the block to leave.

“I hope to God that Angel isn’t home,” she thought to herself driving fairly fast towards her house, “I don’t think I can bear to see him right now.”

As if God had heard her, Buffy noticed that Angel’s car was missing from their driveway when she pulled into it.

“Thank you, God,” she mumbled, turning off the ignition and grabbing her overnight bag. Jenny and Maggie’s cars were also missing from the driveway, which was odd, they weren’t supposed to take this weekend off.

“Wonder where they are?” Buffy asked herself out loud, then shrugged and went inside her empty house.

It was summertime, so the light outside was more then enough to illuminate most of the big old house, but it was strange, it still seemed so ‘dark’ inside.

Buffy felt a shiver go up her spine as she entered through the back door and headed through the kitchen on her way upstairs to the bedroom. Suddenly, without warning, Angel’s deep voice boomed from the front room of the house, scaring the life out of Buffy.

“Hey, Buff,” Angel greeted her loudly, “welcome home.”

She dropped the overnight bag on the kitchen floor and reluctantly shuffled into the living room, confused as to how Angel was here when his car wasn’t. Angel was sitting on the living room couch, wearing only a pair of Levi jeans and drinking from a very large tumbler, ‘whiskey’ Buffy figured.

“Hey Angel,” she responded weakly, slowing her steps down to a crawl, “where’s the Mercedes?”

He didn’t even turn around to look at her, just shrugged his massive shoulders, took another gulp of his drink and said evenly, “the shop.”

‘Oh,’ she nodded silently, “it’s almost 5:30, Ang,” she noted, changing the subject, “have you eaten anything? Where’s Jenny and Maggie?”

“I gave them time off for good behavior,” Angel snorted with a chuckle, “and no, I haven’t eaten. I’ll make a sandwich for myself in a little while. I’d rather drink my meal anyway right now,” he explained, taking another sip of his drink.

Buffy felt the uneasy feeling that had started the minute she realized Angel was indeed home rise up from her stomach to her throat. She was finding it very hard to say anything or breathe evenly for that matter.

“What’s wrong, Angel?” she asked quietly, trying to ‘seem’ interested in what was obviously bothering him.

“I’m just tired, Buffy,” he responded in the same monotone, “I’m just tired and I guess a little worried, maybe.”

Now she was getting downright scared, Angel never worried about anything like this, no, he ranted and raved or threw something if he was really worried about business or money? Anything, but not like this.

“Worried?” she asked evenly, “about what?”

“Nothing that should concern you right now, babe,” he responded his voice barely above a whisper.

Buffy tried to change the subject again, make some kind of polite conversation, “my Mom’s doing real well, Angel,” she offered up, “she’s really happy with this Ted guy and…..”

Angel interrupted her, “that’s just peachy keen there Buff,” he snapped sarcastically. “As long as Mom’s doin’ great the world is just fucking fine, huh?”

Buffy’s attitude went from polite to angry in two seconds, “well she is my Mother, Angel. I think you’d be the slightest bit interested in what she’s doing or how she’s doing. God, Angel, do you ever even think of anyone but yourself?”

She turned, without letting him finish, and headed towards the kitchen to grab her bag and hurry upstairs, not noticing that he’d stood up and followed her.

“Buffy!” he shouted, grabbing her arm and spinning her around, “I’m more interested in the what hell you’re up to. So drop the self-righteous ‘I love my Mommy’ act, it doesn’t become you sweetheart.”

With Angel so close to her now, Buffy could really tell just how much he’d been drinking that day; it was a lot.

“Angel,” she began trying to calm her voice down even though she was beginning to be really frightened for some reason. “I don’t know what’s bothering you,” though she had a pretty good idea, “but I think we should just not talk to each other right now. Anymore, whenever we talk we seem to argue and I’m tired, I’ve got a headache….”

Angel rolled his huge chocolate brown eyes and smirked, “you’re always tired, babe and you’ve always got a God damned headache anymore. You know,” he continued in mock concern, “you really need to get to a Doctor about those, I’m starting to get worried.”

She didn’t look into those dark eyes of his, Buffy had caught the sarcasm in his tone and decided to pull away from him; get away from him.

Rubbing her arm where Angel had held it so tightly, Buffy shook her head slightly, “I’m going to go take a bath, you just eat your damn sandwich down here, by yourself. I’m not going to eat, I’m not hungry.”

She turned her back to him and began to walk away, but he grabbed her again, this time by the shoulders.

“You don’t walk away from me you little bitch!” he growled slamming her back against his chest and stomache and wrapping his huge arms around her like a vice. “You’re my fucking wife! I want to talk to you right now. And when I want to talk to you, we talk! You got that Buff?”

Buffy struggled against him to pull away, but Angel was just too damn strong for her, so she finally gave up and tried to relax in his embrace.

“Let’s just go sit on our nice, expensive, comfy couch and have a real heart to heart, babe,” he purred in her ear, “damn, you make a guy feel like he’s not loved anymore. And you love me don’t you babe? I mean, everybody loves me, right?”

Pulling her along with him to their couch, Angel pushed Buffy, not too gently onto it then sat down beside her, his huge hands holding her in place. Buffy’s inner voice began to speak to her:

“Tell him, Summers,” it ordered firmly, “tell him that not only do you no longer love him, you can’t stand the sight of him. It’s the perfect time to ask for a divorce, he’s drunk, yeah, stupid drunk! Tell him what a worthless, ruthless and cheating piece of shit you know he really is!”

Buffy opened her mouth to let the words come out, but when she looked him in his eyes, she lost her nerve. Angel was past angry at this point, he was going on enraged and she was more frightened then before.

“Yeah, that’s right, Ang,” she said evenly, not looking at him again, “everybody loves you.”

He shot her a smug smile, “that’s right,” he nodded his head, “I’m the most loved guy in Sunnydale, huh, sweetheart?”

She knew that trying to reason with Angel when he’d been drinking like this was useless, so she just nodded her head back at him and focused her stare on the coffee table in front of them.

“You’ve been real distant lately, babe,” he slurred as he scrutinized her, “real distant. I mean, even before you got that two-bit job of yours, you were pulling away from me, emotionally, physically.”

Angel chuckled softly and shook his head, “almost makes a guy think you’re not being up front with him. Maybe you’re fucking around on him or something, you know?”

Buffy didn’t say a word, just kept staring at the coffee table.

“But then again,” he continued, gulping his drink down and pouring more from the decanter on the coffee table, “I just know how faithful you are. After all, I paid someone to follow you around for weeks, checking up on you.”

He paused and stared at her, ‘he’s clocking me for my reaction,’ she told herself, ‘play it right, Summers.’

“You had me followed!” she cried with indignation, “checked up on!”

Angel shrugged and took another drink of his whiskey, “well, yeah. But of course you passed that test with flying colors, huh babe?”

“So you had me followed? Why Angel?” she asked, hoping her false sense of self-righteous indignation would convince her husband that she had no clue of any of this crap.

“Again,” he sighed with a light chuckle, “that I did, babe. And, happily for all of us, I found out you are truly the paragon of virtue that everyone always ‘thought’ you were. Which, is very lucky for you, wife of mine because if it had turned out any differently, I’d have broken your lovely sleek little neck. And you have such a beautiful, silky throat and neck, sweetheart, it’d be a shame to break it in two over some stupid dalliance on your part, wouldn’t it?”

Buffy sat stock still, trying to keep calm, trying to breathe evenly, she thought she was pulling it off and then Angel continued.

“Of course, I’d have gone after the stupid fuck that ever had the nerve to get involved with Angel Traver’s wife, put his filthy hands on you. In fact, I’d slice him into pieces, preferably in front of you, pre- neck breaking of course. I think I’d start with his balls and….”

Buffy stood up abruptly, “I get it, Angel,” she stated evenly, surprised at the calm in her voice, “I cheat, I die and everyone around me? Right?”

Angel looked up at her, his eyes were narrowed into slits of cocoa brown and yellow flecks of anger, “right,” he muttered harshly, “but we don’t have to worry about that do we, darling?”

‘No’ Buffy shook her head, “we don’t have to worry about that, Angel,” she answered as he pulled her back down on the couch.

Angel took another gulp of his drink and eyed her again, taking in the jean mini-skirt and light pink sweater she wore.

“You look good again, Buffy,” he smiled at her as he spoke, “your Mom must have fed you well. I guess your ‘illness’ is gone, huh?”

She nodded silently and again focused on the coffee table, anything other then to look him in those angry eyes of his.

Finally, Buffy folded her little hands together in her lap and got up the nerve to look Angel in the face, “Angel?” she began meekly, “can I ask you something?”

