Prologue


"Angel, did you make sure to get orange juice?" Buffy O' Connor asked her husband as she carried the laundry basket from the cellar across the kitchen and toward the stairs. She stopped, holding the basket on one hip as she watched her husband unload the groceries.

"Yes, dear," he said, a little too snidely for her taste.

"Whatever. I just want to make sure since your daughter ran out this morning," Buffy snapped before continuing on. "Plus I'm sure your guests would enjoy it with breakfast!" she called over her shoulder as she trudged up the stairs grumbling under her breath about ungrateful husbands. Where was it written that he couldn't get the groceries once in a while? Just because she had opted to stay home and take care of Lindsey, putting her own goals to the side, did not mean that he didn't have any responsibility at all. "Because that's what I want to do—become Donna Reed. Should I have his slippers and robe out for him when he comes home? Get a pipe ready and his paper? I don't think so."

"Momma, what are you grumbling about?" Lindsey, her daughter asked her with her hands on her hips, already displaying that rebellious disposition she knew so well in her father. And well, her.

"Nothing. baby. Want to help me set up the guest room for Uncle William and his friend Fred?" she asked, sitting down with a tired sigh on the guest room bed. She tied her golden hair back hastily with the hair tie wrapped around her wrist and leaned back a little on the bed, yawning.

Lindsey's green eyes widened, "Uncle William is staying in here with a MAN?"

Buffy couldn't help but laugh at her daughter's shocked expression. For four, she was quick tocatch on to things. "No, honey. Fred is a girl. Her real name is, uh. . . I think Winifred. They call her that for short. You know like we call you Lindz."

"Daddy calls me ‘short stack'. So do you sometimes."

"Right. See? Everyone has a nickname. Do you know what they used to call Uncle William in college?"

"What?" Lindsey asked as if Buffy were about to tell her a juicy secret.

"Spike."
Lindsey wrinkled her cute button nose, very similar to her mothers – in fact, much wasn't like Buffy looks wise. Though her attitude was definitely more like her fathers.

"Why did they call him that?"

"Why indeed, nibblet," came a deep British voice punctuated with humor.

Both girls looked up to see William Bradley, or, Uncle William standing the doorway a big smile splitting his handsome face. His hair was still the same platinum blond Buffy remembered from college; however, gone was the trademark black he used to wear from head to toe. Now he wore regular blue jeans and a navy t-shirt, a short, worn leather jacket completing the new ‘relaxed William' and replacing ‘punk Spike.'

Buffy's heart jumped at the sight of him and she smiled as she watched Lindsey run to him. William kneeled down and caught her, Lindsey nearly knocking him over with the force of her hug.

Lindsey looked over at her mother. "Uncle William calls me ‘nibblet'." She hugged William tightly before looking at him inquisitively. "Is your friend Fred here?"

William nodded, beaming at the little tot. "She is. Would you like to meet her? She's talking to your Da."

Lindsey rolled her eyes. "It's DAD, Uncle William, not DA." She shook her head at him and waltzed out of the room in search of the mystery guest Fred.

Will stood, gazing at Buffy. "Hello, luv."

Buffy stood and smiled at him, "Hi Will. How was your trip?" she asked as she dug into the laundry basket and extracted the sheets for the bed.

"Fine. Don't I get a hug?" he asked lightly.

She swallowed, "Oh, sorry, of course." She crossed the room to him and wrapped her arms stiffly around his neck, patted his back and pulled away quickly. "We weren't expecting you for at least another couple hours. I was just about to set the room up." She grabbed the sheets. "See? Fresh sheets and everything."

Will sighed heavily, "Buffy, stop."

"Stop what?" her forced chipperness faltered, her smile wilting.

"The act. Why can't we get past this?"

Buffy shook her head, "I don't know what you mean."

"Buffy," he said softly, taking a step towards her. "Every time we're alone it's forced and fake. . . It never used to be like this. We're friends still, right?"

Buffy looked down and nodded, "Yes Will. We are. I'm sorry, I just—"

"Ssshhh," he placed a finger on her lips, his blue eyes sparkling brightly as he gazed upon her. "Let's just put it in the past where it belongs. It all worked out all right in the end didn't it?"

Buffy nodded, "It has, it really has."

"How ‘bout a real hug then?" he grinned.

Nodding, she wrapped her arms around him, this time with more ease than before. He held her to him, a friendly hug between old friends. He was the first to break the hug and Buffy wondered if she held on too long and she immediately berated herself for it.

"Let me make up this bed and I'll come downstairs to meet your girl," Buffy told him, busying herself once more with the making of the bed, not daring to look up at him.

"Okay, pet. Whenever you're ready," he said gently and walked out of the room, hands dug in his jacket pockets.

Shaking her head, Buffy focused on her task, pep talking herself to what was sure to be an eventful weekend.

Eventful and William "Spike" Bradley seemed to go hand in hand.



Chapter One

***********************************************************************
"Don't leave me, please," he pleaded, holding onto her tiny form possessively.

"I have to," she said, "I have no choice."

"We can get married. Fuck them, we'll just run away," he pleaded desperately, feeling his life drain from him. Without her . . . without her he had nothing.

"At sixteen? We can't do that. You don't think my parents would have you locked up?"

"We'd be bound—"

"Where? By the time we made it somewhere where it was legal, you'd be locked up and then I'd be locked up and never allowed to see you again. We have to be logical." Even if it was killing her slowly.

He pressed his forehead against hers. "I love you," he said, tears following splashing onto her face.

"I love you too," she whispered, trying to be strong. For him. "When we turn eighteen, we'll be together. We can call and write and –"

"Hey, let's go," her father barked at her.
She looked over at her father, his distaste at seeing his daughter in the arms of a boy he didn't care for, evident.

"Be right there dad," she called over to him, her voice cracking with emotion. This was it. The end. No, not the end. A hiatus-- because she would not and could not lose him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, the way he did when he wanted to block out things that were unpleasant to him. He gripped her arms tightly. "I'll miss you every second."

"It won't be forever. Just two years. Just two years and we'll be together as we're meant to be." She kissed him deeply, passionately and quickly, not wanting to linger on the pain. "See you later," she whispered and ran off to her father, climbing into the backseat. They started down the road and she waved to him madly, tears seeping down her face as she watched her love crumble in despair.

***********************************************************************

Buffy's eyes fluttered open and she stretched languorously in her nice warm bed, the sunlight dancing in the room through the muted yellow curtains. Turning to see if Angel was awake, she found his side empty. Shrugging, she sat up and glanced over at the alarm clock. Nine a.m. She hadn't slept that long since just before she had Lindsey. She frowned. And while Lindsey could sleep like a champ, she was usually up at eight the latest. Climbing out of her warm cocoon, she padded down the hall to Lindsey's room. Opening the door gently, she found Lindsey's bed unmade with Lindsey not in it.

"Lindsey?" she called out.

No answer.

"Lindsey?" she called, louder this time.

No answer.

"Buffy?"

She turned to see Will standing in his doorway, blue pajama bottoms and no shirt, his hair standing up in curly spike's. Just like his nickname.

"Is Lindsey with you?" she asked.

"No, I just woke up. Heard you out here."

Buffy started running down the hall, turned right and barreled down the stairs. Running into the kitchen, she found half eaten toast, half full glass of orange juice and Lindsey's markers all over the table and leading a path into the living room. The faint sound of the TV filtered into Buffy's panicked mind.

"Hey, Buffy, she's in ‘ere!" Spike bellowed from the living room. "Watchin' cartoons."

Buffy stalked in the living room and found Lindsey at the coffee table, coloring away on some scrap pieces of paper from the printer.

"Lindsey Anne, I called your name—" Buffy started, letting her worry channel itself into anger.

"Well, I didn't HEAR you," Lindsey barked, looking up at Buffy.

Will started to chuckle. Buffy shot him a look and he stopped.

"How long have you been up, baby?" Buffy asked, starting to calm. She knelt beside her daughter, brushing her long golden locks through her fingers, assuring herself that she was there and safe.

"I don't know. Daddy said it was early for me. He got me toast and orange juice. The toast wasn't good though. It didn't have brown sugar and cinnamon on it," she wrinkled her nose making large red circles with her crayon on her paper. "He told me to color and watch cartoons until you got up."

"Where did Daddy go? Did he say?"

"To the store. He said he had to get some stuff. I think he went with that lady."

Buffy wrinkled her forehead "What lady?"

"Fred," Lindsey said absently.

"No, that's . . . " Will said in puzzlement and then jogged out of the room and up the stairs.

"Did Daddy why he was going to the store with Fred honey?" Buffy asked.

Lindsey shrugged.

Buffy stood on shaky legs, a funny feeling pooling in the pit of her stomach. "Will?" she called out.

Will came down the stairs slowly, face pale, features blank. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at Buffy. "She's gone."

Chapter Two

Buffy swallowed, "Gone? What do you mean ‘gone'?"

"What do you think I mean, Buffy? What does the word ‘gone' mean to you? She's not there. She LEFT."

"I told you that already," Lindsey piped up, looking up at them.

"Keep coloring baby. Uncle William and I are gonna go into the kitchen and make some coffee okay?"

"Okay, momma," Lindsey chirped and went back to her drawings.

Buffy grabbed William's arm and pulled him into the kitchen. "Where did she go?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know, Buffy? She's not there. She's gone. Apparently with Angel."

"How did you manage to miss your girlfriend LEAVING Spike?"

He smirked, "Oh I get ‘Spike' now. Something doesn't go your way and you resort back to that? And funny, but you missed your HUSBAND leaving. How does THAT happen?"

"They probably went for coffee and donuts," Buffy rationalized.

"You have donuts," he pointed to the open carton of Dunkin' Donuts on the counter. "And if I know Angel, you have coffee."

"How long have they been gone for cripe's sake?" Buffy asked rhetorically, rubbing her forehead. "They left a four year old downstairs by herself for how long?"

"You said yourself that she does well on her own; that she hardly ever gets into trouble when she's playing by herself," Spike pointed out.

"That doesn't mean you don't check on her!" Buffy exclaimed.

"Buffy, pet, calm down," Spike said calmly, wrapping an arm about her shoulders and pulling her into the warmth of his body.

"Something's not right," she said, pulling away from him.

"Here we go with all your gut feelings. Funny how you never follow your gut feelings though. You sure do get a lot of them to never follow them," Spike drawled.

"Shut up, Spike. Don't you feel it? Don't you see there's something wrong here?"

"I've been seeing that for a long time, pet."

"What is that supposed to mean? You were the one who was all about letting it all be in the past and moving on and being friends—"

"That was until YOUR husband ran off with MY girlfriend!" he bellowed.

"Quiet down! I don't need you upsetting Lindsey. She doesn't have a clue what's going on."

"There might not BE anything going on," Spike said through clenched teeth.

"Then why are you so angry?" Buffy asked pointedly.

For an answer, Spike stalked out of the room and up to his bedroom. Buffy slammed her fist on the counter.


*********************************************************************

Three hours later when Angel and Fred had not returned, and their cell phone's had gone unanswered and no one in their neighborhood had seen hide nor hair of them, Buffy knew it had to be true, though she didn't want to believe it.

Angel and Fred had run off together. It was obvious. Some of Angel's things were missing, and all Fred's things were.

"You bastard," Buffy screamed into the phone as she stood on their deck outside. "You left your daughter, how could you leave your daughter?" Not wanting her husband to know how he'd hurt her, she clicked off her portable and sank to the floor, sobbing. Whether it was more for Lindsey or for her, she wasn't sure. All she knew was the ever present betrayal she felt, the fear of what lay ahead, and all the questions of why. Frustration was strangling her and she wanted answers. Except, she had a funny feeling; she wasn't going to get any answers anytime soon.

"Buffy," Spike's husky voice sounded in her ears, and his arms enfolded her.
She twitched in his embrace but allowed him to gather her on his lap. "Lindsey?" she whispered.

"Napping."

"I don't understand why this is happening. Why, Spike? Why is he gone? Why did they leave together like that? Where did they go? Not even a note . . . "

"I don't know, sweetheart, I don't know. I wish I knew . . . I can tell you I see him again and I'm gonna kill him—"

"You can't. Lindsey," she reminded him.

"I don't get it. I mean . . . to just up and leave like that. Fred never said anything, I didn't even know, didn't suspect anything. How could this have happened?"

Buffy looked up at him. "Did you love her?"

Spike met her eyes, "I could have. Maybe in time. She wasn't . . . "

"Spike," Buffy whispered and buried her face in his chest.

He cleared his throat. "You can file a missing persons report after twenty four hours."

"They're not missing. They're just . . . gone. Together. They wanted to be together. It's obvious they didn't care about us, about what it'd do to us, to Lindsey," Buffy said defeated.

"I'll hire someone to find them then. Do it all quiet like. They can't get away with this Buffy. Fred wants to leave me, fine. Wasn't as if I was giving her much to begin with. But for Angel to leave you and Lindsey—his FAMILY?" He shook his head, "No. That's not right and I'm not going to just throw my hands up and say ‘oh well, they wanted to be together'. And I know that's not what you really want either."

"I just . . . I feel lost. I don't know what to do to make this right," she said tiredly. "What am I going to tell Linds?"

Spike rubbed her back slowly, nestling his face in her hair. "I'll take care of you. I won't leave you."

"You don't have to—"

"Shut up. I'm doing it."

"You know I'm tired when I don't even have the energy to argue with you."

"That's a first."

Not even having the energy to retort back with a witty comeback, Buffy nestled into the warmth
and safety Spike was providing and soon found herself falling fast asleep.



*********************************************************************



Going through the motions of making dinner, Buffy barely registered the phone ringing until the answering machine picked up and Angel's voice drifted to her.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. I had to do it . . ."

Her eyes widening, she lunged at the phone as Spike came barreling in, anxious.
Yanking up the phone, she said, "Angel?"

"I'm sorry, Buffy," he said again, softly.

"Where are you? Why did you do this?" she demanded, welling up in tears.

"I had to, I fell in love. It just happened.”

“Just happened? You’re going to throw away our marriage and your daughter over someone you just met?”

"Once we're settled, I'll send you money."

"Where ARE you? Once you're settled? What kind of shit is that?"

A click, and dial tone. She put the phone back in its cradle and looked up at
Spike who was watching her expectantly.

"He didn't tell me anything."

"Star sixty nine, woman!"

"He's on his cell. Caller ID," she pointed at the little screen. "He said he loved her He said he'd send money when they settled."

“Once they’re SETTLED? What the hell does that mean?”

Buffy welled up in tears, "It means he doesn't want me. And he doesn't want our daughter."

"Buffy—" Spike reached for her.

"Lindsey!" she shouted, "Dinner!"

"Buffy—"

"What?" she snapped at him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For? For bringing that tramp in this house and breaking up my home?"

Spike's eyes narrowed, "Like this isn’t the first time he’s—“

"Momma? Are you and Uncle William okay?" Lindsey asked fearfully, coming into the kitchen.

Buffy wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and forced a serene smile at her daughter. "We're fine, baby. Come on, dinner's ready. I made your favorite."

"Pasketti?"

"Yep!"

"Yay! Uncle William, are you staying?"

Spike took a deep, cleansing breath and grabbed himself a plate, piling some spaghetti and sauce on it. He sat down across from his Lindsey. He smiled at her and looked up at Buffy. "I sure am."

Chapter Three

Buffy allowed the large couch in the living room to envelope her as she sat in the dark, a forgotten glass of wine on the end table next to her.

She was exhausted. Mentally, physically and emotionally. Her mind would not shut off and it was with great relief that Lindsey had requested Uncle William read her a book before bed. Buffy was finding it hard to handle mundane tasks. All she wanted to do was sit and contemplate. Her mind was on constant replay of the weekend and she felt if she could take
the time to piece together what had happened, she could find
the missing link.

Her mind however, found it more important for her to
replay the time Angel had cheated on her within their first
year of marriage. She kept seeing that night she’d had that
feeling he was cheating on her. Her mother had always said
that a woman knows when her husband has gone astray.



FLASHBACK



“Is he having an affair?” Buffy demanded of Spike. She was soaked to the bone from the rain. She was literally making a puddle where she stood in his doorway. Her jeans,
t-shirt and the jacket she’d thrown on were completely
soaked through. The hood of her jacket was still over her
head and her hair hung in strings with chunks clinging to her
face.

He blinked at her. “What?”

“Is Angel having an affair?”

“Buffy—“

“Tell me,” she said urgently.

“Come inside, you’re soaking wet.”

“Just tell me.”

He pinned her with his steel hard gaze. “Not until you
come inside.”

Pursing her lips together, she stepped inside his
apartment.

“More than that missy,” he ordered. She took a few
more steps inside. “Take that jacket off; it’s not doing you any
good now. I’ll get some dry clothes,” he muttered and started
for his bedroom.

She followed him, nipping at his heels. “Why can’t you
look me in the eye, Spike?”

He spun around, nearly knocking into her. He looked
her directly in the eyes. “Happy now?”

She clenched her jaw.

“Where is this coming from Buffy? Just out of the blue
you think Angel’s cheating on you?”

“Yes.”

He regarded her skeptically.

“He’s been working a lot lately—“ she started.

“He’s trying to make partner, Buffy. You think it’s easy to
make partner in a law firm like his? McDonald and Pryce is a
prestigious firm. They don’t just take anyone.”

“I know, but—“

“And that’s cliché. Even for you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What the hell is that supposed to
mean?”

“Never mind. What else makes you think he’s cheating
on you?”

“He’s not interested in sex anymore.”

Spike shook his head and took a large step
back. “Buffy…”

“Not that I’ve had much of an interest either. I am trying
to get our house in order and have my own career . . . “

“Are YOU having an affair?”

She glared at him. “Don’t start with that shit.”

“What? You don’t like it when I psychoanalyze you?”

“No. You want me to start on you?”

He grimaced, “Please don’t.”

“Listen, Spike, I can’t give you a concrete reason why I
feel he is . . . I was just sitting there tonight flipping through
the channels on the TV at home, wondering if I would be able
to stay up and wait for him to get home or if I was going to
fall asleep and not have the chance to talk to my husband
and . . . it hit me.”

“Have you been drinking?”

She grabbed his hand, making him listen, letting him
know how important this was to her. “Is he having an affair?”

Spike looked her directly in the eyes when he
answered. “Ask Angel.”



***************************************************************************
***********

“What are you thinking about?” Spike asked, jarring Buffy
from her trip down memory lane. He flicked on the light next
to her. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

“My head was hurting.”

“Migraine?”

“No, thankfully.”

He gestured to the glass of wine. “I’m sure that’s not
helping.”

Buffy ignored him, “Lindsey sleeping?”

“Out like a light,” Spike grinned and leaned back next to
her. “What can I say, I’ve got the touch?”

Buffy shook her head, “Yeah, you’ve got the touch for
something all right,” she muttered.

“Don’t recall you minding my touch at one time,” he
drawled.

She sat up straight and turned to him, glaring. “Don’t.”

He raised a brow, “What?”

She gave him a look, “You know what.”

He sighed heavily and nodded his head towards the
ceiling. “What are you gonna tell her?”

Buffy sat back and reached for her wine. “I don’t
know. I’m still . . . He didn’t say anything to you?”

“Nope.”

“Remember when –“

“You don’t have to remind me of that night Buffy. I
remember it.”

“You covered for him,” she said accusingly.

He shook his head. “You got it all wrong. I wasn’t
protecting him.”

“You wouldn’t tell me if my husband was cheating on
me, Spike. Who were you protecting if not him?”

“You,” he said simply.

“Me? How were you protecting me?”

“I was hoping he’d stop before you found out. I
was working on him. He was already feeling guilty, I figured
if he stopped before you figured it out, then you’d never have
to know and never have to be so hurt. Remember how hurt
you were?”

“That’s not something easily forgotten,” she said softly. “It
stays with you, no matter how much time has passed.
Doesn’t make it right to have dishonesty between a couple
though, does it?”

“Did you ever tell Angel about—“

“Point taken,” she said quickly before he could finish. “Would
you do it?”

“Cheat and lie about it?”

“Both.”

“No. I’m not wired that way. Loyal to a bloody fault.”

“How is that a fault?”

“She’s a smart bird, you know. She knows something’s off;
she’s just waiting for you to tell her what it is.”

The shift in gears had Buffy’s head spinning. It took her a
minute to figure out she was talking about Lindsey.

“I’ll figure it out,” she finally said.

“I’ll do it with you if you want.”

“No, that’s okay, you don’t have to—“

“I want to.”

“Why?”

Spike stood, and before walking up the stairs to his bedroom
he said, “You know why.”

Chapter Four

************************************************************************

“I just know he’ll do something again,” Buffy told Spike worriedly, near tears as she sat in on his plush black sofa. She cupped hot tea in her hands, which was dangerously close to dropping, since Buffy couldn’t seem to calm herself.

Spike stood across his living room, turning off his blaring Sex
Pistols CD, and instead putting on some Frank Sinatra. One of
Buffy’s favorites.

She smiled up at him gratefully, though shakily,
as she looked up at him with wide – eyes.

“Best drink that up before it gets cold, pet,” he
told her as Frankie’s soothing voice wafted around the room
softly.

Instead, she set her mug down and buried her
face in her hands, her elbows propped up on her knees. She
resembled a gargoyle, the way she was perched on the
edge of his sofa, all wound up and ready to fight or flee at
the slightest indication. When she looked up at him again,
tears tracked her face, her mascara running down her
cheeks in black streaks. She was a gargoyle alright, Spike
thought, a gargoyle trying desperately to protect her heart.

She was still the most beautiful woman he’d
ever seen, and was convinced, he’d EVER see.

And she was in love with his best friend. How
many years had he pined for her? And for what? To sit by
and watch her from afar, to pine, to long, to yearn, but to
never have, to hold or to touch –not unless he was holding
her as she cried her despair over her mistrust of Angel due
to his betrayal of their marriage.

“Tell me, Spike, please,” she now begged him.

“We’ve done this song and dance before,
Buffy,” he sighed, settling himself in the stiff olive colored
chair across the room from her.

“And you told me to ask Angel. I did, remember?
I did and that’s why I’m so fucked right now.”

“You’re not fucked, Buffy. He’s been honest
with you. He told you, while sobbing his soddin’ eyes out,
you told me. He’s remorseful, he’s regretful; he’s all those
things good husbands who cheat on their wives are
supposed to be. You’ve been doing so well—“

“Doing well?” she laughed bitterly and the sound
sent chills up Spike’s spine. “I haven’t been doing well. You
know that. I come by here almost every day and tell you how
not well we’re doing. How can you say that?” she demanded
of him, turning her worry into anger and directing it at him.

“You haven’t opened his mail with the steam
from boiling water in a while—“

“Doesn’t stop me from wondering about it until I
have to ask him. Then he gets frustrated and upset and then I
in turn feel guilty when I have nothing to –“

“Sounds like the lot of you need counseling,”
Spike remarked dryly.

She glared at him. “Just . . . tell me. You
wouldn’t last time, but please tell me now.”

“Buffy,” he said, leaning forward and meeting
her eyes. “He is not having an affair. He is only out of town
for business. Only business. He has not had contact with her
or any other female. He will come back the day after
tomorrow and he will not have slept with anyone else.”

Nodding, she reached out and grabbed her mug,
this time taking a sip. She sat back into the sofa now, her
expression blank. “We don’t make love anymore,” she told him
softly, looking down at her hands.

Spike sat still though he certainly did not want to
venture down this road. He just let her talk. He always let her
talk and would offer support where he could, hug her while
she cried. What else could he do? What he wanted to do and
what he could do were two different things entirely.

“He tries, but when he touches me, I think of
what he did. I think of his hands touching HER. Of his lips
kissing HER. I wonder--did he kiss her the same? Did he
touch her the same?”

“You think too much,” he muttered before he
could stop himself.

She cast hurt eyes to him.

He rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t look at me like that.
You know I can’t stand---“ he broke off and jumped up from
his seat, turning his back to her. “I can’t stand to see you hurt
Buffy. Can’t stand to see you cry. You came to me when you
suspected and you’ve been coming to see me ever since.”
He stopped, not wanting to reveal too much and yet wanting
to bare his heart and soul to her in the hopes of gaining some
peace, of setting free what was caged inside him.

Her tiny hand on his back, warm and comforting
made him tense. “Spike,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I
didn’t—“

She was cut off because Spike didn’t want her
apologies. Didn’t want to hear how she didn’t know, but she
loved him as a friend because she loved Angel.

Because she married Angel. She was Angel’s
wife.

As if he could ever forget. As if she ever let him
forget when she would cry on his shoulder.

So instead of letting her let him down easy,
which was sure to be hard, he kissed her.



************************************************************************

“Do you believe in fate, Spike?” Buffy asked the
next morning as he joined her outside on the porch. Lindsey
was busy playing in her sandbox and Buffy sat watching
her, though her mind was a million miles away.

Spike lit up the cigarette hanging from his mouth and Buffy frowned at him. Well, she figured, at least it wasn’t in the house or anywhere near Lindsey.

“This have anything to do with your ‘gut
feelings’?” he asked, taking a drag.

She sighed, “Can you just answer the
question?”

“I think we make our own fate,” he said.

“So you don’t think there’s a reason behind
things?”

“I think we make choices based on what
information is available to us at the time.”

“That gave me nothing.”

“What can I say? Fate and destiny and all that
rubbish is just that. Rubbish. It’s a trumped up way for
everyone to make excuses for the shitty things they’ve done
or to make up excuses for the shitty things done to them. It’s
not fate or destiny that makes these things happen. It’s

people making choices every day.”

“And coincidences?”

“Just that. Coincidences.”

“So say this Fred is the love of Angel’s life—“

“Here we go,” he drawled and took another
drag.

“Shut up and listen. Say Fred is the love of
Angel’s life; the one he’s meant to be with and has been
made to be with. His DESTINY. So then fate brought her here
and when they saw each other they just knew. It clicked.
The heaven’s aligned and the stars lined up and everything
fell into place. It was your destiny to meet her and bring her
here. It was your destiny to bring the split aparts together.”

“Been reading Plato, luv?”

“The question is,” she continued, ignoring
him, “What is my destiny? What is yours? What is Lindsey’s?
There has to be something for us to be going through this.”

“Bit greedy of you don’t you think?”

“It’s karma, Spike. You do know what karma is
don’t you?” she asked, trying to keep her temper at a
minimum. He really could be infuriating sometimes.

Most of the time.

“Yes, I bloody know what karma is. Put
something out there in the universe, bad or good, and it
comes back to you.”
“What goes around, comes around,” she mused.

“So if you believe in karma, how do you know
this isn’t our karmic debt we’re payin’ off right now?”

Buffy froze, eyes intent on Lindsey. “No, that can’t be.”
“Why not? Angel cheated on you, you cheated on him.”

She turned her head slowly and glared at him. “I went through hell—“

“Yeah, I know. I was there remember?”

“And Lindsey? What did she do wrong?” Buffy
continued on, her temper and voice rising.

“She’s caught in the crossfire. She’s paying for
her mother’s and father’s sins.”

“You’re full of shit,” Buffy said angrily. “What
about you? What are you paying for, Spike?”

“My debt’s been paid off sweetheart,” Spike
drawled.

“Pray tell, when was that?”

“When you married Angel instead of me.”

Her breath caught in her throat, she was unable
to speak at that, all she could do was stare at him.

“Far as I see it, whatever I did to deserve that
kind of hell, it’s been dutifully paid off already. However, I
wager some more is due to me any time now. But this, I
know, is not it. If you want to believe in destiny and fate,
Buffy, then here it is, right here.” His eyes met hers and bore
into her very soul.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I met Fred, right? I brought her here, and now
Angel and her are gone. You know what I got out of it?”

She stayed silent.

“I got you.”

Chapter Five

Buffy stood slowly, keeping her eyes on Spike. He watched her and she could see the challenge in his eyes, daring her not to run.

"We're gonna get it all out now, Spike. No holding back. I'm done playing games with you."

"Are you now?" he asked her with slight amusement.

"Are you done playing games with me? Or do you want to continue? Maybe that's what this is all about for you. The dance."

He stood, stomping his cigarette out on the grass and leveled his gaze to hers. "Let's go."

Turning towards Lindsey, she informed her daughter she was going inside, but would just be inside the kitchen if she needed anything. Lindsey nodded absently and dug deeper in her sandbox.

Buffy trudged into the house with Spike not far behind.

FLASHBACK

She wound her arms around his neck, losing herself in the feel of his lips. She clung to him, needing him to hold her up. She knew it wasn't the thimble full of whiskey he put in her tea that was making her head spin and the world fall beneath her feet until there was only Spike with his lips hungrily moving against hers.

The hard evidence of his desire made itself known against her stomach, but it didn't scare her or rattle her at all.

It made her want more. The blood was rushing and pounding in her ears and when Spike tore his lips for them to grab air; she blindly sought his lips once again.

"Buffy, look at me," he whispered, making her look at him by grabbing her chin.

His stormy blue eyes were darkened to navy in his lust. She gulped.

"Yes?"

"Tell me now you want me to stop and I'll stop. I can't . . . I won't be able to stop if we continue. . ." his eyes closed and the next part came out as somewhat of a whimper. "I want you so much."

Wanting his mind numbing kiss and heated hands back on her, she tilted his head to hers and kissed him, giving him the green light.

He lifted her then, and she instinctively wound her legs around his waist. Sliding down a bit, he cupped her ass and her center rubbed against his erection. She ground against it, suddenly having him inside her was the most important thing in the world to her.

How they managed to make it to his bedroom, Buffy wasn't sure, since their trip there was fraught with bumping into walls and passionate, breath stealing kisses. She barely felt them dropping to his bed and his weight, his delicious weight pressing her down in the bed. Her mind only had one track at that point: Yes, yes, GOD, YES.

She found his passion to be consuming. It was as if he wanted to devour her whole and she found she wanted him to.

It scared the hell out of her.

She felt so much and so intensely for a man that was not her husband, for a man she'd never harbored lustful thoughts for, and for a man that had become her confidante over the past few months that it shook her to the core.

This was why she cried when he entered her, though she begged him not to stop at his entrance into her body. Instead she clawed at his back, not wanting him to see her confusion warring with her need to be one with him.
He whispered to her, words of praise, love and adoration. Words she didn't dare let penetrate her mind. When they'd both come, screaming their release, Spike held her tightly against him, begging her to talk to him.

She rolled from him and dressed hastily, telling him how sorry she was before she fled.

A week later, Spike left Boston and moved to Rhode Island.

**************************************************************

"Go ahead, tear me up, I know you want to," she told him after they'd shut the screen doors so that Lindsey could be seen, but she could not hear them.

"Not as much as you want to tear me up. Ladies first," he smirked.

"Since when are you such a gentleman?"

"I don't know, I got you off before me didn't I?" he shot back.

"You're the one that doesn't want to live in the past, but you're the one who keeps bringing it up!"

"You can thank Angel for that, sweets. Made it right easy for us, didn't he?
Look at that, Angel's cheatin' again! Only this time, he didn't wait around for you to confront him, this time he just took off."

"And it's your fault, damn you. You brought her here. You brought her into my home and tore my family apart you bastard!" she screamed at him and lunged at him, pounding his chest with her fists. "Lindsey lost her father thanks to you!"

Spike grabbed her wrists, stopping her flailing fists. He gripped them tight in his hands. "Did she really?"

She froze, "What?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Buffy. It doesn't suit you and too much has happened between us for you to play bloody innocent. I know."

Her eyes narrowed, push him she would. "And just WHAT do you know?"

"That she is MINE," Spike bit out, dropping a wrist and pointing outside to Lindsey, oblivious to what was happening between her mother and favorite uncle.

Buffy yanked her wrist free and stepped back. "You're crazy."

"Am I? Ever do a paternity test?"

"No. I didn't need to. She. Is. Angel's."

He slammed his fist down on the counter, "Don't fucking lie to me, Buffy! I
let you lie to me for four years, I'm not letting you get away with it anymore!"

"Lie to you? I haven't lied to you—"

"Don't shit a shitter, Buffy," he said and it sounded like a warning. He took
a deep breath, closed his eyes and shook his head. She waited, taking that
time to calm herself as well. She supposed they did need the outburst of
anger, the accusations to be flown. That way, the air could clear and calmer
seas could arrive.

However, she knew this was just the beginning of many storms to come.

"You left me," he whispered. "We made love and you left me." His eyes
remained closed. "You told me you and Angel made up; that you ‘reunited'.
But I know, Buffy . . . " When he opened his eyes, they were pained. "You never wanted to know
who her real father was? For her sake? For all that you claim to love your
daughter—"

"Don't you EVER try to tell me I don't," Buffy said threateningly.

Spike sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just . . . I just need to
know."

"Why? After all this time Spike what does it matter? She was raised with
Angel as her father, you never wanted to know before –"

"That's not true. I wanted to know. I wanted to know every day, I just . . .
I couldn't bring myself to make you do it."

"And now you can?"

"It's my karmic payback, Buffy," he told her, grinning wanly.

"I thought it was all rubbish," she retorted.

"I did it for you, pet. I stayed away for you," his voice dropped to a gentle
carress. "I stayed away so that I couldn't hurt you anymore."

"You never—" she started.

"You cried while I made love to you and then you left me. Do you have any
idea what that did to me?"

She couldn't tell him the real reason why she cried, so she stayed mute.

"You wanted your precious Angel."

"He was my husband," she fought back.

"Yes, ‘was'. Past tense. That is the operative word here, right pet?"

"He's your best friend."

"Balls! I only stayed in his life for you. He lost me the minute," he shook his
head, "he lost me the minute he cheated on you. You think I cared a lick for
how HE felt after that? I only cared about sparing YOU the hurt. I didn't
CARE if he hurt at all, I want him to hurt! I want him to burn in hell for
what he did to you! For what he's done now to you. If you could just . . .
Just let him go," he finished on a whimper.

"Spike—"

He straightened, leveled her with his gaze. "So yeah, I deserve to know,
don't you think? I've been patient all this time Buffy. I've let you play house
long enough with that rat bastard and I'm DONE waiting. I'm here and I
want to claim what's mine once and for all. Angel got to do it, didn't he? He's
skipped town to God knows where, doing my ex girlfriend. And here I am
again giving you a shoulder to cry on again. Being here to pick up the pieces
that Angel left behind. But those pieces might not actually be his. They
might be mine."

Buffy looked away from him.

"I'm not going to give you a lot of time here, Buffy. So we can do this the
hard way or the easy way. You can either tell me the truth or we do a
paternity test. I'm thinking the paternity test will open the floodgates for a
whole bunch of questions from Lindsey—"

"Fine. Yes, she's yours." Buffy said, still looking away from him, her arms
crossed.

"Buffy—" he started, his tone gentle.

Her head snapped to him. "You got what you want, now leave me alone."
She marched out of the kitchen.

"I'm not done getting I want, Buffy," he told the empty kitchen.

Chapter Six

Buffy'd never been much of a drinker, though she was beginning to understand the allure of ‘drowning your sorrows' as she downed her fourth shot of tequila. Hey, she thought, if you're going to get fucked up, you might as well get REALLY fucked up.

"Helloooo Mr. Cuervo," she slurred to the amber liquid, caressing the bottle as she held it against her belly protectively. Not that anyone was going to take it from her. She frowned, thinking, Spike would. Well, she cheered herself up by thinking; I'll just hit him over the head with the bottle.

Currently, he was upstairs putting HIS DAUGHTER to bed. She'd
requested him specifically. She hardly ever requested Angel to put her to bed.
Buffy wondered if somehow Lindsey knew. Or, it was just the novelty of
having someone new in the house. This of course begged the question: Just
how long was the peroxide pest going to stay? He did have a life in Rhode
Island didn't he? He couldn't . . . thinking of Lindsey, she amended that. He
could. But he wasn't going to live HERE. No. She'd give him enough time to
get things in order and then he was OUT. Wondering how the hell she was
going to tell Lindsey about Uncle William really being her father, caused her
to chug another shot.

"Pet?" Spike's voice drifted over to her from the screen doors. Buffy sat in
the dark corner of the porch, tucked away in the shadows for this specific
reason: She did not want to be found.

She held her breath, hoping he'd go away, her drunken addled mind not
letting in room for logic that he wouldn't quit until he found her.

"Buffy, I know you've got to be out here, now answer me."

She glared at his form and pursed her lips together. If wanted to goad her
into an outburst so he could learn her whereabouts, she wasn't going to give
him the satisfaction.

Then his form moved and she watched as he neared, his face hidden by the
shadows. She wondered idly if she could trip him and send him flailing to the
ground. Now that would most definitely cheer her up, and she smiled into
the dark.

"There you are." Dammit, he'd found her.

She looked up to him, this time his face clear in the moonlight. He was
frowning at her. "What are you doing?"

"Making friends," she slurred and gripped her bottle tighter. "And you're
not allowed to meet them."

He raised a brow. "You're drinking."

"That's some good sleuthing there Sherlock. Vanna, why don't you show
him what he's won?" she said sarcastically.

"How many have you had?"

"Fuck off."

"No," he said as if he heard that everyday and instead squatted down
before her. "How many?"

"Why should I answer to you? The only men I've ever had to answer to
was my father and my husband after that. Neither is here."

"That's part of your problem. You shouldn't have had to answer to Angel
either. He should have answered to you."

"What the hell do you know?"

"I know that you haven't been happy these last few years Buffy."

"I'm going to say it again . . . "

"What?"

"FUCK. OFF."

He shook his head and sighed, "No, Buffy. I'm staying. I'm staying here."

"I'm not giving you any," she said, her lower lip jutting out.

"I don't want any."

"That's a surprise. Since when do you not drink?"

"Since I'm thinking you might actually need to more than I do right now."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do!"

"No, you don't. You're angry and you're taking it out on me."

She shrugged. "I still hate you; I don't care about the reasons."

"Don't say that to me," he said through gritted teeth.

"What? That I ha—"

"Yes. Don't you dare say that to me."

"How bout we work on you not telling me what to do? What's the
difference anyway? You hate me too. You just don't want to admit it."

"Why would I not want to admit it?"

"Because you love the misery," she told him. "You love being here to make
my life hell and torturing yourself because the only man I've ever loved
was Angel. It kills you and you hate me for it."

"You're wrong," he said evenly, his voice rich with anger.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Though I find it odd that you've managed to make it down here through
the years. Funny though how it was always while I wasn't here. Buffy's
gone for the day -- for the week visiting family – I can come visit! So that
negates my theory, but whatever," she shrugged. She eyed him, her eyes
narrowing suspiciously, "Or maybe you brought your girlfriend around in
hopes to make me jealous. And now you're just sticking around to revel in
the misery because you never had the guts to do it while Angel was here."

"Buffy," he said, clenching his jaw and turning his head from her.

"Push a button there?"

"You're pushing a lot," he stood. "I'm going to walk away."

"Because I'm right."

"No, because I've never hit a woman before but you are lining up to be the
first," and he stalked off, lighting up as he went.

"Don't smoke in the house!" she yelled after him. The slamming of the door
was her answer.



FLASHBACK

"I think you'll really like Elizabeth," Angel gushed to Spike as they weaved their way through the Boston University quad.
"You talk about her so much, I'm sure I will," Spike assured his new friend.
"She's just so sweet. I haven't met anyone like her since . . . " Angel trailed off and shook his head. "You ever been in love Spike?"

Spike raised a brow, "You're in love now?"

"No, well, not yet. I think I could really learn to love this girl though."

"Learn to love? Isn't that something that just happens, not something you
control?"

Angel didn't respond to that.

"Angel—"

"So have you?" Angel asked again.

Spike sighed, "Yes."

"With who?"

"This girl in high school; the most POPULAR girl in high school. I was a
geek; she was the star of the school."

"That's the end of the story? Give me more here. How did it end?"

"Tragically. She moved away."

Angel's grin faded to one of sympathy. He stopped and stared at Spike.
"I'm really sorry—"

"Hey, there you are!" a voice chirped behind Spike. A voice so familiar he
froze and his heart jump started.

"Hey, Elizabeth, there you are," Angel smiled broadly and reached past
Spike to grab her hand.

She moved around Spike and stood by Angel, beaming up at him.

"Hey, this is my best friend, Spike," Angel said, nodding toward Spike.

Elizabeth turned her head and Spike stared at her. She was there. God, she
was standing right there. The love of his bloody life.

"Hi, Buffy," he finally managed to get out, calling her by the name she went
by in high school.

"William, is that you?"

**********************************************************************************************

Buffy's eyes fluttered open and she found her face full of pillow. She worked her jaw, feeling the dryness in her mouth. Brushing her hair away from her face she squinted in the dim light. Okay, she was definitely in her room. The last thing she remembered was sitting on the porch yelling at Spike to not smoke in the house. She sniffed the air. There wasn't a lingering odor of cigarette smoke in the air.

"How do you feel?" Spike's deep voice asked her from across the room.

She rolled onto her back, intent on sitting up. The motion caused her to
grow nauseous however, so she stayed down. "I feel nauseous. What time is
it?"

"Eight. Lindsey's up and downstairs watching her cartoons. I came up to
check on you."

"How long have you been sitting there watching me?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"She shouldn't be left alone for too long."

"She's fine. She knows to call me if she needs me."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Aiming for that Father of the Year award are you?"

"Buffy, shut up."

"No."

