WARNING: Contains rape


Chapter 1


The ballroom was filled with joyful couples and businessmen trying to network with other attendants of the party. The black-tie affair was being held at the prestigious Beverly Hills Hotel. It was New Year’s Eve, a time for celebration, but Buffy Summers couldn’t be more frustrated and irate. Glaring at the dance floor, she watched as a couple danced passed her table once again. Grinding her teeth together, she tried to ignore the older man holding the younger woman in his arms. “Buf, sweetie, just ignore him,” Xander Harris tried to pry her attention away from the dance floor. Xander and Buffy met during their sophomore year in high school when Buffy transferred from a boarding school into the Sunnydale Public School System. Buffy’s father, Hank Summers, owned a brokerage firm that had fallen on hard times forcing her extravagant education to an end. Hank was forced to sell the business to a larger company but stayed on as a senior partner. Buffy and Xander became almost instant friends. After graduation, Xander enrolled himself in a business college and interned at Buffy’s father’s company. After he finished at the top of his class, the firm hired Xander on permanently.



Buffy swiveled her head back to her companion, “I’m sorry Xander, it’s just that I can’t believe he is so blatant about it.” Buffy totally turned her body away from the dance floor, deciding to totally ignore her father’s philandering with someone probably younger than herself. Paying attention to her friend and the occupants at her table, Buffy forgot about her father and started to enjoy the evening. Willow, another high school friend, and her husband, Daniel Osborne (Oz) sat across the table. Willow left Sunnydale to go to college on the east coast, earning a degree in psychology and woman’s studies. After she came back to Sunnydale, the firm was hiring human resource people and snatched the talented girl up. Oz and Willow were expecting their first child in seven months.



“Tell you what, Bufster. Once they leave the dance floor we’ll go out and cut a rug.” Xander knew Buffy loved to dance. It must be a by-product of her skating. Ever since they had known her, Buffy had been an avid ice skater. Recently, she started to move up in the ranks of the local ice skating competition.



Buffy’s eyes lit up with the promise of dancing but decided to tease her good friend, “Cut a rug? You are such a dork!” She slapped his shoulder and giggled.



“Hey, stop laughing, I’m a good dancer.” Xander puffed out his tuxedo-clad chest in hopes of intimidation. Buffy smiled and straightened his bow tie.



“By definition anyone that uses the phrase ‘cut a rug’ cannot dance.” Xander sat back in his chair, a little emasculated that Buffy didn’t think he was cool. “Hey, you’re still my cool Xander!” Buffy tried to smooth his feathers and patted his shoulder.



~*~*~



Behind the head table, a pair of cool ocean blue eyes watched the activities below him. His new employees seemed to be having fun with their spouses and dates. William “Spike” Winthrop sat back in his chair observing the partygoers. The past thirty days have been literally a living hell. Not only had his mistress, Drusilla, left him, but he also had gone into the final stages of taking over Mercenary and Associates, a brokerage firm. A few weeks ago, he’d uncovered money missing from the brokerage’s books. Finally, last night he tracked down the trail to one of the senior partners. Tugging at his infernal too-tight bowtie, he grabbed his whiskey and swallowed it down. He watched most of workers sitting at the tables discussing families and the local sports teams. He sighed, slightly jealous that he couldn’t sit down at the bar and discuss those trivial things. It’s been so long since Spike has been able to go to a local pub and watch football. Raking his eyes over the crowd, Spike noticed the beauty he’d been studying all night. Her eyes narrowed as she looked out on the dance floor, probably upset that her date wasn’t dancing with her. Smirking, he wondered if what Harris would do if he asked his date to dance. The junior executive impressed Spike from the very moment they met. Unlike most in the office, he was sharp as a whip and knew the company inside and out.



The blond’s eyes pivoted to the couple now exiting the dance floor. Her eyes met the old man’s and she looked away. Crestfallen, the man continued to direct his dancing partner back to her table. Hank Summers, one the previous owners of Mercenary, helped his secretary back to her seat. There was a rumor going around that Hank has had an affinity for his secretaries and had gotten the last one pregnant. Already married, Hank quickly got rid of the bastard child and secretary in hopes of saving his marriage. The young blond must be a jilted lover of his, gauging by the looks she was sending his way. Deciding not to go after sloppy seconds, Spike ordered another whiskey from a passing waitress and continued his perusal of the crowd. He noticed that Harris now escorted his date onto the dance floor. The awkward first few steps almost made Spike smile, this girl was not well suited to the young manager. He was clumsy while she was graceful. His two left feet stepped onto her perfect ones. Smiling, like nothing was wrong, the blond carefully assisted him into the right dance moves. The girl had class, Spike had to give her that. Maybe she was worth a go as she was very much unlike the women he had seen Hank woo.