He continued to stare at her, the smug smile still in place, “of course, you’re my adoring wife, right? You can ask me anything.”

Buffy nodded again, swallowed hard and asked defiantly, “what if I had done what you just threatened me with?”

‘Huh’ Angel seemed to ask with his eyes, which were suddenly filled with confusion.

“I mean,” Buffy seemed to find her courage with each word, “what if I had gone after you and that Chase ‘ho’ when I found out about your little sexcapades?”

End of Chapter 38; Part I


(Chapter 38; Part II begins immediately following this!)


Chapter 38: Part II



Buffy jutted her chin out bravely, okay, false bravado maybe, but she felt like she had to do it. If nothing more, it might wipe that smug smirk off of her arrogant husband’s stupid face.

“What?” Angel shook his head as if to clear his alcohol addled mind, “you know about me and Faith Chase?”

Buffy just stared at Angel in shock, “you and Faith?” she stammered, too stunned to say any more for the time being.

Angel looked like a trapped rat, his dark eyes were wild with something Buffy recognized as fear, or was it guilt?

“I,” he stammered himself, “how did you know about Faith and me?”

She just sat and stared for a minute or so, then Buffy burst out in hysterical laughter. “Faith!” she chortled, “Faith and Cordelia? My God, Angel, you getting a family rate now?”

She thought she heard him say something akin to ‘mother fucking hell’ but she couldn’t be sure; Buffy was too caught up in the sublime ridiculousness of this whole scene.

“How did you know about Cordy?” Angel whimpered, looking more like a whipped puppy then ever.

“Caught you two,” she stopped laughing long enough to explain, “a few months ago, fucking on the $15,000.00 antique I picked out so painstakingly for your Christmas present last year. Instead of causing a scene right in your office, or bitch slapping your whore around Sunnydale, I left unannounced and came home to cry it out.”

Angel sat looking at his huge, rather ugly hands, silent as a grave for a moment at least.

“Buffy,” he whispered, not bothering to look at her this time, “I don’t love Faith, don’t love Cordy. I love you, I want you the most. They’re just play things, nothing real or important or even….”

Buffy held up her hand to him, “don’t!” she hissed, “don’t. I don’t want to hear your lame ass explainations or your manly excuses, I’m tired and sick and I just don’t care right now, Angel.”

She tried to stand up to leave, but her husband yanked her back down.

“It’s your fault, Buffy!” he whined, instantly disgusting her with his weakness, “if you were more adventerous in bed then I wouldn’t have had to go to Cordelia or Faith.”

Buffy gasped in shock again, “Good God, Angel, don’t put this on me. Our life in that way was fine until I caught you fucking Queen Bitch Cordelia on your desk. And Faith, for the record, I had no idea about her. What’s wrong, Cordy dump you for Riley Finn and you moved down on the evolution scale to her even skankier little sister?”


Buffy realized right off that she had made a severe error in judgement and her choice of words.

“At least those ‘skanks’ as you put it are willing to give me what I want, Buff,” he hissed angrily. “Maybe if you played hot and nasty with me, I’d stick around more and fuck you regularly. I’d give them up tomorrow, all of them, just play nice with me. Would you like that better, babe?”

She tried to pull her arm away from his rough hand, but he held tight, “I mean,” he purred, “what if we did it, right here and now? I’m ‘up’ for it, how about you?”

Buffy again tried to pull away from him, but failed miserably, “I’m supposed to have sex with you now, Angel?” she asked stunned by his nerve, “after I’ve just called you out on your infidelity? I wouldn’t fuck you now if….”

He yanked her closer to him until their faces were just inches apart, “okay,” he growled, “so you wouldn’t like it better, who gives a fuck? I’ll just take it, I am your husband, right, Buffy? Who can deny that I have the right to ‘have’ you anytime I want?”

She glared at him in horror, “take me; have me? You have ‘no’ rights over me, Angel Travers, this isn’t about sex or love or anything having to do with them.”

“Oh, it’s got everything to do with sex, love and want, Buffy darling,” he chuckled wickedly, “I’m your husband, you’re my wife, there is no taking in this. I want, I take and you give to me, it’s that simple. In fact, precious,” he whispered in her ear, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more then right this minute.”

He began to paw at her, pulling her little sweater up and trying to pin her to the back of the couch.

“Get your filthy hands off of me!” she cried frantically, pushing at him.

Angel ignored her protests and tumbled off the couch onto the floor, kicking the coffee table away from them in the tussle.

“Angel, dammit!” she cried again desperately, “I don’t want to, leave me alone!”

But he just laughed and flipped her underneath his massive body, pinning her to the floor beneath him, “come on Buff,” he taunted her, “you have to admit, rough is a real turn on. Lighten up and enjoy!”

With that, he tugged her jean skirt up over her hips and ripped her thong off of her, at the same time he used his right hand to unzip his own jeans and yank them down past his knees.

“Angel! No! This is rape, Angel!” she screamed, knowing full well that he was past listening to her and sadly aware that no one else could hear her.

“Yes! And for the record, baby, a husband can’t rape his own wife!” he gasped as he slammed his cock into her, even though she wasn’t at all ready for him and never would be again.

As she struggled against him, he pummeled into her and tried to kiss her face and neck. Buffy fought him best as she could, but the sad truth was Angel was twice her size and weight and much stronger then her and the more she struggled against him, the more he seemed to get excited by it.

Just before he came inside of her, slamming down on her hips and thighs, surely leaving bruises, Angel gasped something about Buffy still being the hottest piece of ass in Sunnydale and bit down on the place where her right shoulder and lower neck met. She felt her warm blood seep out into his mouth and tried not to cry out in pain and humiliation.

“Mine!” he cried in triumph as he came, causing her pain deep within her body. “You are mine!” he panted as he tried to calm himself from his orgasm, collapsing on her tiny frame.

Buffy could only lie there torn and bruised, beaten down and defeated.

When Angel had calmed himself down enough, he rolled off of Buffy and onto his back on the floor with a groan. Buffy took the opportunity to slide away from him and shakily stand up, trying not to fall back down next to him on their carpet.

She stumbled towards the downstairs bathroom where she slammed the door behind her and locked it. Trying to forget about her absolute horror of a husband lying on their living room floor, Buffy turned on the shower, making sure the water was good and hot.

For the next forty minutes, she scrubbed the filth and ugliness of the last hour and half from her body, trying not to think on things too much. When she exited the bathroom, Angel was sitting on the couch, his head thrown on the back of the couch, eyes half closed.

Apparently he had cleaned up and gotten dressed before he returned to the scene of the crime and Buffy noticed the overnight bag next to his feet.

“Buffy?” he mumbled, not looking at her, “I need to….”

She hurried to the stairs to head to their bedroom, a towel wrapped around her damp body.

“Buffy, wait!” he called again.

Buffy stopped mid stairwell and kept her back to him, “what?” she asked mechanically.

“I’m going to stay at the ‘Club’ for tonight, maybe tomorrow night. I think we need to be apart for a couple of days, think about things. Heal.”

She turned slowly and looked down at him, thinking how she had never hated anyone quite so much as she did him, right this minute.

“Yeah,” she whispered in a strained voice, “I think you should move to the ‘Club’ maybe even make it your permenant residence for a while, huh Angel?”

‘Smart man Angel,’ she thought with a strange smirk, ‘I wouldn’t want to go to sleep around me either if I was you, not tonight anyway.’

“Buffy, I….” He began, standing up, but she turned back around and headed up the stairs, “I love you Buffy,” he called. “I’ll call you in a couple of days. We’ll both be cooled off then, we’ll fix this.”

Buffy never answered him back.

She waited, up in her bedroom at her little vanity table; waited for the sound of their jeep going down the driveway. Angel opened the garage door and took off in the jeep, screeching out of the driveway and off down the street.

‘Always with the big entrances and exits, huh Angel?’ she shook her head sadly and began to brush her long damp hair slowly. When she looked in the vanity mirror, she noticed that the bite mark on her neck had already turned ugly and bluish in color.

“Probably will scar slightly,” she shrugged almost indifferently, “who gives a rat’s ass now?”

Setting her brush down on the table, Buffy reached for her cell phone and dialed Will’s number, “please, please answere Will,” she pleaded in a whisper.

His deep voice came on, “Buffy? You okay, Princess?” he asked gently.

‘Thank God for modern technology and caller ID,’ she thought, feeling the tears start to spill from her eyes.

“Will?” she whispered weakly.

“Buffy, what’s wrong? Something’s wrong,” William began to sound panicked, “where are you, baby?” he asked frantically.