"Seein' as you're the one who's sick, I don't see how you're in any position
to argue with me. Especially since I'm the one who carried you in here last
night and held your hair back while you vomited everything you've eaten
for the year. I also got you aspirin and water and took your shoes off. Got
you all right and comfortable in that enormous bed of yours, so tell me
again how much I hate you, please."

Buffy didn't say anything. Her eyes prickled with tears, but she didn't way
a word.

She heard him stand and she closed her eyes as he neared the bed. "I came
up here to see how you were doing because I was concerned. You drank a
whole bottle of Cuervo last night, Buffy, and you never drink. I know you.
You pour a glass of wine for yourself and you have three sips tops before
your cheeks grow flushed and you get giddy. You have no tolerance for
alcohol at all.
Which is why I was in and out of here all night checking on you. Because I
was worried about you. Now TELL ME how much I hate you, please."

Tears leaked out, tickling her skin, but she did not move, did not open her
eyes.

"Right now, you're nursing a hang over and havin' yourself a pity party. I
get that. I'll take Lindsey out for the day, with me, so you can rest. When
you're feeling better, we're going to have ourselves a chat. You got me?"

Still she said nothing.

"You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met," he whispered and she heard him walk out the door and close it behind him.

Rolling onto her side, she let herself sob into her pillow. How did her life get so fucked up, so fast?

Chapter Seven

Buffy slept as if she hadn't slept in months. She wondered as she finally made it out of bed without feeling sick, if she'd slept so much because of sheer stress or just because of the drinking. She guessed both.

When she was showered and dressed comfortably, she
decided it was time to face Spike. Besides, she missed her daughter. Lindsey was her saving grace right now. If it wasn't for her, she probably would have completely
crumbled by now. She snorted, who was she kidding? She was barely hanging by a thread. But she could not let Lindsey see her fall apart.

Making her way down stairs slowly, she listened to Lindsey talk animatedly to Spike, telling him her favorite parts of her day with him.

"So you had fun with the animals, poppet?" Spike asked gently.

Buffy smiled, remembering a time when he used to speak so gently to her like that. Now when they spoke it was with anger, resentment and contempt.

"I did Uncle William. I liked it best when the goat ate out of my hand."

Buffy grinned. The way she said William, it came out more like ‘Will-yum'.

"I'm glad. Maybe next time when your mom can come with us."

"What about Daddy? When is he coming home?"

Buffy waited, wondering what he'd say.

"He'll be back soon, luv," Spike said simply and that seemed to assuage Lindsey for she didn't say another word.

Taking a deep breath and praying for strength, Buffy entered the kitchen and smiled at Lindsey, avoiding Spike's gaze.

"Hey, baby, how was your day with Uncle William?" she asked, coming over and kissing the top of her head.

Lindsey smiled over her leftover pasta. "I had fun today Mommy. Are you feeling better?"

Buffy nodded, "I am. Mind if I join you?"

"Of course, Mommy!" Lindsey beamed at her.

Buffy grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and started dishing out the leftover pasta on her plate to heat up in the microwave. As she did, Spike came over and whispered in her ear. "Are you really feeling better?"

She nodded.

"Good, you remember we are still going to talk once Lindsey's in bed, yeah?"

She nodded again and slid her bowl into the microwave, moving away from Spike. She hated that she felt like such a coward.


************************************************************


Since Buffy hadn't seen Lindsey all day, her daughter requested her for her bedtime ritual. She bathed her and chatted with her about her day with Spike, read her a book and tucked her in. She gazed at her daughter for a minute before getting up off her bed to leave her to sleep.

"Honey, do you miss Daddy?" she asked lightly.

Lindsey nodded, "I do miss Daddy. I don't want Uncle William to go away though. He's fun."

"As fun as Daddy?"

Lindsey shook her head.

"Uncle William is more fun than Daddy?

Lindsey nodded and yawned.

"Get some sleep, honey. I love you."

"Love you Mommy."

"Don't forget that Mommy loves you more than anything in the whole world okay?"

"I won't Mommy."

Buffy nodded and watched as Lindsey's eyes fell shut before she shut out her light and made her way down stairs where she knew Spike would be waiting for her. Sure enough, she found him in the kitchen sitting at the kitchen table with mugs of hot cocoa. She slid into the chair across from him and looked at him, waiting.

"I had fun with her today," Spike said softly.

"I'm glad."

"Are you?"

"Yes, of course I am. I wouldn't want her to have a bad day. So if you had fun, then she had fun too."

"Plus, she is my daughter and I should be spending time with her, shouldn't I?" he kept his gaze on the mug in front of him.

"I like how I'm the asshole for never telling you, but you knew and you never came forward and staked your claim on her," Buffy said, keeping her voice calm.

Spike looked up, "I didn't want to cause problems for you."

"How noble of you."

"I'm not that noble Buffy," he said blowing air through his teeth.

"I was being sarcastic."

"I know," he sighed. "You really never got a paternity test?"

She shook her head, "No. I just . . . I just knew she was yours. And Angel wasn't much into doing the math or . . . anything else. He never wondered, I never told."

"Yeah, I know," Spike said bitterly.

"You don't get to be a martyr here Spike. You were just as much a part of what happened as I was. You didn't want to cause problems and neither did I. I loved my husband I wanted to make thing right. They'd gotten so out of
control-- "

"You know when I knew she was mine?"

"No, when?"

"When you sent me that letter after I'd moved and you told me how sorry you were for what had happened. And then you bloody thanked me."

Buffy said nothing.

"You thanked me for being there for you. And then you went and told me how you and Angel were fully together – in the carnal sense – once again. I know you're not fucking dumb, Buffy. You knew how I felt," he stopped, his
voice cracking. "You wouldn't have been so callous as to tell me you were screwing your husband again."

"Or would I have to help you get over me. If you hated me, then you wouldn't love me anymore," she pointed out.

"Fine line between love and hate."

"Don't start that philosophical bullshit on me now."

"It's true though, isn't it? Because I can tell you that there are times Buffy when I hate you so much . . . But I've never stopped loving you for a minute and God, I've wanted to."

"You sure it's really love Spike and not some unrequited teenage crush left over from high school?"

"No, Buffy, I can assure you it's not," he sounded amused by the suggestion. "Yeah, I did fall in love with you in high school—"

"How is that even possible? We barely spoke."

"I heard in a movie once that true love is the soul's recognition of its counterpoint in another."

"Now you're quoting movie's to prove your points?"

"You're the one that believes in signs and all that shit, Buffy," Spike drawled, leaning back in his chair. "Humor me."

"I'm too tired to humor you."

"You slept all day."

"In case you hadn't noticed Spike, I'm completely drained right now. My husband left me and now with you . . . " she gestured at him, "I don't know how you do it. You come around and I'm reminded of what a fuck up I am
all over again."

"You're not a fuck up, Buffy. You're just . . . misguided."

"And you're not?"

"Oh I definitely have been, but I'm trying to fix it now. Starting here. Starting right here," he pointed his finger down on the table. "You're right that we're both to blame for what happened conceiving Lindsey together. You cheated on your husband and I slept with my so called best friend's
wife. Even if he was a rat and he had cheated on you."

"Two wrongs don't make a right," she pointed out.

"And yet we keep making those wrongs, don't we? With that, with keeping Lindsey's paternity under wraps. . . doesn't make it right that we both hid it
from her, from each other, does it?"

"No, it doesn't."

"Look at that. Buffy can admit she was wrong about something."

"Like you're any better. God, you can be such an arrogant, holier than thou bastard. You want to start casting stones, go ahead, because I can toss a
few your way too."

"I'm fully aware that I'm a hypocrite. I'm just fucking tired of it, aren't you?"

"Why now Spike?"

"Opportunity came knocking and I chose to answer."

"Only you would consider my husband leaving an opportunity."

He shrugged. "I have you to myself now, don't I?"

"Don't count on that happening for long."

Spike's jaw clenched, "I'm not going to play second fiddle again, Buffy. Do you understand me?"

"You never played FIRST fiddle, so good luck with that."

He slammed his fist down on the table, rattling it as his stormy blue eyes penetrated straight through her. "I'm not going to let some wanker be a father to her and be a husband to you again, you got that?"

Buffy stood, "He was your best friend. You betrayed him right from the start so don't act like it's MY fault for falling in love with him and marrying him. YOU never made a move on me, how the fuck was I supposed to know you harbored all these feelings for me? I'm not a goddamn mind reader."

"Don't you think it was a sign that both of us ended up at BU together? That I met Angel?" Spike asked softly.

"Am I humoring you or are you humoring me now?"

"Just answer the question, Buffy."

"I find a lot of things in life funny. Perhaps . . . coincidental?"

"Bullshit!" he flew up out of his chair, knocking it down with the force of his leap from it.

"Mommy? Uncle William?"

Both heads snapped to attention to Lindsey standing in the doorway
looking at them fearfully. Buffy sprinted into action and went to her,
scooping her up in her arms. "You okay, baby?"

"Why are you and Uncle William yelling at each other?" Lindsey asked,
sounding near tears.

"Sometimes grown-ups talk loud sweetheart, but we're not yelling at each
other baby. Just talking loudly. Come on, let's go to bed," Buffy soothed her.

"It's okay, poppet. We're sorry we woke you," Spike said, coming over and
giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Night, honey."

"Night," Lindsey said on a yawn.

"This isn't over, Buffy," Spike said softly.

"For tonight it is," Buffy said and brought her daughter upstairs to bed.

Chapter Eight

Feeling much more rested the next morning, Buffy made a plan. If her cheating husband was going to leave her and their family, then she wasn't going to make it very comfortable for him to do so. Her first plan of attack was to go to the bank and transfer funds from their checking account to her savings. She'd put Angel's name on her saving account should anything happen to her and he needed to get to her money, but she'd never told him she'd done it. That information was with her mother.

One can never be too cautious.

Her next step was to look into some daycare's in the area. She was going to have to get a job. The money in the account was only going to take her so far, and who knew when Angel would start paying child support—Although, did he really need to now? No. But he was going to have to give her something from their divorce. Not that she really wanted anything from him at this point, but if it made him suffer, then she was all on board.

She stopped putting her earrings in and stared at herself in the mirror. At this time, she would be talking with Angel as he got ready for work. They'd discuss what cases he was working on that day, what she was planning to do with Lindsey and ask what he'd want for dinner. Mundane, yes, not very exciting, definitely not but . . . but it was routine and it had been her life.

She sat down on the vanity chair and let the tears come. It was scary how things could change so fast. Spike had said she hadn't been happy for a long time. Well, that was only partly true. She'd been . . . content. Maybe that was even too strong a word. She hadn't been jumping up and down for joy, but she hadn't been miserable either. She had a nice home, a daughter she adored and a husband she loved. True, she still had her doubts and fears creep in from time to time and they played with her mind until she thought she'd scream, but then he'd walk through the door and kiss her and she'd shove it aside. She tried not to dwell on the things she would have liked. Such as a career of her own, maybe some more excitement and spice in their marriage and for Angel to have been more attentive to her and Lindsey than his job, but that was the agreement they'd had when she'd gotten pregnant. Angel had made it clear that he wanted to wait a while before kids, but then . . . then she'd slept with Spike.

She supposed Spike didn't want to hear about how guilty she'd felt for what she'd done. She lived with it everyday and she knew, she KNEW that lying to Angel, to Spike and mostly to Lindsey was horrible of her. She'd been petrified of losing Angel. And while Spike invoked things in her that night that she wanted to forget about and didn't want to admit to, she knew that her fear and misery over Angel possibly cheating on her a continent away had been a driving force for her to seek comfort in Spike's arms. She was desperate to feel loved and cared for; desperate to get the images of her husband cheating on her out of her mind.

Fear and desperation made you do crazy things. Add a broken heart to the mix and you got sheer chaos.

"Buffy, you up?" Spike asked through the door, knocking softly.

She wiped at her eyes and stood, finishing her task of putting on her
earrings. "Yep, I'm up, come in," she called to him.

He opened the door and came in hesitantly. He looked almost nervous.
That was a first. "Hi."

"Hi," she said and pulled her hair back in a bun.

"Where are you going today?" he asked curiously and sat down on her bed.
She could see him with his head tilted peering at her in the large mirror she
was in front of. Lindsey had the same move when she was trying to figure
something out. She smiled. So much like her father, she was.

"I'm sorry about my outburst last night," he said softly.

Buffy froze. Spike was apologizing? She turned to face him, not sure what
to say.

He looked up at her, his eyebrows knit. "You've been crying."

She nodded, "Yes, I was."


He nodded and looked down, "Thinking of Angel."

"Yes."

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked, popping his head up.

She looked at him incredulously, "Do you really want to hear about it?"

He raked a hand through his hair and shrugged. "Not gonna sit here and lie
to you and tell you that I particularly enjoy the fact that you're mourning
Angel's departure, but on the other hand, he was your husband and you did
love him."

She stared at him, "Lindsey's still sleeping right?"

"Yeah. Listen, Buffy, last night, yesterday . . . for the past couple days
we've said some hurtful things to each other. We've gone a few rounds and
been at each other's throats and while verbally sparring with you has
always been fun, these past few days haven't been fun. It's been bloody
hard. I'm man enough to admit that I've been an insensitive prat about
things. Your husband takes off on you—"

Buffy winced.

"Sorry," Spike said, wincing too. "I guess this whole mess just brought out
some things between us – all of us, including Angel – that we've never dealt
with. That we've just kept hidden away, hoping they'd go away."

Buffy nodded slowly, staring off into space. "Sometimes the skeletons in
your closet don't want to stay in there anymore."

"Yep. Things have a way of coming back at you the more you try to shove
them down."

"So when we're done facing those things that don't want to be ignored
anymore, will things get back to normal again?" Buffy asked in a small
voice.

Spike shook his head sympathetically, and stood. "I don't things will ever
be back to normal, do you?"

"Wishful thinking."

"He's not coming back, Buffy."

"How do you know?" she asked, her voice rising with hurt.

"Do you really want him back? He LEFT Buffy. He took off with another
woman. Do you really want him to come back after that?"

Buffy stayed silent and still for a few beats and then said on a whisper, "I
want him to suffer."

"Anger phase in effect?" he asked lightly, smiling slightly.

"I've been angry a lot these past couple days Spike, in case you hadn't
noticed."

"So have I."

"You must have really cared more about her than you've let on—"

"No, God, Buffy, it has nothing to do with her," Spike sighed, frustrated
and shook his head. "I hate that he's hurt you like this. I hate that I . . . I
feel so guilty because I'm the cause for it. I brought her here; I didn't know
things would turn out, how they'd take such a wrong turn with you and I at
each other's throats and your hurt and anger. . . And I get it Buffy; I get
what's happening to you at the same time I want to wring your lovely neck
for all this time and torture."

"You couldn't have known that this would happen, Spike. I know I blamed
you for it and I yelled at you for it, but you didn't know. It's just you're here
and Angel's not and he's the one I really want—"

She found herself in Spike's arms before she could finish her sentence. He
held her tight and she swore he was crying. "I know. I'm sorry," he
whispered before releasing her just as quickly as he'd grabbed her and
practically running out her room.

She blinked and the door shut behind him. "I'm not really sure," she said to
the empty room, "If my life has turned into a really bad after school special
or a prime time drama. Oh God. Am I a ‘Desperate Housewife'?"

*********************************************************************************************

The day had been draining. Buffy had so much to think about and plan for. Having a partner there to lean on and take some responsibility was something she'd taken for granted at times. She would be the first to pat any single mother on the back.

There was Spike to help, but she wasn't putting all her eggs in that basket.
Or, at all. She wasn't about to rely on him just because he was there and the
father to her daughter. However odd that sounded. She needed to do this
on her own. Stand on her own two feet and all that rot. No matter how hard
it was, or how much her heart was broken, and no matter how much she
wanted to crawl in her bed and sleep until things were back to normal.

Spike was right. Normal wasn't going to happen again. And, did she want
Angel back after this? Her heart and mind seemed to be at war with each
other. She just wasn't sure which one was saying which anymore.

Finding a job loomed before her and she was petrified. She'd graduated five
years before with a B.A. in Art History. Her plan had been to acquire her
Master's and then in turn teach Art History at the college level. She'd quit
the Master's program shortly after becoming pregnant with Lindsey. She'd
been such a mess from keeping the lie of Lindsey's paternity and the guilt
of what she'd done, that she felt her time was better suited to focusing on
her marriage. If she'd known what would have happened, she wouldn't
have been so quick to stop. No, instead she would have done what she could
and gone back instead of being the woman behind the scenes for Angel.

She felt pathetic.

Entering the house, she heard Lindsey's feet pitter pattering towards her.
Spike had told her that he'd take care of Lindsey while she did what she
needed to do.

"Mommy! Daddy called!" Lindsey said excitedly, running into Buffy's
arms. Buffy had knelt down and nearly fell over both from Lindsey's news
and from the impact of the hug.

She looked up to see Spike following behind looking . . . disturbed.

"He did? What did he say?" she asked Lindsey, feigning excitement. Inside
her heart had dropped to her stomach.

"He said he loved me and he'd see me soon. I'm going to draw him a
picture okay, Mommy?"

"Sure baby."

Satisfied, Lindsey ran off. Buffy stood on shaky legs. "Did you talk to him?"


Spike nodded, "I did. Told him he was a bloody bastard for what he did."

"Did he say where he was?"

"Apparently they're still on the road."

"Still on the road? What the fuck are they doing? Taking a road trip? God,
what about his goddamn job—he's a partner now—"

"He'll get a job anywhere Buffy. You know that."

"That's not the point!" Buffy exclaimed. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing much . . . he didn't want to talk to me much after I yelled at him.
He said there's a check in the mail."

Buffy shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. She looked up
at him. "So, when and how do you want to tell Lindsey you're her father?"

Chapter Nine

Spike blinked at her and Buffy grew annoyed. "What?" he said.

"When and how do you want to tell her?" she asked again impatiently.

"How soon in the future are you talking here, pet?"

"Should be soon don't you think?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Well, I'm not sure when Angel plans on calling again, so it could be a while
before you get to tell him he's not really a proud papa. And really, this is
what all this about isn't it? Sticking it to Angel? So it could be quite a while
before you get the satisfaction you're desperately wanting right now."

Buffy crumbled at that because he was right and she felt like the worlds
worst mother for it. Spike was taking her in his arms before the first tear
could track its way down her cheek. She cried in his shoulder and he held
her without a word and let her soak his shirt with her salt.

**********************************************************************************************

Buffy stared up at the night sky, the black sky blanketed with stars. It was
comforting to look it, reminded her that she wasn't alone, that she was just
one small person in an entire universe. She wasn't unique in what was
happening to her. It happened every day. Sometimes it was easy to lose
sight of that when hurting.

"There you are," she heard Spike say softly behind her as he closed the
screen door and sat down beside her on the porch steps. "Nice night," he
commented.

"Mmm," she hummed in agreement. "She asleep?"

"Out for the count."

"If you don't want to do the whole routine every night just let me know
and I'll jump in."

"I don't mind it," Spike said sincerely. "I wager I missed a lot of those
nights and it's my way of making it up to her."

She turned her head slightly and looked at him. "You feel guilty."

He nodded, looking up at the sky, "I do. You might have kept it from me
Buffy, but I knew just as well as you did and I stayed away. I reckon that
doesn't make me any better."

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"For what?"

She let out a short laugh, "You want a list? I don't even know where to
start anymore."

"How bout that letter?

"Spike, I did send you that letter to help you get over me. I thought I was
doing us all a favor. I was trying to give you the impetus to move on with your life."

"And save your marriage," he added.

"Can you blame me?"

"Not entirely. If you love Angel half as much as I love you, then I would do
anything I could to keep you."

Her breath hitched at his declaration of love, feeling that no matter how
many times he said it, she'd never get used to it and never know what to do
with it. She sat there dumbly, feeling useless.

"You don't have to say anything Buffy. The last thing I want is for you to
tell me you're sorry again."

"Spike—"

"I've been in love with you since high school," he said, shaking his head.
"But you knew that right?"

"I thought it was just a crush. You mentioned it once in college, I didn't
know . . . "

"Yeah, bloody high school," he drawled, leaning back on his elbows. "You
with your football boyfriends, walking around with a lollipop in your mouth
driving blokes like me up the sodding wall. Especially blokes too shy to get
up the nerve to talk to such a beauty as you," he finished on a whisper.

She felt warm all over at his confession and the raw sincerity in his tone.
Words drifted into her mind, remembered words that he'd said as they'd
made love. Words she'd tried to block out.

****************************************************************

"I love you. . . Love you so much. . . " Spike whispered against the shell of her ear as he thrust inside her.
"Spike . . . " she moaned, turning her head.
"Love you so much. . . Always. Don't cry, baby. Don't cry . . . I'm gonna take care of you."
*******************************************************************
"You moved when? Middle of junior year?," he continued, "And I still loved you. I know you think it's crazy. How could I have loved you if I'd barely spoken to you? But I did." He shook is head. "Sodding romantic, I am. Love's bitch, I am. I can admit it. You're the only one though, Buffy, the only one I've ever loved and the only one I probably will ever love."

"Fred. You said you could love her," she stammered, feeling breathless.

"She's not here is she?"

"Well, I'm just thinking if you thought you could love her then maybe you
could love again," Buffy clarified.

He sat back up, "I lied. You never let me finish before; didn't want to hear
what I had to say. I was going to tell you—"

"Spike."

"Yeah, just like that. Only I'm gonna say it now all right? She wasn't you
and it was always you. I wanted to, God knew I wanted to so that I could
finally get on with my life, but," he paused shaking his head. "I lied to
myself."

"Spike, I just . . . I don't know what to say . . . or do."

"You can't know right now. It's hard with Angel being gone and him being
the one you. . ."

"Why didn't you every say anything to me?"

"You confided in me when you thought your marriage was in shambles.
Let's be honest, it kind was there for a while. I couldn't turn you away . . . I
had to be what you needed. I just . . . whatever was going to make you
happy, it's what I wanted too. Even if it wasn't me. I'd do anything for these
feelings to stop," he whispered, looking down.

Buffy turned towards him, wanting to comfort him in some way, but he
held up an arm, stopping her. "Spike—"

"Don't. I don't want your pity. I just wanted to tell you once and for all how
I felt so that there won't be any misunderstandings in the future about it.
Done a lot of sharing over the past few days pet, haven't we? If we're gonna
air it all out, then I wager it's time we lay it all out, don't you think?"

"All of it?"

"All of it."

"Dangerous, don't you think?"

"Depends on what you're airin'," he said and grinned.

"Anything else you wish to ‘air'?"

"In time."

"You just said—"

"Doesn't mean I'm ready to do it all right now."

She nodded, "Fair enough." A beat. "So after we're done airing all of this . . .
this STUFF out. What is the plan then?"

"That all depends on you."

"On me? Why me?"

"Told you before, Buffy. You're not a dummy. You'll figure it out." He stood
and she looked up at him. He grinned. "I'll make sure of it."

Chapter Ten

Buffy stared up at her bedroom ceiling, wide-awake. She was tired, that was the funny thing. Well, at least her body was tired, her limbs feeling achy—like they needed a good stretch. Maybe it was time to take up yoga again, she thought on a sigh.

Her mind however, was alert. So many things on her mind, she didn't know where to start and apparently her mind didn't want to just pick one to focus on. It jumped from Angel, to Lindsey to Spike, to what she was going to do about a job to money to . . . God, she wished she could be one of those people that could just say ‘Fuck it, I'm going to sleep' and go to sleep. She wasn't wired that way though. Once upon a time she could forget the troubles of the day and sink into her bed as some sort of haven and numb her mind to get the rest she needed. Back when she was, say, eighteen. Funny how all her troubles began after Angel. She had a family to think about. Her family that was crumbling around her. And there was Spike who confessed his undying love and devotion to her and didn't seem in any rush to be leaving anytime soon.

She shook her head and got up, flicking on her light. She just needed to
get up and get away from her bed for a while. Padding quietly down to the
kitchen, she flicked on the CD player in the room, putting it on low so as to
not wake anyone. Frank Sinatra's voice drifted around the room and she
felt the tension in her shoulders leave immediately as she moved about,
making tea. Grabbing the paper, she sat down at the table with a Sharpie in
hand and opened to the Want Ads. At least she could do something about
one of her troubling thoughts. It was funny. She worried about being able to
get a job, but not about the having of the job. In fact, she found herself
excited in an anxious way about it. She found herself often bored to tears
staying at home and she always wondered just how green the grass was on
the other side. Why hadn't she done it before? Why didn't she just finish
school and get a job? It's not like it was unheard of. Why did she say she'd
stay home and let Angel go to work? Not that staying home with Lindsey
was an entirely bad thing. She loved her daughter more than anything on
the planet and watching her grow up was amazing, but . . . she longed for
more than that. And she felt guilty for it. She couldn't feel guilty about it
now because she didn't have a choice.

"Couldn't sleep?"

She jumped a mile and jerked her head up to see a rumpled Spike
standing in the doorway. He looked boyish in his sweat pants and T-shirt,
his hair a riot of curls, his eyes glazed over from sleep.

"I had a lot on my mind."

He looked down at the paper. "Worried about getting a job?"

She nodded and stared down at the paper, not really seeing any of it.
She just couldn't focus. She set the Sharpie down. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I woke up and then I couldn't get back to sleep. I saw the light
coming from the hall and your door was open so I knew it had to be you
down here. What are you drinking?"

"Tea."

Mind if I join you?"

She bit her lip, thinking that talking with Spike would only lead to more
sleeplessness. However, she didn't want to be rude. Funny how that
happened. She had no problem telling him to fuck off the other night but
now she didn't want to tell him no regarding sitting with her. Odd how
things happened like that.

"Sure," she nodded and watched him as he moved about, making tea.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Buffy took a deep breath, "What are you
going to do about . . . being here. I mean you have a life in Rhode Island, a
job, an apartment."

He turned to her, smirking, "Trying to get rid of me?"

"No, that's not it at all," she shook her head. "I'm just wondering what
you're going to do."

"I'm going to move here," he said simply.


She blinked, "Just like that?"

He sat down across from her and met her eyes, "Just like that."

"Your job?"

"I'm a writer, Buffy. I can do that anywhere."

"Spike, I'm not . . .I'm not opening my home to you. I don't mean to be
rude, but it's not like you can just move in here and--"

"How about if I took care of Lindsey?"

"What?"

"While you worked, pet. I could take care of Lindsey."

"When will you work?"

"I work best in the evening. You come home and I retreat to work. Angel
had an office downstairs, no?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Just think about it kitten."

"Spike, I don't know. It'll be awkward."

"For?"

She looked at him as if he had seven heads. "For all of us! Angel leaves and
you move in. With everything between us, I just don't think it's the best
decision right now, Spike."

"So, would you rather I live somewhere else and come to take care of
Lindsey during the day?"

"You really want to do that?"

He nodded. "She'll be going off to school next year. Let me spend some time
with my daughter, Buffy."

"I won't keep her from you, Spike. Done that already haven't I? I just
think that it's a bad idea for us to live together. Especially since Lindsey
doesn't know the truth yet. It could confuse her."

"Or not. She'll wonder why her daddy is living somewhere else."

"The man she knew as her daddy has left. And you don't know what's going
to happen down the road with . . . . everything."

"I know that I'm not going anywhere Buffy."

"You can't promise that."

He chuckled, "You have a lot to learn about me, kitten."

"I don't know what tomorrow is gonna bring, Spike. I don't know what's
going to happen. I just need some time—"

"I know."

"You understand?"

He nodded and then stood, holding out his hand. "Come here."

She looked up at him, uncertainly. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "Come here. Trust me."

Slowly, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to standing.
He smiled and wrapped one arm around her waist and laced his fingers
through her other. She finally caught on to what he was doing. He wanted
to dance with her. She looked up at him and he grinned.

"Let me lead," he said.

She nodded and let herself go, just focusing on her movements and
Frankie's voice. She closed her eyes and snapped them open when Spike
placed his hand on her hip and twirled her. She smiled and gasped when
she came back to the heat of his body.

"I didn't know you could dance," she told him, surprised.

"Told you, you have a lot to learn about me, kitten."

She smiled up at him, "I'm sure you'll make it interesting."

"Always," he promised. "Feeling better?"

She nodded, "I am, thank you."

"I know we still have a lot to work through Buffy –"

She placed a finger on his mouth. "Sshhh… let's not talk about it now,
okay? Let's just enjoy the moment. I'm not worried or scared about
anything right this second and I want to just want to revel in that for a
while okay?"

He answered by placing a kiss on the tip of her finger. She met his eyes and
gazed at him as they darkened. Her finger drifted away and she found
herself being pulled to him, like a magnet. She wondered just before his lips
met hers if they were as soft as they used to be ---Yes, God, yes, they
were.

She clutched at him, using him as her anchor as he plundered her mouth,
licking inside her mouth with his tongue. He tasted like tea and something
just Spike. She remembered his taste—was it wrong to have remembered
his taste? Or just weird? All thoughts fled her head and she felt as if she
were just . . . goo. God, his kisses were hot and disorientating. Fred left
this? Was she crazy? Then again. . . That was all it took to freeze Buffy and
as if he could sense it, Spike stopped abruptly and pressed his forehead
against hers, both panting.

"God, pet, you drive me crazy. I want you so much—"

"Spike—"

"And I love you so much—"

"Spike—"

"But I –I can't believe I'm going to say this," he closed his eyes, "But I don't
want you this way. I want you when you're completely with me. When
you're not smarting from Angel and when you're not worried and confused
and sad—"

"Spike. I know.

He opened his eyes. "You understand?"

She smirked and broke away from him. He held on longer than he probably
should have and then let her go. "Where have I heard that before?" she
asked, teasing him.

"Buffy—"

"Let's not do a post mortem about it okay? It happened. We could sit here
all night and name several reasons why it did, but it's not going to change
anything."

"Hasn't it?"

She shook her head. "No, and you know that."

He nodded, and looked down, "Yeah, I know that." His head popped up.
"One day there will be more and it will change everything."

"Spike—"

He put his finger on her mouth. "Ssshhhh."

She shook her head at him, suddenly feeling as if she could fall asleep
standing up. She walked away from him and with one last glance over her
shoulder she gave him a small smile and wished him goodnight.

Chapter Eleven


The next couple weeks were jam-packed. Spike had quickly found an apartment near Buffy and set about the task of subletting his own in Rhode Island. In the meantime, he had gone there to get things in order, pack up, and move. Buffy had diligently looked for a job, leaving Lindsey with her next-door neighbor while she went on interviews until Spike returned.

She felt as if she were underwater, just going through the motions of trying to make things as normal as she could for Lindsey and trying to find her own sense of security after feeling as if she'd literally been knocked on her ass.

It wasn't easy. Lindsey was becoming increasingly more uneasy about Angel's whereabouts as the days went on. It didn't help that Buffy just didn't know, having not heard from Angel at all since he'd called and spoke to Spike. One night as Buffy tucked Lindsey in, her daughter had asked if they should call the police. Buffy told her that Angel had gone away for a while for work and that placated her for a bit. Then she worried about Spike's return, which Buffy assured her that he would be back and hadn't he called every night to talk with her?

And, if Buffy was honest with herself, and it seemed she seldom was, she missed Spike. He'd only been gone a little over a week and she missed him. Not because he helped with Lindsey— because in all fairness, Angel had helped, but not as much as Spike did—but she missed him because she'd realized once he'd left how CONSTANT he was. He was annoyingly stubborn, yes, but at least he was constant in his willingness to be there and to be part of their lives. She needed that, Lindsey needed that, especially since Angel's departure had rocked her world.

And what kind of world was it really? Buffy was finding herself reflecting quite a bit on what she was now referring to as her ‘Old Life'. She wasn't the same anymore, that is, she didn't feel the same anymore. She felt older and harder. She thought she'd felt harder when Angel had cheated on her before, but it was nothing compared to now. Her heart had been broken and she'd felt more desperate to make things work and to fix her marriage. Now she was angry. She didn't think it was possible to feel as much anger as she did. Sometimes she felt as if she'd explode from it.

She hadn't found a job yet and Spike had chided her for not trying to see if she could get a teaching job. She'd balked at that, thinking since it was the middle of the school year no one would be hiring and no school would want someone who'd been out of school for four years with an unfinished Master's Degree. He, of course, disagreed, but Buffy just didn't have the confidence in herself that she used to. Her plan was to go back to school once the divorce was settled—if Angel let her know where he was so she could file.

The day Spike came back, Buffy had gotten a job at a travel agency, which she was actually kind of excited about, and seeing how excited Lindsey was to have Spike back made Buffy excited too. She had the fleeting thought that things could get back to normal now. Which was funny considering things had been far from normal ever since Spike had blown into their lives just a few weeks ago.
She opened the door for a jumping up and down Lindsey to greet Spike and she knew that they couldn't wait any longer to tell her. It wasn't fair for any of them. Lindsey deserved to feel at least some stability even if her parental units didn't necessarily feel quite stable yet.

"Uncle Spike!" Lindsey exclaimed as she tore across the lawn, slamming into Spike before he could bend down to grab her.

He laughed as she hugged his legs, beaming up at him. He bent and scooped her up and Buffy made her way outside, smiling at the heart-warming scene before her. Angel had never warranted that much of a reaction.

It was funny how you could shove certain things aside when you didn't want to really see them, or make excuses for them when you didn't want to focus on just how much they bothered you. Watching Lindsey and Spike interact it was clear to Buffy that Lindsey was going to get a much healthier father/daughter relationship than she ever would have with Angel.

Thinking back on Lindsey's relationship with Angel, she found that her daughter was more fascinated with him than in love with him. She would greet him when he got home, but not with the enthusiasm she was showing Spike at the moment. When she was hurt, she wanted Buffy. When she had a nightmare she wanted Angel. Oh, there were times when she wanted Angel, but it was rare. It seemed that Lindsey accepted at an early age that yes, Angel was her father, but she was hardly going to see him, so she might as well not depend on him. Angel, for his part, did try. In spurts. There were the occasions he would try to defuse a situation and lose his patience quickly when his soothing words didn't penetrate Lindsey's young mind. The few times he'd kept Lindsey for a weekend here and there to see her beloved Uncle Spike, he'd called her a dozen times or so for help, but she got the distinct impression that Uncle Spike took on much of the work. She wondered if subconsciously she had wanted Spike to be able to spend time with his daughter and get to know her; even when she was afraid he'd figure out the truth of her paternity.

"You brought me a present?" Lindsey asked incredulously.

Spike laughed, "I sure did, Princess."

"Well where is it?"

"How ‘bout after dinner when I've had a chance to find it in my car?"

That seemed to placate Lindsey for a minute, and after she pretended to think about it she said "Okay, I'll go get the pictures I drew you for after, okay?"

Spike smiled broadly, "Sure thing, Sweetness."

Lindsey smiled back at him and then tore back in the house.

Buffy watched him as he sidled up to her, hooking his thumbs in the front loops of his jeans and grinning at her. "Did you miss me too?" he asked.

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I did."

"Mean that?"

"Yes, I do. I'm trying something new."

"What's that?"

"Not lying."

"Are you now?"

She nodded. "How was your trip?"

"I don't to talk about that right now," he said and reached for her, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her closer so they were touching, "I want to talk about how you missed me."

She swatted him and backed away, "You're incorrigible."

He reached for her and she moved away, "Come on," she called over her shoulder, "I made dinner."

**************************************************************************
Once dinner was over, Lindsey begged Spike to help get her ready for bed and Spike readily agreed, but not before promising Buffy they'd continue their chat later. Buffy rolled her eyes at him and started the clean up for dinner when the phone rang. Absently, she reached for the cordless on the counter.

"Hello?"

"Buffy, it's Angel."

She froze, not knowing what to say.

"We're settled, I thought you should know."

"Where are you?"

"California."

"What the hell are you doing there?" Buffy nearly barked into the phone. "Was it the plan to get as far away from your family as possible?"

"Buffy, it's not like that—"

"Then please tell me how it is because honestly Angel, I'm not seeing how it's not like that."

She jumped a mile when she felt a hand on her shoulder; she looked up to see Spike, looking at her in concern, offering his silent support.

"Listen, Fred and I have been through a lot, okay? You don't know everything we've been through."

"Don't I have a right to know?"

Angel sighed heavily, "All right. Fred and I go way back."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "How far back?"

"High school. She moved when we were both sixteen. She moved here, to California. We were in love. I hadn't seen in her in so long . . . She was the only woman I'd ever loved, Buffy, I'm sorry."

He may as well have punched her for the impact of that statement.

"You never – you never loved me?" she asked on a whimper.

"I tried to. I did in a way, but never as much as I loved Fred. Our families worked very hard to keep us apart and we lost touch. I don't think I ever got over it, over her."

She closed her eyes and tears dropped. "All this time. . . " she whispered.

"I never wanted to hurt you Buffy. It just happened. I couldn't help it. You always said you believed in fate and destiny well I think that's what brought Fred back in my life."

"No, you moron, Spike brought her back in your life. You had a choice—"

"And my choice was to go with Fred."

"What about Lindsey?"

"I'll send for her, if she wants to see me. I've had papers drawn up already. It'll be quick and easy Buffy and I won't leave you wanting for anything. Think of it as my apology for the way I left. I realize it wasn't the best decision I could have made, but I had to follow my heart and I knew you'd try to stop me and Fred was afraid I wouldn't go through with it---"

"Yes, and let's all worry about what SHE wants instead of your family—"

"You should be getting the papers in a few days and I'll help provide for Lindsey. And as long as you agree and she wants to, she can come out here and visit us—"

"She's not going out there."

"Buffy, be reasonable."

"Reasonable? You fucking bastard, you LEFT us! You walked out of this house without saying a WORD to me. Lindsey thought you were going to the store with that tramp. You just . . . how could you just leave her like that, Angel? Leave me like that?"

"Buffy, I'm sorry. Please . . . try to understand."

"I understand that you're an asshole Angel and I wasted my life with you-"

"You didn't waste it. We had Lindsey and she's the best part of us isn't she?"

"She's not the best part of you and me, Angel. She's the best part of me and Spike."

Chapter Twelve

FLASHBACK

"I want to tell you something," Angel whispered urgently to Spike just as they got the signal that the ceremony was about to start.

"Now?" Spike whispered back.

"Yes, now. I have to tell someone and you're my best friend."

"Oh Jesus, you didn't sleep with anyone last night did you?" Spike moaned, watching as Willow, one of Buffy's bridesmaids, made her way down the aisle.

"No, nothing like that," and Angel shook his head.

"Then what?"

"The only girl I've ever truly loved with all my heart and soul. The only one I've ever lost my head for, I never told you about her," Angel looked almost frantic; wild.

"And you want to tell me NOW?"

"Just her name, that's all. Then I can let her go," his dark eyes bore into Spike's, willing him to listen. It was then that Spike fully understood what was happening: Angel was purging himself before he married Buffy.

"You'll be faithful to her, won't you?" Spike asked, concerned.

Angel nodded, "Yes, yes, of course," he said, shaking his head. "Her name, Will," he said almost frantically as the wedding march started. "Her name was Winnie." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and turned toward Buffy. "And now I have Elizabeth."

END FLASHBACK

"Angel? Angel?" Buffy said into the phone, still shaking with anger and barely registering the hand gripping her shoulder tightly. "He hung up! The bastard hung up on me!" Buffy exclaimed.

"Buffy, you're going to scare Lindsey. Calm down."

Frantically, Buffy pushed in star-six-nine. Busy signal. Frustrated, Buffy flung the phone away from her, and it slid across the counter before crashing down upon the floor.

"Buffy," Spike said emphatically and went to the phone just as Buffy burst into tears.

Spike changed course and took her in his arms as she sobbed. She held onto him tightly, grasping at him, needing to anchor herself to something.

"Buffy," he murmured, "Tell me what happened, baby."

"It's over. It's really over. I mean, I knew it was over, but . . . it never even was."

"What do you mean?"

"He—he never loved me. Her—he knew her. They were high school sweethearts and she moved away when they were sixteen. She was the only girl he ever loved. He never loved me." She buried her face in his chest, clutching at his shirt. "Lindsey in bed?"

"Yes. I heard the phone ring just as I was tucking her in and I asked her if I could forego the book for tonight. She told me it was fine."

She extracted herself from his embrace and went for the paper towels to wipe her tears. She blew her nose and dabbed her eyes. "Her whole family has fallen apart. The man she thought was her father isn't really her father—he said he's ‘send' for her. SEND for her," she laughed bitterly. "I couldn't do that, Spike. I'm sorry I told him that way, but I couldn't let him do that. I can't let her be sent for because he decided to up and move back to fucking California. I can't let her go see them –seeing the woman who took her daddy away from her."

"I'm her Daddy," Spike told her. "She's young, Buffy. We have to tell her soon. She'll bounce back from it much easier—"

"Than I will," Buffy whispered. "My whole marriage was a sham." She looked at him. "Guess I can ask you what it feels like to have someone tell you they've never really loved you huh?"

"You've never said that to me Buffy," he said shaking his head, "You've shown me that you don't love me, but. . . "

"But?"

"That's not important right now. What's important is figuring out what's next."

"Telling Lindsey. Getting a damn good divorce lawyer. He could hang me out to dry right now."

"No, he won't. He cheated on you first remember? You could site adultery on him. He took off—he doesn't have a leg to stand on. He abandoned you. He knows that. Trust me, he knows that."

"Apparently they've been quite busy moving back to California," Buffy shook her head. "I hate them."