Losing track of the twirling couple on the dance floor, Spike looked around the tables again. Hank was standing behind his secretary staring out on the dance floor, following the movements of Harris and his date. Hank didn’t look too happy as he watched the couple. Smirking, Spike got up from the head table and walked over the older man. “Hank, there you are mate!” Spike came up behind him and slapped him on his shoulder in a faux show of comradely. Spike’s English cockney accent slipped through. Even though Spike was raised by wealthy parents and had an excellent education at the finest Oxford schools, he made his accent rougher. He found that it disarmed his opponents in the boardroom and out.



“William! Great party, I must say.” Hank turned his eye from the dance floor and greeted his new boss with enthusiasm. “You remember my secretary, Shelly?” Hank motioned at the sitting woman. The woman could be considered anything but classy. Her makeup was overdone and her dress was to low cut. How ever did Hank find these girls?



“Good evening, Shelly.” Spike smiled down at the young woman, but he noticed Hanks attention went back to the dance floor. Looking up, Spike located the blond again. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”



“What?” Hank looked back at Spike. “Oh yes, very beautiful.” His attention went back to the dance floor.



“Who is she?”



“Uh, no one of importance.” Hank dismissed the inquiry. He turned completely around, blocking the dancers from his line of sight.



“Must be someone the way you keep looking at her and the way she looked at you while you were dancing.” Spike saw the color drain out of Hank’s face. Sputtering, Hank didn’t know how to introduce who Buffy was: a daughter or an enemy?



Shelly stood up and moved to the other side of Hank, “She’s Buffy.” Spike’s eyebrows rose in question. “Buffy Summers, Hank’s daughter.” Understanding filled Spike’s eyes as his gazed moved once more to the woman dancing around the room. The deadly glares she was sending Hank’s way weren’t those of a jealous lover, but of an irate daughter.

Chapter 2
Back at the head table, Spike watched Harris and Buffy make their way back to the table. Uninterested in the male, Spike focused his attention on the blond. Her light pink cocktail dress seemed to float behind her as she made her way towards Willow Osborne and her husband. He watched her golden tresses bounce behind her, like she was in a shampoo commercial. He watched their conversation and the way her face became animated and amused. He almost could see the twinkle in her eyes all the way on the other side of the room. He admired her perky nose and bee stung lips. Her skin glowed as she talked to the other woman. All too soon, Harris came back with new drinks and sat down, blocking Spike’s view. Getting up from his vantage point, Spike moved around the room, maybe he could figure out a way to get an introduction.



Thirty minutes passed and Spike was no closer to his object of affection. Four times he was stopped by someone wanting a bit of his time to talk about business. Every time Spike bit his lip wanting to say, “It’s new Year’s Eve. Stop with the work!” Twice a single female would cross his path, in hopes of enticing him, but they just annoyed him. Finally, he was within hearing range. Her laughter rang out clearly and melodically, making Spike close his eyes and savor the noise. Never had a woman entered his being so thoroughly and he hadn’t even touched her or talked to her. He stepped closer to the group at the table, waiting for an introduction, but none was forthcoming. The foursome was so wrapped up in their discussion of the latest Survivor show that they didn’t even notice the bleached white hair of their benefactor. He inhaled, letting the whisper of her scent pass through him. Such sweetness deserved words of poetry written about it. Kicking himself out of his romantic musings, Spike almost missed the man approaching the table.



“Buffy, dear.” Hank said, getting her attention. The occupants at the table looked towards the approaching man.



Buffy’s head snapped up, eyes glaring at the intruder. “How dare you come over here.”



“Sweetheart, please. I understand why you are upset, but…” Hank held his hands up as if to surrender. Oz stood up, prepared to forcefully move Hank away from Buffy. They all knew of her tumultuous past with her father and didn’t want her hurt again.



“There is no excuse, Hank. I don’t want to hear it anymore.” Buffy’s green eyes blazed into a deeper shade with yellow highlights forming around her irises, making her eyes almost brown. Her skin turned from a glowing gold to a more heated color. Red rose in her cheeks as she tried to stave off her anger and humiliation.