“Will, I need to see you, talk to you and hold you, can I…” but she couldn’t finish.

“Buffy, where are you, what is it?” he began to really sound scared now.

“I’m at home, it’s Angel, Will,” she choked out, “he kind of hurt me and….”

Will screamed over the phone, “I’m coming over there, I’ll fucking tear that prick apart if he hit you!”

Buffy began to panic even more herself, “no! You can’t come here, Will! Angel, he’s not here now, Will,” she tried to explain through her tears, embarrassed by her weakness.

“He left, went to stay somewhere for the night, please Will, can I just come to your place. I need you and I need…”

William interrupted her, “of course you can, but I don’t think you should drive that far baby. Let me come to that little mall right down the street from your neighborhood. I’ll meet you there, but you have to promise me you’ll be alright, Princess. Okay? Just promise me you’ll be okay until you get there,or I swear to God I’ll come over there and I don’t give a fuck which one of your neighbors sees me!”

Buffy agreed to meet him close by, he was right, she probably wouldn’t make it to his place on her own. She was too messed up, physically, mentally and emotionally. After all, her own husband had just raped her.


A/N: Yes, I definitely toned that one down a bit, but I had to have Angel be the real evil bad guy, I was afraid readers might be starting to feel sorry for Mr. Broody and I couldn’t have that. Well, that was hard, and we’ll have to see just how Spike revenges Buffy and himself against Angel. Thanks for reading, please review, luv Spuf

Chapter 39: ‘Warm Comfort’


A/N: A real short chapter for me! Sigh, I am continuing this fic longer then intended (again!).

Spike raced to the little mall down the street from Buffy’s house, trying to stay calm, but failing miserably.

‘Buffy’s in trouble,’ he told himself worriedly, ‘if that fucking loser hit her or anything else, I’ll rip his bloody heart out of him. Fuck the ‘plan’ and everything else!’

His heart raced in his chest and he could almost hear it’s beating as he pulled into the mall parking lot, spying Buffy right away. Buffy stood by her little red car, dwarfed, as usual, even by it’s compact size, but from his Harley? Spike could see, something was more then wrong with her.

She didn’t just lean on the Camaro, she slumped onto it in defeat, like all of the spirit had gone out of her. Just like a boxer, the one’s Rupert used to take him to see. A defeat boxer who just realized he wasn’t going to win this round. He pulled up next to her and leapt off the bike, pulling her to him in one fell sweep.

“Buffy!” he cried desperately, immediately noticing the ugly bite mark that swelled just where her gorgeous neck and silky shoulder met.

Buffy didn’t respond to Spike’s desperate greeting, she was too ashamed, whether she should be or not. She had purposely not covered the ugly swelling bite mark Angel had inflicted on her, what was the point? Will would see it sooner or later, and something inside of Buffy wanted Will to notice her husband’s mark. Maybe if it was just to let the man she really loved know that she hadn’t gone down without a fight and had come out with battle scars.

Will pulled back from Buffy, gently touching the bite, his expression a mix of confusion and pain, “what did he do, Princess?” he asked her softly, pulling her chin up so her eyes could meet his.

“He…”she choked out cautiously, “he hurt me, Will,” she finally admitted. “Angel, he did something awful, there’s more marks, bruises really, down lower.”

Buffy looked down at her hip and thigh area, again too ashamed to meet her lover’s concerned gaze.

“Mother Fucker!” William screamed, ignoring the few mall patrons that were milling about in the parking lot. “I’ll kill that bloody fucker!” he added, illiciting more then one or two concerned looks from onlookers.

Buffy loved William Giles, she knew it before this, of course, had admitted it to him, her Mother and her best girlfriends, but right now? Right at this moment she realized it more then ever.

‘I love this man,’ she told herself, burying her face back into his strong chest, ‘I love him and nothing ugly Angel or anyone else does will ever take me away from him again. All the vicious acts in the world can’t change what he and I have together.’

She knew she could not let herself be so traumatized by what had happened between her and Angel that she would turn Will away or push him away again. Will’s strong arms embraced her tightly and Buffy could feel his inner anger within those arms that held her so close to him.

He was literally trembling with rage, “where is he?” he choked out harshly. “Where is the fucking bastard, I’ll kill him, Buffy, I mean it!”

Buffy took a deep breath and tried to focus on this time and place, not earlier when her husband had hurt her so viciously.

“Will,” she whispered, “if you go after Angel ‘now’ if you hurt him, whether he deserves it or not? “He’ll win. I’ll lose you William, I couldn’t bear it if I lost you now, not after we just found each other again.”

“I can’t let him get away with this, Buffy,” he growled lowly, his body shaking more then before, “where is he?”

She shook her head into his chest, “you promised never to leave me, didn’t you?” she whimpered.

Spike didn’t answer right away. He had promised Buffy that he would never leave her, that was true, but this, now? How was he supposed to be a man, to himself, to Buffy to God if he didn’t go avenge his woman against the monster she had mistakenly married?

“He doesn’t have the right to force you, Buffy,” Spike hissed, pulling her chin up to meet his gaze again. The pain in her emerald green eyes broke his heart. “I don’t care if he’s Angel ‘fucking big shot’ Travers or your husband, he doesn’t have the right to hurt you like this. Especially after all of the emotional crap he’s put you through.

“Where is he?” he asked her again, trying to remain calm, but he was who he was after all.

“He said he was going to the Club, for a couple of nights to stay, but God only knows where he really went. I mean,” she actually chuckled sarcastically, “he’s probably got more then two or three places to hide out. Coward that he is.”

‘Yeah, he’s a fucking coward alright,’ he echoed silently, ‘I’ll strangle him with my own hands when I get the chance.’ But for the moment, Spike just held Buffy to him in a vice like grip and stroked her golden hair.

Buffy hated herself for the crying, her weakness, but she was so mixed up emotionally that she couldn’t help it.

“Will,” she murmered hoarsely, “I think we should go to your place now, kay? I mean, if you’ll just follow me in my car, at least to the city limits. I’ll dump the Camaro and go with you back home.”

Funny how Buffy thought of Will’s place as her home now and as if he read her mind, he whispered to her, “yeah, we’ll go home, baby. And Buffy,” he added firmly looking her straight in the eyes, “you’re not going back to that Travers’ prison, I won’t have it!”

She nodded in resignation, “no, I won’t go back, not until it’s time for me to pack up and leave for good.”

William kissed the top of her head then opened her car door, “follow me,” he ordered softly, taking charge thankfully. Buffy did as she was told, for once, following him to the city limits, near a cemetary (Sunnydale was just full of cemetaries) and ditching her Camaro in the outside parking area. Then she climbed onto the back of his Harley and held tight to him, her man, the only real man in her life at the moment.

When they got to his apartment, the first thing William did was dial Clem on his cell phone.

“Give the Sunnydale Boys the file on Councilman Smythe,” Buffy heard him tell his friend, even as she stripped down and settled on his couch.

“The police might be interested to know just what Angel Travers and his good buddy Xander Harris have to do with kickbacks, payoffs and oh yeah, the laws they broke in the zoning ordinances, don’t you think mate?”

Buffy raised an inquisitive eye to her lover, “Xander? What did he do, besides be a first rate prick?”

Will chuckled as he flopped down next to Buffy, taking her in his arms, “he’s more then a prick, Princess, he’s in Angel’s illegal business, up to his neck. Which, by the way,” he added with a smirk, “I intend on breaking the first chance I get.”

She snuggled close to him, trying not to let the evenings events ruin their moment together.

“The hell with them,” she murmered, cuddling into Will’s arms, “all’s I care about right now is us and this.”

William kissed the top of her head again, he was good at the comfort nuzzling; first thing Buffy ever noticed about him was that.

“Like I told you, luv,” he whispered, running his slim fingers down her bare arms, “you’re not going back to that fucking asylum again. Not unless it’s to pack and escape it, permenantly!”

Buffy giggled softly at first, but then her gaze fell to the bruises her husband had put on her just hours before. “I’m sorry, Will,” she whispered sadly, trying not to cry like a baby for once, “I tried to make him stop but…..”

Spike clasped her even more tightly to him, “shhhh, it’s okay, baby,” he cooed, “you’re my girl, now and from now on. Do you think that anything some bloody monster like Angel does could take you from me? Now or ever? Don’t think so.”

He gave a half-smile and cuddled her even closer, careful not to push the physical contact between them.

‘No telling what this has done to her, poor thing,’ he reasoned, ‘I have to control my own desires, make her feel safe and secure with me. If we don’t make love for….’

But the thought of not having Buffy that way made him so sad that he wanted to cry for them both.