"When I went to see my editor she told me Fred had been by, apparently having cleared out. Rhode Island must have been the first place they hit. I was going to tell you, but I wanted us to be alone when I did."

"Must be nice to feel like you have no obligations, no one to worry about getting hurt by your actions . . . " Buffy mused and then her eyes fell back on Spike who stood there, watching her. "So, this is definitely my karmic payback for keeping Lindsey from you, isn't it? I'm guilty of the same things, aren't I?"

"Buffy, stop," he came over to her and tried to gather her in his arms, but she stepped away from him.

"No, it's true, I am guilty too." Her eyes traveled to the ceiling, "Guess it's true what they say about the sins of the father huh? Lindsey has to pay for my mistakes."

"OUR mistakes, Buffy. You weren't alone in it."

"How can you want to be with me, Spike? I lied to you for so long, I kept your daughter from you and I loved another man. How can you stand it?"

Spike reached out and brushed some hair away from her face. "You can't help you love Buffy. I've loved you for so long, I don't think I know how to do anything else."

"Maybe you should try. I'm a mess."

"You're hurting. The one thing I've never been able to stand is to see you in pain. If you think I can just walk away now—"

She placed a hand on his arm. "No, I don't want you to walk away. I just . . . I don't want you to put all your eggs in one basket. I don't want to hurt you anymore than I have, Spike."

He gazed at her tenderly. "Don't you see that just by saying that, that means everything to me?"

"Spike, I have something I need to tell you."

"What?"

She took a deep breath. "That night—that night we made Lindsey . . . "

He held his breath, "Yes?"

"When I cried—"

"Yes?" he urged.

"It was because I wanted you so much. It was because I was so lost in you and how you made me feel. You made me forget my marriage. You made me feel so much that the whole world melted away and it scared me."

"Buffy—" he said and reached for her.

"No, Spike, not now," and she started to back away. "I just wanted to tell you. Nothing can come of it right now. You said it yourself, I'm hurting. And you don't want me that way, remember?"

He nodded, "I know," he said hoarsely.

"I just. . . I just thought you should know that. I don't want to keep telling lies anymore. They have a way of catching up to you, ya know?"

He nodded, "Don't I know it," he muttered.

She turned to leave and looked over her shoulder. "I'm glad you're back."

"If you need me, Buffy, you know—"

"I know. You're here. I think I need to learn to depend on myself more, don't you? It's how I've gotten myself into all these messes to begin with."

"Buffy—"

"You know it's true."

"I just want to be here for you," he whispered.

"You are, and it helps."

Chapter Thirteen

"Daddy! Watch me!" Lindsey called to Spike as she pumped her little legs on the swings. "Watch how I can go!"

"I'm watching, poppet!" Spike called back to her.

"I'm so glad I worried about telling her the truth," Buffy said dryly, resting her chin in her hand as she watched Lindsey.

William chuckled as he looked over at Buffy on the park bench table next to him. It was the weekend after Buffy had dropped the bomb on Angel. Two days later, they told Lindsey and she had taken to it like a duck to water.

"Does that mean that Daddy is my uncle now?" she'd asked.

"Yes, honey," Buffy'd said, thinking that Lindsey didn't have to worry Angel coming around and confusing her any time soon.

"Will I see him again?"

When Buffy had told her that might not happen, it was then that Lindsey had grown upset. "Will you stay?" she asked Spike.

"Never leave you again, poppet," Spike assured her.

That had assuaged her enough, though she did still ask the random question about Angel and his whereabouts. However, she seemed ever so pleased about Uncle Spike being her Daddy; yet she sometimes would ask out of the blue if he was going to stay or go.

"She's going to have abandonment issues when she's older," Buffy surmised.

"I've a feeling things will be pretty stable here on out," Spike assured her.

Buffy turned to him and raised a brow. "You think so?"

"I think so."

"Even with the divorce?"
"Even with the divorce. It'll be all quiet like."

Buffy shook her head, "Weirdo."

Spike chuckled and reached out, tugging on her braid, "Glad you came out today."

"Why wouldn't I? It's good for Lindsey to have us both with her. Especially now."

Spike nodded. "Right. For Lindsey, of course."

"Angel never spent much time with us," Buffy said thoughtfully.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" he mused.

"I wonder if he and Fred will have children," she wondered.

"Buffy—" Spike started on a weary sigh.

"When you'd come to visit, did you end up taking up most of the slack watching her?" Buffy asked, turning to look at him.

He stared at her and then answered. "Yeah, sometimes. I kind of put myself out there though, ya know? Wanted her to love me."

"She does," Buffy said and turned back to watching Lindsey. "You know what I find myself going over and over in my head?"

"Your marriage?"

"That weekend. I keep trying to remember if there were signs. Signs that I didn't want to see or just chalked up to . . . something."

"And?"

"Aside from the time they offered to get us a round of drinks. . . which happened a few times huh? Maybe there were signs."

"You were also hammered."

"Not the ENTIRE weekend."

"Buffy, it was one night."

"Not the point," she said petulantly. "Although, Angel was attentive when he was around me. More so than usual. He was over compensating probably."

"Does it really matter now?"

"Yes, it does. It does to me. I mean, there had to be SIGNS. There had to be—"

"And yet there weren't. They didn't want us to know Buffy."

She peered at him. "Are you all right?"

He sat there, ramrod straight staring straight ahead at Lindsey with a stern expression on his face. "I don't want to hear about it Buffy. I don't want to hear about how there had to be signs and when they made their plans because we just don't know and we might not ever know. I just want to spend the day with you and my daughter all right?"

"We're not one big happy family, Spike," she snapped before she could censor the thought. The stormy look on his face when he turned to look at her caused her to curse herself. "Look," she started, "I'm sorry. I didn't meant that—"

"Yes, you did. It's why you said it."

"I can't say anything right. What do you want me to say, Spike? You want me to tell you that I never loved my husband? Because I did. You want me to tell you that his leaving doesn't hurt me? Because it does. You want me to tell you that his telling me he never loved me doesn't kill me? Because it does and I can't help it. I can't help that you were walking around with all these feelings that I never knew about. I don't know what it is that you want me to do—"

"Just . . . Just go home, Buffy," he said, dismissing her.

"What?"

"I don't want to be around you right now."

"Then you go home!"

"Mommy?"

Their heads snapped to see Lindsey standing before them, fearful. "Mommy? Are you going to send Uncle-- I mean Daddy away?"

"No baby, I'm not going to send Daddy away," Buffy reassured her and reached for her daughter pulling her on her lap. But Daddy might send me away, Buffy thought.

******************************************************************************************

Later that night when Lindsey was in bed, Buffy was doing the dishes from dinner when Spike came in the kitchen and stood in the doorway watching her.

"Come to yell at me some more?" she asked, not bothering to turn around.

"I'm sorry."

That stopped her. She shut the water off and turned to him, leaning against the sink. "Are you now?"

He nodded, solemnly. "I am." He walked in and stood before her, raking a hand through his hair. "I know that you're going through a hard time and I just. . . I just . . ." he shook his head and looked down.

"You just what?"

He looked up at her, his eyes burning with intensity. "I just want to burn him out of your system, Buffy. I want to change the past; I want to fix the future. I want . . . I want to go back to high school where I never talked to you and fucking TALK to you. I want to go back to college and change it so that you never met Angel; so that you met me first. I want to make it so that you fell in love with me instead of him. And now . . . I have you to myself—"

She opened her mouth and he held up his hands. "Let me finish. I have you to myself and I still don't HAVE you because you're hurting from Angel. Always bloody Angel and I just--" he stepped closer to her, boxing her in with his body against the sink. His eyes bore into hers and her breath caught, feeling the heat begin to rise in her body. "I just want to burn him out of you," he rasped, "I want you—" and he kissed her, hard, deep and passionately. Her hands flew to his arms, clutching him to keep from falling over from the force of his passion. He clutched at her, bringing her close to him, holding her tight. He held her as if he wanted to pull her into himself.

"Spike—" she whispered when he broke briefly for air.

"Don't," he said tensely and nibbled at her bottom lip before claiming her mouth completely again. As quickly as it happened, it stopped. He released her, leaving her standing there gasping for air and feeling dazed. "Good night Buffy," he whispered. "See you in the morning," and he was gone.

Buffy slunk down to the floor, wondering when her knees had decided to leave her. She wasn't sure if he knew, but he had just taken a little piece of her heart previously marked ‘Angel' with him when he left. She wondered how long it'd be before he had the whole thing.

Time passed and life continued on. Every day things got a little bit better, although there were days when all Buffy wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there. Especially on the day the divorce papers arrived. She had come home from work and was feeling drained having had just an all around bad day. She wondered what would have been worse—having had a bad day and then getting slammed with papers or having a great day first and then getting slammed with them.

She knew as soon as she walked in the kitchen after having gotten mauled from Lindsey at the door, and found Spike at the table, the thick package in front of him. He looked grim and she knew; just knew.

She eyed the package, an unassuming thick manila clasp envelope. "Those them huh?"

Spike nodded. "They came Fed Ex."

"Would you like some tea?" she asked suddenly.

"Buffy—"

"How was Lindsey today?"

He seemed to sense that she was not up for talking about it or opening them just yet, so instead he humored her. "Why don't you go change and I'll make the tea?" he offered.

She nodded, "Good idea."

Running up the stairs, she sprinted into her room and sat down on her bed, trying to catch her breath. It wasn't the run up the stairs that did her in, but the knowledge that this was possibly it. "It" with a capital I and capital T. It was funny that she felt this way considering over the past month she'd made comments about wanting it to be over already, and wondering when Angel was going to make a move and hoping he would just do it already.

Well, he finally had and she wasn't ready to deal. Perhaps because being in limbo and waiting made it seem not real somehow. And possibly because she didn't anticipate that she would feel this way once they came. She'd imagined relief, but now all she felt was cold.

Spike had made it clear to her how he felt. He said he was in love with her; he said he wanted her and always had. Knowing he felt the way he did made her feel desirable and sometimes even lovable but then Angel's words would echo in her mind about how he never loved her—not really, anyway. She refused to seek him out and let him comfort her with his body and pretty words no matter how overwhelming the desire was at times. She wouldn't use him to assuage her pain and low self esteem over having never been loved or possibly wanted. It wasn't fair to Spike and she was done creating any more pain and complication where there didn't have to be. And, he'd been great. He and Lindsey were two peas in a pod and Spike was always there to help Buffy out of a jam, talk with her when she felt the need to vent, or just sit quietly with her when she didn't feel like talking. They were getting on so much better than before and she was loathe for that to end. She needed him. She needed the rock that he'd become and she wondered idly if that was a way of using him as well. Especially since she wasn't much closer to giving her heart to him; the idea of giving her heart to anyone filled her with dread.

Even if little things he did made her heart skip a beat and sometimes it felt as if he were chiseling away at it. She didn't want to overanalyze it though, she just wanted to ignore it.

Most of all, she just wanted to feel human again. Alive.

Knowing she couldn't avoid the inevitable forever, Buffy quickly changed and padded down the stairs and headed back to the kitchen where Spike was instructing Lindsey to put some milk in her tea.

"Can I go now?" Lindsey whined slightly.

"Sure poppet, what are you going to do?"

"I want to . . . play with my dolls on the deck. They need some sun."

Buffy giggled as her daughter pranced off and Spike shook his head, chuckling. "She's your daughter," he told her.

"She's definitely yours too. She's got your stubbornness."

His eyebrows raised, "MY stubbornness?" he said, poking himself in the chest with her finger. "Buffy, love, you've got stubbornness to spare."

Grabbing her tea, she sat down at the table, the package in the center. She stared at it as she sipped her tea. Spike sat next to her. "You don't have to open it now, pet. You can wait until you're ready."

"Then I might never open it."

He winced slightly at that.

She reached over and took his hand, "It's not . . . it's not because I feel the same way for Angel. It's just . . . he owned a large part of my life, Spike. I was his wife. I was Buffy O' Connor for so long and now I'm going to be Buffy Summers again. It's not like I'm just signing away a name, I'm signing away an entire way of life. It means I accept that he never loved me, that he left me, that he didn't want me—" she choked back the tears. "It's signing away the little traditions we had—decorating the tree with Lindsey at Christmas time or always having pancakes on Saturday mornings, going apple picking in the fall—I lived a whole life with him. I'm not closing a chapter, I'm closing an entire novel and putting it on a shelf for eternity.
And you think that it ends once you put it on the shelf, but it doesn't really. It just ends up being footnoted in the future. It doesn't completely wipe the slate clean. Instead, it leaves you with some baggage. Baggage that hopefully you can maintain and put away, but it never truly leaves, does it?" Sighing heavily she stood up and away from the table. She placed her hands on the sink ledge and stretched back with her legs.

"Buffy—"

"Can you do it? Open them for me and see what they say? If it's fair and all that?"

"I think you should be the one. It'll make it more real."

She let out a shrill laugh. "It's funny because how much more real do I need it to be?" she shook her head and bounced away from the sink, heading back toward the table with determination. "You're absolutely right. I should do it." She grabbed the package and tore into it with gusto; never again would she let a manila envelope stress her out. It tore easily open—just like her marriage.

She stared at the words for a minute, none of them registering, the only thing running in her mind being ‘This is it.'

"Well?"

"Sorry. Hold on." She sat down again and started to look them over. Spike stood and looked over her shoulder.

"Well, I'll be damned," Spike muttered.

"I can't believe it. I thought for sure after what I told him—"

"Told you he'd be all peaceful like," Spike said with a smile in his voice.

"And fair—HOW is THAT possible?"

"Buffy, he knows what he did. He walked out on his family, leaving you high and dry while he shacked up with another bird. Even if Lindsey was his, what he did would not be seen kindly by a divorce attorney. He also had a previous affair. Told you he didn't have a leg to stand on."

"I just – he's supporting me with enough to keep me well off for a very long time. I can even keep this place. But . . . " she stopped and looked up at Spike. "I don't want to."

He froze, "What?"

"I want to move."

"You want to move?" Spike said dumbly, a trace of fear in his voice. "Where?" he demanded then. "After I just moved out here to be with you and Lindsey—"

"Spike," she said calmly and placed her hand on Spike's arm. "I'm not going to move out of state—give me some credit here. You think I'd actually do that now?"

He looked at her sheepishly and then looked down at the floor, kicking at invisible dirt. "Well, no."

She raised a brow when he lifted his gaze back to hers. "Oh shut up. Not like you can bloody blame me for thinking the worst."

"I think I can. After all that's happened, you think I'd keep you from Lindsey now?"

"Well, no," and then he grinned guiltily, "I wasn't thinking so much that you'd keep her from me or move alone out of state. I was thinking you'd take me with you—"

She laughed and swatted him on the arm. "And you were worried about all the money you'd just sunk into moving."

He nodded, "Yeah, that's it."

"So presumptuous," she chided him gently.

"Wishful thinking that you'd want me with you," he whispered.

She stared at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "I do want you with me Spike."

His gaze was hopeful and it crushed her to have to crush him. "And all that entails exactly, I'm not quite sure of yet. I just know that I like having you here and I know Lindsey loves having you here—"

He held up a hand, "Say no more, pet. I've got my crumb. It's more than I thought I'd get and I'll take it and be happy with it, okay?"

She smiled, "Thanks. I know how frustrating it must be for you. I get frustrated with it all. I just keep waiting for it to go away . . . "

He sat down next to her and took her hand in his, "You just gotta let time do its thing, Buffy. The harder you try, the worse it can get and the more frustrating it is. Sometimes you just have to let time take over and work it out for you. It has a way of doing that."

She cocked her head to the side, studying him. "Has time done that for you?"

He nodded and kissed her hand, "I'm sitting here aren't I?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

He looked taken back by that for a second and then gathered himself. He shook his head, "What was the point? You were taken with Angel when I met up with you again."

"No, Spike, the first time. In high school."

"You were the most popular girl in school, Buffy. You had your pick of jocks and a gaggle of snooty girls with you all the time. No way would you have even considered a nerd like me. And I didn't think my self-esteem could take being shunned by not only you, but then ridiculed by everyone who found out about nerdy William making a play for Popular Buffy Summers."

"You underestimated me. That was always your problem, Will. Everyone does that and can I just tell you how damn frustrating that is? Not that I'm good at helping it any. I underestimate myself all the time so it's not like I should complain or be surprised when others do it."

"Buffy—wait. What are you saying? If I'd have asked you out—"

"I would have said yes," she told him quietly. "I remembered you, you know. I knew who you were. I found you interesting."

He snorted, "Interesting. That gives a bloke some hope, Buffy."

She laughed, "Well, if you knew how uninteresting the jocks were in high school were, you'd see that as a huge compliment. You were in my freshman English class."

Spike blinked at her, "You remember all that?"

"Yes, I do. I remember thinking that I'd like to get to know you better, but sadly, I never did."

"Popularity called?" he said dryly.

"More like caught up in the drama that was popularity. It seemed like I was having the time of my life, Will, but I really wasn't. I always felt as if I was walking on eggshells because really, I was."

"And all that time, you wanted to know ME?" he said in disbelief.

She nodded, "I never thought you'd want to talk to me though. You were always so smart and I figured you'd think I was a ditz."

His eyes sparkled, "If you only knew how much I wanted you to talk to me. I couldn't take my eyes off you and when you laughed . . . I felt my whole body light up."

"That's so sweet," she said on a sharp intake of breath.

He reached out and caressed the side of her face, sweeping some hair away from her face. "I was devastated when you moved. Thought I'd lost you forever and knew no one else could compare."

"Will, how –" she swallowed, trying to reign in the emotion he was invoking within her. Her body felt as if it were breaking out in a sweat. "How were you able to love so intensely then? I never thought something like that was possible."

"You never loved any of those jocks, I take it?"

"A world of no," she admitted, shaking her head.

"I don't know how to explain it really. It was just . . . it was something that punched me in the gut and settled there. I saw you on my first day walking down the hall with all these girls around you and they were all peons compared to you. You were their leader – to me anyway. You were laughing and you shone so bright and something inside me just said ‘This One'. My Da had told me it was the same for him when he met my mom. He said it was a Bradley tradition for the men to fall instantly." He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "I never tried because I never thought I had a chance. Then you moved away only to meet up again in college. But by then, you belonged to someone else. Again."

She looked down. "I should have talked to you then."

He tilted her chin up to look at him, "Fate and destiny, Buffy, remember? I'm beginning to think it brought us here right now. Sure we let the chance slip through our fingers before, but then I met you again all those years later we were brought together again and now . . . now we share a daughter."

"I wish it didn't have to include so much heartache," Buffy whispered, slipping from him and standing to make her way to check on Lindsey who was playing with her dolls still. Buffy wrapped her arms around herself. "Just think if we'd just have gotten it right the first time."

"Life is never that easy. Have to work hard for the things you want."

"You forget that I wanted my husband," Buffy whispered.

"How could I have ever forgotten that?" Spike asked, his voice choking with the hurt of that truth. He stood and came over to her, but giving her some space. "Give me a chance, Buffy. Let me show you how good it can be with me. Please."

She stared at him for a long while. "I thought the crumb I gave you was enough."

"I want to make you happy. Let me try, please."

"I'm broken."

"I'll help mend you."

"I don't want to use you."

He shook his head. "You won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I believe in you and the fact that it's a fear of yours tells me you'll be conscious of it."

Her eyes shone with unshed tears and her expression softened. "I could lose myself in you. I did before," she whispered.

"Let me try," he whispered, "Let yourself try."

She gazed at him," What did you have in mind?"

He took a deep breath, one born of relief, "A date. Let me take you out for a date."

"Lindsey—"

"We'll ask the next door neighbor. Just say yes Buffy and I'll take care of the rest."

"Yes."

FLASHBACK

"William?" Fred began, sounding almost fearful.

"Yeah?" Spike returned absently. They were on their way to the O' Connor household and needless to say, it was making Spike tense. Here he was, taking a girl with him. He couldn't help the thought that had come unbidden when he'd invited Fred to come along. The thought that maybe Buffy would care.

Maybe she'd be jealous.

He'd dismissed the thought as quickly as it came because in all honesty, Buffy wouldn't care. Not when she had her precious Angel. Nothing mattered when he was around. With that thought, Spike gripped the steering wheel tighter. All he was doing was killing himself with thoughts of her and Angel making happy family with his daughter. His. Lindsey was his dammit.

But Angel is what makes her happy, the nagging voice in his head told him. Nagging, whining, pain in the ass—

And that's why he kept quiet. To make Buffy happy. Which was also why he'd hired a Private Investigator to check up on Angel every couple of months. Just to make sure his once best friend was keeping it in his pants and being faithful to the woman Spike couldn't even conceive of leaving if she were his. If. What a mighty big if.

He'd be lying if thoughts of their night together didn't plague him. Oh, they did. The way she felt in his arms—as if she were made to be there. The way she moaned, the way she arched into his touch. How soft she was, the scent of her—

The way she'd cried. God, that had ripped his soul apart to hear her cry. To hear her cry and know that the person she wanted him to be was Angel. He could well up at the thought still.

But he wouldn't.

Had to be strong and strong he would be. For --- For who exactly? For Lindsey? For himself? For Buffy? He wasn't sure any longer. It was getting harder and harder to keep his feelings at bay, to keep himself from claiming what was his. He knew her first dammit and he'd never have cheated on her and Lindsey. . . God, Lindsey. His beautiful daughter.

Instead he'd had to settle for being the favorite uncle. He wanted Father's Day gifts and Father's Day attentions. He wanted "World's Greatest Dad" mugs and ties that he'd never wear . . . he wanted to be there on her first day of school and he'd wanted to be there when she started walking.

Tears stung his eyes and he took a deep breath and swallowed hard, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. Trying to swallow down his anger, his resentment and his love.

So yes, that's why he'd invited Fred. Besides, she was a smart bird, a good conversationalist. She was a tad mysterious too, and maybe one day, he'd really be interested in uncovering her secrets. One day.

When he was over Buffy.

And monkey's might fly out of my ass, he thought bitterly.

"I lied. I know Angel better than I said I did," Fred said.

"What?" Spike said, nearly barking at her. He'd gotten lost in his musing and had almost forgotten she was talking to him.

"I said, I lied to you about how well I know—well, knew Angel."

He glanced sideways at her. "Oh? And how well do you know him?"

"We were lovers."

That nearly caused Spike to go off into the next lane. Not a good idea on a two lane highway.

"What?!"

Fred took a deep breath and fidgeted with her hands in her lap. "Angel and I, we weren't just good friends in high school before I moved. We were lovers. I lied to you."

"Why? Why did you lie to me about something like that?"

"Because I was afraid you'd tell me not to come. And I needed to come."

"You were lovers? Exactly how serious—what did he call you?"

"What?" Fred asked, confused.

"What did he call you? You know, a nickname."

"Winnie."

That did it. Throwing on the hazards, Spike pulled over to the side of the highway, causing a yelp of surprise from Fred when he swerved and slammed on the brakes. He threw the car in park and turned to her, glaring. "You're Winnie?"

She stared at him wide-eyed. "Y-yes."

Spike shook his head, "Bloody hell."

"What is it?"

"I can't fucking believe this!" he exclaimed and threw his head back, closing his eyes. "He told me about you! He told me about you just before Buffy walked down the sodding aisle."

"He did?" there was hope in her voice.

"Yes, he did. Fucking bastard was about to get married to Buffy and he tells me about you. All with the purging of the soul before he entered into wedded fucking bliss. Course then he only cheated on her—" he broke off and popped his head back up, glaring back at her. "What the fuck are you playing at Fred?"

Her bottom lip quivered and Spike tried to feel sorry for her.

"I had to see him. It's been years."

"He has a family and you knew each other back in fucking high school—"

"Same for you and Buffy then, isn't it?" she snapped.

His glare fell and he was sure barely concealed shock and maybe guilt was reflected instead.

"Oh come on," Fred snorted, "Like I didn't know. The way you talk about her, the way you mention her at least a dozen times in one conversation, William? She's all over your damn work. A blind monkey could see it. You haven't done very well in concealing it."

"Why didn't you say something?" he whispered raggedly.

"I guess because I understand what it's like to love someone and keep it bottled up inside."

"I thought misery loved company."

"Not when you're used to keeping it close to you and not wanting to share with someone how you've managed to love someone for what feels like forever. People tend to think you're crazy for holding onto something like that."

Spike looked away, watched the cars whiz by and wondered just what he'd gotten himself into now. "Figures. Why wouldn't you have been Angel's? I seem to be drawn to his women like a moth to a flame."

"Buffy can be yours, William."

He turned his head slowly to her, his mind racing with the implications of that statement. "Excuse me?"

"She can be yours."

"Are you saying--?"

"That's all I'm saying."

"I can't break up their family, Fred," he said angrily, "I couldn't just waltz in there and hurt them like that. Not Buffy, not my little girl, not—" he froze, realizing what he'd just let slip in that heat of the moment.

Fred's eyes widened and her hand flew over her mouth with a gasp.

"Don't say anything," he demanded hoarsely, "You can't say anything—"

"It's your family then isn't it Will?"

He shook his head and thunked it against the steering wheel. "This isn't happening to me."

"Will, you don't know that Angel even wants me. He has been married to Buffy a long time. I just . . . I just need to see him. Can you understand that? If you truly don't want me to go, then turn around now and take me home. I'm putting the choice in your hands."

He heard her sharp intake of breath and he stopped breathing for a minute too. The choice was in his hands. To go or not go. To risk or not to risk. The answer seemed simple. Do the right thing

But what was the right thing? Was keeping his daughter from him the right thing? Was living a lie the right thing? He knew Angel barely saw his family due to his work schedule. He also knew that Angel could probably afford to cut back on his hours now, but chose not to. He chose to distance himself from his ‘family.' He also knew that while Angel claimed to love Lindsey, he got the distinct impression he loved her only because he was ‘supposed to' and not because she was a special little girl.

He knew Angel wasn't happy, but content. He knew because Angel had told him. They went through the motions, but they never truly lived. And he knew if Angel was feeling that way, then Buffy was feeling that way ten fold for she was tuned into Angel and his goddamn moods and whims. She would just never admit it.

Goddamn stubborn woman.

So, what was the right thing? And what harm would be done by simply bringing and old flame – old dammit—to their home. It wasn't as if anything would happen. It was innocent. Just because Fred harbored those feelings didn't mean Angel still did.

"The only girl I've ever truly loved with all my heart and soul. The only one I've ever lost my head for, I never told you about her," Angel looked almost frantic; wild.

"And you want to tell me NOW?"

"Just her name, that's all. Then I can let her go," his dark eyes bore into Spike's, willing him to listen. It was then that Spike fully understood what was happening: Angel was purging himself before he married Buffy.

"You'll be faithful to her, won't you?" Spike asked, concerned.

Angel nodded, "Yes, yes, of course," he said, shaking his head. "Her name, Will," he said almost frantically as the wedding march started. "Her name was Winnie." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and turned toward Buffy. "And now I have Elizabeth."

Without a word, and pushing all thought from his head, merely going on autopilot, Spike pulled the car back onto the highway and headed back on his way to the O' Connor household.

END FLASHBACK

Buffy couldn't believe it, but she was actually nervous about going out with Spike. And it wasn't that she was nervous because she thought she'd have a bad time, no, she was nervous because she found she wanted everything to go well and she wanted to impress him. It was laughable considering everything they'd been through. And yet, there it was.

She took it as a good sign. A sign that she was moving on. It certainly gave her something else to focus on instead of Angel. Instead she found herself wondering what he had planned for her and what she was going to wear and pondering buying herself a new outfit. In fact, she'd convinced herself to do just that. She'd buy two: One in case it was a casual affair and one in case it was something she needed to dress up for.

Standing in Filene's, holding up a ‘little black dress' Buffy found herself wondering if Spike would like it. It hit her then. This was the first time she'd wondered what someone other than her husband would think of how she looked. She spun to eye herself in the full length mirror and shuddered.

Spike wanted to go out with her? Why? Silly Buffy, she scolded herself, he loves you. He's said it enough. Besides, she continued reprimanding herself, love is not how you look, it's about who you are. Though . . . with almost two inch roots, dark circles under her eyes and clothes hanging off her body, she imagined that she was a far cry from the cheerleader Spike had fallen in love with back in high school. Marriage, a child and maintaining a home would do that to a person. Not to mention losing your husband, unloading terrible secrets and feeling incredible guilt for said secrets.

Gazing at herself, she decided she was going to treat herself. She was going to get her hair done, buy some new makeup and start putting some life back into her. She wasn't dead, she was just . . . still. So maybe it was time to kick start her new life as a divorced woman. And why not? Angel was off banging his old/new girlfriend and living his life, there was absolutely no reason why she couldn't start living hers.

She felt a surge go through, as if someone had turned on a light switch inside her that had been dark for so long. What was joyous about it was that it wasn't anyone but her that was the cause of it. Sure, Spike had set it in motion, but it was her doing ultimately that felt the click go off inside her. She wanted to feel alive again for her. She wanted to look good, not for Spike, but for her.

It was, quite simply, time.


Buffy nearly flew home, feeling freer than she had in a long, long time. She was even smiling. Grabbing her bags and humming to herself she breezed into the house, smiling at Spike who was watching her in amusement.

"Hi," she greeted him. "Lindsey in bed?"

He nodded. "How was the shopping, kitten?" he asked.

"Wonderful."

He cocked his head to the side, studying her. He took her hand then and guided her into the living room where it was well lit. He proceeded to walk around her. "Your hair. It's different." He stood before her and reached out, fingering the shorter hair that fell to her shoulders with some of her original brunette woven in with the golden strands. He smiled affectionately at her, "I like it. I like it a lot. And this," he gestured to her smile, "I like that the most. I haven't seen it in a long time."

"That's because I haven't done it in a long time."

"Any special reason?" he asked.

"I took a long hard look at myself and decided that I need to start living. I decided it to make some changes in the hopes that when I start feeling good about how I am on the outside, maybe it'll help with the inside."

"Isn't that supposed to be the other way around?" he teased.

She laughed breezily, "What can I say? I'm vain. And, it's worked wonders. I snipped off some married hair—"

"'Married hair'?" Spike asked, clearly amused.

"Yes, married hair is hair that I had when married. I'm no longer married—well, soon I won't be anyway, and I decided it was time to change it. Kind of commemorate the shift in my life. I got some new clothes and makeup too. I want to move even more now by the way and I've decided that I'm going to start cleaning out Angel's crap. To show how kind I can be, I'll even box it up and mail it to him and the rest, I'll burn."

"Burn?"

"Yep," she nodded enthusiastically, her hair bobbing with her, "Burn. You can do it with me if you want. Think of how cathartic that would be; banishing Angel from our lives once and for all. Whaddya say?"

He smiled broadly, "I'm game, completely on board. Kitten, I'm so happy to see you smiling again." He scooped her up in his arms, her bags falling to the floor, causing Buffy to let out a slight ‘eep' of surprise. "I have to kiss you, I hope you don't mind?"

She met his eyes and smiled dreamily, "Kiss me."

His eyes shone with such happiness that she felt happy for having done that. It was a powerful feeling to know that she, Buffy Summers, formerly Buffy O' Connor, could make someone happy. Someone aside from her daughter anyway.

She let herself fall into the kiss, let his tongue tangle with her own and gave herself up fully to the feel of his soft, full lips against hers, to the way his fingers were slowly stoking a fire within her just by gently caressing her sides, to the way her fingers felt in his short, soft curls. She felt like one of the women in the old movies she used to watch with her mother who would kiss their suitor at the end of the movie, and one leg would bend and lift seemingly of it own volition due to the ecstasy of one kiss.

And it was someone who was not her husband. Specifically, it was the father of her daughter and the only man besides her husband who could ever make her truly melt. And, if she was honest with herself, he made her melt quicker than Angel ever had.

This time, she had nothing to feel guilty about. This time, she could just allow herself to feel and not think. It felt heavenly.

"Buffy," Spike gasped when he released her to breathe. He pressed his forehead to hers and she met his eyes once more. "God, Buffy, what you do to me," he whispered wistfully.

She shifted slightly so that she could feel his erection pressing firmly against her. Her eyes fluttered shut.

"Look at me," he demanded softly, tugging on her hair gently.

Her eyes popped open and he smothered her in a heated kiss. Wrapping herself around him live a vine, she thrilled in the feel of him, of how hard and perfectly male he was. "Spike," she whimpered, "You feel so good."

"I do?" he stared at her dazed, searching her face for the truth of her words.

She nodded, "So, so good," she whispered. "And it's not because you're here and you're male, it's you. You made me feel this when we . . . when we . . . "

"When I made love to you," he finished, his eyes gazing at her in adoration. "Next time—"

She placed a finger on his lips and smiled when he kissed it. "One step at a time, okay?"

He nodded, "I never thought I'd have just this."

Instead of kissing him, she hugged him. She hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder and just enjoying the feel of having his arms simply comforting her, supporting her, holding her. He was more than just her daughter's father, more than just someone who professed his love to her without thinking he was—

"You're my friend, Spike, truly my friend."

He stiffened in her arms and she smiled and turned her head to press a kiss to his neck. "It's a good thing, Spike. When we were in college, we were friends, right?"

"Yes," he rasped.

"And then you were there when I needed you for so long and I depended on you. I took a lot, but never gave--"

"Buffy—"

"Let me finish. And now you're here and you're giving all over again. You've been so good to me. I mean, you have been a bastard at times—"

They both laughed.

"And I've been a bitch," she continued. "But, we've had some good talks you and I. We've come a long way from being at each other's throats. I care what happens to you Spike. I care if you're happy—though it might not always seem that way. I do though."

"I know you do, Buffy. You're so worried about hurting me, I know you care."

"Which is why you're my friend; my best friend. I don't know that Angel ever was. He never got me quite the way you did."

She pulled back slightly and looked up at him, studying him. He watched her and nuzzled her hand when she cupped the side of his face. She smiled. "Thank you for being my friend."

"You don't have to thank me," he whispered.

"I am anyway."

He smiled and leaned in, kissing her sweetly. They held on to each other once they'd broken apart and simply stood there, just being.


"How do I need to dress for our date? When is our date anyway?" Buffy asked later as she walked him to the door.

"Friday, and dress casual."

"Where are you taking me?"

He grinned, "I want it to be a surprise."

She bit her lip and smiled mischievously, "Come on, tell me. I can see you want to. Just tell me!"

He laughed, "Okay, what has always been your idea of a perfect first date?"

"An amusement park." She squeeled and hugged him fiercely. "Are we going to an amusement park?"

"Yes," he laughed in delight, "and dinner. I made arrangements with the next door neighbor to watch Lindsey for the night. I wasn't sure how late we'd run and figured I'd cover all bases."

"So thoughts of getting lucky never crossed your mind?" she teased.

He actually blushed. "Buffy, I'm not asking for anything more than what you've given me just by agreeing to go out with me. I'm not asking for anything."

Buffy smiled broadly and hugged him tightly, "I know William. I know. And I can't wait."

He buried his face in her neck, "Me neither, Buffy, me neither."

Friday. Date day. And here Buffy was, nervous again. She'd thought about nothing else all day but that night. She wasn't sure exactly why she should be nervous anymore. She'd seen Spike every day that week since she'd gotten rid of ‘Married Hair.' She'd kissed him—or as he called it – snogged with him every night leading up to D-Day. Stolen moments when Lindsey was not in the room was spent kissing fervently; and when Lindsey had gone to bed. Both had agreed that it wasn't time to tell Lindsey anything. There was no need to tell her anything until things were definite. Buffy had been concerned that Spike would be hurt by that, but he'd understood. One date and a few kisses didn't mean a relationship—no matter the history. And honestly, the history was something that still needed working through. That certainly didn't dissipate with a few kind words and kisses either.

Though kind words were helping a great deal. Kind words instead of barely veiled insults and digs. Honesty instead of lies. Smiles instead of scowls.

Buffy smiled dreamily at her reflection in the mirror as she studied her appearance. She was imagining Spike's face when she kissed him. The look of awe on his face was miraculous to her. Never had anyone—not even her ex husband—had ever looked at her that way. It made her feel as if she were indeed something special.

When really; it was him that was special.

She'd never met a man that gave of himself so easily and without thinking. There were no barriers to break through when it came to Spike sharing how he felt with her. She wondered if had ever given of himself so easily to anyone—though he said she was the only one, he must have tried with someone. Some lucky girl that didn't know just how lucky she really was.

Buffy was just figuring out how lucky she truly was.

"Fred's loss and my gain," Buffy said aloud as she grabbed her black jacket and shrugged into it. She'd dressed casual—jeans, purple t-shirt, her jacket and comfortable black shoes. Her hair was pulled back away from her face with black clips and she wore small silver hoops in hears. Her make up was light, yet flattering, her green eyes popping out with the light shimmery purple powder on her lashes.

She nodded happily at her appearance. She was ready to tackle some roller coasters now. Spike had brought Lindsey over to the neighbor's just before he left so Buffy would have time to get ready. Then he'd gone to his place to get ready before he picked her up.

The doorbell ringing let her know he'd arrived. She smiled; the man was determined to make this as much a real date as possible. He could just waltz through the door the way he usually did, but he was being all proper by ringing the doorbell instead.

It made her melt.

And when she opened the door, she thought she was ready to tackle more than just the roller coasters. She was ready to tackle Spike. God, he was gorgeous. He wore faded blue jeans that were snug in all the right areas, a tight blue t-shirt that made his eyes pop and a short worn leather jacket. He smiled broadly and held out his hand, extending a rose to her.

"Hello gorgeous," he said huskily, his eyes twinkling.

She took the rose and brought it to her nose, inhaling its delicate fragrance while grinning at him. "You're sweet, thank you."

"Waited a long time to do this Buffy. Want to make it right."

She smirked at him and gestured for him to come in. She strolled to the kitchen and looked at him over her shoulder, "Is this as much for you as it is for me?"

"Well," he started sheepishly. He blushed again. How cute was that?

"It's okay, Spike. I just hope that I'm how you imagined me to be on our date."

"You'll surpass what I've imagined I'm sure," he told her passionately.

Her breath hitched at that and her hands shook as she grabbed a vase out of the cabinet and proceeded to fill it with water. "I never got to ask you how Lindsey was before you were carting her off to the neighbor's."

He smiled, "She was fine, luv. She wants a Batman action figure."

Buffy giggled, "Oh really?"

"We went to the park and she wanted to play in the sandbox and there were a couple boys in there and they had them. She seemed quite intrigued by the whole idea. I think she just wants to kick some ass."

Buffy laughed, "It must be in her genes."

Spike chuckled, "You must be talking about yourself because I'm a lover, not a fighter."

Buffy grinned saucily and placed the vase in the center of the counter. She strolled up to him casually and pecked his lips quickly. "I know."

*********************************************************
Buffy could not stop laughing in spite of the fact that she should be sympathetic to Spike's current plight. His current plight being incredibly green from motion sickness on the two loop roller coaster they'd just gone on. He had been so manly about going on it, puffing up his chest and saying how he could handle it, he was no wuss. Then they'd climbed off and she noticed how sick he'd gotten from it.

He glared at her, "Thank you."

She giggled, "Come on. I'll get you some ginger ale. It'll settle your stomach." And she took his hand, tugging him to a concession stand.

He moaned, "I'm afraid to move."

"Keep looking up, don't look down," she directed him. "Why don't you have a seat, and close your eyes for a bit. There's a bench right over there," she said pointing a few feet away.

"If I call you Nurse Buffy will you dress like one?" he weakly attempted a joke.

She giggled. "Good to know you've lost none of your sauciness."

*********************************************************

"I knew you liked amusement parks pet, I just never knew how much of a dare devil you were with them," Spike said a little while later as they sat together on the bench. He sipped his ginger ale, color coming back to his face and she munching on fried dough.

"How'd you manage to miss that I was a dare devil? I married Angel didn't I?" And she laughed, a full out belly laugh, at her own joke.

It took a minute, as if he weren't sure if he should laugh at that, but then after watching her laugh, Spike joined her laughter. "It's so good to hear you laugh," he told her, settling his cup in his lap. "Are you having a good time, kitten?"

She nodded and started talking around the wad of dough in her mouth. "I'm having a great time."

He laughed, "How's that dough?"

She blushed, "Sorry," and she swallowed. "Are you having fun? Despite getting sick?"

"I am. I think I just got sick because we went on that roller coaster before that one. I don't think I can take two in a row."

"Excuses, excuses," she teased. "And you know-- we could take Linds here some weekend. They have a whole kiddie section." She pointed at him, "Hey, did you want to start over there and work your way up to the big rides?" She laughed as he lunged at her with a growl, knocking his ginger ale to the ground. She jumped up, dumping the rest of her dough into a trash can, and sprinted into the crowd with Spike on her heels.

***********************************************************

Spike caught up with her at the Ferris wheel, managing to grab her from behind and wrapping his strong arms around her front and hauling her up against him.

"You're in for it now, Princess," he told her and bit her neck lightly.

She giggled as his fingers then took quest and tickled her sides. He spun her around and growled again before claiming her lips with his.

"You glow, Buffy," he told her softly when they'd broke their kiss.

She wobbled a bit on her feet and held onto him for support.

"Are you sick now?" he asked, smirking.

She buried her face in his neck, "No, you're just really good at that?"

"At what?"

She pinched his arm, "Fishing for compliments? That's so unlike you."

He chuckled. "Let's get on this ride. It's slow; I think I can handle it before you take me on another death defying ride."