“Buffy, please. Let’s go somewhere where we can…” Hank moved forward as if to grab her arm, but she stood up and put distance between her and the wretched man. Xander stood up and Oz came forward, ready to extract Buffy from the situation. Willow sat back, holding her hands against her precious belly, trying to protect it from the harsh words.



“What? Where we can what? Talk? You finally want to talk to me?” Her arms crossed over her chest, making Spike squirm in appreciation of her cleavage. He imagined her skin heated from his touch, writhing underneath him. Lost in his erotic world, he shook his head out of it and listened once more. “I wonder why? I’m sure it has to do with you not wanting me to tell Mom about the latest bimbo you are sporting. Don’t worry, dear old dad, I wouldn’t do that to her. She doesn’t need me to break her heart. She has you for that.” Hank looked resigned and started to back away. Xander and Oz backed down. The threat to their friend has been alleviated.



This was Spike’s chance to meet this vision. It would be difficult to wiggle his way in through Xander and Willow, but with Hank being senior management, it would seem appropriate. Before Hank could totally turn around, Spike came up to the little group. “Is this a private party, or can anyone join?” His eyebrow rose in appreciation as he finally came with in touching distance of the blond woman. She was even more beautiful up close than from afar.



“Will,” Hank stuttered out. “I’m sorry if we got a little loud, we were having a family discussion and…”



Spike waved the explanation off, not breaking eye contact with the green-eyed beauty. “No need, Hank. I just came over to see what this get together is all about. Now, who is this beauty?” No one from the office noticed the change in his accent from cockney to more upper class. He noticed the slight increase of her breath as he talked about her.



Hank turned to look at his stricken daughter. Her eyes were wide and lips parted slightly as she looked at Spike. “This is my daughter, Buffy.”



Spike stepped forward and took Buffy’s slight hand in his. Bending down, he bestowed a soft kiss on her hand. “I am William Winthrop. Glad to meet your acquaintance.” Spike noted the surprised expression on her face and the slight tremble of her fingers as he kissed her hand. Smirking to himself, he reluctantly let go of her warm inviting skin. “Hank, I was hoping I might steal away your daughter for a dance.” Spike watched as Harris stepped forward as if to stop the dance, but Buffy put her hand up to stop him.



“No need to ask Hank’s permission, Mr. Winthrop. I would love a dance.” With that, Buffy left Hank, Xander, and Spike staring after her as she walked slowly to the dance floor. Almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, Spike headed after her. Her hips swayed with every step she made, like a golden jaguar stalking through the forest, instead of a woman walking through the crowd of tables towards the dance floor.



He caught up to her just as she came to the edge of the dance floor. “Want to tell me what went on back there, love?” Spike stepped forward to take her body into his arms. Her hand slid up his well-toned arms to rest on his shoulder as her other hand took his.



Buffy looked up into his blue eyes, startled at this question and term of endearment. Tempted to reply with a scathing remark, Buffy decided to play nice with this man. He was Xander and Willow’s boss and anything she might say could be used against them. “It was just a family squabble, Mr.Winthrop, that got out of control.” She looked away, afraid he might see the pain in her eyes.



Spike was amazed that this little spitfire could go from ninety to zero in five seconds flat. Her eyes returned the sparkling emerald green and her skin returned to glowing instead of heated. She felt perfect in his arms. If he could move closer without appearing to have ulterior motive, he could rest his chin on her soft head, smelling her hair. As it was, he could smell her intoxicating perfume, shifting his libido into hyper-drive. Instead of thinking about her and what he could do, he decided to get her talking. Maybe conversation as a distraction would allow him no embarrassment when the song was over and he would have to take her back to her date. Her soft voice sounded so good when it was directed his way. “So, pet. Tell me a bit about yourself.” Spike looked over at the table where she sat. Hank and Xander were watching ardently as they twirled around the dance floor. A look of longing was plastered on Xander’s face while a grim look was set in place on Hanks. Willow and her husband sat quietly at the table, trying not to stare at the dancing blond couple. Other partiers couldn’t help but watch the striking couple on the dance floor. The image of pale white surrounded by gold struck a beautiful combination.



Buffy looked up again at his question. He certainly was charming and his accent was so sexy. “Nothing much to tell.” She looked over his shoulder at Willow who gave her thumbs up sign. Instead of being encouraged, she spat out, “You know my name and that I am Hank’s daughter, what else is there?” She felt his hand shift lower on her waist, almost unnoticeably, but it did shift. She looked into his eyes and saw something she’d seen before… lust. Growing up, she saw that look in Hank’s eyes when he looked at other women. Indignant, Buffy tried to be pleasant for Xander and Willow’s sake. She knew of men like him, her father being one. It seemed they viewed a woman as property and as a sex object, never as her own person. When she stepped forward, she could feel his erection. Almost fuming, Buffy gritted her teeth, intent on finishing the dance without cutting Mr. Winthrop down to size.