“Can we go lie down in our bed?” she asked softly with a warm blush that he could feel against his cheek.

He was so thrilled that Buffy had called his bed ‘theirs’ that he could only nod and pick her up in his arms. “Course we can, baby,” he whispered, carrying her into the bedroom, “I love you Buffy, I want you and need you. If you want to just rest together in bed, talk, that’s enough for me.”

Buffy was clad only in her little demi-bra and a thong, ‘not helping with the lust issue, Princess,’ Spike told her, in his own mind.

She reached out to him, beckoning him into her long slim arms. Spike slipped out of his tee shirt and jeans, leaving only his boxers on.

When he snuggled down into Buffy’s embrace, he tried to not expose his hard on to her, ‘not what she needs Spike,’ he told himself firmly, ‘she needs comfort, not sex right now.’

If what Buffy needed was warm comfort, then that is just what Spike would give her. He ran his hands over her cheeks and neck, kissed her forehead and nose, then her neck, praying she didn’t cringe, ‘don’t let her flinch, please, please,’ he begged his omnipresent God.

Buffy buried her face into his chest again, purring against his skin. For some reason, this gave Spike the courage to run his lips along the ugly bite mark Angel had inflicted on her, “do you mind this, baby?” he asked softly, gazing into her huge green eyes.

She shook her head gently and he continued his quest down her chest, passing her breasts (reluctantly) and running his mouth down to her hips to the God awful bruises that had already begun to form there. Skimming them gently, tenderly, Spike tried to soothe the pain he knew they must be causing to Buffy, physically and emotionally.


A/N: Hehehehe! Leaving this chapter off here! Awwww Spuffy love and comfort! First off, let me explain something to the readers here: I have a very strong feeling about marital rape, along with any kind of rape. To me, rape will always be about control and dominance. There is nothing sexy, loving or ‘cool’ about it, not to me and I’m sure to readers here. However, I also can see the solace in the comforting arms of a loved one like Spike is to Buffy. So, I was going to end this story in the next chapter or so, but….I’m not, it’ll go a bit longer then planned! Thanks for reading and please review!
Luv, Spuf

Chapter 40: ‘I Know We’ll Be Okay’


Summary: Some old Spuffy enemies and friends might show up in this chapter; it’s a must to finish the story. Please keep with the fic, it’s really almost done soon and I think everyone might be proud of our Buffy when it’s over! Thanks, Luv, Spuf


Buffy always knew just when dawn was about to break. The birds began to sing, just about an hour before sunrise and there was a certain, fragrant dewy scent in the air. Right at this moment, pink and purple colored fingers of light filtered through the bedroom window of Will’s apartment.

William lay sleeping next to Buffy in ‘their’ bed as they had began to call it and again, she was amazed at how young he looked in rest. It was like all of the cares in the world just vanished from him and once again he was seventeen-years-old. Just like he was when Buffy first laid eyes on him at The Bronze.

‘Wonder if he’ll ever realize just what a first impression he made on me,’ she chuckled to herself.

Buffy had been dancing with a couple of non-descript jocks from School and wasn’t really impressed by either one of them. When she’d glanced up and towards the door of the club, she caught sight of a new guy watching her intently.

This bleach blond God took her breath away, just the way he stood and stared at her made her legs feel weak. She had tried to give him some kind of signal to show she noticed him too, but she was so naïve then, so untried and inexperienced. That hadn’t stopped him however, when one of the jocks had groped her while dancing. This new Adonis had come rushing over and literally yanked her from the guy’s grasp and returned her to her group of friends.

“How’s my girl?” came Will’s deep voice, through Buffy’s thoughts, even though his eyes were still shut.

“Your girl is just fine, Will,” she murmered, snuggling back down into his warm arms.

“She better be,”he mumbled, “or I’ll have to paddle her luscious little bottom and remind her never to run off from me again.” Even though he said it with a smirk, chuckling softly with every word, Buffy knew he meant what he said.

“I’ll never run off from you again, Will,” she whispered, running her lips lightly around the shell of his left ear.

“Good, cos’ I’m getting’ old and I can’t run as fast as I used to so….” Buffy giggled loudly and began to wrestle with him, in fun of course, wriggling around on his lap as he lay on his back.

“Better stop the impromtu lap dance, Princess,” he warned, “if you don’t want me to ravish you right now.”

Buffy continued her little wriggling act on top of him, “what makes you think I don’t want to be ravished by you,” she asked coquettishly, batting her golden lashes seductively.

Will must have taken the hint because he flipped Buffy over onto her back and began to kiss her mouth ravenously.

“You sure about this, Princess,” Spike asked rather nervously, “I mean, if you really don’t want to….”

Buffy clasped the sides of his face with her tiny hands, “I’m more then sure, baby,” she purred as she nuzzled his face with hers, “I’m certain. I want you to make love to me now.”

Last night, after Buffy and he had gone to bed, Spike had made sure to just kiss, nuzzle and skim her hurt little body with his mouth, never pushing for anything more then to give her some comfort. He had been concerned, no, make that worried sick that the awful violence that Angel had inflicted on Buffy earlier that day may have scarred her emotionally and physically.

Now, Spike was hopeful, at least pretty hopeful that everything Buffy and he had forged together over the last few weeks was still in tact. Buffy seemed receptive to his affection and was encouraging him to make love to her.

Starting with her sweet mouth, Spike kissed and explored it with his own mouth, illiciting moans of pleasure from both of them. He continued his gentle assault on her lips then moved down to her jaw, neck and of course ended up at her left breast where he suckled it until she squeaked in delight from his ministrations.

Before he could continue down her tummy to her golden curls that covered her sex, Buffy clasped his head and turned his head up to face her, “please, baby,” she panted impatiently, “please just be in me. I need you.”

Spike just melted when Buffy called him ‘baby’ like she lit a fire inside of him, along with the lustful one she’d already ignited.

“Anything you say, baby,” he grinned sliding up her body to position himself between her thighs. Pushing slowly within her, he studied her green eyes intently, “are you sure, Buffy,” he asked again, panting with some restraint.

“Yes,” she gasped, pulling him even closer to her, “I love you Will. Nothing anyone does or tries to do to hurt us will ever split us apart, I promise.”

Spike began to thrust into her gently, kissing her plump little lips tenderly, “I love you Buffy. Always have and always will. You’re right, no one will ever come between us again.”

Buffy felt so alive when she was with William, so very alive and freer then she ever could have imagined. Even while he thrust into her, he whispered the most delicious things in her ear, telling her everything he wanted to do to her.

“We’ve only begun to know each other, you know that baby?” he murmered as he slid into her again, so agonizingly slow that she wanted to weep from want.

“All those future days and nights we have together, just to learn more about and from each other. I can’t wait, Buffy. Everyday I wake up I think of new ways to know you and grow with you. Do you understand what I’m saying, Princess?” Will continued to thrust in and out of Buffy, making her squirm in pleasure and definitely thrust up to meet his hips.

“Yes,” she groaned into his mouth that had just finished nibbling on her jawline and found her lips again. “I think about it too, everyday. All the time we have together to grow together, relearn each other’s bodies again.”

His blue eyes gazed at her green ones, so serious and almost afraid, “I can’t stand it sometimes, Buffy,” he whispered in a low embarrassed voice, “I get scared when I think how much I miss you when you’re gone from me. It makes me feel weak, you are my only weakness you know. I think about us constantly, about this.”

Again he slid almost all the way out of her then back into her once more, “I know how close we are, what’s between us is real and right, Buffy. But, I get scared because I want you all the time, in every way and I….”

“You have me in every way, Will,” she confessed truthfully. “Every way a man could have a woman who loves him.” Buffy blushed, embarrassed for some reason by this confession even though William must have already known just how deep her feelings for him ran.

"Cum for me,” he ordered in his soft, gruff voice, the one that Buffy could never resist, made more so by the fact that Will hungrily kissed her mouth while she came. He followed her immediately and collapsed on top of her body with his own sweat slicked form.

“Love you,” he panted, never breaking from their intimate connection.

“Love you too,” she responded as she stroked his blonde curls and the back of his neck.

Later, as the sun burst through the window of the apartment, Buffy and Spike lay together in a deep embrace. He lay propped up on his right arm while he ran his left hand down her arm softly, listening to her delightful purrs of contentment. Suddenly the shrill ring of Buffy’s cell phone broke their comfortable reveries.

“Who the heck is that?” Buffy asked outloud as she reached for the cell on the end table by her side of the bed. Spike tensed up immediately, he knew damn good and well who it was and almost begged her not to answer it. Buffy clicked the talk button and said hello.