Her head popped up and she looked up at the Ferris wheel and then at him. "You want to go on that?" she jerked her thumb to the ride.

"Too slow for you?" he teased.

"Uh, too high for me," she admitted weakly.

His eyes popped, "Buffy, since we've been here you've been on the ride that shoots you a hundred feet in the air and drops you, on every roller coaster – and you're telling me the Ferris Wheel scares you?"

"One of the great mysteries of Buffy. Roller coasters give me a rush –which I really do think has to do with the fact that you could plummet to the ground and die at any moment – and Ferris wheels freak me out. I think it's because they're so slow. Too much time to think about plummeting to the ground and dying."

Spike laughed and brought her into his arms, "You won't die. I'll protect you."

"Comforting coming from the man that got sick on the last roller coaster."

He kissed her quickly, "Hush up you. Come on," he took her hand and led her to the line. It was a small line and they got on immediately. Climbing in, he buckled them in and closed the bar. He had just slid his arm around Buffy's shoulder when it lurched forward and up. Buffy's stomach lurched with it as she watched the people below her get smaller and smaller.

"Buffy, relax," Spike said calmly, bringing her closer to his side.

Her hand gripped the bar in front of her so tight her knuckles were turning white. Their seat started to rock gently. Her eyes flew open and she turned to him. "Are you doing that?"

He chuckled softly, "Sorry. Couldn't resist."

"You suck!"

"A side of you I had yet to see tonight," he shook his head. "It's amazing I tell you."

"I'm an enigma."

"You got that right."

"Just how long are we going to be sitting here anyway? For the love of Pete, can't they just go?"

"Buffy, look at me."

She turned to him and gulped. The intense look on his face made her skin feel suddenly hot and caused moisture to pool between her legs. He looked about ready to devour her. He used his free hand to cup the side of her face, his eyes nearly black.

Leaning in, he nibbled on her bottom lip. She moaned and he covered her mouth with is, plundering her tongue with his. He snuggled her closer to him, so that she was very nearly on his lap and he held her tight against him as he kissed her thoroughly.

She hadn't noticed they'd moved until the ride attendant cleared his throat to let them know they could now climb out. It was with great reluctance, and on wobbly legs that had nothing to do with her fear of the ride, that Buffy left the Ferris wheel.

The thought passed through her mind that the rush she felt from his kisses was more incredible than the rush of a roller coaster.


**And it is possible to love roller coasters and be petrified of Ferris wheels...I am! LOL**

Spike pulled into the O’ Connor driveway and guilt slammed him instantly. The ride from the moment Fred had admitted knowing Angel and he had admitted his paternal rights to Lindsey, had been silent. The kind of silence with two people deep in their own thoughts of growing doubt for what they were about to do.

Spike couldn’t have cared less how Fred felt. She’d lied to him. Not that he’d been Joe Honesty himself, but her lie was one intended to possibly break a family apart; hurt Buffy, hurt his daughter.

His lie was more of a lie to himself; that another woman could ever mean more, or even come close to, what he felt for Buffy.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Spike blurted out as he turned off the ignition.

“I know,” Fred said, emotionless.

He turned to her, “Can you?”

She smiled, a guilty smile. “I have to, William. If I don’t . . . I’ll never know.”

“What is it you want to know, Fred? If he still loves you? If he wants to break up his family to make a go of it with you?” He shook his head. “How selfish are you?”

Her eyes flashed, “What about you? I gave you the choice and here we are, aren’t we? Is attacking me your way of making yourself feel better? Some kind of moral superiority tactic so you can at least say you tried to get me to run off with my tail between my legs? Is that what you really want? Or do you want Buffy and your daughter with you?”

“You don’t even know what the outcome will be!” Spike nearly screamed at her.

“Hey,” Angel said, appearing on the driver’s side, leaning on the open car window to look in the car. He was grinning at Spike. “What are you two—“ his gaze went to Fred’s and his grin fell. He stared at her in utter shock. “Winnie?”

“What would you like to do now, kitten?” Spike asked, smiling at her as they weaved through the crowd from the Ferris wheel.

To Buffy, it was a slightly smug smile. He knew he made her turn to mush on the Ferris wheel and he was thoroughly enjoying it. Not that she wanted to begrudge him that victory. How long exactly had he carried that torch for her? Oh yes, since high school. Only to be reunited with her later while she was head over heels for his then best friend. It’d been a long time coming for Spike.

And, for her too. Her life was Angel was not wrought with the same intensity and passion she had in just a conversation with Spike. Angel had awakened her sexually in college, and she’d thought she’d had it great. Until of course she’d slept with Spike a few years later. She had never admitted exactly that to him, but he’d been an incredible lover. For Buffy, she’d always enjoyed the act of sex, but far more the intimacy and the closeness of being with the other person. The love. When she and Spike had made love, her world had been rocked. He put so much of himself into the act, that she felt it in every cell of her body.

She could admit now, with no guilt, that he’d taken a piece of her heart then. She’d just been too consumed with guilt and fear to admit it.

Until now of course.

So, yes, she didn’t want to take that arrogant pride of making her weak in the knees away from Spike. She just wanted to do the same to him; wanted to feel her power as a woman desired. And she only wanted to do that to him, not just anyone. Angel stripped away her confidence when he’d left and admitted to her that he never truly loved her. It was taking some time for her to heal from that and Spike was part of that process. He made her feel wanted; he made her feel loved and he made her feel desired.

Besides, she hadn’t flirted with anyone in a long, long time. She’d forgotten how fun it could be.

“Let’s go to your place,” she said nonchalantly and watched his reaction out of the corner of her eye.

He stopped, nearly causing the people behind him to bump into him. His eyes were wide as he gaped at her.

She stopped, a few feet ahead of him and smirked. “Are you feeling sick again?”

“Buffy,” he said, coming to stand in front of her, “Did you say you wanted to go back to my place?”

She shrugged, “Yeah, why not?”

“Buffy, I’m not—I don’t want to push you for anything. That’s not what this is about.”

She shook her head, “William. Just because I want to go to your place it doesn’t mean we’re going to have sex. It doesn’t mean I want sex right now. It just means that I don’t want this night to end yet and since I haven’t been to your place since you moved in, I want to go there. Not everything has to have a meaning or motive. I just want to spend more time with you on our date. I have the whole night, remember? If you want, we could go somewhere and get a drink if you—“

He held up a hand, halting her. “No. I just – I just want to make it clear that I’m not trying for anything here.”

“You have. A thousand times over. Come on, don’t you at least like the thought that maybe you’ll get lucky?” And she smiled at him, nudging him with her elbow.

He grinned and then groaned, “Saucy minx.”

“You like it.”

He reached out and cupped her face with his hand, “I do. I like everything you have to give me.”

She nuzzled his palm and took his hand from her face and laced her fingers through his. “Let’s go.” Then, in the parking lot, “You got food?”

“Kitten, you ate fried dough, cotton candy, two hot dogs, chips, had two big fountain soda’s and half a candy apple. You’re still hungry?” he asked incredulously.

She smiled and kissed him quickly. “Ravenous.”

He grinned, “That’s my girl.”


“So, this is Casa de Spike,” Buffy said as she entered Spike’s first floor apartment. It was medium sized, with a window overlooking the parking lot in the living room along with a large entertainment system that she knew he got more for the stereo system than the TV and DVD player. The walls were still slightly bare aside from the random Van Gogh or Monet, which was testament to his artist inclination. The walls were eggshell white and they stretched to an alcove which held a small kitchen just beyond that, fit for one. Down the hall was a study where he retreated to write, and his bedroom, to the left of the large entertainment center was the only room in the apartment he’d spent time on decorating. And by decorating, he’d painted the walls dark red. He had his acceptance letter from his current publishing company framed, along the cover of his first book. Currently, he was working on his second.

She knew that he now had some pictures of Lindsey on the wall as well. She remembered him scouring the photo albums for pictures of her as a baby, and that was not counting the one’s he’d taken when he’d visit; or the ones Angel had sent him. When she stepped into his room however to see said pictures of Lindsey, she was surprised to find a picture of herself too. One of her in high school in her cheerleading uniform sitting on the bleachers apparently waiting for something because she had her elbows resting on her thighs and her chin resting on her hands. She was looking away from the camera and it was taken from a distance.
She looked at him and he looked down sheepishly. “Where did you get this picture?” she asked. “I don’t remember it ever being taken.”

“I was friends with someone on the yearbook committee. I asked him for it after I saw it.”

The one next to it was of her on her wedding day. At the point the picture had been taken, she had changed into a simple jeans and tank top as her and Angel were on their way to catch their plane for their honeymoon trip to Hawaii. Angel was not in the picture, it was just her, beaming and waving.

“I took that—“ he started.

“I know when you took that,” she said softly.

“Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“That I have these of you?”

She turned to him, saw the fear in his face and went to him, wrapping her arms around him. “No, Spike. Not at all. I’m just sorry for having been so stupid for so long.”

“You didn’t know, Buffy,” he said softly, brushing his fingers through her hair. “I took so damn long in telling you.”

“And I took so damn long to see you.”

He pulled back a smidge and kissed her gently, “Thank you for tonight.”

She smiled and brushed his nose with hers, “No, thank you.”

He smiled, “How about that drink? Or would you like something else?”

“Got a beer and some chips?” she grinned.

He chuckled softly, “My bottomless pit. Now I know which one of us Lindsey got it from.”

She nodded, “It’s from all those years of starving myself in high school. I’m making up for it now.”

“Come on,” he said and took her hand, leading her out of the room.

She wondered if he had any clue that she was seriously contemplating their getting lucky tonight.

Well, it’d be a nice surprise anyway wouldn’t it?

“So you see, women can give birth. We hold life within us Spike. So really,
women aren’t really the weaker sex. We’re just seen that way because we have these
pesky things called emotions that you men seem very capable of hiding,” Buffy said and
put her beer down on Spike’s coffee table. “And we have intuition. Well, you men have it
too, but us women seem to actually listen to it more. Not saying that all of you are the
same . . . Though sometimes it appears you might be.”

“Looks can be decieving.”

“I’ll give you that. Especially with you.”

He grinned and reached out, swooping her legs up so that her feet rested on his lap.
Whipping off her shoes, he started to massage her feet.

“You’re trying to distract me,” she told him.

“Wouldn’t think of it. I’m very much enjoying hearing you go off.”

She laughed, “Angel--”

His hold on her foot tightened and she clamped her mouth shut, then, “Sorry. He who shall
remain nameless never listened to me when I’d start going off about something. He’d just
sit and nod and say ‘yes dear.” Like I didn’t notice that he was channel surfing and not
listening to me.”

“Wanker.”

“I’ll say,” she muttered.

“How about I make you a promise?”

“What sort of promise? And can you resume with the rubbing while making the promise?”
she said and smiled cheekily.

“Spoiled rotten--”

“Hey now,” she scolded, pointing at him.

“I promise that I’ll at least tell you when I’m not listening to you,” and this time, he
grinned cheekily.

She swatted him and then laughed. “What time is it anyway?” and she looked around the
room, searching for a clock.

“You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

She smiled, “I don’t really want to--”

“Good,” he smiled. “Stay with me for a bit longer.”

“Just a bit?” she teased.

He gazed at her solemnly, releasing her feet and pulling her so that her thighs were across
his own. He brought her into the circle of his arms and kissed her sweetly. “Stay for . . for
a very long time, Buffy,” he whispered huskily.

“Mmmkay,” she murmured and kissed him again. His lips were like a magnet, she’d
decided. She could taste the salt of the potato chips they’d munched on and the bitterness
of the beer he’d been nursing. She had the distinct feeling that he had wanted to be in
complete control of his faculties in case she lost any of hers.

Such the gentleman.

It made her want to bring out the beast in him. And it wasn’t the beer talking either. She’d
been nursing hers as well. The same beer for an hour and a half now. Grabbing his shirt
and balling it in her fists, she hoisted herself up and over his lap so that she was straddling
him. He was hard between her legs in an instant. Moaning at the feel and being unable to
stop herself from grinding her rapidly dampening center against him, she deepened the
kiss, satisfied when she heard him groan.

“Buffy,” he sputtered, breaking away, “We have to stop.”

“No,” she shook her head, “I don’t want to.” She pouted slightly, remembering how he’d
said it turned him on.

“Buffy,” he groaned and closed his eyes. “What are you doing to me?”

She slithered her hand between them and undid the button on his pants. His eyes shot open
he stared at her in complete and utter shock; frozen it seemed.

She smirked and the sound of his zipper going down was the only sound in the room.
Moving the material away the best she could, she made a sound halfway between a laugh
and a gasp when his engorged member sprang out in her palm. “Commando,” she purred.

“Buffy, Christ. . . “

She slid off his lap and to the floor, kneeling before him.

He grabbed her arm. “Buffy, no. You don’t have to--”

She cut him off by engulfing him in her mouth, whilst working his jeans further down until
they were off.

“Fuck me,” he moaned, his head lolling back.

“Not yet, but soon,” she giggled and took her mouth off him to stroke up and down his
shaft.

“Buffy, you don’t--”

“I know, I know. I want to. Just enjoy.”

He wound her hair in one hand and forced her to look at him. She met his eyes, dark and
intense. “I love you, you know?”

She nodded, “I know.” And she swirled the head of his cock with her tongue and sucked
hard, taking pleasure in the pleasured sounds Spike was eliciting.

“Buffy...God...yes . . . fuck, yes. Take me . . . Oh God, all the way, baby.”

She slid down his length until he was nudging the back of her throat. Relaxing her throat
muscles she took him further down and swallowed.

His eyes popped open and he watched her, his gaze a mixture of shock and adoration.
“Fuck!” he gasped, “Do that again.”

“Happy too,” she purred. Moaning down his length, knowing that would drive him crazy,
she deep throated him again.

“Buffy, I’m not going to last long. . . please baby. Come up here and let me love you,” he
begged.

“Not yet. I want you to cum.”

“Buffy, please, please, please,” he babbled as she bobbed her head up and down his cock,
deep throating him on every other stroke of her mouth. She reached out with her hand and
fondled his balls while he continued to babble. She took him down and then sucked hard
on his head.

“Buffy!” he shouted and came hard in her mouth. She wondered how long he’d gone
without sex from the amount he came, but decided she didn’t want to know . . . not that
much anyway. She swallowed him down and lazily cleaned him off with her mouth before
he hauled her up to straddle him once more. This time though, he surged off the couch,
causing her to wrap her legs around him. With her arms encircling his neck, he kissed her
hard, possessively.

“We do this; you’re mine. Do you understand me?” he told her, almost sternly.

She nodded, “Yes.”

“No going back, Buffy, I mean it.”

She nodded again, “Yes, yes.”

He growled and kissed her hard, starting to walk, which was really stumbling to his
bedroom. She giggled as he backed her into a wall. He grinned rakishly and then got it
right, gliding easily in his room and flopping down on the bed.

She ground herself agaisnt his rapidly swelling member, wanting it in her and soon. She
clawed at his shirt, nearly ripping it off him. Where it landed once it was over his head,
she didn’t know, nor did she care. She glided her hands all over him, wanting desperately
to feel him under her hands.

“Buffy, slow down,” he managed to get out.

“Slow later, want you now,” she said breathlessly.

He reared up and he started tugging on her pants while she tugged off her shirt. Her pants
gone in record timing, she started for her bra and he grabbed her wrist, halting her.

“No, no,” he told her deeply. “I want to do that.”

She nodded, “Please, Spike, please.”

He slid a finger inside her panties, seeking her core. Teasing her nub, she bit her lip and
moaned, thrusting herself against his finger. He slid two fingers inside her and stroked her
clit with his thumb while his other hand ripped her panties clear from her body. She let out
a small shriek, the primal move getting her even closer to the edge.

“Cum for me,” he told her and rubbed her harder, moving his thumb in circles.

Her eyes rolled up in her head and she came with a long, deep moan, her hips swirling and
grinding against his fingers. His fingers left her and she watched hotly as he brought his
hand to his mouth and licked his fingers clean of her juices, moaning all the while with his
eyes closed.

Taking his fingers out of his mouth and grinning saucily, he held out his hand to her.
“Want a taste?”

She could tell he didn’t expect her to take him up on his offer by the surprised look on his
face when she suckled his wet fingers in her mouth, tasting herself on him combined with
the saltiness of his fingers. “Mmmm,” she moaned.

“God, Buffy, you’re so gorgeous.”

Taking his fingers out of her mouth, he set to work on discarding her bra. When
sufficiently discarded, he cupped her breasts in his hands and worshipped them with his
mouth, teasing her nipples, sucking on them and laving them with his tongue.

“Spike, please, please.” Now she was babbling. She reached between them and took him,
placing him in position. She met his eyes. “Please.”

“Buffy...condom.”

“Pill. I’m on the pill.”

That was all it took and bracing both on either side of her head, he lunged forward and
buried himself in her. Her eyes shut from the pleasure/pain of it.

“Look at me,” he demanded hoarsely. “I want you to see who’s making love to you.”

Her eyes popped open and she nodded, “I see, I see.”

“How’s that feel baby?” he asked and twisted his pelvis just right so that he brushed her
clit.

“Oh God, Spike, right there.”

Leaning down he kissed her deeply, his thrusts achingly slow, but oh so good. God, he
was touching her heart, she was sure of it. She could feel him inside her touching . . .
everything. So full of him, she was.

“Feel so good, Buffy. . . God, I’ve wanted you for so long. Loved my Golden Girl for so
long. . . “

“Yes, yes, yes,” she encouraged when he started rocking faster and harder.

“Mine now. Say it, Buffy. Say you’re mine now.”

“Uhh.. Spike. . . Feels so good inside me. So hard...so oh god...”

“Say it,” he demanded, “Say you’re mine.”

“Yours,” she gasped, “I’m yours.”

He snapped then and pounded into her hard and fast. Before she knew it, she was coming
apart. Her mouth opened and no sound came out; she was sure she was going to black out
from the intense pleasure. She faintly heard him roaring her name as he came inside her,
the blood rushing in her ears making everything fuzzy.

He collapsed against her and she noted as she started to drift back to Earth, that thier skin
was slick from the exertion of their coupling. He wound his arms around her tightly,
peppering her shoulder, neck and face with kisses as he rolled them to their sides. He was
still buried deep inside her and she had no desire to let him go just yet.

“Did you mean it?” he whispered, burying his face in her neck. “Please, Buffy, please tell
me you meant it. Tell me you’re my girl.”

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “I’m yours,” she whispered, her eyelids starting to
drop.

“I love you, my beatiful Golden Girl. My Buffy.” She heard him murmur as sleep claimed
her tired and wonderfully sore body.

Buffy woke slowly, her body still tired, but definitely sated. Then she peered over at Spike who lay slumbering next to her. Maybe not so sated. She wanted him again, which was a marvel to her considering they’d spent the night making love off and on. Which accounted for her tiredness. She’d lost count of how many times she’d been woken by him to make love to her.

Glancing at the clock, her eyes bugged. She was to pick up Lindsey in a half an hour. “Spike,” she shook him. “Get up.”

He moaned in protest and reached out, pulling her into his arms, burrowing further under the covers with her. “No. Sleep with my Buffy.”

“Spike, I have to go. I can’t stay and sleep,” she said trying to detangle herself from him.


He held her fast, his eyes popping open, “What do you mean?” he demanded.

“Lindsey, remember? I have to pick her up in a half hour. You have to drive me, I don’t have my car.”

He loosened his grip, and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, luv. Just got a little tense there for a minute.”

Buffy crawled out of bed and went in hunt of her clothes.

“Buffy?”

She looked down at him, propped up on his elbows, the sheet falling to his waist. God, he was gorgeous. “Yeah?”

“You all right?”

She softened, realizing she was probably coming off as too abrupt and edgy. Her responsibility to her daughter had propelled her forward, not taking the time to think of much else once she’d realized she was going to be late. She just didn’t want to inconvenience her neighbor, as she’d been nice enough to take her daughter for the night as it was. Not being able to lounge and possibly make love again was not the morning after neither of them wanted; or needed.

“I’m sorry, baby. I wasn’t thinking. I just got it in my head to get Lindsey. I wasn’t thinking—“

“Say that again,” he said, interrupting her.

“Huh?”

“Baby. You called me baby. Can you say it again?”

She smiled, “Baby.”

He smiled, a huge smile that lit up his whole face and he jumped out of bed, scooping her into his arms and giving her a sloppy, wet kiss. She giggled and pushed at him. “Dress!”

He grinned and set about the task of gathering his own clothes.

They were ready to go in record time and shot out the door. Spike reached over as he drove and took her hand in his, kissing the back of it. “I love you, Buffy.”

She squeezed his hand, “I know.”

“And I’ll wait, you know. Until you can say it back to me? I’ll wait.”

“I know.”

“Last night was okay, right?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes, baby, it was. More than okay,” she assured him grinning.

“Oh yes,” he agreed nodding, “More than okay. Couldn’t get enough of you. Could never get enough of you.”

“I find I’m pretty insatiable when it comes to you too,” she admitted soflty.

He smiled broadly, “That works out well then cause I’m never letting you go now.”

“Oh fucking perfect,” Spike muttered as he watched Fred and Angel stare at each other. Angel was starting to resemble a lovesick fool as he stood there gaping at Fred. Not that he, Spike, was any better when it came to Buffy, but since this was Angel he was ridiculing silently, it was okay to overlook such things.

“What are you doing here?” Angel finally managed.

“I’m here with William.”

Spike waited, wanting to see if she would elaborate, and half hoping she wouldn’t. If she said she knew all this time, it’d incriminate him and he wasn’t too sure how Angel would take that. Though, by looking at Angel and the sappy face he was currently sporting, something told him he wouldn’t have noticed if Spike reached out and smacked him. An idea that had its appeal.

“Will, do you know who this is?”

“Winnie,” Spike supplied. “I figured it out, seeing as you said her name already. Plus, the look on your face giving most, if not all of it away—“

Angel stepped back, and made his way around the car, opening the passenger side door and taking Fred’s hand to guide her out. “It’s been so long,” he whispered as he looked upon her.

“Maybe you forget that you have a wife in the house,” Spike hissed. “What are you doing making moon eyes all over her for in your yard, you stupid git?”

Angel continued to stare at Fred. “It’s been so long, Winnie,” he murmured.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” Spike said dryly. “Where’s Lindsey and Buffy?”

“Pull yourselves together before they see you,” Spike reprimanded them and took off to the house having a very bad feeling.

“Daddy! Mommy!” Lindsey ran outside to meet them.

Her neighbor, Willow Rosenberg, smiled and waved. “She was up early this morning waiting for you.”

Spike held out his arms and Lindsey flew into them, laughing the whole time.

“Sorry we’re so late, Willow,” Buffy told her.

“It’s all right. She was fun to have. Her and my Osbourne Junior had a ball. Anytime you want to have her come over to play, is fine. It’ll be good for him to get used to being around other kids,” Willow explained.

“Thanks again,” Buffy told her and stepped up to the porch where Willow stood while Spike frolicked in the yard with Lindsey. Buffy handed her a check. “And anytime you need someone to watch Osbourne Junior—“

“Oz is fine,” Willow said, smiling.

Buffy grinned, “Anytime you need me – or William – to watch Oz, just let us know.”

“Sure thing. Thanks, Buffy.”

“Have a good one,” Buffy said and started back to her family. That thought froze her for a second. It came, unbidden. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Summers, she thought. Yeah, but he is her father the voice in her head shot back. Not ready for anything else right now, she volleyed back, just taking things slow. That seemed to quiet the voice within her and she went to join Spike and her daughter.

Spike, it seemed, was not willing to leave them that day and Buffy had to wonder if he was afraid she would have a moment of regret for the night before and wanted to be there just in case. There were a lot of things that Buffy regretted in her life, sleeping with Spike the night before was not one of them.

She showered and dressed and then stayed with Lindsey while he did the same. If Lindsey suspected anything, she didn’t say. Buffy marveled at how her daughter seemed to just take things in stride. Even with finding out that Angel was not her father; Lindsey didn’t bat an eye about it.

“Lindsey, are you very happy that Daddy is your Daddy?” Buffy asked her as she sat next to her at the kitchen table and colored with her.

Lindsey nodded, “Yup. He plays with me. He loves me; he tells me so all the time.”

Buffy smiled, “Do you miss uh, Uncle Angel at all?”

Lindsey shrugged, “Not really. He was a little scary, momma.”

“How so, baby?”

“He didn’t play with me, he didn’t like it when I was loud. Daddy lets me shout at the top of my lungs sometimes when we play. My old Daddy made me go to my room a lot and be quiet.”

Buffy felt the urge to hit Angel all over again. It made her wonder if in some way, Lindsey knew all along. They say children are intuitive to things, much more so than adults. She’d had a bond with Spike that she’d never had with Angel.

“You love Daddy too, right Mommy?” Lindsey asked, throwing her off guard completely.

“I like him very much, baby,” Buffy assured her.

Lindsey smiled brightly up at her. Then looked past her. “Do you love Mommy, Daddy?”

Buffy turned to see Spike, leaning against the doorway. He looked at Buffy, “I love Mommy very much, poppet.”

“Does that mean we’re all a family now?” Lindsey asked.

Buffy swallowed and wondered how to answer that one.

“All families are different, poppet. But yes, we are a family of sorts in that we all care about each other and both Mommy and me love you very much,” Spike explained, coming to sit down at the table with them.

Lindsey nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds good to me,” she stated and went back to coloring.

Buffy looked over at Spike and mouthed “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Buffy, you know that,” he whispered and took her hand in his.

Chapter Twenty Two

“You know what I want to do?” Spike said, nestling Buffy on the couch next to him as
Linsdey napped upstairs.

“What?” Buffy asked, winding her arms around his middle and nestling her head under his
chin. He draped a leg over hers and pulled her against him snugly so she wouldn’t fall off
the couch.

“I want to take you away.”

She smiled, “Where?”

“Someplace warm.”

“No.”

“No?”

She shook her head, “No. You know where I want to go?”

“Where?”

“England.”

“You want to go to England?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She looked up at him, “Because I want to see where you lived. You’ve been around so
long, William, I forget that you never grew up here. Even with your accent I forget. I want
to see the place you call home.”

Reverently, he pushed some hair away from her face and caressed the side of her face.
“Luv, this is home to me. Where you are, is home.”

“I still want to see it. I know your parents are no longer alive, but you must still have some
family there.”

He shrugged slightly, “Mostly cousins, a few uncles and aunts. Don’t keep in touch with
them much.”

“I’m beginning to see the importance of family, maybe you should start now.”

He raised a brow, “And you? What about your family.”

She grimaced, “I haven’t spoke much to my mother since Angel left. She seems to think I
did something wrong. That I made him leave me somehow.”

Spike tensed and she snuggled into him. “Not your fault, kitten,” he told her.

“I know that. It was. . . it was her, I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How can you not be sure?”

“Because I feel like something else was at work there.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed, “I mean . . . fate. Destiny. The universe. Somehow it pushed and pulled us all,
daring us to find where we were supposed to be. Look at our history, William. Look at
you and me . . . Lindsey. Even Angel and Fred. Losers though they may be.”

“Even with all the pain and heartache?”

“Yes, even with all the pain and heartache. For without it, we wouldn’t appreciate what
our souls fought so long to get. You and I knew each other in high school, both of us
wanting to know the other, but never having the guts to do anything about it. At the same
time, there was Angel and Fred, separated for reasons beyond their control. I move away
and end up going to BU, with Angel and you are his best friend. We were brought together
again, Will, after all that time. Shit happened and we parted ways, but Lindsey,
Lindsey was ours. We created her together and she tied us together forever. Cut to years
later. You meet Fred and consequently, bring her here. You had no way of knowing who
she was and she had no way of knowing who we were and she is, well, reunited with
Angel. Leaving you with me and Lindsey.” She looked up at him, “Don’t you see it now?
Fate? Destiny? How it wove together to make us come together, and maybe, just maybe
this time, get it right?”

“Maybe?” he quirked a brow.

“Well, who knows what the universe has planned for us next. Obstacles, hurdles. . . all
part of the grand master plan.” She yawned and burrowed into him. “And you know how
dense I can be. I mean, look at all the crap I went through with Angel.”

“You loved him,” he said softly.

She yawned again, “I did. But on the road to where I was meant to be, he was a bump. A
hurdle that I had to get over in order to appreciate--”

“What your soul wanted you to have?”

“Yes. Don’t mock me,” she said and pinched his arm.

“Not mocking you, sweet. I think it’s bloody poetic what you just said.”

“Thank you.”

“And I think my girl is tired and needs a nap.”

“Mmmm...”

“Sleep luv.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Buffy. Don’t forget that, ever, please.”

“I won’t. No one’s ever loved me like you do. No one ever will.” she murmured and fell
fast asleep.

“What the bloody buggering hell are you doing?” Spike demanded, propping himself
up on his elbows in the bed he’s shared -- like a monk -- with Fred.

He was, for all intents and purposes, annoyed to high heaven. Annoyed and disgusted.
He’d spent the night before keeping Angel and Fred in line and making sure Buffy
suspected nothing of what was happening right under her nose. History was repeating
itself as Angel seemed on the brink of engaging in another affair.

Only this time, more was at stake, for there was a little girl whose heart would be broken
along with her mothers. And when she was older, she would never forgive her father for it.
Spike wasn’t sure though, which father that meant. He realized he was perhaps jumping
ahead in time, guaging what his little girl would think of the man she believed to be her
father, but isn’t that what happened when you became a parent? You thought of the then
and now of their needs, and of the future and how they’d turn out and ponder if you’d
done a good job; if they would one day resent you for making a choice you deemed best
for them at the time.

Had he made the best choice for Lindsey by coming here and only deciding at the last
minute that he couldn’t go through with it, or had he made the best decision for himself?

Had he become so selfish and single minded in his desire to have Buffy and Lindsey for
himself, that’d he’d chosen to over look his morals on what was right and what was
wrong...and in this case, downright sneaky? He knew arguments could be made for both
sides, but his guilt was talking and somehow he doubted Buffy would see it any other
way.

If she found out.

“I’m leaving, William,” Fred said almost apologetically. She turned and stuffed her
makeup bag in her suitcase.

“Where are you going? Taking a taxi will cost you an arm and a leg--”

“I’m leaving with Angel,” she blurted out.

He shot out of bed. “What?” he hissed.

“Sshh!” she waved her hand, quieting him. “The little girl is still downstairs and Buffy is
still asleep--”

“The little girl’s name is Lindsey,” Spike said through clenched teeth. “What the fucking
hell do you think you’re doing? You’re leaving while she’s awake? So she gets to
witness her father leaving?”

“You’re her father,” she pointed out. Then, “We’re going, William. We love each other,
we never stopped loving each other. We deserve this--”

“You think you deserve this? How arrogant are you to think you have the right to
decide that right now? You’re hurting a family here, Fred.”

“And it’s really your family, isn’t it?”

Spike raked a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this. Where the fuck is Angel--” he started
for the door.

Fred grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” she said forcefully. “If you go out there you will
find that Angel is getting Lindsey breakfast and trying to make things seem as normal as
possible. If you go out there you will cause a scene. Don’t make this any more difficult
than it has to be, William. In the long run, this is the best for all of us.”

“How is this best for everyone?” he spat. “I’m the monster who brought you here,” he
shook his head, feeling the walls were closing in around him.

“You don’t have to tell her you knew. You can be just as shocked as she will be; just as
hurt. Misery loves company. It’ll give you a way in,” Fred said simply.

“You bitch,” Spike snarled, “You selfish bitch.”

“Lying should be second nature to you. After all, how long did you keep it quiet that
Lindsey is your daughter? For that matter, isn’t Buffy guilty of a few sins herself on that
front?”

“Do you know the kind of man you’re getting yourself involved with here? He’s cheated
on Buffy you know.”

Fred shook her head, “He won’t with me. We’re soulmates. We’re meant to be. It’s fate,
William. Destiny.”

“Or pure, unadulterated selfishness,” Spike snapped.

“All you have to do is keep quiet. Be there for Buffy and Lindsey. Before you know it,”
she said picking up her suitcase and heading for the door, “They’ll be yours. Just the way
it was meant to be. If you say you knew, you’ll be out on your ear. If you make a scene,
it’ll be seen as your fault. Just keep your mouth shut and I’ll take care of everything else.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he said, eyes narrowing.

“You’ll see. This will be a piece of cake for Buffy.”

“Her heart is going to be broken. That is not a piece of cake.”

“Then it’s up to you to mend it.” She opened the door and turned to Spike. She had the
audacity to smile softly at him. “Thank you, William.”

He stood in the doorway, unable to make himself move. He should go out there. Should
stop them, cause a scene. . . but God, he’d probably never see Lindsey again if he did that.
He’d be banned from her life; from Buffy’s life. Could he live without them?

No.

He heard the front door close and the sound of cartoons, along with the smell of toast
wafted up to him, and he knew he would remember the brightness of the early morning
sun and how it streamed into the stairway, combined with the scents and the sounds, the
day would be forever imprinted in his mind. He sat on the stairway, just hidden from
Lindsey’s sight, but keeping her in his vision so he could keep an eye on her until Buffy
woke up.

Buffy woke up slowly, yawning and stretching. She opened her eyes to find Spike
standing over her.

“How long was I out for?” she asked sleepily.

“About an hour.”

“Lindsey up?”

“Yeah, Willow came over and asked if she could come over. I guess Oz was asking for
her.”

She smiled and then frowned, “Why do you look so tense? What’s wrong?”

“Buffy, I have to tell you something.”

Buffy stared up at him, suddenly feeling guarded. “What?” she asked
and sat up fully.

He sat down next to her, raking a hand through his hair and sighing
heavily; not looking at her. “Buffy, this isn’t. . . this is hard.”

“Spike, you’re scaring me. Just tell me. Is this part of the the big
truths you were talking about long ago? I thought we’d gotten them all
out.”

“I . . . there’s more.”

Her heart was pounding and she was starting to shake. Her adrenaline
was pumping wildly and she jumped up from the couch moving a few
feet away from him. She suddenly felt crowded and her flight response
was in full throttle. “Just . . . Just fucking tell me already!” she
exclaimed almost frantically.

He looked up at her, seeming taken back by her response. She didn’t
care. Thanks to Angel, a part of her would always mistrust; always
second guess. It was the nature of the beast. Her reaction at that
moment was knee jerk. She’d had enough surprises to last her a
lifetime and she could readily do without them. Especially when said
surprises included lying, secrets and infidelity.

He opened his mouth, staring at her, then closed it. Opening it again
he blurted out, “I had Angel followed.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I had him followed.”

She knit her brows together, “When? Now? Recently?”

“When I left Boston.”

She stared at him, processing what he was telling her. “You had him
followed . . . like a Private Investigator?”

“That, exactly,” he sighed.

“Why?”

He stood, looking afraid, “I wanted to make sure he didn’t stray
again.”

“How long did you have him followed for?”

“Every month. Not every day, just a short span of time every month to
make sure he was being faithful to you.”

She nodded slowly. “Oh.”

“Are you upset with me?” he asked in a small voice.

She looked at him, standing there so vulnerable and looking lost. She
shook her head. “No, I’m . . . stunned.”

“I had to make sure Buffy. I wanted to protect you. I wasn’t here to do
it, so that was the only thing I could think of to make sure he was
keeping himself in line.”

“Spike, I . . . that’s kind of, well . . . and don’t take this the wrong
way--obsessive. Don’t you think?”

He smiled sheepishly, “Been in love with you since high school pet.
Knowing that Lindsey was most likely mine and knowing how hurt you
were by him before,” he broke off, shaking his head. “I couldn’t just
stop wanting to protect you and be there for you.”

“So was he?”

“Having affairs? No.”

“Not that you knew of anyway.”

“No, Buffy, the P.I. was pretty thorough. He wasn’t. He just, well,
worked a lot.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she muttered, looking away.

“I’m sorry, I just --”

She held up her hand, halting him. “Don’t apologize. It’s . . . sweet,
really. I mean, not used to the idea quite yet, but I understand why
you did it. Just . . . what would you have done if he was having
another affair?”

He grinned, “That’s easy pet. Kicked his ass right clear across the
country.”

“Well, now he really is clear across the country,” she smiled
wanly.

“So you’re not mad?”

She shook her head, “No, not mad. Is there anything else you need to
tell me?”

He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked down at the floor. Then,
he looked back up at her, “No, that’s it.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“Can you come here now?” he asked. “I’d like to hold you now, Buffy,
feel you in my arms.”

She smiled and strode up to him, letting him engulf her in his arms
and she hugged him back, rifling her fingers through the curls at the
nape of his neck.

He buried his face in her neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sorry, I just think that with . . . you know, everything, I can’t handle
too many more surprises. I’ve had my fill of them. Mostly since all of
them seem to be attached to secrets and lies. I get a little scared.”

He picked his head up and gazed at her solemnly, “I don’t want to ever
scare you, Buffy. You’re safe with me.”

She nodded, “I know. It’s just hard to shut the programming off like
that. I have to get used to us, ya know? We’re. . .shiny and new. It’s
like I had all this baggage I was carrying around and I’ve shed a
couple suitcases and now I’ve just some light carryons. Not that
they’re not pesky to get rid of, but it’s going to take some time. And,”
she said on a sigh, “I’m afraid that there’s always going to be a little
carry on with me. I think it’s just always going to be my first reaction
to think the worst and then get scared.”

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to trust me?”

She nodded, “I do trust you, Spike. I . . . I trust you a little more each
day. It’s not like you and I have been exactly honest with each other
all these years. Not saying that I’m completely in the clear on that, I’m
not. With time, we’ll be where we need to be.”

“And I’m not going anywhere,” he vowed. “The important thing is we
work on us together. Because there is an us now.”

“Right. And a little girl that’s part of both of us.”

He smiled, “The best part of us, don’t you think?”

“Of course,” and she smiled back.

“I’ve loved you for so long, Buffy . . . I don’t think I’d know how to do
anything else. You and Lindsey are my world.”

She let out a shuddering breath, “Not at all scary.”

He smiled, cupping her face. “It sounds it, but it’s not. It’s just the
way it is. If you think I’m ever going to do anything to screw this up
now . . . “ he pulled her against him roughly, holding her tight. “I’d be
lost without you, pet. Was lost for so long. Wanting to be here, but
knowing I couldn’t be here. . . it about killed me. Now that I’ve got
you, I’m not letting you go.” He looked at her again, his eyes boring
into hers, “You hear me? Not letting you go. You said you were mine
and you’re staying mine.”

“Spike,” she breathed and buried her face in his chest.

“What kitten, talk to me,” he murmured, stroking her hair.

“You just. . . God, it’s so overwhelming the way you love me.”

“I don’t mean to overwhelm you kitten. Or scare you. I know I can
come off as really intense--”


“You’re just a really intense guy,” she murmured, looking up at him
tenderly. “When you give yourself--”

“I give the whole thing. You’ve got all of me Buffy.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve any
of it.”

“You’re just you, and that’s all I need.”

“One day I will say the words back, Spike. I promise. You just need to
give me time.”

“You’ve got all the time in the world, baby.”




** so, it wasn't THE secret. He chickened out, huh? lol Think I'd make it that easy? Insert evil laugh here.**

The next few weeks seemed to fly by. Sometimes Buffy felt as if she couldn’t catch her breath with the breakneck speed things were happening at. It was amazing the things one could accomplish in just a few weeks.

Within two of those weeks, Buffy had a “For Sale” sign outside her home and had her sights set on a house on the other side of town big enough for her and Lindsey – and possibly Spike should that day arrive . . . and even more little ones should that day ever arrive as well.

She refused to think that far ahead though. Refused to let herself get whisked away by her fantasies too much for the fear that the other shoe she was sure was there, just waiting in the wings, decided to drop.

Spike seemed to have no such fear. It amazed her to no extent how incredibly positive he could be. When she’d commented one night about it, he’d grinned and said it was love. She wondered if that meant it was taking her longer to arrive to love or if her pessimism was just keeping her in check.

One thing she’d learned over the past couple months was that things had a tendency to change fast and suddenly and the disorder and chaos was less if you expected them to happen than if you went in blindly thinking everything would always just come up roses.

She remembered the idealistic girl she used to be when she’d met and fallen for Angel. She remembered how she had their future planned complete with the picket fence and 2.5 kids. That was the thing about reality. It had a way of rearing its ugly head. The fairy tales never said what happened after Cinderella and Snow White went with Prince Charming to his castle. The story ended there when in reality, the real story started there. However, like most naive girls, Buffy had thought that as soon as she and Angel, her once upon a time Prince Charming married, the story ended there and it was smooth sailing from there on out.

Hell, no.

Her fairy tale had taken a wrong turn and derailed and breakneck speed. She’d left the crash angry, disoriented, hurt and most of all and most importantly, jaded.

Spike seemed set on eradicating that jadedness though. He was intent on making her dreams come true and Buffy sometimes felt guilt at not being able to always be there in the moment with him.

She was also jealous that he could be in the moment. He’d suffered just as much as she had, hadn’t he? How was it he was able to toss the past years over his shoulder as if it hadn’t happened and forge ahead with sword drawn ready to take on her dragons?

She found herself smiling a lot more, that was for sure. She’d even caught herself smiling some mornings upon waking and sometimes she wouldn’t even scold herself for it. The idea made her chuckle to herself. At least she could laugh at herself and her own neurosis right? That was a step in the right direction as far as she was concerned.