“Oh, I am sure there is more, love. Like what do you do for a living? Is that Harris bloke someone special to you? And, why do you hate your father so much?” Her head snapped up again, and her eyes narrowed. He saw the sparks of yellow forming around her irises.



“Mr. Winthrop, my relationship to my father is none of your business. And if you would be so kind, I don’t feel very well and would like to go home.” She stepped away and ended the dance. Turning on her heel, she moved through the sea of dancers back to her table. Xander grabbed her wrap and purse from her chair, ready for his friend. Stalking past her father she said few words to Willow and Oz and then continued out into the night. All Spike could do was stand there with cold, empty arms and watch the spitfire leave.

Chapter 3


New Years came and went. Everyone’s back at work and the status quo continues. Spike picked up all the latest gossip from his secretary, Harmony, and found out that Hank was still indeed married, but continued to flaunt his infidelity around the company and community. His wife, Joyce, was considered a non-issue because she was put into a long-term care facility. A few years back, she developed a brain tumor that demanded surgery. After coming back from it, she never was the same again. Talk about her being crazy and irrational riddled the community, embarrassing Hank His “crazy” wife would not ruin his reputation and therefore was put into the facility. The mystery about Buffy was a little harder to understand. Harmony went to high school with the girl and described her as a freak without any friends, certainly not the beauty that met him on New Year’s Eve. Little details of Buffy being an ice skater and competing in local competitions didn’t escape Spike as Harmony gushed all she knew on the illusive firecracker. He learned about her love of art and of her mother’s small art shop she managed. Harmony’s account of what happened between father and daughter was sketchy. Sometime during high school when the lovely Miss Summers came back to Sunnydale from boarding school, her father and she’d had a huge fight. Details were not given because they were not known, but it was implied she caught him with a mistress. Ever since then, a blinding hatred had shown through the blonde’s eyes towards her father. Filing the information away, Spike continued his tracking of missing money, coming back to one prime suspect, Hank himself.



As Friday approached, Spike became more agitated. The lack of a warm body in his bed and heart haunted his mind. To add to everything else, Spike uncovered even more money missing. Frustrated and at the end of his tether, Spike picked up the phone and dialed information. Unfortunately, Buffy Summers had an unlisted number, probably trying to keep her father at bay. Procuring the art shop’s phone number, he dialed it and waited for an answer. A woman, not Buffy, answered the line and within a few moments, Spike had directions to the shop and confirmation that Buffy would be there.



He walked up the sidewalk, holding one red rose, and opened the door to the art shop, allowing the bell to clang announcing his entry. Expecting dull and lifeless knockoffs for sale, Spike was amazed to find a very vibrant and exciting gallery. Large oil paintings covered the two story open space. At eye level, paintings and sculptures adorned every open space. Lost in the haze of wonderment, Spike didn’t hear a young woman approach him. “Hi, can I help you?” Spike turned around and found a tall girl, not much older than eighteen staring back at him. Small freckles dotted her face, bridging her upturned nose. Her long brown hair, hung low on her shoulders. Her nametag identified her as Dawn Summers. Kind brown eyes looked back at him and realization hit, she looked like a taller and younger version of Buffy. Some how, this girl was related to Buffy. Angry that his research did not mention this girl, he flashed his most charming smile at the girl. “I called earlier. I am looking for Buffy Summers.”



Her cheeks tinted pink as she stared into his eyes, “Oh yes, of course. Let me go get her.” She stepped behind the desk and into a back room. Spike heard a few murmurs and the young girl came back. “Buffy is working. She said you could just go on back.” The girl ushered Spike through a storage area and into a workshop. Easels in various degrees of completion and style littered the outer edges of the room. Standing in the middle were two spotlights centered on a large canvas. A small woman stood with her back to him. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail and she wore paint covered overall pants. Without looking up she questioned, “My sister said you were looking for me, can I help you?”



Knowing the voice, Spike didn’t hesitate with his answer, “Yes, I was looking for you, love.” He saw her hand still on the canvas and her back straightened when she recognized his voice.