“Buffy,” came Angel’s gruff voice from the other end of the phone line. “You’re not at home, where the hell are you?”

Buffy cringed but soon screwed up her courage and steadied her own voice. “Angel, no I’m not at home and you’re supposed to be at the Club. Why are you calling me anyway? And, my whereabouts are none of your damn business!”

She was proud of herself, her voice was a good mix of cool and righteous indignation and Buffy was rewarded with a long silence on Angel’s end.

Angel finally broke the calm and said in an even, if harsh tone, “you are my business, Buffy. You’re my wife and….”

But she interrupted his sentence with, “that’s something I intend on rectifying as soon as possible Angel.”

When she first had repeated Angel’s name, Will had flinched and silently slipped out of the bed. Buffy watched as Will dug into the nightstand by his side of the bed and brought out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. When he lit a cigarette, he tossed the lighter on the bed and began to pace nervously about, watching her intently. She tried to give him a signal that it was all right, she could handle this, but he angrily stubbed out the cigarette and flopped down next to her on the bed, staring down at her with narrowed eyes.

If Angel Travers was right in front of Spike at this very moment, he’d be dead, no question. Spike would have torn Peaches fucking head off and much like Xander Harris’s, drop kicked it into the Pacific Ocean.

‘There’d be a sight,’ Spike thought smugly, ‘Harris and Travers, two great minds together at last.’ The thought comforted him somehow, but then Spike remembered, it was only a dream.

Reality was this; Buffy was still being bothered by her own husband, the fuck that had virtually raped her in more ways then one. One thing Angel had always been good at was mind games, even when he was in High School; Buffy was enough evidence of that. And now? Angel had perfected ‘mind fucking’ to an art and Buffy had been his muse where that was concerned.

However, Spike noted right at this moment, Buffy seemed to be holding her own with Angel. Buffy repeated what she’d told Angel a moment before, “I intend on rectifying that little problem (their marriage) as soon as possible.”

“Look, babe,” Angel stammered, “just because you and I have had a little misunderstanding, doesn’t mean our marriage is over. It just means we have to communicate, work harder.”

Buffy had to stifle her sardonic laugh, “little misunderstanding?” she asked in disbelief, “you call you fucking my friend and her little sister a misunderstanding? Oh for God’s sake Angel, listen to yourself!”

Angel didn’t miss a beat when he whined, “if we could meet at home, talk. We could fix this Buff, I know it.”

She took a deep breath and said evenly, although she wanted to reach through the line and knock Angel’s stupid block off, “fix it? Angel, this is not fixable, but I do agree, we need to talk. Just not at our house. Last time I tried to talk there with you, I got raped, remember?”

Her husband sighed heavily, “like I told you, babe, a husband and a wife? Not rape, not really, and….”

Buffy growled angrily, “you are an incredible moron, Angel. When a woman or man says no, that means no, whether the perpertrator is a husband, wife, lover or stranger. You raped me, period.”

Angel began to breathe heavily on the other end, “and like I told you once, Buff; possession is nine tenths of the law and like it or not, you are a possession, my possession.”

Buffy almost threw her cell phone across the room, but she looked to Spike and took courage from him. Even though he looked like he was about ready to go and track down Angel to rip him to pieces.

“Look,” Buffy began coolly, “you stay at The Club. I’ll stay ‘incognito’ for a few days. When it’s time, I’ll go by our house and pick up a few things, maybe that is. I’ll contact you, Angel, not the other way around. I’m going to decide when it’s time for us to meet and talk about us. By the way, it’s very doubtful there is any us, but I’ll meet and talk with you, anyway. Just stay put, I’ll stay put and we’ll cool off, like you said. Until then, don’t call me, try to find me or bother anyone we know. No one, and I mean this, no one knows where I am. Don’t waste your time.”

Before Angel could respond, Buffy clicked the off button and tossed the cell phone on the nightstand. “God,” she sighed heavily, “what an incredible ponce!”

“Do you know how incredibly proud I am of you, Princess?” Spike asked in awe of her. Buffy smiled at him warmly and pulled him to her in a vice like grip.

“We’re going to be okay,” Spike whispered in her ear as she stroked his face, neck and shoulders. “No matter what ‘they’ throw at us, we’re going to make it, Buffy. I promise from the bottom of my soul.”

She nuzzled him with her warm mouth and ran her hands down to his bare bottom, pulling him even closer to her tiny frame, “oh, I know we’ll be okay, baby,” she purred.

Spike propped himself up on his elbows and studied her face seriously, “however,” he added with a smirk, his voice quite growly and grrr like, “I do intend on ripping Angel’s head off and shoving it up his arse first chance I get. That okay with you, Princess?”

Buffy giggled wickedly, “oh yeah, first chance, baby. Just promise I can watch you do it!”


A/N: Okay, that was another connector chapter to keep the interest up. I had this epic chapter going and everything just crashed and I went ‘ahhhgggg!’ and the family went ‘get over it’ and I went ‘grrrrr!’

I would like to finish up at least one of my WIP’s and the rewrite of this fic before I start my next Spuffy tale. (This one will be on the dark side, too). Anyway, thanks for reading and please review. Luv, Spuf

Chapter 41: ‘Lost and Found!’



Summary: As Buffy and Spike ‘lay low’ together at his place, Angel begins to really panic and try to find her.


Spike had always been impulsive, even before he’d taken the nickname of Spike instead of William. Being so impulsive, it was very hard for him, Spike that is, to hold himself back from storming Angel’s Law office and kicking his sorry arse all over Sunnydale.

The problem was, it would have done no good to anyone to go ballistic at this point in time, especially for Buffy. And Spike would do anything to protect Buffy. Anything at all. Even if it meant biding his time, waiting to go all nuclear on Angel Travers and his butt monkey, Xander Harris.

At the moment, Spike was cuddling a very naked Buffy to his body, enjoying the quiet comfort that it afforded them both. Buffy was asleep, so it gave him a chance to actually visualize ripping Angel to pieces.

After he ripped Angel apart, slowly of course, Spike pictured kicking Xander Harris to a bloody pulp before ripping his fucking heart out and shoving it down what was left of his throat.

‘Nobody messes with my Princess,’ he snarled lowly, trying to fight the anger that bubbled up in him. Angel had raped his girl, his Buffy. And Xander? That fucking little wanker he’d always been, had threatened her. When Spike was done with those two losers, they’d both be sorry they ever heard of him or Buffy for that matter.

The phone rang on the end table next to his side of the bed, breaking his quiet but gory visual reverie.

‘Bloody hell!’ he hissed as he grabbed the phone quickly, he didn’t want the ring to wake his sleeping beauty up.

“Yeah?” he answered abruptly.

“Hey Spike,” came Angel’s voice from the other end, causing the blond to tense up.

“Spike, you there?” Angel asked in a voice that sounded almost frantic.

Spike took a deep, calming breath and finally answered Travers, “yeah, I’m here, what do you want Peaches,” he asked calmly.

Buffy began to stir next to him and he quickly removed his arm from around her shoulders and covered her mouth to stifle any sound from her. She opened her wide eyes and scrunched up her forehead in confusion, but calmed quickly when she heard him ask, “what do you want Angel?”

As Spike removed his hand from her mouth, Buffy snuggled even closer to him and rested her head on his chest. He embraced her tightly with his free arm and frowned into the phone.

“I need a favou,” Angel said evenly, “I need you to find my wife.”

Spike didn’t say anything for a moment or two then finally responded with a question himself, “what, you misplace her, Peaches?”

He really tried not to laugh at Angel, that wouldn’t have helped matters at all. However, all’s Spike could did visualize, again, is his dark haired enemy’s head flying into the Pacific Ocean. Along with Xander’s head as company, of course.

“No, Spike,” Angel sighed roughly, “I did not misplace Buffy. I just need you to find her. I already…..”

Buffy was staring at Spike, wide-eyed with fear, so Spike smiled at her reassuringly and stroked her bare arm.

“Listen Angel,” he began evenly, sure his voice did not betray Buffy to her husband, “I told you before, Buffy is true blue, virtuous as a Nun, yada yada yada. Besides, our business together, yours and mine is finished, remember?”

Silence from the other end of the line, then, “Yeah, I know about the virtuous Buffy crap, Spike.”

‘Peaches is getting a bit upset, isn’t he?’ Spike grinned in delight, winking at Buffy. He grinned even wider when Buffy rewarded him with a soft smile and snuggled closer to him.

“Look, Spike,” Angel stammered, his voice hoarse from what?

‘Crying?’ wondered Spike, ‘surely not Angel ‘almighty’ Travers.