Lindsey had benefited from her parents being so agreeable and happyunder the same roof. Buffy was strict about him spending the night however. She wasn’t sure that she was ready for Lindsey to be privy to witnessing that. It was all part of the shoe dropping that Buffy was concerned about. She would be able to handle the shoe dropping a lot better if it were just her, but after everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure she could handle the shoe dropping for her daughter as well.

Not that Spike would ever hurt Lindsey. Or leave her. He loved the girl to bits and pieces and the sentiment was more than reciprocated. Buffy just didn’t want to have to explain why Daddy was there one minute and then not the next. But that was her negativity talking; her jadedness, and Spike wouldn’t hear of that. So she said nothing of it.

Moments were stolen. Kisses upon arrival home, kisses in the hall passing by each other. Hand holding when making trips to the park with their daughter or to the zoo. Subtle signs of affection that subconsciously she was sure Lindsey absorbed, but nothing so much that would make her ask questions should it all blow up in their faces.

Again, jadedness talking.

However, the passionate fury which they came together once their daughter was in bed was . . . God, it was amazing. It left her breathless. She found herself thinking of those times and blushing while thinking ‘I did that? I actually said that?’ Her sex life before Spike had been . . . well, boring. Boring compared to Spike anyway. He was a talented and generous lover. Something Angel always wasn’t. And oh boy would Spike hate to hear her even thinking about comparing them. It wasn’t as if she could help it though. When you’ve had one lover for most of your life and then have another, it’s a normal human reaction. One she would keep to herself though. Especially since Spike was averse to hearing his name mentioned in even the most innocent of conversations.

No matter though how fast they could take each other or how achingly slow, it was always making love to Spike and he told her as much every time. He lavished her with affection and attention. He was a well of emotion when it came to expressing how he felt. It shook her at times, it moved her and it frightened her. He knew too. He knew by the way she would sometimes bury her face in his chest and just sigh. That’s when he’d change the subject and make a joke.

She wondered if it hurt him; knew it had to sometimes. So, she tried to show him in other ways. Like the way she threw him a surprise party, just her and Lindsey, when he’d finished the book he’d been working on. Or the way she’d wrap her arms around him from behind as he made dinner and rest her head between his shoulder blades, just letting him know she liked being close to him. And the way she would sometimes leave him cute little notes that simply said “I like you.”

Yes, Buffy was growing increasingly happy as the days wore on. She was pondering her happiness and the goofy grin on her face as she slipped Spike’s t-shirt on one Sunday morning and headed towards the kitchen to make him breakfast. They’d gotten Willow to babysit the night before and Spike had taken her out to dinner and a movie before coming back to his place so he could have her ‘in his bed’. Was it wrong that she felt a rush at his possessiveness? The slight feminist in her retaliated against it, but the very feminine side of her relished it. She’d never felt she truly belonged to Angel. Because, well, she hadn't.

Humming softly to herself, Buffy opened the fridge and started taking out eggs and moving things around in the freezer to find some bacon. Placing the items on the counter, she opened the bread box to get some bread and chuckled to herself. Some people put bread in bread boxes, but not her man. She smiled to herself. Her man, huh? She started closing the bread box when a name caught her eye. “Winifred.” She took pause, staring at the envelope in which Fred’s name was scrawled on. Her eyes rose to the date on the top. He’d received it just a few days ago.

Her heart started thumping hard in her chest. Why was Fred writing to Spike? It was probably just a congratulatory letter because they were part of the same publishing house . . . right? But . . . wasn’t that ridiculous? He hated her! She ran out on him with Angel, why would she possibly think he wanted to hear from her? Unless . . . No. Ridiculous Buffy. Spike would never romantically correspond with her. Besides, didn’t the lying tramp have Angel now?

Her fingers shaking, and knowing that Spike would kill her if he walked in and found her reading her mail, but being desperately unable to stop herself, Buffy opened the already read and opened letter and started to read.

Now she knew why they said curiosity killed the cat.

Dear William ~

I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, no to mention the last person you expected to hear from. I had gotten your new address from your publisher. She let me know that you have finished your book when I called. Congratulations.

I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. You might not believe that I am in lieu of what’s happened and what I did, but I am at. At least I did make sure Angel gave Buffy an easy divorce even after he found out he was not Lindsey’s father. I waited until we were a safe enough distance away before I told him. I told you that I would take care of that for you and for Buffy and I did.

I realize now the predicament I had put you in and how unfair I was to you. I should have told you when you invited me that I knew who Angel O’ Connor was and what meant to me. Maybe then we could have figured something better out – a different way maybe. . . I do love Angel with all that I am and I know that you love Buffy with all that you are. I truly believe things are as they should be, my only wish now is that it didn’t have to happen the way it did.

I was not thinking clearly and I put you in a tough situation because I was being selfish. I wanted Angel and that was all I cold see. I doubt if you had chosen to turn the car around and to back to Rhode Island, I wouldn’t have found a way to make you take me to him. As I said, I was single minded and selfish. I wonder at times if Angel and I would have been able to leave if you had woken Buffy the way you threatened to that morning.

I truly hope you are happy William. I hope you were able to find the happiness and love with Buffy and Lindsey that you so desperately wanted. They are your true family.

Take care,

Winifred O’ Connor

All Buffy could do was stare at the letter, frozen. So many questions were running through her head – more like questions that required confirmation rather than answers.

A mantra was being played out in her mind all the while: He knew, he knew, he knew.

Apparently, the other shoe had dropped. It was more like a steel toed boot: Heavy and thick.

“Buffy, what are you doing?” Spike was up.

She watched him with letter in hand come out of the bedroom and head toward the kitchen. He was shirtless with black sweat pants on. His hair was rumpled and he looked as if he could use more sleep.

“Buffy?” he said and entered the kitchen. He froze when he saw the look of pure, unadulterated venom on her face and the letter in her hand. “Buffy where did you get that?”

“I was looking for bread. Imagine my surprise upon seeing this,” and she shook the letter forcefully.

“You shouldn’t have read that---“ he tried, his eyes widening in fear.

“I guess you’ll have to excuse me for wanting to read the letter from the woman who ran off with my husband—“

“Ex husband.”

“—To the man I’m currently dating. Hey, Spike, did ya happen to know that it was thanks to Fred that I got off easy with the divorce? Funny how you said you thought he’d go easy on me. I should have believed you considering you knew exactly why it would be an easy split. Hey, did ya know she knew about you being Lindsey’s father – and from the sound of it, long before Angel did. How is that possible Spike?” Her tone was calm and yet dripping with heavy sarcasm. She sounded like Patrick Bateman in American Psycho who could calmly discuss the musical genius of Genesis whilst hacking a victim to pieces.

It was positively chilling. Which accounted for the shiver that ran through Spike.

“Buffy, I can explain—“

“Oh Jesus. Where have I hear those words before? Oh yes. From Angel after he fucked around on me. Nothing good ever comes after those words are uttered. You know what? Before you start explaining, I’m gonna ask a few questions of my own first, all right?”

He nodded, swallowing hard.

“You told Fred before you came here about you being Lindsey’s real father – yes or no?”

“Y-yes.”

“You knew who she was to Angel before you got here – yes or no?”

“Yes, Buffy, but –“

“And at what point did you think it was okay to bring her here?” she shouted at him angrily.

“At what point did you think it was okay to keep Lindsey from me?” he shot back.

Grabbing an egg from the carton on the counter, Buffy flunk it at him in retaliation. He dodged it and it landed against the wall with a satisfying crack, the yolk sliming down the wall. “You can’t bring that up everytime you fuck up!” She grabbed another egg and flung it at him. “You fucking bastard, you brought her to my home knowing what she wanted with my husband! You saw the pain I was in. You knew the whole time!” Buffy screamed at him as she whipped egg after egg at him, all of which, aside from a few, he managed to dodge.

He leapt at her and succeeded in grabbing her. She struggled against him, kicking and trying to pull herself free. Finally, he managed to pull her back against his chest, holding her about the waist with her arms banded to her sides.

“Let go of me!” she yelled at him.

“No, I’m not – Buffy, please, listen to me,” he pleaded.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. I hate you!”

“Don’t say that!” he shouted. Burying his face in her hair he said, “Don’t say that please. Buffy, I love you baby so much and it killed me to see you in so much pain—“

“I’m sure, especially since it took me so long to go to bed with you!”

“No! Don’t say that. Don’t reduce this to sex, Buffy,” he said fervently.

“Let go of me, Spike,” she said, calmer now.

“Will you stop throwing things?”

“Yes.”

”Will you talk to me?”

That, at the moment, she couldn’t promise. But hey, if he could lie, so could she. “Yes.”

He let her go. Immediately she gingerly moved around the mess she’d made, making sure not to slip on the yolks covering the floor. He followed behind her but she was single minded in her intent to grab her things and leave. She could not talk to him at that moment. If she did, she was sure to start throwing cutlery at him. Blood and appendages would be even more of a bitch to clean up than half a dozen broken eggs.

She went to the bedroom and felt like throwing up and crying at the same time. The night before had been filled with such fun. Never had she laughed and had sex at the same time. It was fun and sexy and oh god, it was wonderful.

And he’d been lying to her. He’d known the whole time. He had stood before her that morning and had claimed not to know where they went. He’d even run up the stairs to ‘check’ to see if Fred had gone. He had seen how upset she was that they had left Lindsey downstairs by herself with nothing but the TV and her coloring books to watch her. He’d seen her rant and rave and cry -- and he’d been the means for them to have gotten together. He’d known and he’d never said a word.

Her heart hurt. And the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of him. She’d done that enough.

She whipped off his shirt and hastily changed into her clothes.

“Buffy, will you talk to me, please?” Spike asked, standing there having the audacity to look wounded.

She grabbed her overnight bag from the floor and slung it over her shoulder. She looked at him. “Was it worth it?”

He stared at her. “What?”

“Did you get what you wanted?”

“Buffy, please—“

“Did you?”

“You’ve been happy these past few weeks, Buffy. That’s what I wanted. I wanted you to be happy,” he stated. “I’ve only wanted you to be happy.”

“No, that’s not all you’ve wanted,” she said and started for the door, slipping into her shoes on the way. Difficult task with yolk on her feet.

He was on her heels in an instant. Grabbing her and spinning her to face him. “Don’t leave me, Buffy. Stay here and we’ll work this out. I love you, Buffy, I love you so much—“ the raw pain and the tears in his eyes touched something inside her, moved a bit of the anger she felt toward him – but not enough. Then he was trying to kiss her and she shoved him with all her might.

”No!” she yelled at him. She shook her head. “I can’t even look at you right now. You don’t get to touch me. Not again, not ever again.”

“Buffy, no,” tears streamed down his cheeks, “I wanted to tell you, I was just so afraid--“

“Goodbye . . . William.”

Buffy debated on whether to pick her daughter up from Willow’s early or to use the time to herself as much as possible. The idea of being in the house by herself for a long period of time and being forced to think about what Spike had done left her feeling ready to crawl out of her skin. On the other hand, her emotions were so jumbled she doubted she could handle Lindsey’s exuberance without snapping. In the end, she decided to leave Lindsey with Willow until it was time to collect her later.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Buffy dropped her bag and burst into tears. She literally ached from Spike’s deception. Her heart hurt so badly, she wanted to claw it out to make it stop.

He was right about one thing. She had been happy. Perhaps she hadn’t been able to see fully just how happy she’d been over the past few weeks, but she could see it clearer now; and she had indeed been happy.

What was it about the men in her life that seemed to think she could just be shit on like that? Was the truth incapable of being told to her? Granted, she’d done her fair share of lying, but she’d thought that had all been behind her. Was this more karmic payback? How much more was due to her? When would her debt be paid off? How was it possible that she was still paying for it? Hadn’t Angel leaving and telling her that he never truly loved her been enough?

But then Spike . . . God, his hurt worse. The man she had once upon a time gone to when her marriage had been failing and leaned on, the man who promised to be there for her through everything, the one man she thought she could one day fully trust had thrown a wrench and shattered that hopeful thought to bits.

The man who was the father of her daughter.

God. She wanted more than anything to just cut ties with him at that point. No matter how much the thought tore her to shreds. But she couldn’t. She had a daughter that loved her father very much and would be devastated by the loss.

She’d been selfish once and kept Spike from her. She was going to do the right thing this time and not break them apart. No matter how much seeing him cut her up inside.
**********************************************************

Glancing over at the clock, feeling groggy, and not at all rested, Buffy rose from the sanctuary of her bed to get her daughter from Willow’s. Scraping her hair back in a ponytail and pulling on a sweater jacket, she slipped on her Keds and stumbled down the stairs with a yawn.

Bouncing down the front stoop, Buffy halted when she saw the car in the driveway.

Spike’s car. Starting over with new determination to Willow’s she saw him, chatting with Willow while Lindsey wrapped herself around his legs.

Annoyance bubbled forth and the urge to hit him slammed through her. Balling her hands in fists and taking a deep breath she started for them, plastering on a fake smile.

“Momma!” Lindsey exclaimed and burst past Willow and Spike to see her. Buffy bent over to catch her daughter as she ran to her and scooped her up in her arms.

“Hey baby. Did you have fun?” Buffy asked her, ignoring Spike.

“I did. We played dress up. Oz even put a skirt on because I told him to.”

Buffy giggled, “And why did you make him do that, baby?”

“Because we were playing house and I wanted to be Daddy and I wanted him to be you,” Lindsey grinned, very proud of herself.

Buffy could feel Spike boring holes into her and she refused to look at him. Instead she smiled at Willow and thanked her before turning around and heading home.

Spike was on her heels and Lindsey asked to be put down. Settling her daughter down on the ground, she watched as Lindsey tore across the lawn to their home.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked him, still refusing to look at him.

“I knew you wouldn’t see me otherwise,” he told her hesitantly.

She stopped and faced him then. “That’s great, Spike. Use our daughter to get to me.” She shook her head, “You’re a piece of work. But hey, it worked for you once right?” And she started on her way again.

“Buffy, we have to talk about this. You have to listen to me—“

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“Buffy—“

She stopped again, “Listen, if you’re afraid I’ll keep Lindsey from you, I won’t. She is your daughter and she loves you. She’d be devastated if she lost you and I won’t do that to her. But it’s only for her because honestly at this point, I could give a rat’s ass what you want or need.”

“I love you, Buffy,” he told her fervently and reached out for her, sighing heavily when she moved away from him. “I didn’t know until we were almost here who Fred was.”

“But yet you still came.”

“I . . . just give me a chance to explain.”

“And you knew the next morning. You pretended you didn’t. You made a fool out of me. The whole time you knew and you never said anything.”

“I wanted to tell you, I tried—“

“When? When did you try?”

He raked a hand through his hair, “When I told you how I had Angel followed. I was going to tell you about that instead, but—“

“So you were going to keep the fact that you had Angel followed a secret too?”

He looked at her, frustrated. “No. I was going to tell you that too.”

“Two big secrets in one fell swoop? So unlike you,” she said dryly and stalked off towards the house where Lindsey was running herself in circles – literally – on the front lawn.

“That’s not fair and you know it,” he said darkly, following her once again.

She spun to face him, pointing her finger in his face. “I told you everything. I spilled my guts to you, you fucking bastard so don’t you dare stand there and recite off my trespasses and match them up against yours. Don’t you dare. You betrayed me. You brought that slut in my house knowing who she was. You tore my family apart.”

“What a family it was, too. My family, I might add, since Lindsey was mine.”

“And she is the only one cause I sure as hell ain’t yours. Never was though, was I?” Buffy drawled and started for Lindsey. Spike grabbed her arm and whirled her back to face him.

“Don’t say that,” he said, his voice shaking with anger. “You are my girl. Mine.”

She snatched her arm from him and shook her head, walking backwards, “No, I’m not. I don’t belong to anybody but that little girl over there. And me. I belong to me. Never you.”

He watched her go and his expression slipped from anger to one of loss. His beautiful eyes, those expressive beautiful eyes that told her everything he was feeling at any given moment were filled with regret and pain.

She turned on him, not able to bear witness to that expression any longer. It was a small victory for her to let him stew in that feeling. She couldn’t wrench it from her mind the idea that everytime he’d held her, kissed her and made love to her, he was stabbing her in the back with lies and deceit.

He rushed past her then and went to Lindsey. He hugged her and kissed her and told her he’d see her the next day. Lindsey nodded and smiled up at him trustingly.

Oh to be young again and believe that everyone told the truth, thought Buffy. To not know what a lie was and how it felt to know you’d been lied to.

He turned back to her, those expressive eyes filled with unshed tears. “I’ll be here tomorrow.”

She nodded, “I know.”

He stormed off to his car and she let Lindsey in the house, forcing herself not to turn around and watch him leave.

Twenty seven

Spike looked up at her, his eyebrows knit. “You’ve been crying.” The sight twisted his insides. He always hated it when Buffy cried.

She nodded, “Yes, I was.”

He nodded and looked down, “Thinking of Angel.” Of course she was thinking of her husband. Why wouldn’t she be?

“Yes.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked, popping his head up.

She looked at him incredulously, “Do you really want to hear about it?”

He raked a hand through his hair and shrugged. He thought of it as penance. If he listened to her mourn her marriage, mourn Angel leaving, then he would be doing something right out of what he’d done
wrong. “Not gonna sit here and lie to you and tell
you that I particularly enjoy the fact that you’re
mourning Angel’s departure, but on the other hand, he
was your husband and you did love him.” Honest
answer, for the first time in how long?

She stared at him, “Lindsey’s still sleeping right?”

“Yeah. Listen, Buffy, last night, yesterday . . . for the past couple days we’ve said some hurtful things to each other. We’ve gone a few rounds and been at each other’s throats and while verbally sparring with you has always been fun, these past few days haven’t been fun. It’s been bloody hard. I’m man enough to admit that I’ve been an insensitive prat about things. Your husband takes off on you—“ With my help too, he added in his mind.

Buffy winced.

“Sorry,” Spike said, wincing too. “I guess this whole mess just brought out some things between us – all of us, including Angel – that we’ve never dealt with. That we’ve just kept hidden away, hoping they’d go away.” Like the fact that I can’t stop loving you and wanting to protect you . . . though I’ve done a bang up job of that haven’t I? he thought despondently. I’ve helped hurt you more than protect you. This is what my love did to you, Buffy.

Buffy nodded slowly, staring off into
space. “Sometimes the skeletons in your closet don’t
want to stay in there anymore.”

“Yep. Things have a way of coming back at you the more you try to shove them down.” God, how am I going to tell you what I did? He wondered.

“So when we’re done facing those things that don’t want to be ignored anymore, will things get back to normal again?” Buffy asked in a small voice.

Spike shook his head sympathetically, and stood. “I don’t things will ever be back to normal, do you?” But hopefully they can be better, if you let me make it up to you. All of it.

“Wishful thinking.”

“He’s not coming back, Buffy.”

“How do you know?” she asked, her voice rising with hurt.

“Do you really want him back? He left Buffy. He took off with another woman. Do you really want him to come back after that?” Yes, that’s right, he thought. I might have brought her here, but he had a choice too. He chose to leave. He just wished he could feel the truth in that much more than the guilt pressing on him, crowding him and making it difficult to breathe.

Buffy stayed silent and still for a few beats and then said on a whisper, “I want him to suffer.”

“Anger phase in effect?” he asked lightly, smiling slightly.

“I’ve been angry a lot these past couple days Spike, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“So have I.” More than you know, he told her in his mind. Angry at me, at the world, at Angel at you . . . at everything and everyone that has ever interfered with us being together. It is fate Buffy. Fate meant for us to be together.

“You must have really cared more about her than you’ve let on—“

“No, God, Buffy, it has nothing to do with her,” Spike sighed, frustrated and shook his head. “I hate that he’s hurt you like this. I hate that I . . . I feel so
guilty because I’m the cause for it. I brought her here; I
didn’t know things would turn out, how they’d take
such a wrong turn with you and I at each other’s
throats and your hurt and anger. . . And I get it Buffy; I
get what’s happening to you at the same time I want to
wring your lovely neck for all this time and torture.”
Well, he thought, that was some of the truth at least.

“You couldn’t have known that this would happen, Spike. I know I blamed you for it and I yelled at you for it, but you didn’t know. It’s just you’re here and Angel’s not and he’s the one I really want—“

He took her in his arms before she could finish that thought. He knew. He knew what she was saying. That she wanted to take it all out on Angel. She wanted to rail at the man that left, but instead she was
railing at the man that was in front of her. Oh God,
Buffy, he though. If you knew, if you only knew that your
anger at me wasn’t completely misplaced. . He held
her tight and tears dripped from his eyes as the desire
to tell her coupled with the fear of telling her
threatened to overtake him. “I know. I’m sorry,” he
whispered before releasing her just as quickly as he’d
grabbed her and practically running out her room.



Buffy was exhausted when she awoke the next
morning to the sound of her alarm. Reaching over she
slapped it off and rolled on her back, having no energy
at the moment to get up and face the day. She wasn’t just physically exhausted, but emotionally and mentally as well. Last night her mind had decided to replay everything that had happened since Angel left. Every moment Spike had the chance to share and never did. Every time he acted as if he didn’t know and was hurt by Fred’s departure. Though he had been upfront about the fact that he wasn’t heartbroken over Fred’s leaving. Just mad. And not necessarily just at Angel, but at Fred too. Curious and yet understandable.

Rolling out of bed, she sat up and stretched, listening with satisfaction as she heard her joints cracking. Yawning, she stumbled out to see if Lindsey was awake. She was out like a light still and Buffy quickly showered, hoping that would help wake her up.

Not so much. If anything it made her want to crawl back in bed and sleep the day away. Sleep until the past twenty four hours were obliterated. Make it all a dream; make it all go ‘poof’.

Going through the motions of getting ready, she heard Spike enter the house and she wondered how long it’d take him to come upstairs. When she heard the familiar sound of him running up the stairs, she braced herself.

She was putting her earrings in when he knocked softly on her slightly ajar door. “Buffy?”

“She’s still asleep,” Buffy said.

“I figured as much.”

He stood there awkwardly at the door and Buffy wanted to weep just by looking at him. She hadn’t realized how three short weeks could accustom her to being smothered in his kisses and affection before work. What a way to start the day. Frustrated with her body’s desire and . . . and need to be in his arms, she stalked to the door and slipped past him, not even bothering to look at him. Starting for the stairs, she halted when she heard him speak softly to her.

“Do you think you’ll ever be willing to hear me out?”

He sounded so pathetically sad that she felt her heart crack just that much more. She took pause, her hand on the railing, her body facing away from him. “Yes,” she replied honestly. “But only because I don’t want to be in the dark any longer over anything. Though how much truth will you really tell me?”

“I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

“You promise?” she snorted. “Yeah, that’s . . . so empty to me. Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t ever give me your word on anything unless it has to do with Lindsey, all right?”

“Buffy, I . . . God, if you knew how sorry I was. If you knew how many times I wanted to tell you but was so afraid to. It tore me up inside to keep it from you. I was so afraid of losing you, of losing Lindsey . . .” he trailed off. “I was a coward.”

She turned slightly to see him, to see his eyes fill with tears and regret. Before she could stop herself, the words, the cutting words were out of her mouth. “And the Oscar goes to . . . “ shaking her head, she practically ran down the stairs, not at all surprised to hear Spike following her.

“It’s not like that,” he all but growled at her, grabbing her arm and spinning her to face him. “It’s not like that at all. You have no idea what I’ve gone through—“

“No, you’re right, I don’t. But you knew what I was going through and you never said anything.”

“If I had told you, if I had told you all of it—would you have let me in your life? In Lindsey’s? Or would you have shut me out and kept me from my daughter?”

Buffy raised her chin defiantly. “Guess we’ll never know now will we?”

“Exactly, Buffy. You wouldn’t have. I know you Princess. You forget how well I know you. It ate me up inside to keep it from you. Did you know that I sat in that driveway when I arrived with her and told her I couldn’t do it? Then Peaches came out and saw her before I could turn around—“

“Why didn’t you wake me up? Why didn’t you fucking say anything? You let them just go.” Her eyes filled with tears, remembering that day, remembering the worry and the sense of loss she felt. This was the worst part of it all—having to relive it. Scratch that. Having to relive it and knowing that Spike, who claimed to love her, had known the whole time, had kept it from her and hadn’t given her the chance to try and stop Angel from leaving--that was the worst part.

“Buffy,” he whimpered and crushed her to him, holding on tight and burying his face in her hair. “I’m so sorry. Please, please, Buffy, forgive me. I never—“

“Momma? Daddy?”

Lindsey was coming down the stair, rubbing at her eyes. Buffy pushed at Spike and went to greet her daughter. “You okay, baby?”

Lindsey nodded and yawned. “I’m hungry.”

Spike snapped into action. “What would you like sweetheart?”

“Pancakes.”

“Want to help your dear old Dad?”

Lindsey perked up and nodded. “Will you help Momma?” she asked Buffy.

“I can’t today, baby. I’ve got to get to work, but another time okay?”

Lindsey studied her mother for a minute. “Momma, were you crying?”

“I had something in my eye, that’s all. Daddy helped me get it out.”

“Did Daddy have something in his eye too because he looks like he was crying too.”

Buffy nodded, thinking of how incredibly perceptive Lindsey was. “ Yep, there sure was. Now give me a kiss so I can have a good day.”

Lindsey jumped into her mother’s arms and kissed her sloppily on the cheek before Buffy released her and Lindsey tore into the kitchen.

Buffy gathered her purse and again, Spike’s voice stopped her.

“We’ll talk when you get home?”

“We’ll see,” Buffy murmured and left.

Twenty – eight

Buffy could see how Spike was doing everything to act normal and to please her. She’d come home that day with the intent to hear him out. Finally. So, when she arrived home, she simply told him she would listen to what he had to say after Lindsey went to bed.

The relief of gaining that reprieve from her was evident and he’d done everything since then to not get in her way too much and to try and engage her in ‘family time’. She gave in, only for Lindsey’s sake, but she refused to meet his eyes and speak directly to him unless she had to.

Childish, yes. Did she care? Not so much.

There was a wall, a tangible wall she’d put up between them. She had to. Otherwise, she’d cry, rant and rave and beg him to make it all better. To take the pain away once and for all and to not be that guy. To not be that guy Angel was. Devious. Sneaky. A liar.
Another man who’d hurt her, basically.

Seemed she could put her Daddy issues away for a while, as a whole new set of issues had just cropped up. Though, hadn’t it all started with her abandonment issues from her father?

She put her head in her hands while Spike put Lindsey to bed, battling tears. She missed him today. Missed having him call her while Lindsey was napping just to see how she was doing and to make her smile. Missed putting Lindsey to bed with him and feeling like a real family for once. Angel only did it once in a great blue moon so it was like this humongous treat – for both mother and daughter. With Spike though, it was a given, yet still had that specialness to it.

“You all right, pet?”

“Not your pet,” Buffy said on a knee jerk reaction.

“Yes,” he sighed, “you are.”

She shook her head and sighed, “I’m not going to argue with you.”

He had that look on his face. That look that told her he wanted to say something sarcastic to that but was holding himself back. The sick twisted side of her wanted him to do it. Wanted him to do it so that he would fight her back and not keep looking at her as if she’d single handedly brought his world down around him.

As if she’d broken his heart.

Maybe if they could hate each other instead. Maybe if they could just get along for the sake of Lindsey and when alone trade jabs at each other and loathe each other it’d be easier.

“So, tell me,” she said, sitting back. “Tell me all about it.”

“What made you change your mind anyway?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. She wanted to right it. Once upon a time that unconscious gesture turned her on. Now it angered and annoyed her.

Because it turned her on.

“I was feeling benevolent.”

He snorted, “Thanks ever so.”

“Well, it was either that or having you cry at me every time I saw you.”

Now he glared at her and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want it to be this way, not really. She was just so angry and he was there and –

“You know,” he started, shaking his head, “I’m tired of being a punching bag for you. If you’d stop being the scorned Princess for two seconds maybe you’d see that there are other people in pain here!”

She jumped up from the couch, facing him down, “I don’t care about your pain,” she hissed.

“That’s right. That’s our Buffy isn’t it? Only caring how shefeels and what she wants. Not giving two licks about the people around her and what they need or want. How they feel.”

Her eyes welled up in involuntary tears at that. She swallowed hard. “You know that’s not true. It’s not. I have spent my life trying to make him happy. I catered to his every whim, I tried to be understanding and unselfish when he was gone and all I wanted his time and company. I tried to show my daughter up there that I loved her with all my heart. Tried to be everything I could for her and then some. To make up for Angel, to make up the way he – he hated me and resented her. I knew he was unhappy with me and do you actually think I was happy? I failed. I failed to make a happy home for her, for me, for him. I lied to you, I lied to him, I lied to her. Jesus Christ, I lied to myself. So no, I haven’t made the best choices and no, I haven’t always done the right thing, but don’t tell me that I don’t care. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be hurting right now too!”

She finished on a shout and that had Lindsey calling out with a tentative “Mommy? Daddy?”

Spike rushed up to get her and Buffy tried to pull herself together. She hadn’t realized just how much anger was still inside her. Mainly because she’d had to relive it all over again. This time though, she felt as though more were at stake. And, she felt that she’d lost it already.

Where was her control? She felt as if she had no control over her life at all anymore. That everyone just made the decisions for her and didn’t give her the option. Not that she expected Angel to say “Buffy, I’m thinking about having an affair. What do you think? Can I?” But if he’d been so unhappy, couldn’t they have worked it out, couldn’t he have given her something to do to try and make it better? And then Spike. Spike made the decision to bring that, that woman here and let them go. He never told her. Spike never lied to her. Never.

And that was really the heart of it.

Spike was the one that supported her, that held her up and was always there for her. He let her lean on him, made himself available to lean on and he’d been the one to betray her. He’d been the one to lie to her and hurt her and she never expected that from him.

Her best friend and lover lied to her and all she wanted, more than anything, was to curl up in said best friend’s arms and let it all out.

“Buffy?”

She turned to see him standing there, watching her cautiously.

“She okay?”

“She’s fine. Buffy –“

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighed heavily, “I was afraid you’d keep me from Lindsey. I was afraid I’d never get the chance to . . . to –“

“To be with me?”

“Not just you,” he shook his head, “With both of you. Buffy, she told me on our way here. She told me who she was and yes, she did put it in my hands to make the choice of whether to go or turn back. And yes, I made the choice to come here. Then I got in the driveway and . . . “ he rubbed the back of his head, “I wanted to turn around. I couldn’t do it. I told her I couldn’t do it and then . . . then Angel came up to the car and saw her.”

“And then?”

“I spent the night trying to protect you from seeing that Angel was on his way to another affair—“

She winced.

“—And trying to keep them in line. God, I wanted to beat the crap out of him.”

“Did they plan to leave that night?” she asked hoarsely.

“If they did, I didn’t know until that morning. I woke up and Fred was packing.”

“Why didn’t you stop them?” she asked, her eyes welling up in tears.

“I did try, Fred, she . . . she told me that Angel was downstairs with Lindsey and that if I made a scene it wouldn’t matter. That they were going to go anyway and I’d just end up hurting Lindsey and you even more.”

“And you left her down there by herself?”

“No, I sat on the stairs, watching her, until you woke up.”

“She said that it wouldn’t have mattered?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Did you believe her?”

“Buffy, they were packed up and ready to take off without any of us knowing. I’m sure my waking threw a wrench into things as it was. They didn’t want any of us to know. Not even Lindsey. She threw a wrench –“

“Don’t say it,” she shook her head and sat on the coffee table, burying her face in her hands. “He’s such an ass,” she whispered. “I hate him.”

“You read the letter, Buffy. She said it herself. She would have found a way -- They would have found a way.”

Staring at the ground she murmured, “Not if they’d never seen each other.”

Spike dropped to his knees before her and lifted her chin with his finger, making her look at him as tears dropped from her eyes.

“Fate, remember? Destiny. They would have and they did. Because you and I? We’re meant to be, Buffy. Second chances, remember? We got the chance to make it right this time. All those missed chances –“

“It shouldn’t be this hard, should it?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Wasn’t it harder with Angel?”

She let out a little laugh. “Yes, you’re exactly right. It was. And that wasn’t worth anything in the end was it?”

“Buffy—“

She stood. “So, it kind of tells me that, maybe this isn’t worth it either.”

“No, don’t say that—“

“I think you should go now.”

“I’m not giving up on us Buffy, I’m not,” he said forcefully and grabbed her arms, making her look at him.

“Please let me go,” she said quietly, near begging.

He released her. “I’ll let this go for tonight Buffy, but I’m not letting you go. I’m not.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice Buffy.”

Walking to the stairs she looked over her shoulder. “Yeah, one would think. Until they’re taken from you, that is.”

She was living in a cave. That’s what Buffy decided as she was on her way to work a few weeks later. Driving to work was always a case of ‘ho-hum’ ness. It was just something she did, and never really pondered too much about. She paid attention to the cars in front of her, heeded traffic signs and lights and went about her business the way all those in rush hour morning traffic did.

But that day, she did something different. Something she’d probably done a thousand times before, yet this time for some reason, it was different.

She looked up. At the sky. It was blue with puffy white clouds. Ice blue, baby blue -- a pretty blue. And the sun, the sun was bright and shining and the sky went on and on . . . she wanted to be a bird so she could travel its length, see it spread out before her and pump her little wings and go, go, go.

She saw, seemingly with new eyes, the landscape. Beyond the cars, beyond the morning aggravation, there was life. The colors were vibrant, the grass greener than she’d ever seen it before, even the colors of the houses she passed seemed brighter. And that was when she realized she was living in a cave.

She was surrounded by darkness. And she was seeing shadows projected on the wall, giving her snippets of life and what it was like to live and be happy, but she really needed to get out of the cave. She’d started to for a while, but then when she started to see the light of the outside, she’d been beaten back.

It was time to leave the cave. Time to unshackle herself from Misery, Disappointment, Heartache and Blame, and move on.

If not for anything than to at least stop herself from using Platonian-like philosophy.

The past few weeks since her discussion with Spike had been quiet. Almost eerily quiet, as if he were planning a sneak attack of some kind to win her over – again -- and was lulling her into a false sense of security. The security being he was backing off. No more heated discussions, no more begging for forgiveness, no more making her feel guilty ? or her making him feel guilty.

The rage she felt was still there, but it was more of an angry-at-the-world rage now. Well, sort of. She was angry at Angel, angry at Fred, angry at Spike and, yes, angry at herself.

She was angry with her mother for teaching her that her lot in life was to please her man, and that if she doesn’t please her man, she was no more than a failure. She was angry with herself for somehow taking those lessons she’d thought were crap and making it her life. All for the love of one man that had never loved her to begin with. And yes, she was angry with him for proposing to her when he knew full well he’d never love her, and knowing full well that the minute he got his precious ‘Winnie’ back, he’d be out the door.

She was mad about the fact that she’d ever met him.

Somehow, she should have known. Should have seen the signs. What was the saying? Blinded by love? She snorted to herself, love, what a load of shit that was.

Her experience with love had done nothing for her but leave her in shreds. In high school, it was about dating the right guy to ‘look good’ and not caring a smidge about them, which worked well for both sides, since the boys she dated then could have cared less for her either. Then there were the lessons of home: A Donna Reed type mother who doted on hubby, and a father who could have given two shits about his family and had no respect for a wife that had no backbone.

Then came Angel. Angel who she fell for because he let her have a backbone and assert her woman power. Angel, whom she felt she had a connection with.

Angel, who carried a torch for another woman the whole time.

Oh, and the things she’d done to keep him. Lying to her daughter’s father being one of them. Oh, and then lying to herself. Ignoring the fact that she had felt something for Spike, and that it’d been more than just a physical affair they’d had, it had been emotional as well. It was just the stupid ideal of Angel and her marriage that she so desperately needed to save that she could not shake from her mind.

They'd gotten into a pattern in their life and she hoped that it meant he was content-- but knew, knew that he wasn't. She wasn't, no matter how much she convinced herself she was. No matter how happy she swore she was, she wasn't. And everyone must have felt it. Must have known how fake she was with every smile she gave, every positive thing she had to say about her life.

Fact was, she was lonely.

Yes, she had Lindsey, but she wanted and needed the love of her husband. She also needed something of her own – like a career she really cared about and oh, went to school for – and friends. She’d somehow alienated herself from everyone.

Ugh. She’d become Donna Reed. She’d went from pleasing her father, to pleasing her husband—except she never really did measure up, now did she?

Then there was Spike. A whole other can of worms. However, the difference with Spike and Angel was that with Spike, she was herself. She wasn’t a candy-coated version of who she thought she needed to be. She was a bitch, a clown, a friend. She could be a mess with him and it’d never mattered. If she hadn’t been so blinded by that love crap, she would have seen then that not only was Spike her best friend, but the person she should have been with.

Ah, it all came down to choices didn’t? The ones you made and the ones you didn’t get to make. The choices you made in one instant had a butterfly effect on the rest of your life. And, as she’d learned over the past few years, on the ones around you.

She felt it now. Felt it was time for a change. She couldn’t stay in the cave forever. Couldn’t spend her life being this unhappy and angry. The question was, what did she do to make it go away? Therapy? Running? Yoga?

That’s when she saw the answer to her prayers. Guidance and hope in the form of an 8 by 11 blue flyer.

“You’re Not Alone!

Life DOES go on!

Divorce Support Group every Wednesday night at 7p.m.

First Floor of the Town Library “

Snatching it up from the corkboard outside her building, Buffy stuffed it in her purse and reached for her phone.

“Hi, Spike? Yeah, it’s me. No, everything’s fine. Listen, I’m gonna be home a little late, okay?”

The set up for the Support Group looked much like the way support groups looked on TV. A circle of chairs, some refreshments to the side along a wall, and a little dark inside with some artificial light that was wholly unflattering.

Buffy took a step inside, feeling suddenly quite nervous. She’d been gung ho about it before, but now she felt as if the room was going to swallow her whole.

Making eye contact with a woman across the room that smiled at her shyly, Buffy knew she had to do this. Ironically enough, the room itself was like the cave Buffy wanted to get out of. But, beggars couldn’t be choosers now could they?

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a place to sit. Choosing a chair sort of in the corner and away from others inhabiting a few seats, she sat, placing her purse primly on her lap and surveyed the people in milling about.

“Hello,” a male voice said, startling her.

She looked up to see a tall man with dark hair and chocolate brown eyes surveying the room as well. He was dressed comfortable in jeans, loafers and a button down striped shirt. “Hi,” she greeted him.

“First time, huh?” he observed, still not looking at her.

“Yes, um, how long has this been going on for?”

“As long as there’s been divorce I imagine,” he said and chuckled. Now he looked down at her and studied her. “What’s your story?”

Buffy grumbled. “Too long to tell.”

“Can I guess?”

“Sure,” she said and waved for him to ‘bring it on’.

“Husband left you.”

“Isn’t that the way it usually is?”

He quirked a brow, “You’d be surprised.”

“Most common though, right?”

He nodded and sat down next to her, “Yes, it is. Usually though it’s a man leaving for a younger model. You seem like the younger model a man would leave his wife for though. I’m feeling there’s more to the story.”

“There is,” Buffy said, nodding.

“But you don’t want to tell me?”

She sighed, “It’s complicated.”

“They usually are.” He stuck out his hand, “I’m Lorne, by the way. I’m the one running the group.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re the therapist?”

He grinned, “Don’t look like your normal, run of the mill therapist do I?”

She smiled, “Not really. You look so . . . so . . . “

“I believe the word you’re looking for is relaxed,” he said, grinning.

“Yes, that’s it.”

He shrugged, “I find suits to give off the image of being stuffy and too professional, if you know what I mean. I want everyone to feel comfortable enough to talk to me. If they feel comfortable to talk, then it makes the healing process that much easier.”

“Good thinking.”

”Don’t have a degree for nothing. Your name?”

“Elizabeth, well, everyone calls me Buffy.”

“Buffy huh? I like that. How’d you hear about this Buffy?”

“Flyer on a corkboard outside my work.”

“Where do you work?”

“Travel agency.”

He studied her again, “You don’t like it?”

Her eyes widened, “How do you know that?”

“Well, did I tell you that I’m studying to be a psychic as well?”

She laughed, “No. Really?”

“Yep, and I could tell by the wrinkle of your nose. Bet you didn’t even know you did it, did you?”

She sat back, relaxed, “I didn’t.”

“See? I pay attention,” he said proudly and tapped his nose. “So, since you’re new, are you ready to spill your guts to a roomful of strangers?”

She laughed nervously, “I don’t know if I’m ready to do that.”

“Well, Buffy, nothing ventured, nothing gained. You’re here for a reason and I’m assuming that reason is not to meet single men – ooh, now that’s interesting.”

”What?”

“Your nose wrinkled again. You hate men now huh? Considering becoming a lesbian? If so, I know a really nice one—“

“No,” she shook her head, “Not becoming a lesbian. I just . . . I don’t trust a lot of men at this point in time. I don’t trust period at this point in time I guess I should say.”

“That husband of yours did a number huh?”

“Well, not just him.”

“There is a story buried in there. Tell you what; you don’t have to get into everything tonight. If you want to do a brief summary, that’s fine, but you have to promise one thing.”

“What’s that?” she asked warily.

“You and I talk one – on—one and you promise to come back next week.”

“How do you know you want me to come back next week?”

He grinned mysteriously, “I told you about the psychic bit, right?” Then he stood, “All right ladies and gents, let’s get this underway, shall we?”

