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Chapter 2: The Pangs of Dispriz'd Love

Spike entered the Summers' home, careful not to make any noise or wake anyone up. Normally that wouldn't be too difficult a task, they had a tendency to forget to lock the front door. After all, human crime wasn't much of a problem in Sunnydale, vampires were kept out by mystical forces, and demons were just likely to bash the door in if they wanted to enter.

That was actually the current problem. The front door was being held together only by Xander's ingenuity, until a new one could be purchased. Earlier that day a M'Fashnik demon had smashed it in.

Spike moved past the ruins of the door and quietly crept past the Watcher sleeping on the couch. He moved to the desk that sat against the living room wall. He bent down, and slowly, quietly picked the lock on the drawer. Luckily the lock was pretty simple because Spike wasn't really that good at lock picking. He soon had the drawer open.

He removed a white envelope from the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out two twenty dollar bills. He carefully moved the papers in the drawer, until he found the small stash of cash Buffy kept there. He slipped the twenties in among the other bills, then did his best to put the papers back the way he'd found them and shut the drawer.

Then he moved to the closet and began searching the pockets of the coats and purses inside. Whenever he found cash, he would slip in an extra ten, or maybe a five and several ones. He slipped some extra money into several of Buffy's coats, figuring since she'd been dead for several months, she wouldn't remember if she'd had money in them or not.

Then he moved upstairs. He waited outside the main bedroom, to make sure it's occupants were asleep then quietly opened the door. He stashed more money in and among the witches things, hoping that he wasn't leaving so much that they would get suspicious.

He hesitated outside of Dawn's room. She didn't help pay the bills or anything, but he finally decided that she probably needed money for whatever girly things she needed.

There was only one bedroom left. Hers. Spike took an unneeded breath, and without thinking held it as he moved towards her room. He listened outside the door. Her breathing was deep and even so he entered.

He was doubly cautious near her. After all she was the Slayer, he didn't know if her instincts would tell her there was a vampire near her sleeping form.

He smiled as he looked at her sleeping form. Her golden hair was spread out on the pillow, and she looked peaceful. The scent of her arousal in the air told him that she was having a good dream and he was glad that she wasn't plagued by nightmares tonight. Vainly he hoped that she was dreaming about him.

His fingers ached to reach out and touch her, to simply brush away a stray lock of hair from her face. But he didn't dare risk waking her.

He could have stayed there all night, simply watching her sleep, but he had come here for a purpose and the longer he stayed the more likely he was to be caught.

He moved towards her vanity and carefully sat in the chair. Smiling pictures of her and her friends stared out at him from the frame of her mirror. There was something sad about those pictures, the people in them were so happy, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Buffy or her friends smile.

He opened the top drawer and pulled out her wallet. Just as he was about to open it, a voice from behind him whispered angrily, "What are you doing?!"

Startled he looked up into the mirror which showed an angry Slayer sitting up in her bed. She got up and stormed over to him.

"Oh my god! Are you. . stealing from me?"

"What?" he whispered back. "Course not. Why would I. . . Look," he shoved the envelope of money into her hand. "There, that's for you, I'll just be going now."

He tried to get up and leave but she yanked his arm, swung him around and pined him to the wall next to the door. There was a thump as his back hit the wall.

He gave her an angry look. "Hush! Don't want to wake everyone up now do we?"

"What the hell are you doing? What is this?" she said waving around the envelope.

"It's money, all right. I thought, I thought you could use it."

"I can't take money from you," she insisted shoving the envelope back in his hand without looking. "And why would you break into my house to leave money?" she asked.

He shook his head, "Because I knew you wouldn't take money from me."

"And you would be right, I can't take the money you stole from you victims." She pushed the envelope back into his hands.

"I didn't steal it, and the only victims I've had the last few years have been demons and vampires, you know that. The money's honest, take it," he said thrusting the envelope back at her.

"How could you come by 'honest' money. You're expecting me to believe that you didn't lie or cheat or steal or do something dishonest to get this?"

By this point they were both trying to push the now crumpled envelope into the other's hands.

"Alright. So maybe I did lie a little, but that's only because I can't go around telling people I'm a vampire now can I. Not like I have a bloody social security number. Look, will you just take it?"

"See, you admit you lied." Her voice had started to get louder. He shushed her, and she glared at him, but then she resumed whispering, "If you lied to get it, how do I know your not lying about not getting it through. . . evil means."

"Oh for god's sake. Why won't you take it?" he begged her.

"Why won't you tell me where you got it from?"

They just stared at each other for several minutes, there was no way he could tell her where he gotten the money from. Not only would she not believe him, but she was bound to tell her friends and he'd never live it down. He was the Big Bad, he had a certain image to maintain and he'd gone to great lengths to hide what he'd been up to. In retrospect that had been rather easy since the Scoobies had been busy keeping there own secrets.

It was Buffy who broke the silence first. "Besides, you'd start, I don't know expecting. . . stuff."

At that moment, it took all of Spike's self control to not hit her. If it hadn't been for the chip and years of not hitting people when he wanted to, he probably would have. He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth.

"I. . . don't . . buy. . . women," he told her through gritted teeth. "Besides," he continued once he felt calmer. "Money's not for you, it's for the Nibblet. You're just the one who pays the bills."

It was actually more or less the truth. He'd begun his plan to get money while Buffy was still dead. He had realized that neither of the witches had an actual income and since the Buffy Bot couldn't be trusted to get a job, sooner or later someone was going to have to support Dawn, or she'd have to go back to her father.

Since none of Buffy's friends seemed to be doing anything about it, Spike figured it was up to him to find a way to make some money, and he had.

"Well, I can't let Dawn have your. . . illicit money either," Buffy insisted.

"IT'S NOT," he realized that he'd risen his voice, and they both froze, listening for any signs that he'd woken anyone up. After several moments of complete silence he continued in a whisper. "It's not illicit, and I'm tired of this."

He dropped the envelope on the floor. Buffy just stared at it for a moment, then reached down to pick it up and thrust it back at him. The moment she did so, he made a break for it, pushing past her, and dashing for her window.

He'd startled her enough, that he was able to open the window enough to slip through it. He leapt out the window, rolling down the eaves, and landing hard on the ground below. He grunted as he hit the ground, and figured that he'd probably broken something, but with a bit of blood he should be good by tomorrow night, and there was nothing he could do about it now.

He ran down Revello Drive, leaving an angry Slayer glaring at him from her window.





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