“Buffy left me, Spike,” Angel finally admitted reluctantly. “She left me and except for the fact that I ‘know’ she’s not at Joyce’s, I haven’t a clue where she is. I want her back, Spike. I love her and want her back. Find her for me!”

Spike flinched, if Angel knew Buffy’ wasn’t at her Mum’s, then it wouldn’t be long until he started an all out search for her. Angel was not going to give up on Buffy easily, Spike could understand this. Not like it, yeah. Hate it? Of course, but he, Spike knew there was going to be a battle over Buffy.

However, Spike was going to win the battle and the war, hands down.

“Listen, Angel,” Spike tried to sound less snarky, more sympathetic, “don’t you think maybe this is something for a marriage counseler to handle?”

‘Please say no,’ Spike begged selfishly, silently, ‘please, please, say no and tell me to fuck off. I don’t wan’t to lose her, ever!’

Then he dared another glance at his lover, entangled in his arm, snuggled to his body and smiling tenderly up at him. When he looked into her emerald eyes, so full of love for him, he knew.

‘I’ll never lose her,’ he sighed, ‘doesn’t matter what they throw at us. Remember?’

“Look, if you don’t want to find Buffy, I’ll just find someone else to do it. I’m thinking maybe ‘Doyle’ or someone and…”

Spike practically dropped the cordless phone receiver, “no!” he gasped before he could stop himself. Doyle, as he was named, nothing else, was a monster of the highest calibar. He could find Buffy in a heartbeat and….

“Doyle’s a fucking moron,” Spike stuttered out the lie carefully, “he couldn’t find his own dick on a good day. Using your hands, Peaches.”

Buffy actually giggled beside him and Spike had to keep from kissing her golden head, “I’ll do it, Peaches,” he finally relented.

“Good,” Angel sighed, “I know you dislike my wife, Spike,” he continued, “but I love her. This is just a drama play on her part. We had a misunderstanding and…”

Spike had to keep from snorting out loud, ‘misunderstanding my arse!’ he hissed to himself. ‘You raped my girl you fucking psychotic!’

Steadying his voice and himself, Spike assured Angel he would find Buffy but then asked him, “what the bloody hell do I do when I find her?”

Angel didn’t answer for a moment or two then he finally responded, “bring her home to me, Spike. Convince her to come home.”

The blonde man was confused, “Angel,” he sighed in exasperation, “Buffy would never let ‘me’ convince her to even get her nails done, much less go home to you,” he lied so easily to this fuck, Angel.

“Then ‘make’ her come home!” Angel ordered him harshly.

Buffy watched as Spike slowly hung up his phone and turned to her; his blue eyes looked worried.

“Why did you say you’d find me?” she asked, her soft voice was confused and kind of hurt.

He pulled her tightly to him, “because, Princess,” he kissed her forehead gently, “if I don’t pretend to find you, your idiotic spouse’ll just hire someone else. Someone you don’t want to ever meet up with, believe me.”

She nodded against his neck and held him tighter, “so you pretend to find me? Just let Angel think you’re looking then?”

Spike chuckled softly, “yeah, let him think I’m looking all over Heaven and Hell for you. He doesn’t have to know I’ve already found you, eh?”

Buffy giggled against him, “yeah, guess you have found me, huh?”

William lifted her chin up so their eyes could meet, “seriously Buffy,” he whispered, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, “it won’t be long before old Angel is dealing with some other very serious legal shit. He won’t be around to bother you, or me anymore. I promise. But until then, you just lay low, here with me, I’ll let him think I’m searching for you. We’ll be fine, promise. You’re such a strong woman Buffy and you know we’re safe together, don’t you?”

She nodded and smiled at him, kissing his lovely lips warmly, “I know. And I also know that you, William Giles, are very smart, maybe even brilliant!”

Will laughed and began to pepper her face with soft, tender kisses, “I know I’m brilliant, sweetheart, but I like to hear that and ‘you’ know it too!”

Spike didn’t even wait until Buffy welcomed him inside of her. He spread her long lovely legs with his knee and kissed her passionately, at the same time pushing his aching cock inside of her heat, delighting in her little gasps of pleasure.

“That’s so nice, Will,” she panted against his lips as he kissed hers.

“Nice?” he chuckled in mock hurt. “Nice? What about hot? What about ‘brilliant’ baby?”

She scrunched up her nose and giggled, even as she gasped every time he thrust into her. “Always, hot,” she rasped between hot little breaths, always, brilliant!”

Spike moaned and said with a smile, “that’s better!” He proceeded to pound her into the mattress below them, their moans of pleasure intermingled.


A/N: Well, I just couldn’t bring myself to make this rather short chapter the second to the last one! I’ve decided to go on a bit more, cutting off the last half of this one and espanding on it to create the next one! (hehehehe) Sorry, kind of. Anyway, I hope I caught the snarky animosity between Spike and his evil nemesis, Angel. I wanted to set up this little ruse, it will play out letter in the plot. And, I promise, I will definitely finish this story in the next few chapters!

Thanks for reading, and putting up with me. Please review if you’d like, luv, Spuf

Chapter 42: ‘I Am Out of Here!’


Buffy washed, dried and put away the breakfast dishes from that morning. She was alone in the apartment, had been for a while, Will had gone to buy food and run some errands. Of course she couldn’t have accompanied him, someone might see them together, especially now that Angel was actually looking for her.

‘I hope it’s enough for Angel, to think that Will is out scouring Sunnydale for me. What a moron you are Angel,’ she sighed, tossing the dish towel onto the counter. Dressed only in her thong and one of Will’s black tee-shirts, Buffy wondered into the living room and plopped down on the couch, spying her cell phone on the coffee table.

‘I need to call my Mom,’ she reasoned, a stab of guilt ran through her. ‘Angel knows I’m not there, he might be harrassing the hell out of her!’

Joyce Summers picked up the call on the third ring of her Art Gallery’s phone.

“Buffy,” she answered normally enough, “how are you?”

Apparently, Angel got his information from her Mother in some other way, other then tormenting the hell out of her.

‘Wow,’ Buffy thought in surprise, ‘maybe Angel isn’t a complete evil monster!’

The thought stunned her, but then she could only guess just how or who found out that she was not at Joyce’s.

“I, I’m okay, Mom,” Buffy stammered in response, “well, no, I’m not okay, okay. I’m kind of okay, though.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone line, “Buffy,” Joyce finally said softly, “have you left Angel?”

Buffy gulped and whispered, “yeah, kind of. I’m more, incognito then legally seperated. You know what I mean?”

Her Mother paused for a moment, then Buffy heard a sigh of ‘relief?’ from her, “good. I hope you jump from incognito hiding to legally dumping that fool as soon as possible!”

Buffy couldn’t help it, she giggled, causing her Mother to laugh too, “gee Mom,” she chided, “hate Angel much?”

Joyce stopped laughing long enough to assure her daughter that she didn’t ‘hate’ anyone; but dislike, detest, have complete contempt for? Now, that Joyce Summers could handle in a heartbeat!

“Buffy,” Joyce stopped laughing completely and got very serious, “are you okay? I mean really, honey. Are you someplace safe? Maybe someplace with a certain blonde Brit that we both know and love?”

Buffy took a deep breath, more of a sigh really, “Mom, I’m not going to tell you where I am, specifically that is. It’s best if no one knows where I’m at right now. Angel’s playing the ‘Godfather Corleone’ and I don’t want any of my family or friends to have to lie to him about me or my whereabouts. If you don’t know where I am, then you can’t lie to Angel about it. I’ll call you in a day or so, Mom. Until then, just know I’m safe, happy for once and Angel has no idea how to find me. Okay?”

Joyce assured her daughter that it was certainly okay by her, but before she let Buffy off the phone, she also made her promise that she would take care and ‘be safe.’

As soon as Buffy had clicked off the cell phone and tossed it back on the coffee table, William stepped through the front door.

“Hello, baby,” he greeted affectionately, giving her the once over with appreciation. “Gotta’ say, Princess, my tee-shirt looks a hundred times better on you then it does me!”

Buffy leapt up from the couch and took two of the bags he carried from him, then hurried into the kitchen with her booty (!)

“I’ve missed you!” she cried, even as she quickly put away the various food items he had bought for them. “Oooooh, wine!” she crowed as she turned to blow him a thank you kiss, “and chocolate!”

William began to put away the groceries from the two remaining bags he had brought in. “Hope you’re hungry, baby,” he said as he opened the refrigerator and set a butcher’s wrapped bag of some kind of meat inside, “I’m cooking tonight. Thank God, huh?” he winked at her and Buffy grinned back at him.