*************
Listening to the stories of others in the room, Buffy wasn’t so much surprised as she was relieved to learn that she was not alone. And, after hearing some of the horror stories, well, Angel could have been a lot worse. She got off easy compared to some. It didn’t negate what she was going through, or rather, went through, but at least he’d never hit her.

Just lied to her. Constantly.

When Lorne introduced her, Buffy felt her standard blush of being in the spotlight coming on, but she knew she had to share. Getting it out to a bunch of strangers was in some way empowering; as if she were allowing herself to be justified for feeling so dysfunctional and angry. And she realized that she needed to hear what someone else thought. She was tired of hearing her mother’s voice in her head, of hearing Spike’s – of hearing her own. She wanted to hear from someone else what they thought and what they would do, because honestly, she was fresh out of ideas.

She didn’t have to stand, thank God, so she waved to everyone shyly and, cheeks flaming she launched into the Cliff’s Notes version of her marriage.

“Basically,” she began, “My story is, I was married to what I thought was this great guy that I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with, but, as it turns out, he was secretly holding a torch for a love he had back in high school that he apparently never got over. He cheated on me once with a woman at work and I found out about it and we worked it out – sort of – but years later he met up with his old high school flame and one morning, ran off with her. He’s off in California now, with a brand spanking new life and here I am, with a brand spanking new life of my own, except I’m not quite sure what to do with it. I tried moving forward and having a relationship with someone new and it was great for a while, but then I found out recently that he too, lied to me. I’m angry at the world, I’ve come to realize. I’m angry and miserable and I feel as though I’m stuck in this rut that I feel I’ll never get out of. I feel like I’m living in a dark, dank cave and I know the shiny happy people are out there, but I can’t seem to get to them.”

She looked around the room at the people watching her. Their looks surprised her. There wasn’t judgment, there wasn’t anyone looking at her as if she had two heads – no, they looked at her in understanding as if they knew and could sympathize with her. It was simply startling to discover that she needed that. She needed someone to just understand. Spike had listened to her vent about Angel, but he was quick to dismiss him as a ‘wanker’ and never quite got how destroyed she felt when Angel had left and told her he never loved her. Spike always wanted to bring the conversation to them, to him and how good he was compared to Angel. He never quite got it, which was odd considering he of all people should understand what it felt like to pine for someone. After all, hadn’t he done the same with her that she’d been doing with Angel?

The woman next to her, the one who had smiled at her when she’d arrived, patted her arm and smiled comfortingly. “It’s okay. We’re all here to help.”

Buffy smiled, feeling that for once, in her greatly fucked up life, she had made a right decision. Such a small step and yet such a large weight was lifting. Just like that.

“Well, time’s up for this week. Next week, same bat time, same bat channel. Good night everyone, good session,” Lorne announced and stood.

“My name is Tara,” the woman next to her said, her hand still on Buffy’s arm. “It was nice to meet you Buffy. You’ll be back next week, right?”

Buffy smiled, nodding profusely. “You bet.”

Tara smiled, braver now, “Good. See you then.”

Buffy stood, feeling good, no, feeling great. She turned to find Lorne standing right in front of her, his head to the side.

“As you can imagine,” he started, “I’ve got loads of questions.”

Buffy grinned, “I know.”

“So, care to join me for a drink?”

“Lorne, I don’t –“

“Now, now, you promised.”

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Would it help if I told you I was gay and therefore had no design on you whatsoever?”

She narrowed her eyes and raised her brows, “That true?”

He raised a hand as if making a pledge. “Gayer than the day is long.”

She laughed, “All right then. I’ll get that drink with you.”

“Perfect. I know the perfect dive.”

“Can I just ask you something?”

“Sure.”

”Why me?”

“It’s my calling. When anyone comes in here looking as if they’re carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, I want to help. You, my dear, are far too young and beautiful to be carrying a weight that large on your shoulders.”

Buffy smiled, “You’re gay?”

“My hand to God. Or not, since he’s not so much in love with the homo’s now is he?”

Buffy laughed, “Depends on who you talk to.”

Offering her his arm, Buffy slid hers into his and smiled up at him.

“This is the start of a beautiful friendship,” Lorne said and escorted her out of the room.

Chapter Thirty one

“So, tell me all the dirt,” Lorne said as she pushed Buffy’s Coke towards her, and centered the basket of onion rings between them. They were indeed in a dive; a little diner that Buffy had passed by and never noticed on a daily basis. And, if she had noticed it, she probably would have thought it closed down. It was darker than what she imagined a diner to be like, but, for some reason, she trusted Lorne’s taste and thought nothing of picking up the greasy, artery clogging ring and stuffing her mouth with it.

“Hello bypass,” Lorne hummed and munched away.

She giggled, “I’ll say.”

“Come on,” he said, tapping her forearm. “The story.”

She sighed and grumbled. “Do I hafta?”

“Do you want to carry the weight of the world around still? Do you want to get out of the cave?”

“Isn’t that why I’m going to group?”

“Well,” he nodded, “There is that, yes. But I have a sense—“

“That the psychic or the therapist talking?”

“Both; and they say that something is up with you missy,” he pointed at her, swirling his finger around and narrowing his eyes at her. He sat back and reached for a ring. “Tell me about this husband of yours. How is it that he ran off with his high school sweetheart that he’d carried a torch for? What are the odds of that happening?”

Taking a deep breath, Buffy sat back and crossed her arms. “That is indeed a trippy story. The whole thing is really trippy.”

“And I thrive off trippy.”

“Do you believe in fate and destiny, Lorne?” she asked, leaning forward, watching him curiously.

He gave her a look. “I think you know the answer to that dumb question.”

She laughed, “Got a point there. Okay, my story sounds a lot like fate and destiny were at work, so maybe you want to wear both hats here. . . “

“I’m on it!”

Launching into the story, Buffy told Lorne about her and Spike knowing each other in high school, through her sordid marriage, through the conception Lindsey, and up to the point where she saw the flier. Lorne listened, his mouth hanging open in quite a few areas, his eyes widening on others, and a general look of disbelief overtaking his features more often than not.

When she finished, Buffy felt as if she’d unloaded part of that weight he was talking about. It felt so good to tell someone everything. It was amazing how well talking about your feelings and experiences worked. Talking really was therapeutic!

Buffy eyed him apprehensively and braced herself for what he would say. She couldn’t imagine him telling her anything worse than what she already felt and thought herself, but she braced herself just the same.

Taking a deep breath, Lorne met her eyes. “I’m going to give you some advice that you can choose to take or not.”

She nodded briskly, “Okay.”

“I think, if you can afford it – and Tara owns a daycare, F.Y.I—that you should put Lindsey in preschool until she starts kindergarten in September. And,” he said, holding up his hand when Buffy started to disagree, “I am not saying that because I think Spike spending time with his daughter is a bad idea, I think it’s an insanely good idea, however, it’s not healthy for you or him. It’s not healthy for the relationship he wishes to have with you and you do not wish to reciprocate at this time—seeing each other as much as you do, day in and day out will only lead to further strained relations. Also, the day will come – as snippets of it already has – where one or both of you will use Lindsey to help, or destroy further the situation between the two of you. And that’s not fair to Lindsey. Furthermore—“

Her brows rose, “There’s a furthermore?”

“You betcha. Furthermore, even though you and Spike are doing a fairly good job at keeping your strained relationship under wraps, children are quite intuitive and on some level, she feels it. She’s already picked up on it a few times, but was looking for you clarification about it, it seems.
It’s also just plain not healthy for you. Or Spike. You two need distance from each other and lots of it. If he wants to see Lindsey, then he needs to come over like any Dad who is not with the mother does, and take her out. He can take her to his place or go to the park – anything. But you two do not need to engage in any conversation at this point that is not about Lindsey’s welfare.”

He leaned forward, “Buffy, you have a lot of emotion tied up in this: Sorrow, anger, feelings of failure, guilt and loss. Spike, and your relationship with him, should you one day wish to pursue it again, cannot survive if the only place you have to unload those emotions is at him.”

“Don’t you think I’m justified in being angry?” she asked, her voice wavering in doubt.

Lorne nodded. “I do. Now, I don’t know this Spike guy, I can only make guesses based on what you’ve told me about him. And, so, from what I’ve heard – and reading between the lines of it – is that he loves you, but his love for you is bordering on obsession. Especially at this point. He had you in his grasp after wanting you for so long, but then he lost you just as quick.”

“That’s not my fault that he wanted me and never said anything—“

“No one said it was your fault. How would you have been able to know? He was never forthright with his feelings when you knew him so long ago. Not until after you slept together, it seems, but then . . . Then you both took wrong turns and made some flubs. But Buffy, it’s not the mistakes you make that define you. It’s how you handle those mistakes after you’ve realized what you’ve done that defines you. You can stay stuck in a rut or you can break from it, change, grow and evolve from it to make a better life for yourself. Going to group was the first step to seeing that that was what you needed to do.”

Buffy’s eyes welled up with tears, feeling a shift within her at those words, feeling something quite close to hope bubble up within her. Hope that she was finally on the right path. “Thank you,” she whispered.”

“I’m not done yet,” he grinned softly. “So don’t thank me just yet.”

She laughed nervously, “Okay.”

“It’s not only good for you to take a step back and get some perspective, but it’s good for Spike as well. He seems to be in a state of pushing forward when there’s nothing left to push, and he’s just really going against the tide at this point; which is probably very frustrating for him.
Buffy, I’m not going to sit here and say that Spike’s feelings are not real. It seems that he’s gone through a lot and done a lot to ensure your happiness and, well, you do things when you love someone that often times take away from your own comfort—“

“Like I did with Angel,” she whispered.

“Right. Exactly. Like you did with Angel. While Spike might not realize it, he in a way seems to fault you for doing those things for Angel that he wishes you would have done for him instead. In his eyes, he sees Angel as just being the cheating husband that you should have left, but did not – and that confuses him; it hurts him. He’s built you up over time Buffy, we all do it –romanticize the one we’re not with. And now he has the reality of it and I don’t think he’s quite ready – nor you—to deal with that reality just yet. He wants the fantasy he built up in his head, but, there’s so much crap to muddle through first. We’ll leave that for another time.” He grinned. “Spike saw – and I’m only speculating still – Angel and Fred leaving as a done deal. He saw that it wouldn’t have mattered either way if he’d awakened you or not. Partly because of what Fred told him that morning, plus the situation that was unfolding before him; but also partly because of what of he knew of Angel, his history with Fred, and Angel’s history with infidelity. He sees it as doing you a favor. He kept you from having to witness Angel leaving. He kept Lindsey from having to witness who she believed were her parents probably having an all out brawl and then seeing, who she thought was her father, leaving with another woman who was not her mother. He, in his own way, was protecting you and Lindsey from that hurt.”

“And, making sure that I never kicked him out of my life for bringing her here.”

“Can you understand, from his perspective, why? He had a lot to lose as well.”

“And everything to gain, right?” she said bitterly.

“He hasn’t gained much right now, has he? The thing Spike is not getting is that yes, Angel might have still left with Fred, that yes, it would have been messy, but, he didn’t give you the opportunity to do anything about it either way. You didn’t get to say ‘Angel you prick, don’t leave’ or ‘Angel, you prick, get the fuck out of my house’ – because Spike made the decision to protect you and Lindsey – and himself, let’s be honest – and you had no say. Then there was the pretending, the acting if you will, of Spike acting like he too, was jilted.
Buffy, do you think Angel would have left if you’d gotten up and tried to stop him?”

Buffy stared at Lorne, pondering that. “Yes.”

“Would you have tried to stop him knowing what he was planning to do?”

“I don’t know. I can sit here and speculate and say that maybe I would have been so disgusted and fed up with him that I would have told him to get the fuck out, or I could say that I would have begged him to stay because…because he was all I really knew…but I don’t know.”

Lorne nodded, “It’s a crippling feeling when you feel as if you could have done something – whether it was giving the kiss off, or begging for one to stay – but not being able to be given that choice; that chance. Especially since you already felt so helpless in your marriage.”

“Oh God,” Buffy sighed, “That’s a whole other issue.”

Lorne smiled, “It is. And I think we’ve covered enough ground for tonight. Don’t you think?”

“Can I thank you now?”

“Yes.”

She reached across the table and took his hands in hers. “Thank you.”

“Will you consider the daycare option for Lindsey?”

“Yes.”

“Then I thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” she said on a tired sigh. “I still have to get by Spike on that one first.”

Arriving home, thoughtful from her talk with Lorne, Buffy braced herself for the talk she was about to have with Spike. She was determined there would be no harsh words, no hurting for the sake of hurting – she would be direct and adult. If not for her, or for him, then for Lindsey.

Lorne was absolutely right. They needed time apart from one another; they needed to not be around each other so much or they’d just keep going twenty rounds. It wasn’t as if she enjoyed being hateful to him. Quite the contrary; it made her sick, it made her angry at herself, and it hurt her even more. It was simply not healthy and if she wanted to purge herself from all that anger and hurt, then she needed to start by getting some breathing room.

It wasn’t as if Spike couldn’t use it either. If the bags under his eyes lately were any indication, he needed the respite from her too. He just wouldn’t be the first to say it, and honestly, she wished that he would.

God, he was stubborn, but then, so was she.

Pushing the door open, she found Spike sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, with flicker in hand. He seemed so . . . out of place, as if he did not match the room or the house and well, she felt out of place here too. She really had to get on the ball on selling and moving. It was time to go.

“Hey,” she greeted him, walking into the living room.

Immediately he sat up and flicked the TV off, clearing his throat. “Hi. So, uh, how’d...?”

Sitting down on the rocking chair against the wall, facing him at an angle, she nodded, “It went well.”

“You gonna tell me where you went or do I have to guess, luv?”

Taking a deep breath she said, “I went to a Divorce Support Group.”

His brows rose and his eyes widened. “Oh. Well, that’s good,” he said slowly.

“It is good. And, listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Tell me,” he said, head cocking to the side as he studied her.

“I want to put Lindsey in preschool,” she blurted out.

“Looking for more ways to punish me, eh Buffy?”

She bit back a snap that was forming and shut her eyes, praying for strength. Opening them, she said with conviction, “No. Quite the opposite actually. I think it’d be good for her and for us.”

“There’s an us?”

She looked at him, “There’s an us in regards to us being Lindsey’s parents.”

He shook his head and sat back, “I see.”

“Spike, aren’t you tired of the fighting? I mean, really, all we do is argue—“

“You mean, you’re done with your favorite pastime of ‘Kick the Spike’?” he asked sarcastically.

She met his eyes and said resolutely, “Yes.”

His gaze wavered and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So am I,” he admitted, “I’m tired of it too. And that little girl feels it, I know she does. Know what she asked me today?”

”What?”

“If I was happy. Nearly blew me out of the water.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her that yes, I was. What was I supposed to say?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“So, yeah, I’m tired of the fighting. It’s why I’ve backed off. Why I’ve given you space.”

“Yeah, well –“

“You can’t keep me from her, Buffy,” he told her in a manner that meant business. “I won’t let you keep me from her. I missed so much already, I won’t let you take her from me.”

“Spike, if I was going to keep her from you, then I already would have done it. I made a promise to myself, to her and to you that I would not keep you two apart any longer,” she said sternly. “I just think that . . . that you and I need more space. That being here everyday and having to see each other every day as we have is not healthy.”

“So you are punishing me.”

“No. I’m trying to heal. Don’t you need to heal too?”

“Buffy, I lo—“

“Don’t say it,” she held up her hand to stop him, “Please don’t say it.”

He stopped, hurt evident on his features before he sighed and looked away from her.

”I don’t want to fight anymore and I don’t want to see you every day anymore, Spike. I want you to move on.”

His head snapped to hers.

“Move on, eh? That what you plan on doing? Move on to a fellow divorcee in your group that you don’t have any ties to or—“

“No, Spike, I don’t plan on moving on with anyone. I don’t have any desire to move on with a man. I think I just need to be by myself for a while and get my life back on track. I went from being Angel’s wife to your girlfriend and –“

“And since you hate me now. . . “

She scowled at him, “Stop fishing. Stop either trying to make me snap or you or trying to goad me into admitting something that is pretty much dried up right now.”

He stood, his face a mask of anger. “As usual it’s all about what I’m doing to you, what about what you’re doing to me?”

“This,” she stood, “is for you too. I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Spike. I’m done. I don’t have any fight left in me to do this anymore. How can you? Aren’t you tired of it? Aren’t you done too? You just told me that you backed off to give me space—“

“But now you want me to what? Come over here and act like I’m your divorced husband here on my allotted time to visit my daughter like some sod with his tail between his legs?”

She blinked, “Well, that’s a rather colorful and dreary way to put it, but yes. I want you to come over here and pick your daughter up and take her out rather than spend your time here.”

“You’re kicking me out completely,” he murmured.

“If you choose to look at it that way—“

”How else can I look at it?” he asked incredulously.

“That I’m trying to make things better; less strained. That I’m not only trying to give me a new life, but you as well. A life that isn’t so angry and hurtful.”

“We were happy,” he whispered, looking down.

“We were, but we’re not now and I think we should find what’s going to make us happy since it’s clearly not each other right now.” It was a hard statement to say, which struck her as funny considering the mean things she’d said to him as of late. It was true though – there was no happiness to be had for either side.

“You want me to find someone else?” he asked with trepidation.

She looked up at him, “If you meet someone and she strikes your fancy, then yes.” Even if the prospect did hurt more than she thought it would despite how angry she was with him. “Spike, we might . . . we might not be it for each other.”

“And fate and destiny? What about all that?”

“Perhaps it was just for Lindsey. Maybe . . . maybe it was a test. A test designed to see what we’d do, how we’d handle things from here on out. Maybe it was more of a life test than a test our relationship. Fate and destiny might have other plans for us. So, perhaps you’ll find that girl that you’re really meant to be with while you’re out with Lindsey one day or –“

“Buffy, just stop, please,” he said, his voice strained. “Just. . . shut up.”

“I’m sorry.”

His head snapped up to hers. “Are you really?”

Yes and no, she thought, but wasn’t sure how to explain that to him or even to herself so she chose to say nothing.

“Maybe you shouldn’t say it until you can mean it,” he muttered.

She nodded. “I’ll um, be looking into a preschool tomorrow. Since she is your daughter and you do have say, if you want to check them out with me, you can or if you have an idea already of where might be good...”

“I’ll come with you, I want to check them out too, make sure they’re good.”

“One of the ladies at group, she has a daycare and I was thinking I could check it out. I believe it’s called Rainbow Preschool.”

Spike nodded, “Let me know when you set up an appointment.”

“Will do.”

Shuffling to the door, Spike turned at the last minute and met her gaze. “Night, Buffy.”

“Night, Spike.”

Popping her eyes open, Buffy stared up at the ceiling. Today is the first day of the rest of your life, she thought. Though it didn’t feel like it. It felt rather like the end of something with a new beginning nowhere in sight. It seemed the dark tunnel of ending was one that would stretch on for eons. Where was the light at the end of it? She felt as though she’d been angry and hurt for so long, she didn’t know what it felt like to be happy.

Had she ever been happy? she had to wonder.

Well, there had been the brief stint with Spike. That surely had been happiness right? Or was it just the comfort and knowledge of being with someone that put her on a pedestal and adored her? And what was it that Lorne had said? Oh yes, how could she forget? He’s built you up over time . . . we all do it –romanticize the one we’re not with. And now he has the reality of it and I don’t think he’s quite ready – nor you—to deal with that reality just yet. He wants the fantasy he built up in his head. . .

Truer words had never been spoken.

And the same could be said for her. She wanted the guy that was not Angel. The guy that she mattered to, the guy that treated her like a Queen and let her be as crazy and as crappy as she wanted to be, and still loved her. The problem with situations like that was that eventually, the person who let you be all that you wanted to be and more, started to be someone you walked on and treated like dirt. They got it all simply because they asked for it. Don’t hold anything back. For that, you have asked for hell on your doorstep. You can have it all and then some, you lucky bastard.

On the other side of that coin was the lie. The treacherous lie and continuous lying. The acting. . . Misery loves company they say. And it’s true. Misery seeks out familiars to lay down its troubles with, to ease the pain by knowing that someone else is going through the exact same thing. To find out that your familiar is merely faking it for what they deem the greater good . . . well, that’s just cruel.

At the heart of it all was her. The eye in the middle of the storm. She’d stirred the pot on both sides hadn’t she? She’d dabbled in this and stuck her hand in that. She’d riled one up and put the other down, then put the other down while riling the other one up.

Basically, she was not completely innocent. It just depended on when you started the twisted tale. She was no princess, and her men were no princes, despite how desperately she wanted it to be a fairytale that would end with her being at peace with herself, with her life and with her man – whoever he might be. The idea of any man at that moment though caused her stomach to turn. Romance was out of the question. She had not been lying to Spike when she’d told him she was dried up and out of business.

Her eyes welled up as she shuffled across her room and sat in her window seat, staring out at the brilliant day. There is more to this life she thought. Sitting there, under the bright sun streaming in the windows and surrounding her, Buffy sobbed. She cried out her fears and her anger. Sobbed out her sadness, her mourning of so many things that had lain dormant inside her, just waiting for this moment when she would release them. The problem was, she was afraid that once unleashed there would be no stopping them. Who knew when they’d rise again and take over. But maybe it was okay to let that happen. Maybe it was better to find that release than to keep it all in and let it beat her up from the inside out.

It was always a surprise to her when after a good cry, she felt better. It was something that people often told you, but you never really believed. Surely crying can’t really make you feel better! How could it? Wasn’t that just giving in to the sadness? Wasn’t that just wallowing in it? At the end of that cry though, was a rainbow. The clouds parted, the sun came out and a rainbow appeared.

Standing up from her window seat, Buffy straightened, took a deep breath and a stretch and headed towards the bathroom.

She had things to do.

********

Spike came over during breakfast. Buffy had rang Tara after her shower and had made an appointment with her that afternoon to check on her facility. True to her word, she rang Spike immediately after to tell him when the appointment was. She informed him that she was planning still to check on other facilities and he was welcome to join her. He had agreed immediately.

She smiled as she watched him interact with Lindsey. Their little girl adored him. For the many times she’d felt guilt for keeping Spike from Lindsey, there were still those times she’d programmed it in her head to immediately issues the excuses for it. Watching them laugh together, she felt as though she were seeing them for the first time, and feeling the ramifications of that lie for the first time in Lindsey’s four years. Placing herself in Spike’s shoes, she couldn’t imagine being apart from her daughter. It’d kill her.

Feeling another onslaught of tears overcome her, Buffy hastily excused herself to clean up the kitchen. Taking the plates and bowls inside to clean, she allowed herself another cry.

This was it folks, from here on out, it was all just going to come out. She was peeling away layers it seemed. It felt like she was anyway.

“Buffy?” Spike came in and the note of concern did not go unnoticed by her.

“I’m just going to finish cleaning up and we can go,” she said quickly.

“Buffy, are you all right?” he asked and came up behind her. He laid a hand on her back lightly, as if he were afraid she’d shove him off her.

She tensed and then relaxed. Best to get it out there. She turned to him, her eyes still shining with unshed tears.

“Buffy—“

“Listen,” she implored him.

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“You told me last night that I shouldn’t say I was sorry unless I meant it.”

He stared at her while she mustered up her courage. The thing with apologies was that they were hard when you really meant them. Saying an off the cuff ‘I’m sorry’ for stupid bullshit that you don’t care about, and half the time have nothing to do with in the first place, is easy. Saying it when you mean it is another thing altogether.

“I’m sorry for keeping Lindsey from you for so long. I’m sorry that I lied to you. I have no excuses for how it was the right thing to do. It was deceitful of me and it was cruel to keep you from her.”

He blinked, no doubt reeling from the raw truth and honesty pouring out her. Simple words, but with so much meaning behind them. “Buffy, I . . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know that. I figure if I’m going to be making some changes here, then I have to start with owning up to my own mistakes. That was a huge one and I only hope that you can forgive me one day for that.”

“Buffy—“

“Don’t say that you have just for the sake of wanting to make things right or make things better between us. Say it because you really mean it. And when you do mean it, let me know. Maybe then we can find a way to put a pin it and move on.”

Clamping his mouth shut, Spike nodded slowly and shuffled out of the room.

“So, we’ve agreed then? Tara’s is the best place?” Buffy questioned Spike later as their little girl frolicked in the McDonalds play place. They’d gone to a few places in the morning that had seemed nice enough, but each place had garnered a funny feeling for either one or both of them. Rainbow, Tara’s place, seemed the only one they both agreed upon.

Spike nodded, “Rainbow it is.”

“Good. I’ll call her when we—I—get home.”

Spike smirked, “Well, technically it is a ‘we’. It’s where you and Lindsey live. You don’t have to fret over the details, pet. I know where I’m at in all this.”

Curious, and knowing she was probably going to regret it, Buffy turned to him. “And where is that do you think?”

“The dog house,” he said simply.

She sighed heavily and looked away from him, shaking her head. “Not exactly, but if that’s what you want to think, then fine.”

“What else am I supposed to think?”

“That I’m trying to make things better? That I’m trying to make it so you’re not in the ‘dog house’. Just because I don’t want to fight anymore doesn’t mean that it’s all your fault.”

“But it was because of my lie isn’t it?”

She stared at him incredulously, “Well, yes. And this,” she said, gesturing between the two of them, “is exactly why I’m doing it. I’m just tired of hashing and re-hashing of you thinking the worst of me—“

“And you thinking the worst of me. . . “

“Yes.” She nodded, “All of it. You’ll be surprised to know that I don’t blame you for all the crap between us, and that I know I have to take responsibility for some of it. Not all, but some. You accuse me of making you the enemy so much, well you know what? You’re not much better when it comes to me.”

Spike sighed, “I’m sorry, you’re right.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes,” he replied, nodding. “I mean it. It’s just . . . being out like this with you and Lindsey. It’s like we’re a family you know? If all that other crap could just go away...we’d have something here.”

“But the other crap is still there. It doesn’t just go away. Everytime we turn around, there it is. As much as I’d like to shove it all under the rug and continue on, I just can’t do that anymore. And it’s not just you, Spike. It’s everything. Like, say, my entire marriage with Angel.”

Spike grumbled, “That bloody ponce...”

”Yeah, him. I know you don’t like it, but it’s true. And it’s not about what you like or don’t like here, Spike.”

“Thanks, Buffy, that felt nice,” he snapped sarcastically.

“It’s the truth. This isn’t about you hating the fact that Angel was my husband and the fact that I did in fact love him. This isn’t about you Well, not that part anyway. A lot of it is me and him and me . . . “

“Where do I fit in, in all of this Buffy? Does it mean that when the issues have been worked out and we’re done being angry, we’re gonna be together?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have that answer. I don’t want to say yes if it ends up being no. And I don’t want to say no ...I don’t know, Spike. We’ll always be together due to Lindsey, but as far as a relationship like before....” She took a deep breath, gathering her courage for what he had to tell him. This new thing, honesty, was hard. “I don’t know if I could trust you enough to be with you.”

Silence fell and it seemed her hearing was tuned into two sounds: Lindsey playing and Spike’s reaction to what she’d just said.

He said nothing though. He got up from his place beside her and walked away from her, to the other side of the room, completely out of sight.

Taking a steadying breath to keep from crying again, Buffy focused in on her daughter and glanced at her watch. Another ten minutes and they’d go home.

********

Once they’d arrived back at the homestead, Lindsey had insisted on showing Spike a drawing she’d done that morning and barreled up the stairs with Spike following behind.

He hadn’t spoken to her since they’d left McDonalds. Not unless he had to and it lacked the warmth he usually had with her. She felt at a loss, she realized. One part of her wanted to take back what she’d said and the other knew she couldn’t. It had been the truth. Sometimes, the truth hurt.

She knew Spike regretted what he did, but she had to wonder if he regretted it for all the wrong reasons. If he understood how she felt, if he felt guilt through empathy or if he felt guilt through being caught in his lie. Maybe he didn’t even know anymore, but that was his thing to figure out, not hers to figure out for him. She had enough on her plate at the moment.

There was a marked difference between Spike and Angel though. Angel was thoughtless and unconcerned with others until their feelings and wants affected him. Spike had proven he cared about her feelings more than once, but it was through that one lie that it had all unraveled and obliterated all those other times he’d been concerned for her and her feelings.

That was the thing about lying. It destroyed everything built, and everything that could have been built. It wiped out and spread like wildfire through everything, cheapening it and making it dull and lifeless. Lying never did anything except benefit the liar in the long run, no matter what they told themselves to convince themselves it was for the other person.

Uh oh. Mood swing up ahead! She’d gone from being on an even, contemplative and calm heel, to feeling angry all over again. Batten down the hatches boys, Buffy was feeling ready to blow!

The phone ringing jarred her from the bubbling anger and resentment rising forth. “Hello?” she nearly barked into the phone.

“Whoa. I’m sensing hostility.”

“Lorne?”

“Buffy?”

She had to smile, “What are you doing? How did you get my number?”

“Psychic, remember? Actually, did you know they made this book, a rather large and thick book...it has two kinds of pages in it. Yellow and White. I found you in white.”

“Hey, I think I’ve heard of those!” Buffy said, giggling.

“Well, that sounded a lot better than getting barked at when you answered.”

“I was having a mood swing,” Buffy said, sighing and rubbing her forehead.

“Talk to Spike?”

“Yeah, and – why are you calling?”

“I was concerned. You mentioned going home to talk with Spike and I wanted to know how it went.”

“Oh. Well, it went well. . . surprisingly. Well, I mean, it went back and forth.”

“Hence the need to spend some time apart.”

“Right. Exactly. Lorne?”

“Yes buttercup?”

“Buttercup?” she giggled again.

“Just came out. I have nicknames for those I consider kindred spirits.”

“Aw, thanks.”

“So, you were going to ask me something?”

“Yeah, um . . . Can I...can I see you?”

“You mean you want to see me as a patient with me as your doctor.”

“Yes.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, I just thought maybe you could benefit from having someone to talk to.”

“I really, really could.”

“All right, when do you want to see me?”

“How about you give me a time that’s after five and I’ll work it out from there.”

“Sounds good sweetness. How about five-thirty tomorrow evening?”

“Okay, something further away. Give me at least two days to find a baby-sitter.”

“Okay, two days from now, Thursday.”

”Okay, I’m there. Just need directions.”

After she’d hung up the phone with Lorne, she took a deep cleansing breath and turned to find Spike standing there, glaring at her.

“Who the fuck is Lorne?” he asked angrily.

“He’s the guy who runs group,” she told him calmly.

“Oh? Is he the one that gave you all the ideas about how to handle me?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Cut the stupid jealousy Spike.”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone right now? I thought you were all ‘dried up’?”

“I am. Not that I need to explain myself to you or anyone, but Lorne is not only a friend, but now my therapist, and not that it’s any of your business, but he’s gay!” She was seething in rage. The last thing she wanted to deal with was his jealousy bullshit. “Can you please get out now?”

“Buffy—“

“Please, leave.”

Jaw clenching, Spike turned on heel and strode out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

“Momma? Was Daddy mad at you?” Lindsey asked coming around the corner.

“No, baby, Daddy is fine. Did you show him your picture? Did he like it?”

“Yup,” Lindsey said, nodding, but looking wary. “Momma?”

”Yes, baby?”

“Can we watch a movie together?”

“Sure, what do you want to watch?”

“Snow White.”

“Okay, why don’t we get some snacks first then okay? I’m just going to call Miss Tara first okay?”

“Sure thing, Momma.”

One thing Buffy did not want to do was subject her daughter to the strained and argumentative relationship between her and Spike. This is the first day of the rest of your life, she reminded herself.

"Where would you like to begin?" Lorne asked a couple days later as he made himself comfortable in his 'therapist chair' and Buffy sat rather awkwardly on the couch.



"Shouldn't you be deciding that? You're the therapist."



Lorne grinned, "Well, yes, but maybe you want to tell me what triggered your desire to see me?"



Buffy sighed, "Oh yes, that. Well, I was thinking that I needed someone to talk to that wasn't Spike. He's not exactly conducive to healing when he's right over my shoulder wanting me to answer questions I don't have the the answers to."



"Do you have any family support, Buffy?"



She snorted, "Are you kidding?"



“I take that as a no.”



“You take that right.”



“Your mom? She isn’t a big helper when it comes to relationships?”



Buffy cocked her head to the side, “This your way of asking for information about my family life?”



Lorne smiled, but said nothing.



Taking a deep breath, Buffy launched into her history. “My mom was always kind of in the background, and yet not, if that makes sense. She was such a perfectionist. She never said boo to my father, but to me, she made comments all the time about how I could improve myself. I could never do anything right. It was all about my Dad and what he needed, what he wanted. And yet, there was this underlying resentment she felt for him that I always sensed, but could never find definitive proof of. My Dad, well, he walked all over her. He made her feel as if she could do no right. Which I suppose is why she took it out on me and made me feel as if….” She stopped, trailing off. “Huh.”



“What? Where’d you go?”



“Angel. He always made me feel as I couldn’t do anything right in our marriage and I bent over backwards for him. Now I take it out on….”



“Buffy?”



“I take it out on Spike,” she said softly.



“You’re saying that for you, he can do no right?”



“Seems that way.”

“Seems that way? Is it really that way? Are your gripes all with Spike or with Angel? Fifty-fifty?”



“Everything that’s happened since Angel left, I took out on Spike. He’s gotten it all. He’s gotten my moodiness, my bitchiness… he’s seen me be basically Linda Blair and he’s borne it all. He fights back, but for the most part, he takes it. And I let him. How sick and twisted is that? I let him take it. I apologize in one breath and treat him like shit in the other.”



“Does he deserve that all?”


“No, he doesn’t.”



“Then why do you do it?”



“Because he’s always just taken it.”



“So, you want the guy that doesn’t.”



“No, I want the guy that does take some of it, but I want the guy that stands up to me too.”



“Did you ever stand up to Angel?”



“Hardly.”



“Why not?”



“It was easier sometimes. I didn’t want to argue with him. Just wanted to keep him happy. And he had this way of making me feel as if was just causing trouble and being unreasonable if I did speak up. So I just kept my mouth shut.”



“And how did that make you feel to do that?”



“Like I lost myself. My voice. My independence. I became my mother and I hated myself for it.”



“Do you feel that Angel leaving had anything to do with how you were?”



Buffy welled up in tears and she nodded. “Yes.”



“How so?”



“I could have been more.”



“How do you mean?”



“Like maybe he needed me to stand up to him. Maybe I wasn’t enough woman for him because I was too busy being a doormat.”

“I’m going to take a shot here and you tell me if you see a pattern of some kind.”



“Okay,” Buffy agreed, bracing herself.



“Your mother bowed to your father and yet resented him. Instead of standing up to him, she put the perfectionist standards on you that he put on her. Following me?”



“Following you.”



“Okay, good. Then, you get married to a man that was just like your dad in the respect that he wanted you to be perfect. He cheated on you which was a slam in the face, and was a message to you that you weren’t good enough for his perfectionist standards. You took up with Spike, the man that worshipped the ground you walked on and treated you like a Queen, even if you didn’t know that he loved you, you knew he treated you well and you clung to that.”



“Right.”



“When Angel left you, Spike was there to pick up the pieces. Keeping now, the lie he told, out of this okay?”



“Okay,” Buffy said slowly.



“So he became the person that you could express yourself to. He took all of you as you were. You saw that as an invitation, albeit subconsciously, to unload upon him.”



“Yep, that’s pretty much it. I couldn’t take any of it out on Angel, so Spike became the one.”


“Just like your mom couldn’t take it out on your dad.”



Buffy took a deep breath and sat back. “I’m fucked up, aren’t I?”



“No, Buffy, you’re not fucked up. You’ve taken a behavior that was directed at you and placed it on someone else as a way to cope. We all do it. It’s the bully that gets beaten at home and takes it out on the weak at school.”



“Great, I’m a bully now?”



“No! I was giving an example. Okay, poor example. But do you know what I am saying?”



“Yes, I put Spike in charge of being my punching bag because he let me do it. He took it and didn’t fight back.”



“And you see that as weak. You saw it as weakness in yourself as well.”



Buffy stared at him, waiting for him to continue.



“You’re angry at yourself for not standing up to Angel and you’re angry at Spike for not standing up to you. In a way, he’s become you. You’re taking out your anger at yourself on him.”



“Wow. There are so many levels,” Buffy said in awe.



Lorne chuckled, “Usually how it works.”



“So it could be that I’m goading him into standing up to me?”



“Could be, yes. And the more he doesn’t, the more it angers you. You see it as a weakness, your weakness and his. I agree you have a lot of anger Buffy, but I also think a lot of that anger is with yourself. You’ve learned, probably mostly from your mother, how to direct that anger out towards others and make the issue theirs, instead of looking inside and finding a productive way to handle that issue.”



“I am fucked up.”



“You’ve gotten in a pattern that you probably never realized you were in. We all do it, whether we realize it or not.”

“I’d become aware of some of that, but. . .wow. There was more than I realized.”



“Does it make sense or do you feel that I’m just talking out of my ass?”



She shook her head, “No, it makes total sense. I’m completely bummed that I fell into the clichéd trap of finding someone just like my dad.”



Lorne laughed, “Spike isn’t like your dad though.”



“Hence the problem apparently,” Buffy joked. “Maybe if he treated me like shit, I’d know how to react better to him.”



“Well, I for one am glad that you’re here and we’re discovering these things. So many people go through life not seeing the unhealthy patterns they do over and over and over again…then they wonder why they’re never happy. Buffy, the fact that you’re here and you’re trying shows me that you are committed to making things better for not just you, but those around you.”

“Yeah,” Buffy muttered, “I’m committed all right.”

I let the beast in too soon; I don't know how to live
Without my hand on his throat; I fight him always and still
O darling, it's so sweet, you think you know how crazy
How crazy I am
You say you don't spook easy, you won't go, but I know
And I pray that you will
Fast as you can, baby run-free yourself of me
Fast as you can

Buffy lay on her bed later that evening blasting her Fiona Apple CD and singing along to the angst-ridden music while Lindsey was over Willow’s having dinner with little Oz. The two had become quite the pair and it seemed Lindsey had a penchant for getting the pair into trouble. Funny that. Buffy hadn’t been a trouble- maker at all growing up. Perhaps her life would have been much different if she had gotten into trouble now and again.

I may be soft in your palm but I'll soon grow
Hungry for a fight, and I will not let you win
My pretty mouth will frame the phrases that will
Disprove your faith in man
So if you catch me trying to find my way into your
Heart from under your skin
Fast as you can, baby scratch me out, free yourself
Fast as you can
Fast as you can, baby scratch me out, free yourself
Fast as you can

After her session with Lorne, Buffy felt . . . crazy. That was the only way to describe it. Crazy, and fragile somehow. Weak, she felt weak. She’d been living in this unhealthy pattern for so long and had never even realized what she’d been doing, what she’d allowed herself to become. What if she passed on those traits to Lindsey? Had she behaved like her mother and made Lindsey feel as though she couldn’t move beyond her rigid constraints? Or had she just kept all that in and put those standards on herself and, it appeared, Spike? What was wrong with her that she couldn’t see what she’d been doing to stop it? What was wrong with her that she couldn’t control her own life?

And there it was: Her mother’s voice in her head sounding much like her own. Buffy had to wonder – was that what her mother sounded like when she stopped to think about her own life and what had happened to it? Or was she just one of those people that just lived and didn’t think about what she was doing and where she was going. Fat lot of good all that self-analysis did for her anyway. She’d been oblivious to her own behavior.

She could still hear her mother the day she told her that Angel had had an affair.

”Oh Buffy, what did you do to make him stray?”

“Me?” she had asked incredulously, “What did I do?”

“Well surely you had to have done something. Maybe you need to have a baby, dear. That’ll keep him close to home. Men like it when their wives stay close to the home fire, so maybe you want to consider doing just that?”

Buffy remembered feeling so helpless at that point in time. She’d called her mother to get help and instead had gotten berated. She’d called for support after her husband had cheated on her and made her feel like she was nothing, and her mother blamed her. Which, in turn, made Buffy blame herself.

The only one that never blamed her was Spike. He’d blamed Angel. And how had she repaid him for that support she’d been looking for? By using him and then lying to him to keep Angel.

She also remembered when she’d called to tell her mother that Angel had taken off. All her mother had said was “Oh Buffy.” Two seemingly harmless words, one would think. But it was said in such a way that let her know that she’d obviously done something horribly wrong and was somehow impaired. Coupled with her ever growing feeling that she could do nothing right, that “Oh Buffy” hadn’t helped.

Sometimes my mind don't shake and shift
But most of the time, it does
And I get to the place where I'm begging for a lift
Or I'll drown in the wonders and the was
And I'll be your girl, if you say it's a gift
And you give me some more of your drugs
Yeah, I'll be your pet, if you just tell me it's a gift
Cuz I'm tired of whys, choking on whys,
Just need a little because, because

She’d spent so much time trying to be one thing to Angel that she wondered if she ever had been herself, at all, ever. Had she been herself with Spike? And if so, was herself just a bitch that was unable to be happy, at all, ever?

“Buffy? You here?”

Spike.

I let the beast in and then;
I even tried forgiving him, but it's too soon
So I'll fight again, again, again, again, again.
And for a little while more, I'll soar the
Uneven wind, complain and blame
The sterile land
But if you're getting any bright ideas, quiet dear
I'm blooming within

Wiping her tears away, Buffy rolled off the bed and stood, straightening herself out before heading down the stairs to see what Spike wanted.

