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Spike walked back inside the house and began to get dressed again, not wanting to talk to any of the women looking at him.

“I had no idea you even had a girlfriend,” Cordelia said suddenly. “I knew Anya was friends with a girl named Buffy- I would’ve been able to put two-and-two together.”

“I never wanted her to find out like this,” he said sadly, grabbing all of his stuff. “And since when are you here, Red?” Willow frowned and sighed.

“I was in the kitchen with Andrew,” she said. “Heard your voice and knew. I had to get Buffy- I’m sorry.” He nodded and looked down. “Do you want a cup of coffee or something? And maybe to talk about some things?”

“I should probably head over to her apartment and try to settle things,” he said, but all of the girls shook their heads. “No?”

“I’d let her cool down,” Anya replied. “Buffy’s obviously very worked up and might get a little hostile if you go over there tonight.”

“I’m screwed either way,” he said. “I lied to her.”

“Anyone up for sharing a blooming onion with me?” Andrew said, walking into the room. He looked at Spike and subtly appraised him with his eyes.

“Why don’t we hit a club or something?” Anya asked. “The night is still young.”

“Yeah, might as well,” Cordelia said. “Want to, Spike?”

“No thanks,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind splitting the onion thing, though.” Andrew smiled widely at him. “That okay?”

“Of course,” he answered. “You girls go off and have a good time. We’ll kick back and have some male-bonding time.”

“Alright,” Anya said. “Good night, sweetie.” She looked at Spike. “And Cordy was right- you’re worth the money.” Spike frowned as he watched the four girls leave the house.

“So, want some beer?” Andrew asked, and Spike looked at him graciously.

“God yes.”

* * * * *

The two men sat at the island in the kitchen, talking about things while devouring the onion blossom.

“So, you never even hinted that you weren’t really a fireman to her?” Andrew asked curiously, finishing his beer.

“Didn’t know how to,” Spike mumbled, looking into his beer bottle.

“How did you play it off so well, though?” Andrew asked. “I mean, firemen work odd hours usually.”

“I always work at night for my stripping gigs, so I guess it just made sense to her that I work third-shift,” Spike said. “I have no idea what she thought, but she must’ve believed me.”

“She trusted you,” Andrew said, and Spike looked down, nodding. “You really should talk to her about it.”

“And say what?” Spike asked. “I strip for a living- I’m not exactly seen as the best man in the world.”

“Who cares if you’re not the best man in the world?” Andrew asked. “Buffy really cares about you- I don’t think she would’ve shunned you from day one had she known you’re a stripper.”

“She’s too good for me,” Spike said, looking at the man sitting across from him. “I don’t deserve a girl like her.”

“Sure you do,” Andrew said. “You’re a good man, too, Spike. Don’t demote yourself based on your chosen career.” He sighed. “If you really care about her, too, you’ll go over there and convince her that you deserve another chance and that you’re really the man she fell for in the first place.”

“But her friends all said to let her be on her own tonight,” Spike said, and Andrew shrugged.

“I know Buffy, too, and I think that she might like to get things squared away tonight while everything is still fresh in her mind,” he said. “But maybe that’s just me.” Spike stood up and nodded.

“Thanks for the beer and onion petals,” he said. “And for talking this out with me.”

“You’re welcome,” Andrew said. “And no matter what happens with Buffy, you’re more than welcome to come to the wedding.” Spike raised an eyebrow. “We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Spike managed a small smile.

“Sure,” he said, patting Andrew on the back before walking out. Andrew grinned and cleaned up the kitchen, whistling the song that Spike had been stripping to.

* * * * *

Spike drove to Buffy’s apartment and knocked on the door. When no one answered, he knocked again, but to no avail. He grabbed his keys and located the one she had given him weeks ago, putting it in the lock and opening the door. He quietly let himself in and shut the door behind him. He walked towards her bedroom and saw her lying on her bed, under the covers, fast asleep. He leaned against the doorframe and watched her for a moment, noticing that the tear tracks on her cheeks were still fresh.

‘She must have dozed off only minutes ago,’ he thought.

“I know you’re standing there,” she said sharply.

‘Or maybe she was just faking,’ he thought, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her eyes slowly opening to focus on his as she sat up, never breaking eye contact with him.

“Wanted to talk to you,” he said quietly. “But if you want to sleep, that’s fine. I can come back tomorrow.”

“Don’t,” she said, and he raised an eyebrow, confused. “Don’t come back tomorrow.” He inwardly felt crushed, knowing what she was going to say next. “It’s over, Spike.”

“Baby, let’s talk about this,” he said, but she shook her head, looking down.

“I can’t be with you,” she said. “You lied to me, and I can’t be with someone who isn’t honest with me. Relationships are built on trust, and I no longer trust you.” He looked down, clenching his jaw. “Things were so good between us, Spike, but you screwed them up completely.”

“Things can still be good for us,” he said, looking at her. “This is just a rough patch that we can work through.”

“It doesn’t change the fact you lied to me,” she shot back. “What else have you lied to me about? Are you not really British? Did you even go to college at all?”

“Yes, I’m British, and yes, I went to college,” he replied. “But I ran out of money, like I told you, and turned to stripping because it would pay the bills.”

“You should’ve told me,” she said. “How stuck-up do you think I am that I wouldn’t have tried being with you just because you’re a stripper?”

“You have always said that you find stripping distasteful and demeaning,” he replied. “Especially male strippers because they’re so sleazy, right?” She looked away. “What was I supposed to say, Buffy?”

“You could’ve told me the truth,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks again. “I can’t do this, Spike. Please leave.”

“I can’t just let this end,” he said, and she looked at him.

“It ended when I found out you lied to me,” she replied. “There’s nothing you can do to fix this. It’s done, Spike.” She wiped off her cheeks and shook her head. “I’m sorry, William.” He clenched his fists and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he said. “I need you to believe that.”

“I know you’re sorry,” she said. “You’re sorry because you screwed up and got caught.” She laid down again, shutting her eyes. “Goodbye.” He sighed and turned on his heel, leaving the apartment.

‘I screwed up royally,’ he thought. ‘There’s no way she’ll take me back now.’





A/N I’ve decided that I’m going to post the next chapter tomorrow (Saturday), but I probably won’t post chapter 4 until Monday. I’m really fond of the next chapter, playfully entitled “Who’s Got the Magic Stick?”, because I think it adds some humor and sweetness to an otherwise angst-ridden tale (up to this point, at least). If I get a lot of responses from chapter 3, then I’ll post chapter 4 on Sunday as a treat. I hope you liked this update, and be prepared for some odd humor between Spike and Angel tomorrow!:)





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