“Here,” he turned to face her and show her some kind of mangos or something he’d bought for her, but stopped short when he saw the tears in her eyes.

"What?” he asked worriedly, dropping the rest of bag’s contents on the counter, “what’s wrong, Buffy?”

Spike had noticed the turn of Buffy’s mood the minute he had mentioned his cooking that night.

‘What the bloody hell? I was just teasin’ about the thank God thing. She can cook, why’s she tearing up?’

Buffy stood stock still in the middle of his miniscule kitchen, her little feet were bare and stuck firm on the tiled floor, while her long legs reached up to the hem of his tee-shirt.

‘It really does look better on her,’ he thought warmly. The look on her beautiful face was his undoing; her bottom lip trembled, her emerald green eyes were shiny from moisture and even her tiny hands were clenched by her sides.

When she looked up to meet his concerned gaze, she began to chew on her bottom lip lightly. “I hate him,” she whispered, more like sobbed softly, “I hate that bastard I’m married to, Will. Wish it was you I was married to. I’m sorry, but….”

He rushed over to her, took her in his arms and pulled her flush to his chest, “don’t be sorry, baby. I wish you were married to me too and when this shit’s over, you will be; I promise you that. That is if you want to be?” Buffy held him in a vice like grip, “of course I want to be married to you, silly,” she murmered even as she soaked his own shirt with her hot tears. “It’s you I should have been married to for the last umpteenth years. Don’t you know that I realize that now?”

Spike felt like a complete ponce but he couldn’t help it, he began to cry right along with her.

“Buffy,” he whispered to her, “I love you so much, always have. I just wish we both could have realized this a long time ago and saved all this bullshit heartache and all. You’re my girl,” he told her firmly, his voice husky with emotion, “you always were, always will be. We just got lost from each other for a while, but now, no, from now on, we’ll never be lost from each other again!”

Buffy continued to sob into his shirt and Spike finally just picked her up in his arms, carrying her to the couch. He sat down with her still in his arms, cuddling her close to him.

“I’m such a damn fool,” she mumbled into his chest, “why did I say that stupid name, Angel, back then, just when you and I could have been together? God, I was such an idiot and a coward,” she added with a sniffle.

Spike shook his head firmly, stroking her thong covered little bottom lovingly, “you were not a fool and you are not a coward, Buffy,” he assured her. “You were a young, unsure girl who didn’t know the ways of the world yet. I, on the other hand, was a fucking moron, impatient git that should have been more understanding of you, where you were at then.”

Buffy finally stopped crying and began to giggle lightly, “you think we, you and I, would be married by now? I mean if things had of been different, Will?”

He smiled at her upturned face, a face that Buffy was sure was covered with some leftover makeup from all of her tears.

“I think we’d have been married to each other and parents ten times over, luv,” he chuckled warmly.

“Parents ten times over!” Buffy gasped, wide-eyed, “I don’t think so Mister!” but she giggled again and Will kissed the end of her nose.

“Okay,” he grinned, “maybe not ten rugrats, but at least three or four, right?” Buffy blushed and buried her face in his chest again, fresh tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but these were happy tears and such a welcomed change from the sad ones she’d cried for so long.

The shrill ring of her cell phone broke their intimate moment.

“I have to get this, Will,” she explained, even as she apologized, “it could be my Mom.”

Buffy picked up the phone and clicked the ‘talk’ button reluctantly.

“Hello, Buff,” came Angel’s hated voice from the other end, “miss me?”

Buffy grimmaced and looked over at William, with a roll of her eye she sighed and responded to her husband, “thought I told you ‘I’ would get in touch with you Angel.”

Will flinched, his whole body tensed up and his jaw muscles clenched tightly. She ran her finger down his chiseled cheekbone, then skimmed it across his lips, “shhhh,” she purred to him with a half smile.

“I miss you,” Angel confessed in a small voice, “I want you to come home, Buffy.”

Buffy had to cover her mouth with her free hand to stifle a gasp, or at least a chuckle, “come home?” she asked in disbelief. “What home, Angel?” she continued, “the one ‘you’ raped me in? Our little self made prison? Get real Angel, it’s over. I am definitely through with you and your whole damn family. I don’t want anything from you, just my freedom, all legit on a piece of paper. Signed by a registered Judge of course!”

Angel said nothing for a moment, then he finally whimpered, “can we please meet? Talk, babe? I mean somewhere where you’ll be secure, happy with? How about my office?”

Buffy glanced up at Will who looked sick with concern. “I’ll think about meeting you at your Law firm, Angel,” she conceded, “but only if we discuss our divorce, in your office, with everyone of your staff and half of your partners’ close by. I don’t trust you Angel, I never will again.”

Angel must have thought about this, seriously, because he didn’t say anything for a minute or so but finally relented with a sigh, “okay Buffy. We’ll talk at my office. Tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.

“Maybe,” Buffy answered, feeling in complete control, “I’ll have to get back to you.” Everything inside of Buffy wanted to scream ‘I know you’re having someone track me down like a criminal you psychotic control freak!’

“Until then, Angel,” Buffy began sternly, “don’t call me, I’ll call you!” Then she clicked off the phone and again, tossed it on the coffee table. “Now,” she purred to William, snuggling close into him, “where were we?”

They made love, Buffy and Spike, all the rest of the day and through the night. Only stopping to fix supper and eat, shower, eat and bathe, eat some more (okay, I’ll stop now!), they made love together until they were too damn exhausted to make love anymore that night.

When daylight came, Buffy and Spike were so sexually sated that it was difficult to climb out of bed and shower together, but they managed somehow. Later, Buffy had to admit that she needed to go to the Travers’ house and pick up some of her clothes, at least, if not other personal things.

Spike wanted Buffy to be comfortable in their apartment, but he was worried about her going back into that hell house of Angel’s, no matter for what.

“I’ll go with you,” Spike stated firmly.

Buffy looked at him as if he’d grown two heads, “you can’t!” she cried, “my God, Will, if a neighbor saw us?”

He had to give her that all right. If one of those neighbors, with their silver spoons up their arses, saw him go into her house with her? Angel would come down on Buffy with the wrath of God. Her and her whole family.

“All right,” Spike finally relented, “I’ll wait here, but you call me when you get inside of that fucking prison. When you’re finished getting your necessities, you call me again. Understand, Buffy?” he asked seriously, his eyes betrayed the fear in his heart.

“I understand,” she giggled, “I’ll be fine, Will, honest. Angel is at work, I’m sure and besides, Jenny and Maggie will be home. I’ll be fine.”

She looked so sure of herself that he didn’t have the heart to push his paranoia any more then he had. “Okay, baby,” he relented, “but the minute you walk out of that house, call me. I’ll be close by.”

Angel didn’t call for an entire twenty-four hours and Buffy was grateful. Will and her just played around the apartment, acting silly and making love all day and night.

The next morning, though, Buffy had to convince him, Will, that she just had to go back to the Travers’ house and get some necessary things.

“I mean it, baby,” she laughed, even as she pulled on her two day old jeans, after their shower, I have to get some clean change of clothes. At least I need to get some paperwork, lots of things. I’ll be fine, I promise, don’t worry.”

But Will was worried, she could tell.

“I’m going to follow you over there, Buffy,” he said firmly, “I don’t give a rat’s arse if you like it or not. I’ll park down the street, in the DeSoto. Please just let me do this. I won’t go into the house, I’ll just hang out nearby.”

In the end, Buffy relented and let Will follow her over to the house; what could it hurt?

Spike sat in his old classic DeSoto, just down the street from Angel’s house, he couldn’t bring himself to think of it as Buffy’s also. Buffy had driven her Camaro, once they picked it up from where they’d left it over forty-eight hours ago, to the house.

He was proud of Buffy, Spike was, she’d come so far from the insecure, brainwashed woman he had known just a couple of months before. His Princess, Buffy, had really come into her own, become stronger then even she could have guessed.

‘Hope I had something to do with it,’ he smiled as he fiddled with the stereo in his car, finally settling on ‘the world famous KROQ’ for a station. Some silly, sad song was playing.

‘Bloody stupid angst crap,’ he grumbled, ‘what happened to kick arse punk music? At least it put some ‘fun’ in the ‘dysfunctional!’

‘Run’ by Snow Patrol


‘I’ll sing it one last time to you
Then we really have to go
You’ve been the only thing that’s right
In all I’ve done’

Buffy stepped into the house she’d shared with Angel for six years

“Mrs. Travers,” Jenny greeted warmly, “we’ve missed you. There’s a ton of messages on your answering machine, escpecially from Mr. Travers, he’s been worried sick about you.