He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching her. “Hi, sorry to bother you, but I tried to call and there was no answer.”

“Oh, sorry. I had the phone in the other room and couldn’t hear it.”

“No kidding,” he said slowly, eyeing her warily. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?” she said, breezing past him, heading for the kitchen.

“No reason. The music – isn’t this the music women listen to when they’re angry with men?” he asked, following her.

Buffy had to smile. Leave it to Spike – and a man -- to sum it all up in that way. “Yeah, it is. What’s up?” she asked, hoping to divert the topic to what he came here for instead of getting into any nitty gritty about them or...about them . . . “Something to drink?” she asked, reaching for a cup in the cabinet.

“No, thanks. I came by to see if I could take Lindsey out tomorrow night for dinner.”

“Of course you can.”

“Wasn’t sure if you had plans with her or anything,” Spike said, trailing off.

“No, none. Just staying in tomorrow night.”

Spike nodded slowly as he still watched her closely. “I just saw her outside with Oz. She’s quite bossy isn’t she?”

Buffy grinned, “I suppose she is.” Silence fell while Buffy pondered that and she looked up at Spike inquisitively. “Where do you suppose she gets that from?”

He blinked, “Are you really asking me that or is this some kind of test?”

“I’m really asking.”

“Well, I’d have to say you, pet.”

That alone made Buffy well up. “Really?”

“Buffy, what’s going on?”

“I just...you really think so?”

“Yeah, I do. Buffy, are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, I’m just...I had therapy today and I’m feeling a little sensitive I guess.”

“About bossiness?”

“About control...” she had to wonder if she ever had enough control to be bossy. Or if she’d just taken what she could gather about her and abused it horrendously. Looking up at Spike, at how drawn and tired he looked, how sad his eyes were, how lifeless they were, she felt guilt flood her.

“Spike?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you take it?”

“Take what?”

“The abuse. From me. Why do you take it?”

He stared at her, “I ...I love you, that’s why.”

“You shouldn’t take it.”

“What?”

”You shouldn’t take it. You should get out while you can.”

“Buffy—“

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“All right, I am not liking this at all. Is this what therapy is doing for you?”

“No, it’s what I’ve done to myself. And to you.”

“Like what?”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean, like what? Everything!”

“What about what I’ve done to you?”

“Well, we haven’t hit that part yet. First we’ve got to muddle through my parents and how they’ve fucked me up, to how I continued to fuck me up and then we’ll be onto your part,” she quipped.

“Are you making a joke?”

“Yes, I am. See? You can’t even tell anymore when I am and when I’m not. That’s sad.”

“Sor—“

She held up her hand. “Don’t say it! We haven’t gotten to that part remember? Wait until I ask for it. Until then....”

“Until then what?”

She looked at him sadly, “Do what you like. I’m not going to tell you what to do anymore.”

“Buffy, are you sure you’re all right?”

“Oh, I think I’ll be fine.”

“Are you...on anything?”

“Nope. Just high on life, can’t you tell?”

He grinned nervously, “Do you want me to take Lindsey tonight?”

“No, Spike, don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine. Don’t worry about anything here. I’m just feeling a tad thoughtful.”

“A tad?”

“Yeah, just a tad. Look, I’m really all right. Just left with some stuff going on in my head and I’m sorting through it. It’s a good thing, trust me. If I didn’t think I could handle Lindsey tonight, or any other night, I would call you. I swear.”

Acquiescing, albeit reluctantly, Spike took a deep breath, “Okay. Do you...do you want to talk about anything?”

“Not yet, but I’ll let you know.” Run, run, run! she screamed at him. The last thing you want is me.

“I’m going to pop over and say good night to Lindsey then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure, no problem!” she chirped and gave him the thumbs up. “See you tomorrow!” and she headed back upstairs to change her CD.

Fast as you can, baby wait watch me, I'll be out
Fast as I can, maybe late but at least about
Fast as you can leave me, let this thing
Run its route
Fast as you can
Fast as you can
Fast as you can
Fast as you can

*Song "Fast as you can" by Fiona Apple*

“You know what I feel?” Buffy said to Lorne the next week.

“What? Tell me.”

“I feel stupid.”

“Explain.”

“I feel as though everyone thinks I’m dumb,” Buffy said, sitting back on the couch.

“That’s different than you feeling stupid. Saying you feel stupid implies that you did something wrong and therefore feel stupid for it, saying everyone must think you’re dumb implies you only feel dumb because you’re letting them make you think you are.”

Buffy sighed heavily, “Then I guess both. I sort of feel like one is related to the other.”

“Oftentimes they are. Sometimes they’re not and that’s when beating yourself up inappropriately can happen.”

“Here’s the thing. I spent all this time and energy on Angel. I cooked, I cleaned, I catered to him, I kept this horrendous lie and all for what? For a man that cheated on me, made me feel stupid and really, was just a warm body that if he was even home, was barely a father to little girl whose real father would have done anything for her, and I –“ Buffy welled up in tears. “I let him think she was hers and she wasn’t. And all for...what? So I could feel successful at something? I gave everything to that man, to that lie, and you know what? I hated it. I convinced myself that I was happy, but I wasn’t. I was dying inside and I was so...angry. Angry at him, angry at myself. How stupid he must have thought me. It wasn’t as if he supported me in any of my dreams. I mean, he was an attorney! A big shot attorney who raked in the big bucks. I went to school for art history for crying out loud. How dumb I must be. I wasted all this time on a man that couldn’t give two craps about me when I should have been spending my time with the one who did. Then I have the one that did care about me – loves me a great deal even – and he makes me feel stupid too! Like weak, fragile Buffy can’t handle anything. Let’s not tell her that her husband is leaving with another woman, the woman he really loved, and then let’s pretend we had no idea. Let’s pretend for weeks, months. Then when she finds out the truth, then say it’s because you just wanted to protect her because you loved her oh, so much.” She was ranting and crying now, and she just didn’t care. “At least I can say I didn’t love Spike. I mean, I was starting to, I really was, but then as with everything else, the rug got pulled out from under me, and here I am, flat on my ass, wondering which way to go now. He claimed to love me and he did that. Angel claimed to love me too and look what he did. Look what I’ve done all in the name of love. God! Why does anyone bother? Why should I bother? It’s given me nothing but pain. It makes everyone do stupid shit to other people that they are supposed to care about and it’s all just a big fucking mess! And now look at me. I’m in therapy. I never thought I’d need therapy, but I do. And why? Because I’m fucked up. I’m destructive to others and myself. My poor daughter doesn’t have a chance with the way things have gone for her. It’s a wonder she’s as happy as a clam right now. I should put her in therapy and buy her a shiny new car for later just to make it all up to her later when she hates me for fucking up her life just as I hate my mother for never making me feel good enough, just as I hate Angel for the same goddamn thing and just as I’m so mad at Spike for not waking me – and I hate that I can’t hate him. I hate that I look at him and I feel guilt for what I did, and then anger at what he did. I hate that I can’t fully hate him, I hate that I’ve broken him. I hate that I’ve become this person I don’t recognize anymore. I feel like there’s this shadow of me, taunting me with how I used to be. With the good time girl with all the goals and plans that I used to be and somehow lost Except I didn’t lose it, I gave it all up for Angel . “ Heaving a sigh, she spoke calmer now. ”So yes, I feel stupid, and yes I’m angry at the world, and some days, I just want to stay in bed and hide. Except I can’t because I have to keep going, keep going and going and going and . . . I don’t know what I’m going for anymore. I don’t...except for Lindsey. I keep going for her, not for me. And that’s not right is it? To have that just be it? Is that fair for Lindsey? To have a corpse for a mother? And you know what pisses me off more than anything? That Angel and Fred are happy. They got to do this shitty thing to other people and they don’t care. And those other people are here picking up the pieces while they’re happy. How is it fair that people get to do crap like that to others and they just get away with it? It’s not right, and it’s not fair. ”

Lorne took her hand in his and asked quietly, “Do you feel better now that you got that out?”

“Sort of, yeah, I didn’t know all of that was in me. I mean, obviously I knew but...” she shook her head. “All of that has been building. For years.”

“Buffy, you have to forgive yourself.”

“How? I don’t know how.”

“Simple things to start. You know what I want you to do?”

“Hmmm?”

“I want you to look into going back to school.”

“I can’t afford—“

“Financial aid. Do it. Just at least look into it. That’s your homework.”

“I have homework now?”

“Yes,” Lorne said definitively. “You have homework now. You need to feel a sense of accomplishment, and you haven’t felt that in a long time, am I right?”

Buffy nodded dumbly.

“So, I want you to accomplish looking into getting your masters. We’ll discuss what you found out next week.”

Buffy looked at him solemnly. “You’re an angel, aren’t you? Sent here on Earth just for me.”

Lorne smiled, “No, I’m human just like you.”

“I can’t thank you enough for being here.”

“You sought me out, Buffy. I just made myself available when you sought me out. You took the step; pat yourself on the back for that one.”

“I’ll try.”

Buffy not only took Lorne’s ‘homework’, but she imbibed it and went flying with it. He didn’t know what he unleashed with that one simple request.

The day after the therapy session, she’d been in work fiddling around on her computer, doing this and that and finding she was running out of things to do. Chewing her bottom lip, she surveyed the room to see what her co-workers were up to. They were all with customers, so Buffy took it upon herself to look on the Boston University website and find out what classes she’d need to take to complete her masters. Just looking at the classes she’d have to take had her not running in fear as she thought it would, but it had her salivating, positively salivating.

Her mind was racing with how much fun it’d be to be part of a class again; to learn and to be able to later use that knowledge later on. To be able to have talks with like-minded individuals about art history, to share that passion with others and to not feel as if she were an alien for knowing things about art that the normal person did not know.

Something Angel made her feel quite often. She remembered going to a museum once with him and whenever she’d rattled off about a piece—something she knew about it, or something about the style or presentation of it, Angel would give her the look that said she was nuts to know all this. He thought art was something you bought to keep up with the Jones’ and that knowing what good artists there were out there was something you did for appearances as well. But actually knowing concrete knowledge about it – well, to him it just wasn’t practical. Where would it get you? Nowhere, that’s where. And he’d take on that tone, that “Oh Buffy” tone, as if she were a child – as if she were Lindsey who’d just gotten into trouble or had some kind of flight of fancy.

Nothing could make you feel crappier than your husband thinking that the thing you loved and were passionate about was nothing more than just a passing whim, and just plain silly. It was art. How could you take art seriously. She’d tried to point out to him that the books he read were considered art. He’d waved her off. Just like him. Dismiss anything that could challenge his logic.

Bastard.

Well, he wasn’t there now, now was he? And she could look up information and plan to her hearts content. If she wanted to salivate at the sight of “Medieval Art”, then she could go right on ahead and do it.

And it’s not stupid. It’s not silly. People need art. We all need it. It’s how we express ourselves! Knowing the technique and the history of it, how it’s grown is important for the young artists of today. It can help shape them to learn about those before them.

One name came unbidden to her mind as who would appreciate her knowledge on art: Spike. He was an artist himself! She remembered him going on and on one day about the cover art for his book and asking her what she'd thought. He’d listened with rapt attention to what she'd had to say about the style, the colors and what it had to say about his book. She’d gotten a taste of that excitement then too, but then tossed it aside, thinking she couldn’t do it, it wasn’t feasible.

But now she wanted to find a way to make it feasible. She’d gotten a good settlement from her divorce – thank you in some weird way, Fred – she could afford to at least pay for half of a full semester.

It was then that she decided to go into the college and meet with a financial aid advisor. So, during her lunch break, Buffy popped over to the college and briefly met with an advisor who loaded her up with material to read. She told him her situation, and he’d told her that she might not get much, but she might be able to get some, and then he’d given her a booklet of scholarships to apply for.

She was on the case, and for the rest of the day, that was all she thought about. She was like a dog with a bone and it felt fantastic. Sure, some might have said she was being obsessive, but she didn’t care.

For the first time in . . . what seemed like forever, Buffy had an outlet for that excess energy inside her. She had a focus for it, and that focus and outlet was positive. She did not dwell on Angel, on Fred, on anything that had to do with lying, cheating or backstabbing. She was not wallowing in misery. She was excited. Her spirits were lifted and soaring.

Perhaps it wasn’t smart to put all her eggs in one basket, but as the clock ticked on her life and on the clock on the wall, she became more and more certain: She was going back to school if it killed her.

A thought she hadn’t had in a while came back to her: Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Maybe, just maybe, she could now say that and have it mean something. She’d repeat it like a mantra if it helped. She’d infuse it with positive energy until all negativity just fell away, and all that was left were clear intentions and crystal clear clarity.

********

Buffy had forgotten that Spike was picking up Lindsey for a dinner date and then a trip to the park. When he knocked on her door, she berated herself for forgetting – and for almost setting up Lindsey with a hot dog until she could make a real dinner.

Hitting her forehead with the heel of her hand, Buffy opened the door for Spike to come in. “I’m sorry. I forgot you were coming by today.”

“Is now a good time, or--?”

She shook her head, “No, no. Now’s fine. You came just in time. She almost got a hot dog to tie her over until I could get changed and start a real dinner. Come on in. She’s upstairs changing herself. She got a little messy at school today. I swear the girl loves to stick both her hands in the paint. Her hands have a slight purple tint to them.”

Spike smiled as he followed her into the kitchen. “She takes after her mother’s love of art.”

Buffy closed the freezer door after pulling out some pork chops and plopping them down on the counter. She smiled a 100 watt smile. “Thank you for saying that.”

Spike blinked, seeming surprised. That was sad. When she was happy, he was bewildered. Obviously, it’d been much too long since she’d been happy.

“You’re welcome,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

He stared at her, “Sure,” he said slowly.

“I’m planning to go back to school.”

His eyes widened, “Really, when?”

“Well, I’m hoping by next semester. If I can’t fully enroll then, then I might just take a class and at least get my feet wet. I figure I can ask Willow if she would watch ---“

“Buffy, I can do that. I can watch Lindsey while you go to class.”

She bit her lip. “You sure?”

“Of course! She is my daughter.”

“I know, I just feel odd asking after all that’s…happened.”

“I’d be hurt if you didn’t give me the chance to. I could write when she goes down.”

“True. Well, I went to BU today and met with the financial aid advisor and stuff. He gave me a ton of information and I got the course bulletin for the semester – oh, it sounds like so much fun! I can’t wait, I’m so excited!”

Spike laughed, “I can see that. It’s been a long time since…sorry.”

Buffy shook her head, “No, it’s true. It has been a long time since I’ve been excited like this. It feels really good.”

Spike smiled, “I’m glad.”

“Mo-om! I need help!”

Buffy grinned, “Be right back.” Then, following an impulse, Buffy lunged at Spike and hugged him quickly. “Thank you,” she told him and sprinted off to help Lindsey prepare for her time with her Daddy.

It was funny. After years of not doing anything with her art, Buffy figured that taking out the old sketchpad would serve as some kind of breakthrough. That dusting it off would be akin to dusting off her brain and put-on-hiatus creative juices. But, she’d been staring at a blank sketchpad for a half an hour. She hadn’t even bothered to keep her hand poised with pencil in hand anymore. She just stared at it, and began to wax philosophical about how this was her life. It was blank and staring before her, just waiting for her to draw upon it. But then what about the things she’d already “drew”? What about Lindsey? What was it saying about her that she was still a blank canvas? Had she really done absolutely nothing in her life?

Well, no, she had.

She’d broken someone’s heart time and again, kept her daughter from her father and made a life built on false pretences. She’d been busy.

However, she couldn’t focus on the past, best to save that for therapy. When I’m in a safe environment, she thought and laughed to herself. That was something, wasn’t it? Being able to laugh about it now. Why not? It was really all she could do. She could say all the apologies she wanted, she could allow guilt, missed opportunities, all the lies to weigh on her and press her down, and keep her down, or she could look up from the bottom of the barrel and figure a way out.

Maybe it wasn’t that she wasn’t a blank canvas with nothing to show for herself and had to wait for that big break and revelation, but maybe it was that she was reinventing herself. Perhaps it was as simple as all that crap before not being worth – aside from Lindsey of course – a masterpiece. Artists of all walks had a tendency to work out their issues in their work. They wallowed in it long enough to put something tangible to it – a book, a drawing, a sculpture, a song, even and entire album. They weren’t called tortured artists for nothing. Wallowing in all of that, spending time in it, even under the pretence of “working it out”, couldn’t be healthy. Did anyone really leave with a sense of well-being? Or were they tortured further because they were followed by that piece? She remembered an interview she’d read once with Alanis Morrisette; the singer/songwriter had been asked if she felt better after writing and then having to perform “You Oughtta Know”, night after night in concert after concert. The song had become a sort of anthem for scorned women everywhere, and Alanis had written it in retaliation to her former lover having taken so quickly up with another woman shortly after breaking up with her. Alanis had said no, it did not help singing it for it followed her and she was reminded of the betrayal everytime she had to perform it.

Look up, not down. Look ahead, not backward.

So, what did she ultimately want? What did anyone ultimately want? Happiness. And happiness wasn’t something handed over to you, it was something you had to work at. Getting stuck was easy, it seemed it was the inclination every human had, but getting unstuck, that was the tricky part.

Closing her eyes, she pictured what happiness would feel like. What it would be like. She pictured herself with a smile on her face, the sun beating down on her and Lindsey, laughing joyously in the background while Spike pushed her on her swing set.

So that, she thought, is what I’ll draw.

********

The door swinging open, jarred Buffy from her sketch. Looking up, she found Spike coming in with a sleeping Lindsey in his arms. Squinting at the clock, she found it was nine. No wonder she conked out on him, she was usually in bed by eight. He nodded toward the stairs and she took that as his sign he was putting her to bed. Putting her sketch aside, she got up and followed him up, wiggling her hand to try and get the cramp out of it.

Spike laid their daughter down on the bed and Buffy slipped off Lindsey’s shoes. “She can just sleep in that,” Buffy whispered, and Spike nodded, covering her up. He kissed Lindsey’s forehead, and Buffy followed suit, smiling at Spike.

He grinned almost shyly at her and followed her out of the room. Making their way downstairs, Buffy asked, “So, what did you guys end up doing?”

“Dinner and then she begged me to see Cars, so I took her. It was a little late though, and she ended up falling asleep halfway through.”

“Sap,” Buffy teased, heading into the living room and closing up her sketchpad.

Spike looked up at her, eyebrow raised, “What are you working on, luv?”

She smiled mysteriously. “My masterpiece.”

“Of?”

“My life,” she said and sat down.

“Okay,” Spike said and sat down on the coffee table across from her, “You’re not going to tell me.”

“I did. It’s a work in progress.”

He smiled, “I like the sound of that.”

“Thank you.”

“Buffy, there’s something I wanted to tell you, and I really don’t know how to do it...”

“Like Nike I suppose.”

“Nike?”

“Just do it.”

“Oh, right. Okay, well. . . I have a date.”

Buffy stared at him, feeling suddenly hollow inside. In fact, she felt as though Spike had just punched her and his fist had gone right through her to the other side. “Oh?” she managed to squeak out.

“It’s not a big deal, at least it’s not to me. She’s just some woman I met the other day in the bookstore. She recognized me from the book signing a few weeks ago and was too shy to approach me, so she did this time. She asked me out, not the other way around.”

Buffy swallowed, “Oh.”

“You say the word, Buffy and I’ll tell her—“

“No,” Buffy said forcefully, surprising herself and him. She swallowed hard again, “No. You should go.”

“Is this one of those times when you tell me to go ahead and do something, only you don’t really want me to do it, and if I do, do it, I get hell for it later?”

Buffy let out a nervous laughed. “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it? But no. It’s not.”

“Buffy...I....” he shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

Reaching out, she took his hand, imploring him to look at her. She met his eyes, and found her own were welling up in tears. “You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy, William. And if I cannot be that person to make you happy, then I want you to find the one that can.”

“Buffy, if you’re pulling some kind of noble bullshit –“

“I’m not. Well, it seems like I am, but it’s not that way. It’s just that...we have history you and I. We have a lot between us and honestly; I don’t know how you can love me. I haven’t made things easy for you.”

“I haven’t made things easy for you either, Buffy,” Spike said, his voice choked with tears.

“We’ve been awful to each other, I know. I could sit here and be selfish and tell you that I don’t want you to go, and that it burns me with jealousy and –“

“Tell me that and I won’t go!”

“No, I won’t. Even if it sounds like I did,” she laughed nervously. She shook her head, serious once more. “You have to do this. Bask in it, Spike. Just make sure she’s not some psychotic fan. Oh, and she has to like kids.”

“Buffy, I – I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t want to let you go. I’ve loved you for so long . . . “

“Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid of moving on, please. Don’t let me hold you back from finding happiness. I want you to find it Spike, please. I don’t know what’s going to happen and I’m not going to tell you to wait for me. I won’t, because I don’t know what my future holds. I’m a work in progress, remember?”

Spike stood, looking ready to bolt. “I gotta go.”

Standing, Buffy hugged him tightly. “I’ll see you soon.”

He left quickly, mumbling a good-bye and Buffy sat back down, allowing herself a good, cleansing cry.

Surveying the Divorce Support Group, Buffy sat back and studied them. All of them were normal, hard-working and intelligent individuals. Most of them were good looking and attractive, and some just average.

Buffy had always thought that bad things didn’t happen to the so-called “pretty people” and the “gifted”, bad things only happened to those who weren’t together in some capacity. For instance, when she was younger, her pink knee-highs always fell down her legs half way through the day; she could never keep them up. The most popular girl in school though, the one that had seemingly everything going for her, was always able to keep her knee highs up all day and without falling once. Buffy had thought if she could just keep her knee- highs up all day, if she had the trendiest lunch box and the best lunches, her life would be perfect and nothing bad would ever happen to her. It wasn’t long before she was convinced she was just doomed on that front. And, she noted with some despondency, her mother was a big advocate of the ‘knee highs should never fall’, even when her knee-highs were falling down and apart all around her.

Consequently, just a few years back, Buffy read that that popular girl had killed herself.

Hurt and tragedy happened to people, no matter who you were or what you did. A woman could be a Cindy Crawford look alike and still not be able to snag the man of her dreams, because she had an ugly heart, or he was gay or any various reason there could be for a rejection like that. Celebrities were testament to it as well – it did not matter who they were, bad things still happened.

However, she was beginning to wonder if bad things ever happened to the wicked. Like say, Angel and Fred. The most she could hope for at that point was for them to find that they had nothing in common any longer and could barely stand the sight of the other. She wished bad things on them, oh boy did she. Mainly for Angel. Some kind of retribution for what she’d put up with – how she’d tried so hard to keep her knee-highs up for him. Her anger at him and mostly herself, knew no bounds it seemed. If she allowed herself to sit and really think about it, she stewed in it, and ended feeling completely disgusted by it.

Then, of course, there was Spike. He didn’t care if her knee-highs were up, down or even on. And he’d seen her every which way with them anyway. He had truly seen her at her absolute worst, at her lowest, and he was still there.

Well. Not so much now. After all, he had a date coming up. Tomorrow in fact. She had to laugh at herself, how she could go from urging him to go and truly believing it was the best thing for him, to feeling as though she could rip the tramp apart and make sarcastic comments in her head all day about Spike and his date. It wasn’t fair to him, so she kept it to herself, and she knew it wasn’t fair to the “date”, but hey, she was a woman and she could be catty. It was her right. That saying ‘If you love something set it free’ yadda, yadda, yadda, kept coming into her mind.

That was crap. Just because you set someone free doesn’t mean that even if they do love you, they will come back. It was a crap chute. Various factors, like pride, could keep one at bay no matter how much they love you. Or, hey, death. She almost snorted at that thought. Her humour had been quite dark as of late.

And besides – who was she in actuality setting free? Herself or Spike? She supposed she was setting Spike free, not with the hope that this would somehow prove he was hers, but to set him free because really – why would he want to be with such a fuck up as her to begin with? She’d caused him more misery than pleasure in the years she’d known him – not all her fault either. She still stuck by the fact that he’d never told her how he felt to begin with, ergo it wasn’t her fault that he’d carried this big torch around long before she really knew him. Really, she was setting him free of misery. He should be with someone that would love him and take him as he was, with someone that he didn’t have so much baggage with – and she did not mean Lindsey in that case. A fresh start all around was what they all needed.

Then there was the thought that she didn’t want to Spike to be with her, and for her to be with Spike, just because all points in the past pointed to that as a natural conclusion to this sordid tale. Did Spike want her simply because she’d been the unattainable ideal, and finally, he’d gotten her and now he couldn’t conceive of losing that which he’d waited and longed for for so long? And did she want Spike simply because he was the father of her daughter, and because she could kick him around and treat him like shit and he still wanted her? He’d been her confidant in her marriage to Angel, pre-Lindsey, and he’d been her confidant after her marriage dissolved. And the chasm of lies had lain between them, unchartered. There was a lot to pick through, and she didn’t to do so with a muddled brain full of the past and things that didn’t have to do with Spike at all. How would she be able to take care of him and their “relationship”, if she couldn’t take care of herself first? And was a relationship with him even in the cards at this point? Were they really well suited for one another or again, had circumstance made it seem that way?

“You’re thinking too much,” Lorne whispered to her and she smiled.

“Best to think too much than not at all. That’s how I spent most of my marriage with Angel after all,” Buffy replied.

“Some are going out after for drinks. I think you should go.”

“Oh, I should, huh?” Buffy grinned.

Lorne nodded, “Doctor’s orders.”

********

Buffy entered the house, feeling light and giggly. Coming into the living room where Spike was, she greeted him. “Hello. How was your night?”

He looked up at her, studying her. “Are you drunk?”

“Hardly. I had a couple drinks, but I’m fine.” She pointed at him, “You’re just not used to seeing me smile.”

He sighed and stood, “I have a recollection of you smiling, Buffy. As a matter of fact, many times, with me.”

“Buzz kill. Let’s not talk about that,” she said, frowning.

“Oh, so now it’s a buzz kill to talk about when we were together?” he snapped.

“No! I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that when we talk about that it leads to reminiscing about the past and then inevitably we go to all that other crap, and why can’t we be together now and it’s just. . . overdone. I’m not trying to be an asshole, here Spike. I’m just saying that we can have a conversation without it leading to . . . us.”

“There isn’t an us, remember?”

“You could tell me about the girl you’re going out with tomorrow. I don’t even know her name,” Buffy offered.

Spike made a face, “That’s right. Rub it in my face how much you don’t want me.”

“Argh! I’m not trying to do that! God, do you think I really want to hear about her? No, I don’t. I’m jealous, okay? I am, but Christ Spike—“

He grabbed her then, effectively stopping her tirade, and kissed her senseless. “God, I’ve missed you,” he breathed and swept her up fully into his arms, his mouth taking chart down her throat. “Tell me not to go. Tell me you want me; tell me, and I won’t go.”

She stared up at him, at his eyes so full of passion and she was so tempted to do it. But God, hadn’t she made so many decisions for him in the past? All she wanted was to do right by him for once. So, she’d put it in his court. “Spike...if you don’t want to go, then don’t go. If you want to try, then you should.”

He released her, “What is this? You have an opinion about everything under the sun but when I ask you for one, you can’t give it to me? You tell me everything else! What to do, how to be...now I want you to say something and you can’t. What the fuck?”

“I don’t want to do that anymore. It’s a habit I’m trying to kick. I want.... Spike, I want...”

“Just spit it out, Buffy.”

“I want to be your friend. We’ve been many things to each other and we even gave friendship a shot once or twice, but I really want to do that.”

“Have you met someone?”

“What? No! I haven’t and I don’t want... Spike, I’m trying to do right by you. I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to fight anymore. Please...” She felt near tears and could hear the plead in her voice.

“I only agreed to go out with her to make you jealous.”

“I figured,” she said and smiled softly. “It’s all right.”

“I thought you’d tell me not to go.”

“Do you want to go at all? Even a little bit?”

“Maybe. I’m curious, I guess.”

“Then you should go. Maybe you’ll at least make a new friend.”

He nodded, staring down at the floor for a minute and then back up at her. “You want to be friends, huh?”

She nodded. Smiling she added, “Hey, it’s at least a step in the right direction. I no longer want to maim you, so there’s a bright side, right?”

Despite how much she knew he didn’t want to laugh, he chuckled.

“Maybe we could...start over? All new and fresh. Like we just met almost.”

“How is that possible? We have a daughter, Buffy.”

“I know, but I was thinking we could get to know each other again without past grievances getting in the way. Have those talks we used to have without the Angel drama.”

He smiled. “Never thought I’d hear that. ‘Angel drama’.”

“Well, he ruled my life once upon a time. I still have crap to work through, but I’m getting there.”

“I make things hard for you, don’t I?” he asked quietly. “Always with the pushing.”

“I won’t lie, it does make things harder because I feel I’m constantly put in the position to be the bad guy, and to hurt you, and I don’t want to.”

He looked at her, his eyes alight with wonder. “I see how you’ve been changing Buffy. I can see that you’re happier and less angrier.”

“Either that or I’m just getting better at hiding the anger,” Buffy laughed.

“See, before, you couldn’t even make a joke about it.”

“I’m trying my best. I figure I must be healing if I can inject some humour into all of that crap, right?”

“Right. I’m just afraid that you’ll want to try one day with someone else.”

“I can’t see that happening any time soon, trust me. So, can we, you know...try?”

He nodded and stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m William, but all my friends call me Spike.”

Buffy smiled broadly and took his hand, shaking it. “I’m Buffy. You can just call me Buffy.”

“And how do you feel about your decision to be friends with Spike?” Lorne asked at their session, a couple days later.

She studied him thoughtfully. “Honestly? I feel – or rather felt – really good about it.”

“Why do you now say ‘felt’?”

“Because as his friend, I’m going to have to ask him about his date, aren’t I? I’m going to have to listen about what a great time he had with her and how it wasn’t me, but it could have been me, but it wasn’t something I was ready for, but at the same time wanted – so, yeah. I felt it was a good idea. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still do Now I’m just not looking forward to this part.”

“And he wanted you to tell him not to go.”

“Yes, he did,” she said wistfully. “Did I do a bad thing?”

“Buffy, you ever notice that part of your decision making problems is that you either go full steam ahead, or you take so much time to think about what the right thing to do is, you end up making no choice at all?”

“I can’t help it. I’m afraid to make mistakes. And then I get so caught up and tired of stressing about making one that I end up making one anyway. Now I’m put in the position to right those wrongs and I’m petrified that I’m just going to keep stumbling.”

“You can’t live your life that way, Buffy. No one can. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer. Accept the fact that you are human –gasp!—“

Buffy gave him a look.

Lorne grinned at her before continuing. “You have to learn how to accept that you are human, and that you will make mistakes. You can’t hold them against yourself constantly. Where will it get you, but an ulcer? You’re not perfect, and I know this might stun you, but neither am I.”

“Ha ha,” Buffy said, and giggled a bit.

“Oscar Wilde once said that ‘Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes’. Now, not only is that clever, but it’s true.”

“But I have so many regrets Lorne!” Buffy exclaimed. “I don’t want to add more to the list.”

“That’s another thought process to banish.”

“What?”

“Regrets.”

“Everyone has regrets,” Buffy muttered.

“That is true, they do, and its an antiquated way of looking at your mistakes.”

“How do you figure?”

“Having a regret is allowing yourself to become stuck in what could have been. When you regret something, you think of how if you had done one thing different, then this other thing never would have happened, right?”

“Right,” she said slowly.

“When you get stuck in what could have been, you blind yourself to what is in the present. You spend your time thinking ‘if, if, if’. It doesn’t get you anywhere; it just gets you stuck in the past, not in the present where your focus needs to be. There can be something positive is an experience you deem as a ‘regret’. Whether it’s a lesson learned or a new facet you learned about yourself or something that brought you closer to something you didn’t know you wanted or needed. Pick one positive thing about divorcing Angel.”

“Settlement money,” Buffy joked.

Lorne smiled. “And without that Settlement money, you never would have been able to afford that class – and never would have taken it if Angel were still around.”

“But if I’d never married him, I never would have stopped going.”

“Na –uh. That’s focusing on the ‘but if I’ and not on the present, and definitely not the future. Now, what is the one thing you love most in this world?”

“Lindsey.”

“If you’d never married Angel, you never would have had her, would you?”

Buffy laughed nervously, “No, probably not. Cause then Angel would never have cheated on me.”

“Right. Your beautiful daughter came out of it. Spike, despite all that’s happened, came out of it. When you spend too much time thinking about the past and the regrets you have your focus is skewed and yeah, it’s good to learn from the past, but not to dwell and think of what could have been ‘if only’. That will just mess with your head and impede progress. It just makes you feel sorry for yourself and makes you feel worthless, which is something you have done enough of Buffy Summers. You take your lessons and you move forward. You know what I’ve noticed?”

“What? Tell me.”

Lorne smiled at her enthusiasm. “I’ve noticed you’ve been a lot more positive since you started making plans for school. I’ve also noticed that you’re not wearing your ‘I Hate Men’ t-shirt. And when it comes to talking about Spike, I’ve noticed that you don’t speak of him with so much anger anymore. Have you forgiven him?”

She stared at Lorne, dumbfounded. “You know...I haven’t really thought about that. I’ve just been so consumed with being angry at myself and Angel.”

“So you’re no longer angry at Spike then?”

Buffy took a deep breath, letting it out slowly between her teeth. “I wouldn’t say angry. How can I be angry with someone that I’m trying to be friends with and make some kind of amends with?”

“Well, you could always be taking the passive-aggressive stance. You know, stay his friend, but make digs and make him feel as though he owes you.”

She shook her head, “No, I don’t want that. I think that’s the attitude I adopted before. I want . . . I want peace.”

“And do you think that Spike dating someone that is not you, by setting him free as you say, peace will be gained?”

She frowned, “Why? Does that seem like a bad idea?”

Lorne laughed, “That was a test, and you failed. Buffy, why do you want Spike to date someone else?”

“Because I want him to find out what else is out there.”

“Why?”

“Because I make him miserable. I bring him nothing but pain.”

“Buffy, when you were telling me about the time you were with him before you found Fred’s note, he did not sound unhappy to me.”

“No, but . . . he wanted more. He wanted more from me than I could give.”

“Like what?”

“My love.”

“Didn’t he have it?”

She looked at Lorne, startled. “No, he – he didn’t.”

Lorne sat back, studying her. “And were you happy?”

“I was, blessedly so. But there was always something nagging at me…”

“Like what?”

“The other shoe dropping. Kept waiting for it.”

“Buffy, you can’t spend your life thinking the world is conspiring against you. To be frank, shit happens. If you spend your life waiting for it, you’re never going to live your life. Happiness is something you have to work at, it’s not something handed out. You take your happiness where you get it, and you cultivate it. You don’t toss it up for the fates to decide. You make your own way.”

“Well, in that case there were people conspiring against me.”

“Who were you angrier at? Angel, Fred, or Spike?”

“I was . . . hurt. I was hurt. I couldn’t tell him I was hurt, so I expressed it in anger. I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me. Lorne, I felt lost. I felt so lost when that happened. Like ‘now what?’ The one person that I thought would never intentionally hurt me, did. And then it felt as though I were reliving Angel all over again. At that point it wasn’t about just what Spike did. Not singularly anyway. It was just another person to make a decision for me, another person to control me and keep me down. I felt as though I were the helpless person I’d been told I was for so long by my mother and then Angel. And. . . and it hurt more because it was Spike.”

“Why?”

“Because he was the last person I ever thought would do that. He’d always stood beside me, always fought for me.”

“In his own way, he was.”

Buffy started to open her mouth to protest and Lorne stopped her with his hand up. “I am not saying he was right in what he did, Buffy. I am only saying that in Spike’s mind, he believed he was fighting for you. He thought he was protecting you from something uglier, perhaps.”

“What could possibly have been uglier than that?” Buffy asked, incredulous.

“Actually having to see Angel leave with Fred. Having to watch Lindsey see him go.”

Buffy shut her eyes as tears pricked behind her eyes. The image that produced pained her. The image of the family she’d worked so hard to maintain, crumbling down around her while Angel walked out on them, breaking her heart and Lindsey’s. Lindsey would have been a mess, and she wouldn’t have understood what was happening. All she would know was that her Daddy was leaving and he wasn’t coming back, and no way in hell was he taking her with him.

“I believed in Spike when I didn’t believe in anyone, not even myself. I don’t think I ever have believed in me, and I wanted to believe in Angel so much, but I couldn’t anymore after he cheated on me. But I still believed in Spike, even though he wasn’t there. I knew that if I’d asked him to come, he would have in a heartbeat and . . . when I found that letter, my faith in him died.”

“The faith that he’d never hurt you? The faith that he’d never lie? What sort of faith, Buffy?” Lorne asked gently.

“The faith I had that I could count on him, that he’d never do anything to hurt me, to go against me, that he’d always be right by my side. That he’d be that guy, that person, I could always count on when the chips were down. The chips had fallen when Angel left and Spike was there. I was an asshole to him, and Spike was still there. I kept his daughter from him and he was still there. And in one feel swoop, I felt he wasn’t there. I think I lost my faith in not just him, but in everyone and everything. Who could I turn to? Who could I now count on?”

“Do you still feel that way?”

Buffy gave him a watery smile. “He’s still there isn’t he?”

“But do you trust him?”

“Yes and no. I want to be his friend again to learn how to. I want to be friends with him without Angel baggage getting in the way. Without misery, anger and hurt. I know there’s a lot of crap between us, and I know it’s most likely a tall order to ask that we start over fresh, but I really want to try. Our friendship could go nowhere. Or, it could grow and yet we might find that we’re not suited for each other at all. Or, it could grow and we could find that we are. He’s spent all this time pining for me – how does he know it’s me? And how do I know it’s him?”

“Do you think so little of yourself? Or do you just think Spike lacks the ability to know what’s right for him?”

Buffy blinked. “I never thought of it that way.”

“If you did, I wouldn’t be here,” Lorne grinned. “Buffy, as much as you are growing and evolving, as happier as you are now than you have been, you still don’t trust yourself. You don’t think you’re capable of making Spike happy.”

“How can I? I made him miserable! It’d be only a matter of time before I fucked it all up again!”

“Buffy, he’s not Angel. He’s a completely different man.”

“I know that!” Buffy said indignantly.

“I don’t think you know that fully. I’m not going to sit here and say that Spike’s apparent obsessiveness with you is healthy. I think he often makes rash decisions as a means to get you to stay in his life despite your telling him that you’re not going anywhere, not really anyway. I think he has abandonment issues, but again, I don’t know him so I could be wrong. And he might not very well be the man for you; however, I can see that you do care for him. If you didn’t, all of this wouldn’t have hurt you so much. But the thing to remember, if not with Spike, then with someone else down the road, one day, eventually—“

“In a galaxy, far, far away,” Buffy added.

“Right, Princess Lea, in a galaxy, far, far, away, you remember that who ever it is you’re with, is not Angel. And if they are, then listen to me: You run like a bat out of fucking hell because no one should have to live with his perfectionist standards. Being Buffy is okay. As far as you and Spike, and how you know if it’s him? Well, I think you’ve answered that question several times over in this conversation.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not time yet,” Lorne said with a smile. “This week, I want you to make a decision and not think of the consequence a hundred times over.”

“Lorne!”

“Time’s up. See you in a few days.”

Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, Buffy stared at her house, afraid to go in. Afraid to see Spike. Afraid to hear about his date but knowing she had to. It was what a good friend did and since she was so committed to making this work…she rolled her eyes at that thought.

“I can do this. I’ll go in there and smile at him and say ‘So, how was the date!’ I’ll make it seem as if I’m really excited for him. And I am. I really am cause he needs to do this. Hey, maybe I’ll even start doing it!” She snorted at the thought.

When she saw Spike and Lindsey standing in the doorway, she figured she’d stayed out in the car talking to herself for too long and climbed out, plastering a smile on her face.

Coming up the walk, she studied him without actually letting him know she was studying him. He didn’t look any different. He looked the same. Not happier, not sadder, not anything. He looked the same. Maybe she could pretend to forget. God! This sounded so much better in her head when she came up with the whole “Let’s be best friends!” idea. What was she thinking?

Looking at Spike who was smiling at her, with a touch of concern, she sighed inwardly. She was thinking that she wanted to make him happy. Wasn’t that a good thing? A selfless thing?

“Momma, I want to watch Cinderella, can I? Daddy said I had to ask you first because I already watched a movie today at school and he doesn’t want me to fry my brain,” Lindsey said as soon as she came through the door.

Buffy giggled, “Well…how about you play outside for a little bit and then watch some before you go to bed?”

Lindsey mulled that over and then nodded. “All right. I’ll play Cinderella outside with my dolls!”

Spike and Buffy watched her race up the stairs to get her dolls, laughing at their daughter’s antics.

“So, what did you have for dinner?” Buffy asked easily, heading toward the kitchen.

“Chicken nuggets and corn,” Spike replied, following her.

“Big surprise. She’s been on a nugget kick lately, huh?” Buffy mused, ruffling through the freezer. I will not put this off forever, I won’t. I’m going to do it soon so that I don’t have to prolong the agony any longer.

“She has, but thankfully she’ll actually eat her veg—“

“How was the date?” Buffy blurted out, her head still in the freezer. She winced. That came out way too fast and not at all smooth.

“—etables – What?”
She moved some frozen pees to the side. Okay, there were things in the freezer she didn’t even know about, and most had chunks of ice on them.

“I asked how your date was.”

“Buffy?”

“Yeah?”

“What exactly are you looking for?”

“Dinner. Thought I had some frozen pizza up here.”

“No. . . you ate that a few days ago. You came home starving and ate an entire pizza on your own.”

She shut the freezer door. “You make it sound bad!”

He smiled. “It was kind of funny. Though, you do get a little scary when you’re hungry.”

She laughed, “I know. I can’t help it! I wait until the last possible second.”

“And you often forget to eat.”

“I do not!”

He gave her a look.

She groaned, “Okay, I do. I get sidetracked easily.”

“Anorexic.”

She laughed. “Punk!” she retorted.

He laughed in return and Lindsey flew by them without a word. Buffy turned back to him. “So, the date?”

He eyed her curiously, “Do you really want to know?”

No. Sort of. I think so. No. “Yeah, of course I do.” It’d be easier to believe me if my pants weren’t on fire.

A soft smile crossed his features and Buffy wanted to hurl. “It went well.”

She waited. “That’s it? That’s all you’re gonna tell me? Just ‘it went well’? What’s she like? What did you do? Did you have fun?”

“You giving me the third degree?” he teased.

“Possibly.”

“She’s funny and sweet, we went out to dinner and a movie and yes, we had fun.”

“What did you see?”

“You, Me and Dupree.”

“You went with the comedy as opposed to the heavy drama. Good choice. What did you have for dinner?”

“Italian.”

“How is it that Italian is the standard for dinner on dates? I never got that.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “The marinara sauce is red and red is a passionate color. It makes one think of love and sex.”

“Now you’re just a show off and a geek for coming up with that. Did it make you think of love and sex, Casanova?”

He shook his head, “No. It made me think of Lindsey, and then it made me think of you.”

Buffy blinked, feeling a soar of hope inside her. Then she tried to squash down that hope because it wasn’t fair, even if he didn’t even know she felt that hope, and wouldn’t know it was unfair – it sure beat the jealousy she felt.

“Italian food made you think of Lindsey?”

He smiled sheepishly. “That day we had spaghetti and I taught her that song. You know…’On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese…”

Buffy smiled and sang with him, “’I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed…’”

Smiling at each other, Buffy nodded. “I remember.”

“And so I had to tell her that.”

“Does ‘her’ have a name?”

“Jessica.”

“I like that name.”

“It’s a name. So then I thought of you.”

“Well, I am Lindsey’s mom, and I was there when you taught her that song.”

He nodded, turning away. “Yeah, that was it,” he said softly.

“So, you going to see her again?” Buffy asked lightly, trying to maintain chipperness.

“I told her I’d call,” he shrugged.

“Ooh. Are you going to do that lame guy move where you wait a week to call? I say call her tonight—“

“Buffy.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

Her shoulders sagged and she let out a heavy sigh. “Why? I’m trying to help.”

“You can help by not talking about it, all right? I don’t feel comfortable talking to you about it.”

“But we’re supposed to be friends!”

“Buffy, I know that, but Jesus, I just don’t want to talk about my date with you, all right? It doesn’t make it…Just stop, all right? I know you’re trying, but I just don’t want to do it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying.”

“I know you are,” he sighed. “Look, I’m gonna get going, okay? Just going to pop out and say good bye to Lindsey.”

“Okay,” she replied softly, feeling like a world class heel. Did he think it was easy for her to hear about it? She had to force the questions out of her mouth! She’d had a vision of this somehow being easy and apparently that had been wishful thinking. They’d done well before the date talk, and after that it’d gone down hill despite her best efforts to keep it light and fun and like…girl talk. Girl talk with her ex. Girl talk with the guy that was still in love with her. Girl talk with the guy that hadn’t wanted to go on the date in the first place, and wanted her to tell him not to go.

Real smart, Summers.

“I suck hard at this,” she muttered.

One Month Later

School was starting – finally. It was that breath of fresh air that Buffy was really looking forward to. The summer from hell was coming to a close and now she could put her growing positive perspective into an even more positive venue. It was like growing a plant, add enough TLC and eventually that plant grew. A week before school actually began, Buffy enrolled, got her student ID, her books, a parking sticker, notebook, folder and packet of pens all in one day. She even treated herself to new school outfits.

She had been sketching like a fiend too. Her pieces tended toward the dark as of late, and her favorite one, in which she brought in colored pencils, was a picture of Hell and writhing in agony and misery was Angel and Fred while she and Lindsey rose to the top, complete with Angel wings, waving and smiling down at them.

Spike particularly liked that one and told her she should paint it. She was considering it. She thought, but did not tell him though, that if she did, there was one added feature in that picture she hadn’t drawn, and that was him, rising above Hell with his family.

“Was it a conscious decision to not add Spike?” Lorne asked in one session.

“Yes. My original vision was to add him, but then I felt I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll think I’m silly.”

“Tell me.”

“Because I wanted to be able to share it with him. He always wants to see my work, and I felt that if I showed him a picture of the three of us rising from Hell, it’d set him back. He’s taken to the dating thing like a duck to water. I was afraid to throw a wrench into that.”

“Like a duck to water, eh? But it’s been a different girl every week.”

“Yes, he is, as he puts it, ‘shopping’.”

“And he still doesn’t discuss them with you?”

“Steadfastly not discussing them with me, and I’ve stopped asking.”

“He told you not to ask.”

“He did, yes, but curiosity got the better of me. It felt as though it were becoming this elephant in the room. I felt if I didn’t ask, I was going to explode.”

“Buffy, you’re so incredibly jealous,” Lorne said, sounding quite pleased by that.

She laughed, “No, really?”

“You know what else?”

”What?”

“Not long ago, you would have cringed if I accused you of being jealous, and now you readily accept that you are.”

“What can I say? I’m growing in all sorts of directions. He was outside playing with Lindsey the other night while I cleaned up dinner and he told me to answer his phone if it rang. Apparently, he’s been expecting a call from his editor. Well, it was some chick on the phone for him and I politely gave him the phone.”

“What did you really want to do?”

“Throw it at him or not give it to him at all.”

“So, what is your plan now, Buffy?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. What do you plan to do about Spike?”

“I want him to be happy, Lorne.”

“What of you? What would make you happy?”

“Continuing the way I am, I suppose,” she said on a sigh.

“That was a cop out. You can’t tell me that you’re satisfied with seeing your gay therapist once a week.”

“I go out with Tara once in a while,” Buffy told him defensively. “And I’m starting school tomorrow.”

“Buffy, I can see it in you. You’re antsy. Restless. You weren’t this way before. You swore off men and hated life. You’re discovering a zest for it now and you share things with Spike that you’d share with –“

“Lorne, please. I don’t want to say it.”

“But you realize it?”

“I don’t want to say it.”

“Buffy, listen to me. Gloom and doom is not on the horizon for you every single time.”

“Our past is marred with it, Lorne! And I’ve hurt him already.”

“That was then. Remember what I said about moving forward? You look at past mistakes, you learn from them, and you move on. Forgive yourself.”

“I’m trying. I try a little bit every day.”

“You’ve forgiven him, so why can’t you forgive yourself?”

“It’s easier to forgive others than to forgive yourself for being so incredibly stupid for so long.”

“Meanwhile, that doesn’t mean you have to suffer because you think he’s better off without you. Buffy, this friend thing is not working—“

”Yes it is!”

“No, it’s not. You want it to so bad; you’ve convinced yourself it is. You see him just as much as before and you have a relationship with him that is not just friendly, Buffy. You’re never going to be friends with him. You might not be having sex with him, but for all intents and purposes, you have a very real relationship with him. You depend on him, and he depends on you.”

“Lorne –“

“I’m not telling you this as your therapist, Buffy, I’m telling you this as my friend.”

“You see? I’ve fucked up already!” Buffy exclaimed, bursting into tears.

“Honey,” Lorne said, coming to sit by her. “No, you haven’t. You wanted to make things right with you and with Spike. You wanted to do right by Lindsey and you wanted to move forward. You have done that. You wanted to banish the bad and bring in the good with you and Spike, you wanted to start over and obliterate all that negativity. You have forgiven him and your relationship with him has a solid base and foundation, perhaps stronger than before. But you thought it was possible that none of that would happen. You thought you’d find there was nothing, and that isn’t the case at all. There’s more. And it keeps coming to bite you and make you realize it but you’re so caught up in trying to keep it at bay, and trying to keep everything peaceful that you’re missing out. You’re trying so hard to do the right thing, that you’re doing the wrong thing for yourself.”

“What do I do? I don’t want to go storming up to Spike and say ‘Hey, guess what? I actually lo—have feelings for you. Can you not date now?’ That’s so unfair!”

“Maybe you should start by telling him you’ve forgiven him.”

She wiped away her tears. “That’s it?”

“Start there and see what happens. Sometimes, you have to give things an opportunity to unfold naturally instead of trying to fight against the grain, and making it seem natural when it’s not.”

Buffy took a deep breath, “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Lorne hugged her tight. “I have faith in you Buffy. I wish you’d have more in yourself.”

“I have confidence in myself in certain areas. Just not the area of relationships.”

“It’s like riding a bike, Buffy. You fall, you get up, and you do it again. You don’t let the bike beat the crap out of you and stop you from ever getting on it again. Just work with the bike.”

“So, Spike is kind of like a bike now?”

Lorne laughed, “I knew you’d go there. And I’m sure you wouldn’t mind riding it again, would you?”

Buffy promptly blushed and grinned.

When Buffy came home that night, she was trying to psych herself into saying something to Spike. The problem was, she didn’t know how.

“Do I say, ‘I forgive you, and I had actually forgiven you a while ago, I just never told you. I realize you’re dating and all, but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to give us another go and see what happens.’?” Buffy practiced. “Hey, that doesn’t sound bad actually. It’s just actually saying it. What if he’s completely happy the way things are right now? He seems to be enjoying himself . . . what if he tells me ‘Sorry, Buffy, but you’re really more fucked up than I thought and I want to be with the normal people.’ And then I could say ‘But, Spike, I’m really a lot better now! I’m happier than I think I’ve ever been, and every day is getting better than the last.’ Then he could say ‘Yeah, but all that crap you put me through, I actually can’t forgive you for that now.’ Then I could tell him he’s fucked up and needs help, and then he could tell me what a fuck up I’ve always been and yeah. . . What started out as a great conversation just went horribly wrong. And that conversation was just all in my head!” Parking the car, she banged her head on the steering wheel. “I am fucked up, listen to me!” Climbing out of the car, she took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m just gonna go in there and tell him. I can do this.”

Walking up the steps with purpose, she felt determined. She could do this.

“Babe, I’m gonna be over right after Buffy comes home. . . No, I’m gonna leave straight away. . . . I know you want me to meet your friends and I’m going to.”

Buffy stopped in the foyer upon hearing Spike talking on his cell. He was meeting some girl’s friends? She hadn’t been aware that he had been dating someone seriously enough for that. Apparently, she was wrong. Who was it? Jessica? She didn’t even know the names of the other girls. Maybe he wasn’t ‘shopping’ around a lot, but maybe rotating a few select stores. Her heart sank and tears stung her eyes. Well, what did she expect really? She’d waited too long.

Lorne would tell her to tell him anyway and put the ball in his court. Except. . .except the wind had been taken out of her sails and now she couldn’t. I made this bed, and now I have to lie in it.

Putting on a fake, bright smile, Buffy charged into the living room. “Hi!”

Spike looked up at her and smiled, holding up a finger, giving her the signal to wait a minute. “Gotta go, babe. Okay, see you in a few.” Clicking the phone shut, he looked up at Buffy sheepishly, “Hey, how are you?”

“Great, fantastic, never better.”

“That’s quite a list,” he chuckled.

“I start school tomorrow!” Tone it down, Buffy. He’ll see right through the overly cheery façade!

“Excited?”

“I am. Kinda nervous. You know, been a while. So, Lindsey go to bed all right?”

“Perfect. She was zonked from the field trip today.”

“Oh, good. She have fun?’

“She had a blast.”

“Okay, well, I should probably get ready for tomorrow, so . . . “ Don’t go. I know you have to, but I so desperately don’t want you too. See through my cheery brightness, see that I need you to stay so I can tell you . . .

“Right, then,” he jumped up. “I will see you tomorrow evening then.”

“Right, tomorrow evening.”

“Buffy, you all right?”

“Yep, fine, why?” Now she was afraid for him to catch on, and feeling guilty that he would. Who was she to stop him from pursuing happiness? Especially since it was she who all but shoved him out the door to do so?

“You just seem . . . off.”

She laughed, almost bitterly, and he looked at her, concerned. “Sorry, that just struck me as funny.”

“Do you want me to stay and keep you company?”

“Nah, I’m fine. You sounded like you had plans; you should go and do them.”

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Okay, good night, Buffy.”

“Night!”

Sinking into the seat he’d vacated just after she heard the door shut, Buffy had herself a pity party.

********

Buffy left campus the next evening feeling on top of the world. She loved her art history class. Loved it. She had been a bundle of nerves that whole day, not being able to eat anything. Spike had stopped by work that day before she headed out for class, and on his way to pick up Lindsey, and brought her dinner – baked ziti from her favorite pizza shop down the street.

She nearly cried and threw herself at him when he came in and presented it to her. Instead she thanked him profusely, even though her stomach was so knotted, she knew she wouldn’t be able to eat a bite of it.

“At least eat the garlic bread,” he told her with a wink before he jetted off. Then she did let herself have a little cry. He knew her so well.

But now class was over and she’d made it through just fine. She took comfort in there being other students in the class her age and older. She’d even made a friend. Well, sort of. His name was Doyle, and he had been out of the graduate program for a while as well. He’d appeared as uneasy as she, and had sat down next to her with a nervous smile. They’d chatted up until the professor had arrived, and then after class when the professor had given out the assignment for the following week: They had to pair up with someone in class, visit the school gallery, and take notes on their impressions of the work and later, share them with their partner, and then the next week, with the class. Doyle and Buffy had immediately chosen each other. They’d exchanged numbers and Doyle said he’d be in touch in a couple days.

When she burst through the house to share with Spike her night, she found him fast asleep on the couch, flicker in his hand.

She smiled at the picture he presented and sat next to him, nudging him lightly. “Spike…” she cooed lightly. “Spi-ike.”

He grunted and adjusted a bit.

She nudged him harder, “Spike.”

His eyes flew open and fell on her. He immediately broke into a wide smile. “Hey, luv. How was class?”

She smiled, “Great. Rough night with Lindsey?” she asked.

“No, no…late night last night. Just catching up with me.”

She did not want to know about that. She violently did not want to know about his late night. Nearly leaping off the couch and away from him, she looked down at him. “Well, I release you now. I got it from here.”

He frowned, “Hey now. I want to hear about your night.”

“It was good. It’s going to be a good class.”

“That’s all? What about your professor? Did you talk to anyone? Do you think it’ll be hard? Did you eat any of the ziti or just save it for tomorrow’s lunch?”

“Well, I—“

“Momma?” Lindsey’s small voice came down to them.

Buffy went to the stairs and found Lindsey standing at the top, rubbing her eyes.

“Momma, I don’t feel good.”

Buffy rushed up the stairs and felt her daughter’s forehead. She felt hot. “What hurts, baby?”

“My belly,” Lindsey answered and promptly threw up on the carpet.

“I’ll get the cleaning stuff!” Spike called up while Buffy took a crying Lindsey into the bathroom. She stripped her daughter and cleaned her up with a cool cloth. Then she carried her into her bedroom and helped her change into new pajamas. She felt her head once more and was relieved to find she felt much cooler.

“Momma, will you stay with me?” Lindsey whimpered sleepily.

“Of course, baby. How do you feel now that you’ve thrown up?”

“Better.”

“Okay, honey, Momma is just going to change okay?”

Lindsey nodded, looking completely pitiful and Buffy rushed to change.

“How is she?” Spike asked, meeting her on her way back to their daughter’s bedroom.

“She says she feels better after she threw up. She wants me to stay with her.”

“She was fine when she went to bed,” Spike told her, following her to Lindsey’s room.

“You know how it is by now. These things just come on out of nowhere. Remember that summer flu she had in July?”

“Oh, I remember. Thought she was going to throw up her liver with the way she was going at it.”

Buffy giggled. “That was gross, thanks.”

Spike chuckled and leaned over Lindsey, pushing some hair from her forehead. “How are you, Princess?”

Lindsey looked up at him sleepily as Buffy crawled in next to her. “I’m okay, Daddy.”

“Do you want Daddy to stay?”

“No, just Momma.”

“Okay, baby. I’ll come by tomorrow and see my girl, okay?”

Lindsey nodded and turned into Buffy, wrapping her little arms around her.

Buffy smiled up at Spike. “You don’t mind locking up, do you?”

“Of course not. I’ll come by tomorrow night, if that’s all right? Then you can tell me about class.”

“Sure, night Spike.”

“Night, luv.”

Except, I’m not your love anymore, am I?

The next morning, Lindsey still felt under the weather, so Buffy opted to stay home. She hadn’t thrown up again, but she was running a low grade temp and so when she woke up in the morning, Buffy gave her some children’s Motrin. She called Spike to inform him how she was while Lindsey watched Cinderella and sipped cold apple juice. She had little to eat that morning, and Buffy did not press the issue.



“So, she hasn’t thrown up again?” Spike asked.



“No, she hasn’t. She wasn’t that hungry this morning, so I think her belly is still hurting and she’s probably afraid to throw up again.”



“Yeah, she threw up dinner last night.”



“Thanks for that!” Buffy said and laughed.



“So…can I come over?”



Buffy hesitated. The part that wanted him and his company, wanted to say yes. The part of her that was afraid of hearing about ‘late nights’ and possible serious girlfriends, didn’t want him to. But, it wouldn’t be fair of her to keep him from Lindsey just because she felt uncomfortable by it; hurt by it. She’d made that bed, and she apparently hadn’t thought that one through at all.



“Sure,” she agreed, sounding much too chipper, at least to her.



“Kay, be there in a few,” and he hung up.



Buffy sighed. “Well,” she told herself, “I can do some laundry and clean up while he’s with Lindsey. I don’t have to actually spend time with him. Yes, I will keep busy.”



She was down in the laundry room when Spike came over. He called down to her to let her know he was there, and Buffy thought about staying down there all day to avoid him.



She couldn’t though, and eventually made her way up. Walking into the living room, she found Spike next to Lindsey on the couch, talking soothingly to her. On her lap was a stuffed blue bunny with floppy ears, a bunny she’d never seen before.



“Aren’t you a lucky girl?” Buffy said, smiling. “Not everyone gets presents when they’re sick.”



Lindsey smiled. “Daddy loves me. He says I’m his little girl.”



“You are,” Buffy agreed. “Do you need anything, baby?”



“No, I’m okay, Momma.”



Heading towards the kitchen to do the dishes, she looked over her shoulder to see Spike following her.



“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked.



She shrugged. “Some.”



“If you want, I can take over so you can take a nap.”



“You don’t have to do that—“



“Buffy?”



“Yeah?”



“Shut up. I am her father and I have taken care of her —“



“I know that, I’m not saying that you aren’t capable—“



“But if you don’t take my offer, I will think you’re saying that,” and he grinned.



“Okay, okay, fine. Let me just do the dishes—“


“I can do that too.”



“Spike, this is not your mess.”



“Go,” he ordered, pointing to the doorway.



“Fine,” she grumbled and headed upstairs. First though, she was going to take a bath. Hey, she might as well take advantage of it, right?



********



“Buffy, wake up.”



Buffy’s eyes flew open and she found Spike, standing over her, phone in hand. He did not look happy.



She sat up. “What’s wrong?”



“Phone for you,” he said, sounding annoyed. He thrust the phone in her hand.



She took it, almost afraid to learn who was on the other end. Was that what got him so mad? She looked at the clock. Her eyes widened. She’d been sleeping for three hours! Well, that could have been what bothered him. But it wasn’t like he didn’t take care of Lindsey on his own a lot of the time either. . .



“Hello?”



“Hey, Buffy, it’s Doyle. How you doing?”



“Oh, hey Doyle! I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”



“Well, as it turns out, my only night off is tonight. Can you make it tonight?”



“Umm…” she looked up at Spike who was staring down at her, his eyes cold as steel, his jaw set firmly, and clenching, by the looks of it. “Can I call you back?”



“Sure! Anytime.”



“Okay, thanks.” Clicking the phone off, she crawled out of bed slowly and looked up at Spike. “Sorry I slept so—“



“Who was that?”



“Doyle.”



“Doyle…from?”



“From school.”



“You never mentioned him.”



“Was I supposed to?”



“Last night, when you came home would have been a good time.”



She eyed him. “Why are you so tense?”



“Fucking forget it,” and he stalked off, waving his hands at her in frustration.



“Hey!” she called and ran after him. She caught him just before he went down the stairs. “What the hell is wrong with you?”



“What the fuck is that guy calling you for?” he demanded.



“We have an assignment for class to do, he—“



“You have to do an assignment with him?”



“Yes, we had to pair off—“



“And you had to pair off with a guy?”



“He sat next to me! He was starting back same as me!”



“I’m sure he was,” Spike muttered and jogged down the stairs.



Well, that did it. She was fuming now. She went after him, popped her head in to see Lindsey almost asleep on the couch, and then stalked after Spike into the kitchen. “You know what you are?” she said.



“What? What am I?” Spike said angrily, spinning to her.



“You’re an asshole.”



He looked slightly taken back by that. He pointed at himself, “I’m an asshole?”



“Yes!” she hissed. “There is absolutely no reason for you to get so mad at me about Doyle. He is not anything but a classmate, possibly a friend, and that’s it. And what the hell do you care? You’re dating, you’re seeing girls.”



“Momma, I’m thirsty!”



Glaring at Spike, Buffy stalked off to get her daughter’s sippy cup. After checking up on Lindsey and helping her get more comfortable on the couch, she went back to the kitchen to pour juice and found Spike with his arms crossed, scowling.



“Don’t give me that look,” she told him, pouring the juice in the cup.



“You’re bloody daft, you know that?”



She spun and pointed at herself. “I am?”



“Yes, you are.”



All but hurling the juice back in the fridge, she hastily put the cover back on the sippy cup and went back to her daughter. Helping her take a few sips so she didn’t get it all over her, Buffy placed the cup back on the coffee table and went back into the kitchen.



Spike was putting some dishes in the dishwasher.



“I am not daft. How am I daft?” she demanded.



He spun to face her. “You actually think I want to be dating? You think I enjoy it?”



“You sounded fine with it when you were calling that girl ’babe’ on the phone the other night. You were going to meet her friends! That sounds pretty serious to me!”



“Well, it’s not,” he said, stalking up to her and getting in her face. “And if I didn’t know any better, Buffy, I’d say you were jealous.”



“Hardly! Go have your ‘late nights’. I don’t give a rat’s ass!”



“The late night I had,” he said through clenched teeth, “Was breaking up with the daft bint.”



“Oh great, now I’m in the same class as one of your bimbo’s!” Buffy nearly shouted and stalked back into the living room when Lindsey called for her. Spike was on her heels.



“Momma, I want to go to bed,” Lindsey told her, yawning and stretching.



“Okay, baby, come on, I’ll—“



“I’ll carry you up, okay Princess?” Spike said, the anger he’d displayed a minute before, completely gone.



“Okay, Daddy,” and she held up her arms.



Buffy watched him carry their daughter up the stairs and she wanted to scream at him. Then, the phone rang. Stalking into the kitchen, she picked it up. “Hello?” she nearly barked into the phone.



“Buffy?”



“Doyle?”



“Yeah, hey listen, I don’t think I gave you my cell. I’m going out for a few, so let me get it to you so you can reach me.”



“Okay, sure, let me just get a pen and paper…” Rummaging through the junk drawer at the kitchen counter, she found a paper and a pen inside. “Shoot.”



Doyle rattled off the number and she took it down, seeing that Spike had come back out of the corner of her eye.



“Did you find anything out yet?” Doyle asked.



“Not yet, but I’ll call and let you know.”



“All right. Bye, Buffy.”



“Bye Doyle,” and she clicked off the phone.



How it happened, she did not know, she didn’t even feel her body move, though she did feel the impact of her back against the fridge door, and did see an angry Spike before her. She opened her mouth to yell at him, when his lips slammed down onto hers.



It was a hard kiss, a demanding kiss, and quite possessive. It even hurt a little. And damn if she didn’t love it. Moaning, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her.



He kissed her until breath became an issue and then he was trailing kisses down her neck, his hands just under her t-shirt.



Fuck that, she thought, and started lifting his shirt from his body. She wanted him, wanted this, and by God, she was not going to be denied.



He helped her take it off, and soon, her own shirt went flying. She kissed him this time, fervently, and her hands went to his buckle, undoing it as fast as her hands would go.



He was moving her, she realized dimly, and then she was being lifted. Placing her on the counter, he yanked at her pajama bottoms and tore off her panties. Where his pants had gone, she didn’t know, nor did she care.



And then, he was inside her, filling her up. She clawed at him, and he held her tightly against him while he pumped away.



“Oh God,” she moaned and sucked on his neck.



“Fuck,” he ground out and slid a hand between them to rub her clit.



“Yes…Yes…” she panted, and he panted back, his breath hot in her ear.



“Buffy…Buffy, God, I love you so much.”



“Oh, Spike, I love you too!”



He froze, as in completely stopped. He pulled back slightly, looking at her. “What?”



She gulped. “I . . . I love you.”



He pulled out of her. “Don’t,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes welling up in tears. “Don’t say that to me if you don’t mean it.”



She caught his arm, pulling him back to her. Cupping his face in her hands, she met his eyes, kissed him deeply, and then said with great certainty. “Spike…William...I love you.”

Spike’s eyes shut tight and his voice came out wobbly when he spoke, “Buffy, please don’t say that just because you want...this. Or because you’re just jealous.” His eyes flew open and met her tear-filled one. “I couldn’t bear it.”

Buffy wrapped her arms around him, drawing him near. She buried her face in his neck and felt his body tremor under her touch. He was trying to hold back the tears, and failing miserably.

“I mean it, Spike. I love you. I have for a long while now. Things just got so messed up and turned around and I tried to fight it and I couldn’t, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell you the other night when I came home, but I heard you on the phone and I couldn’t do it.”

“I didn’t want her,” he rushed to explain. “I didn’t want any of them. I was going to tell her I wasn’t going to see her anymore...she wanted me and I couldn’t give her me...I couldn’t do it on the phone and she was so damn pushy about everything. I just wanted to tell her face to face so there were no misunderstandings. I had tried before and she just didn’t get it. . She wanted much more than I could ever give. All of me is for you, Buffy, that’s the way it’s always been.”

“I didn’t want to stand in your way if you were happy, I couldn’t do that to you after making you so miserable for so long—“

He leaned back slightly to look at her, imploringly. “Buffy, you never made me miserable when I was with you. You keep thinking you did, but you didn’t. I’ve loved you for what feels like all my life. No one else could ever take your place.”

“I made you miserable before and after we were together though. I denied you for so long, and then I was so angry with you—“

“Do you forgive me for what I did?” he asked, looking at her searchingly. “Do you forgive me for how I kept that from you, for bringing Fred here?”

“Yes, Spike, I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. I just didn’t know it. I had so much crap to work through...my mother, Angel...I hadn’t realized how skewed things had gotten and how horrible I was to you for it all. I’m so sorry for that—“

“Buffy, I forgive you, I forgive you for it all –“

“Spike, please, don’t say that to me unless you mean it.”

“How could I not mean it and love you the way I do? Yeah, I was angry with you, yes I wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t. And when you started seeing Lorne, things started to shift with us, didn’t they?”

She nodded, tears freely streaming down her face. “They did. We got back to where we were before. That closeness we had, except it was even better than before.”

”It was. You opened up to me, you saw me as your friend, not your enemy. I could feel the difference in you. Even with that cockamamie idea you had to be friends, I didn’t think it’d work, but it did. . . .” he smiled softly, shakily.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “I have to admit, shortly after that I thought I’d lost my mind coming up with that idea. I hated that you went on that date, I hated that I had to ask as your friend and I was so completely jealous.”

“I knew it!”

She laughed, burying her head in the crook of his neck, winding her arms around him. “Lorne taught me that the best thing to do is not to dwell on the past, and to not have regrets. He said doing all that just makes you dwell in the past, he said you have to look forward.” She looked up at him. “Spike, I want to move forward.”

“So do I, Buffy,” he whispered, kissing her sweetly. He stopped abruptly, looking at her in question. “So, this Doyle guy? He’s just a classmate? Nothing else going on?”

She shook her head, “Nothing else going on, just a classmate. Though, I have to say, his entrance in my life helped move things along quite nicely,” and she smiled brightly up at him.

He grinned, “Did he now?”

She gestured between them, “I’d say.”

Cupping her face in his hands, Spike smiled tenderly at her, his eyes filled with complete adoration. “It’s so good to see you smile and laugh. Seeing you happy makes me happy, do you understand that, Buffy?”

“Yes, I do. Cause when I thought you were happy with . . . whoever, I didn’t want to interfere with that. I wanted to keep you happy.”

He shook his head. “I tried,” he said on a sigh. “I tried hard, but I couldn’t get into it. I couldn’t even touch them. I felt like I was betraying you, betraying my heart and the idea was so repulsive to me,” he wrinkled his nose. “They mostly thought I was some broken man that needed fixing and they wanted to be the ones to do it. In a way, they were right, but I couldn’t give up hope.”

Buffy shivered at his words and wrapped herself around him, twining her legs about him and drawing him close. “I love you, Spike, and I’m so sorry.”

“Buffy, I don’t want you to spend your life apologizing to me. We’ve both done some awful things to each other, and you have no idea how sorry I am for what I’ve done. Having you lose your trust in me was the worst feeling in the world, and I don’t want to go back to that place, not when we’ve worked so hard to move on from it. It’s like Lorne said, we move forward instead of dwelling in the past.”

Taking that moving forward to heart, Buffy began nibbling on his neck, eliciting a moan from him. “Make love to me,” she whispered hotly in his ear.

“Yes,” he groaned, his erection having surged to life and pressing against her pussy. Reaching between them, Buffy guided him inside and looked up at him with a happy smile.

“I missed you,” she told him, meeting his slow thrusts with thrusts of her own.

He kissed her voraciously and muttered against her lips. “You have no idea. Missed you in my arms every day, and every night . . . missed being inside you, loving you, feeling you all around me…”

“Spike…I love you,” she moaned and kissed him.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that. Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

He was pounding into her now, her words spurring him on. She repeated it over and over, holding him close to her, running her hands down his back, over his chest, touching his face. She simply could not stop touching him. When he resumed stroking her clit, it wasn’t long after that Buffy exploded around him, screaming his name into his shoulder, biting down slightly on his skin.

“Fuck…God, I love you so much,” Spike professed fervently and exploded inside her, gathering her as close to him as she could get.

They held on to each other, basking in the feel of each other for a long while, not caring they’d just made love in the kitchen and on the counter no less.

“Buffy?”

“Hmmm?”

“What is it Doyle wanted anyway?”

“What?” Buffy murmured, looking up at Spike, still mindless from their heated coupling.

“What did Doyle want?”

“You can actually think after that?”

He grinned and kissed her sweetly. “My mind is a little blown right now. I’m a little scattered.”

She smiled back. “I can understand that. He has tonight free to go to the gallery on campus and wanted to know if I can make it.”

“Oh.”

“But I’ll tell him no.”

“Is this the only night he can do it until class?”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“Go, Buffy.”

“You want me to go?”

“No, I don’t want you to go necessarily, but you have to. You just started last night, you don’t want to skip out on your first homework assignment.”

“Wow,” she breathed, amazed.

He shrugged. “School is important to you, it took a lot for you to go back and I don’t want you to compromise it.”

“But Lindsey—“

“I’m her father, remember?” he teased.

“I know...I just didn’t know if you had things you had to do.”

He leered at her. “The only thing I have to do is make love to you when you come back. Any plans I had are of no consequence to me now.”

“Spike—“

“Buffy, all I was going to do was go home and watch TV. I was actually going to try and see if I could have stayed here and watched it with you, but now...” he kissed her, “now, I just want to make love to you. Can I?”

“Like you have to ask,” she murmured.

“Daddy!” rang out Lindsey’s voice.

Their eyes widened, and quickly they dove to dress.

”Stay up there, Princess!” Spike yelled and slipped his shirt on.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Buffy told him and dashed to the downstairs half bath to clean up while Spike took Lindsey duty.

Gonna find my baby, gonna hold on tight, gonna grab some afternoon delight... Buffy sang in her mind, happily.

********

The day had gone fantastic from there on out. Buffy couldn’t keep the smile blooming off her face. And while she still felt that niggling in the back of her mind that something could go wrong, she was struck with the thought that yes, something could happen, but if it did, they’d deal with it. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. They’d dealt with the worst of it, she was sure. Short of him cheating on her, she really did not forsee any big problems. They’d made it out of the woods, and everything from that moment in the kitchen on, was cake.

Lorne would be so proud.

So, for the rest of the afternoon until she was to meet Doyle on campus, she, Lindsey and Spike spent the day together as a family. Granted, they couldn’t do much with Lindsey still a bit under the weather, but once in a while they’d sneak off to kiss each other senseless. And when Lindsey caught them kissing in the kitchen at one point when she wanted juice, it didn’t even phase her. She just calmly asked for juice. From that point on, Spike and Buffy were free to share affection in front of her – they didn’t make out with tongues down each other’s throats, but they would peck each other on the lips, smile warmly at each other or find some way to innocently touch each other.

When Lindsey wanted to watch Cinderella with the both of them, again, she insisted on sitting between them and twining each arm through theirs. They watched the movie together as a team it appeared.

When Buffy left later that evening, Spike walked her to her car while Lindsey colored a picture for her mom. Spike wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

“Tell me you love me,” he requested softly.

“I love you.”

“I might ask you that a lot.”

“I don’t mind saying it. It’s long overdue.”

“You know...I’d like to meet this Lorne fella.”

Buffy pulled back and looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really. He helped you, and in turn, me.”

Buffy swatted him playfully and Spike chuckled. “But really,” he continued, “I know that you have worked through a lot of stuff and I’m proud of you for that. Maybe one day, you’ll share?”

Buffy shrugged, non committal, still feeling that some of what she talked about in therapy were things she wanted to keep to herself and just didn’t need to be shared with anyone. “Maybe some of it, one day.”

“That’s all I ask. I know that most of that is private.”

“I have appreciated your support in all of that, Spike.”

“I knew you were unhappy. I was willing to try whatever you needed to make you happy.”

“I’m sorry that it took me so long to figure out that I needed you in the equation to help make me happy.”

He put a finger to her lips. “No more of that, no apologies anymore.”

“I can’t help it. I went so long without giving you any when you deserved them, I want to make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me by hurrying home so I can make love to you.”

“Yes, sir,” she said and saluted him.

He grinned devilishly, “Oh I like that.”

She laughed and climbed in the car. “Bye, Romeo.”

He smirked, “How appropriate.”

********

“You’re exceptionally happy, and even I can tell that even though I barely know you. You’re glowing,” Doyle remarked after they finished with their project.

Buffy grinned as they walked to their cars. “Sorry. Is it disgusting? Does it make you want to throw up?”

Doyle chuckled. “No, it doesn’t make me want to throw up. It’s a guy, right?”

“It is. Today we...we got together after a long hiatus.”

“Had some problems?”

“Yeah, but we came out on the other side, so it’s all good.”

“I’m actually jealous,” Doyle said honestly.

“Jealous, why?”

“My girlfriend and I broke up not too long ago and ...and I really miss her. Things just got out of hand and somehow what we argued about got even more messed up. It was like we were just yelling at each other and not really even hearing what the other had to say. I don’t know about her, but I regret the things I’d said.”

“How long ago did this happen?”

“A few weeks ago. I’ve tried calling her, but she’s so far avoided my calls.”

“Have you tried to see her? You know, short of stalking her?”

”No. I was just really hoping it’d blow over...and it hasn’t.” He sighed, “I miss her.”

“Write a letter or an email. Get your thoughts in order and get them out on paper. Sometimes things come out better on paper than they do in person.”

“I hadn’t tried that, actually.”

“Maybe she just needs some time to cool off and get her own thoughts together. If you can find a way to let her know that you want to work on this, in a non-aggressive way at this point, I think she’d come around in time.”

Doyle smiled, “Thanks, Buffy. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t forget to tell her how much you love her, Doyle. When we get angry or hurt, we often forget those things, and that is the most important thing to keep in mind.”

“I won’t.”

Buffy smiled to herself as she climbed in the car. She actually gave advice! Maybe the universe was spinning off its axis...

Or, maybe she was evolving. Yes, she’d go with that. She was growing and evolving, and it felt fucking great.

********

Entering her dark home, Buffy cautiously looked around. “Spike?” she called softly so as not to wake Lindsey.

“Up here.”

She looked up to see him, shirtless and smiling, standing at the top of the stairs. Grinning, Buffy chucked her coat and purse, kicked off her sandals and started up the stairs in pursuit of him. When she reached him, she threw her arms around him. “Hi.”

“Oh, Buffy,” he said softly, “I love that.”

”Love what?”

”The way you just greeted me. You don’t know how happy it makes me to have you do that.”

“If I do it all the time, it could get old.”

“Never,” he told her huskily and caught her lips in a voracious kiss. “Come on, luv.”

Leading her into the bedroom, Buffy gasped with delight when she found the room lit only with what seemed a million votive candles—vanilla scented, her favorite.

“It’s not much, I know, but I didn’t have a chance—“

She shushed him the same way he had earlier, by placing a finger over his mouth. “Trust me, this is more than you know who ever did.”

“Are you hungry? I could make something for you.”

“Spike, are you nervous?”

He grinned, shifting on his feet, “I am. I ...it’s you.”

“We’ve done it before. You weren’t nervous this afternoon.”

“I was in a jealous haze this afternoon, and I’ve been flying high since you said you loved me...you did mean that, right?”

“I meant it,” she assured him. “And I do want to eat.”

“Okay, well –“

She grabbed him and pulled him to her. “You, I want to eat you.”

He groaned, “Buffy.”

“Yeah, there’s my guy. I like my passionate guy.”

“Love, you love your passionate guy.”

“I love you,” she murmured before claiming his lips.

They made it to the bed, falling onto it together and Buffy rolled so that she was on top of him. Straddling him, she looked down at him. “So. What shall I do to you first?” she asked and slid a finger down his chest, flicking across his nipples.

He arched into her chest. “That’s a good start.”

Leaning over him, she used her mouth instead of her fingers and smiled when she heard his sharp intake of breath.

“I want to feel you,” he murmured and tugged on her shirt. She helped him by lifting it and tossing it over her head and then squashing herself against him, kissing him languidly and sensually.

This time, he rolled them so she was under him. He stared down at her, cupping the side of her face, gazing at her intently. “Buffy...”

“Yes?”

“I love you so much, baby. You know that, right? You know I love you, right? Would never do anything to intentionally hurt you...”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be apart from you again.”

“I don’t want to be apart from you either.”

That seemed to put him at ease for the moment. Buffy knew that they still had a lot to work on, but that they were on the way now at least. They were being honest with one another; they loved each other, and they were in a good place now. Together.

Cupping one breast, Spike bent and suckled the other in his mouth. “Christ, I missed you,” he murmured against her skin.

“I missed you too,” she whispered, grazing her fingers in his silky blond locks.

“Dreamt of you every night, kitten. Looked forward to seeing you everyday. Hated that I fucked up so bad...”

“Spike, please,” she pleaded near tears.

He looked up at her, his hands inching down slowly. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Make love to me,” she whispered.

“Always. Forever.”

“Yes, yes, forever,” she agreed, as his mouth made a path down her chest to her belly and then further while he pulled her pants off. He kissed her through her panties, and soon those too were discarded. He made love to her pussy with his mouth, showing her what he was going to do with his cock, using his tongue. With every stroke of his tongue inside her and then circling her clit, Buffy was brought closer and closer, and then when his finger sunk inside her, she grabbed the pillow above her and screamed into it.

“Oh, god, you taste so good,” Spike murmured, lapping up her juices.

“You...You...” she said, reaching for him.

“Rendered you speechless, baby?” he asked, grinning down at her as he straddled her, his pants suddenly missing in her orgasmic haze.

“Yes. Your turn.”

“As much as I want that, I want to be inside you again, Buffy...” he positioned himself at her entrance, “May I?”

She nodded eagerly, and he slid in slowly, causing a long moan to escape her. Nuzzling her neck, Spike started using long, slow strokes to build up the tension inside her.

She was putty in his hands, her body striving for the release that only he could provide her. When it became too much and she felt like a live wire, she demanded it harder and faster. He complied, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Buffy...Buffy, I love you so much...”

“I love you too, Spike, I love you...” she replied, thrusting back at him, his cock hitting that secret spot inside of her. “Spike...I’m going to cum...”

“Do it, Buffy. Cum all over my cock.”

His heated words sent her over the edge and she swore, as clichéd as it sounded, she saw stars. She screamed his name into his shoulder, and he came a second after her, burying his face in her neck.

“God, Buffy...” he muttered. “Everytime...I touch heaven.”

Rolling him onto his back, she grinned down at him. “Wanna touch heaven again?”