“I just bet he has,” Buffy snorted back at Jenny, but with a smile.

‘And I can barely look at you
But every single time I do
I know we’ll make it anywhere
Anywhere from here’

Spike got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomache it started way down low, then ran up until it slipped into his throat, making it hard for him to breathe.

“Something isn’t right,” he hissed out loud, debating whether or not to turn the ignition and just pull right up in front of Angel’s little dark castle. His fear for Buffy began to overwhelm him, making him forget his promise to not interfere, not go into that dark place to find her. She had wanted to do this all by herself and he’d promised to let her.

‘Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I’ll be right beside you dear’

Buffy hurried up to the master bedroom, she had everything planned out in her mind. The clothes she would grab and toss into her small overnight bag. Then there was the jewelry, the ones her Mother had given her. She wanted those few pieces, they meant something to her, something dear and close to her heart.

As she went through the top dresser drawer, the one that held the old ruby ring that belonged to her Grandmother, Buffy realized she needed to leave something behind. It was time. So, she slipped the wedding rings Angel had given her off of her finger and laid them on top of the dresser, feeling no pain or remorse from her actions.


‘Louder, louder
And we’ll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can’t raise your voice to say

‘To think I might not see those eyes
It makes it hard not to cry
And as we say our long goodbyes
I nearly do’


Buffy turned to look around at the bedroom she’d shared with Angel for so many years and realized that she didn’t ‘know’ or ‘recognize’ it at all anymore. If she ever did that is.

‘Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I’ll be right beside you dear

‘Louder, louder
And we’ll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can’t raise your voice to say’


Spike lit another cigarette, nervously, ‘she should be out of there by now,’ he reasoned. ‘And this is really a fucking depressing song! Sounds like somebody died!’ Suddenly, Spike bolted up from his half slouched stance, ‘Buffy!’ he gasped, terrified.


‘Slower, slower
We don’t have time for that
All I want is to find an easier way
To get out of our little heads

‘Have heart my dear
We’re bound to be afraid
Even if it’s just for a few days
Making up for all this mess’

Buffy picked up the overnight bag, checked around one more time and sighed in relief.

“I’m out of here,” she said aloud to no one, just the air and herself, and maybe even Will, who sat in his old car right down the street. “I’m finally free.”

The cordless phone on the end table, the one by her old side of the bed rang shrilly.


A/N: Okay, so I promised, and I tried, honest to make this the second to the last chapter, but…..There will be at least three more chapters, there has to be.

Now, if you know how I write, then you know I like to do cliffhangers and hints/anvils in my stories. The song ‘Run’ by Snow Patrol is a hint. It’s all in how you interpret the song that matters! Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf

Chapter 43: ‘Bye, Bye Hellmouth!’


The cordless phone by her side of the bed rang shrilly and out of pure habit, Buffy picked it up.

“Buffy?” Angel greeted her from the other side of the line.

‘Oh God!’ Buffy sighed, ‘what was I thinking and how the hell did he know I was here?’ Then it dawned on her, Maggie or Jenny had called him, Angel, and informed him of his wife’s present where abouts.

‘Probably Jenny,’ Buffy realized finally, ‘in fact, Jenny had probably been the one who backed Angel all along. Why she had not figured that little fact out in the first place irritated Buffy, but no matter, she would get rid of Angel quickly.

“I’m just on my way out, Angel,” she stated evenly, “don’t worry, I didn’t take anything you want. I am taking the Camaro, but I’ll take over the payments immediately and I’ll even repay back payments. Otherwise, I don’t want a damn thing from you, just a divorce.”

Angel broke in when she had mentioned ‘divorce’ again, “look Buffy,” he sighed, “it doesn’t have to be this way. Can’t we talk about this, I mean face to face? I don’t want a divorce Buffy, I want you and a life together. But, if that’s impossible, can’t we at least be civil about this? Come to my office, right now and we’ll work something out, something that everyone can live with, please? I mean for God’s sake Buffy, six years of marriage and we can’t even talk in person?”

Buffy had to give her husband that much, they had been married six long years, there was so much history between them. Besides, if she went to his office complex, Buffy could check with Andrew, the law clerk, and get a good reference for a divorce Lawyer. It certainly couldn’t hurt, but when Will got wind of this, he’d throw a fit.

“Let me think about it, Angel,” Buffy finally answered carefully, “I’ll call you right back on your cell phone. Just stay where you are and don’t come home, if you come anywhere around while I’m here, I’ll leave and you won’t see me until we are in a courtroom. Do you understand?”

Angel agreed to that and the minute she hung up the phone, Buffy pulled out her cell phone and dialed Will.

“Buffy!” came his anxious voice, “where are you? Just get out of there, please, baby,” he pleaded, “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

She smiled into the cell phone, ‘you’re such a worrier,’ she thought lovingly. “I’m fine, Will,” she assured him tenderly, “Angel called, but he’s going to leave me alone here. He does think we, he and I should meet at his office, though and discuss divorce proceedings. Isn’t that great! Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

Spike felt the air leave his lungs in a gust, he felt afraid again, “no,” he said gruffly, “you are not going anywhere near that fuckhead, Buffy!”

She was silent for a moment, “Will it’s okay. If we meet, Angel and I in his office, I’ll be as safe as can be. What’s he going to try with his law partners and staff around? I’m thinking that he may be wise to all of the information you and Clem have been leaking to the police, he’s beginning to run scared, I can tell. I’m pretty sure that Angel’s self preservation instinct has kicked in and he’s more concerned about the legal trouble he might be in then saving our marriage. If I go to his office, today, right now, get him to agree to a simple divorce, then we’re free of him. He’s on his own to get himself out of this legal mess. Good riddance, I say. Besides, I’m a big girl, honey, I’ll be fine, especially in such a public place.”

He could tell that Buffy had made up her mind, Spike would not be able to persuade her to not meet with Angel in public.

‘Maybe it’ll be okay,’ he thought, trying to remain calm and sure of everything.

“All right,” he relented, “but I’m going with you,” his voice was determined.

Buffy gasped, “you can’t sashay into the Firm with me, Will! Do you know what Angel will do if he even thinks….”

Spike chuckled, “I know, sweetheart, I mean I’ll follow you there, wait in the parking lot. I don’t think your asshole husband has the parking structure staked out, do you?”

She giggled in relief, “no, even Angel isn’t that paranoid! Okay, I’ll call him back, tell him I’m on my way and to make damn sure Anya and the other staff members are around and in my view. How does that sound?”

Spike nodded, lit another cigarette and took a deep breath, “okay Princess,” he agreed in a quiet voice, “we’ll do this your way. But, you call me on your cell phone if there’s any problem and when you step out of that fucking office. Okay?”

Buffy assured him that she would call him the minute she was done securing her freedom from Angel Travers.

Buffy grabbed her little overnight bag and the car keys, “bye bye Hellmouth,” she called to the bedroom as she exited it for the last time.

When she got downstairs, she went into the kitchen and told Maggie goodbye. The loyal cook didn’t look all that surprised when Buffy explained that she was leaving Angel, for good, in fact, she looked relieved.

“It’s for the best, Mrs. Travers, I’m sure of it. I’ll miss you though, it was you I liked working for.”

After she hugged Maggie goodbye again, Buffy went in search of Jenny. She found her in the living room, staring out the front window.

“Jenny?” Buffy approached her carefully, “I’m leaving Angel. I won’t be back, but I’m sure he’ll keep you and Maggie on.”

Jenny turned to her, tears in her brown eyes, “I’m sorry Mrs. Travers, really. I don’t know why I listened to your husband, told him things, checked up on you for him. Like I told him, you were a Saint, he never should have doubted you, hurt you like he did. It pushed you away from him and I know you won’t be coming back. Please forgive me?”

Buffy took Jenny’s hand and squeezed it gently, “I forgive you, I do. I know how persuasive my husband, or should I say my soon to be ex-husband can be, Jenny. I’m sure he made everything he asked sound perfectly reasonable. Please, take care and be happy.”

Buffy picked up her bag and left through the front door of the house. Even as she walked through the door, for the last time, she realized that this residence had never really been a home. Her place, her home was with William.


A/N: Short, short, short, chapter! Sigh, I needed to get the ‘plan’ out on the table and set up the final confrontation between Mr. Broody and Buffy. The next chapter will be long, long, long, long and longer! Okay, I’m going to give you all a hint, there is something that Angel has been keeping from Buffy. Not just other women, Buffy’s onto him about that, but this revelation will be a ‘big betrayal’ in Buffy’s eyes, by Angel. So, please read this chapter, the next and then the final part of the tale. Please???!!! Thanks, Luv, Spuf