Twisting around, Buffy almost dropped her paintbrush. Struggling to keep her composure, she set her work utensil down and looked at the man that invaded her nightly dreams since New Year’s Eve. “Mr. Winthrop, what brings you down here?” Buffy moved over to a workbench and grabbed a rag. She worked on wiping her hands as Spike moved closer to the painting. A green field dominated the canvas. In the background, rolling hills beckoned the eye to see their secrets. Swirls of browns, greens, and blues dominated the canvas almost dancing in their combinations. Spike was entranced as his eye followed a small country road through the field and over the hills, stopping at a tiny cottage. Smirking, he turned to face her, “It’s quite beautiful, love.” He suppressed a gasp at the vision before him. The spotlight engulfed her tiny form, highlighting her natural beauty. Eyes aglow from the passion she put into the painting, a little splotch of green paint swiped down her cheek, and little brow furrowed in an attempt to figure out why he was here made her the picture of perfection.



“Uh, it’s not finished. Anyways, Mr. Winthrop. The reason?” His eyebrows rose as she became flustered at his compliment. “To why you are here?” Spike stayed silent and went back to looking at the painting.



His fingers itched to trace the road and follow it to its home, but he knew better. “It’s like I’m there on one of the rolling hills, looking down at the field.”



“Uh huh. Can I help you?” Buffy wanted no part with this man. He was a tie to her father she did not want. She spied a rose he put down on a table near the door and pursed her lips, she was afraid he would have designs on her.



Snapping out of his hypnotic stare and watched her move around the studio. She put brushes and scrappers in cleaning solution to soak. Her hands continued to pick up objects and move them some place else. Spike considered her constant movement as being a nervous habit. “Pet, please stand still for a moment. You are giving me a bloody headache with all your movement.” She stopped where she was. Turning, she put her hands on her hips and he saw her eyes light up.



“Why are you here, Mr. Winthrop?”



“Call me Spike, please.”



“Spike?” He saw her anger turn to gaiety as she tried to suppress laughter.



“What? It’s my nickname?”



“Is there another name I can call you, because I don’t think I can cal you,” Her fingers came up to her mouth, hiding a smile, “Spike and have a straight face.”



“And Buffy is any better?” He saw her mood change instantly. Gone was the small smile and glittering flecks of joy in her eyes and back was the hard steel.



“My mother gave me that name, thank you very much.” She turned away from him and started her movement again. Paint supplies put away, she moved onto rearranging the canvases in the room.



He sighed, “Look, pet. I didn’t mean anything about it. Call me William instead, yeah?”



“Ok, William. What can I do for you? Interested in some art? We have a couple very good pieces out front from some talented local artists.” She moved towards the front room.



“Not exactly, love. I was hoping…” Spike felt like a teenage boy asking his first date out. He quickly moved to where he put the rose and picked it up. He twisted around and presented her with it. “This is for you. I was a git to ask you about your father. I deeply apologize.” Spike thought to himself, ‘could I get any more poncier?’



“What’s a git?” She eyed the rose with appreciation. Her fingers itched to touch the graceful lines of the budding flower, but she resisted.



“A git? Oh, bloody hell, woman…” Spike looked up in heaven, praying for divine intervention. “A jerk. I was a jerk to you. I stepped over the line. I’m sorry, here.” He held out the flower and she tentatively took it. She brushed the soft petals against her cheek and brought it up to her nose. “I meant what I said. I want to get to know you better.” She looked up at him with wide green eyes. She looked so innocent, yet so much more. “Have dinner with me, tonight.” Her eyes widened as her lips trembled. God, the woman could launch a thousand words filled with her beauty.



“Tonight?” Her voice was low, almost a whisper.



“Yes, tonight.” Spike nodded.



Buffy looked down at her outfit and looked back up at him, “I can’t. I’m sorry.” Spike’s hopeful look fell as she declined his invitation. “I… I’ve just been working all day and must be a mess.” Her fingers unconsciously rose up to her hair, running her hand through the ponytail.



“No, you’re beautiful, effulgent, even.” Spike stepped forward and grazed her hand on her arm. “Please. I just want to get to know you. We don’t have to go anyplace fancy. Anywhere you want.” How could she say no to his baby blue eyes pleading with her? “Just to talk, promise.” He held his hands up and she nodded in consent. He grabbed her elbow and started to move them out to the front room, “Good, where to, love?”



Buffy stopped dead in her tracks. “First off, please stop calling me that?”



Spike looked over at her, “What, love?”



“That… love. I’m not your love so please stop using it.” She looked at anything but him as she spoke.



Smiling, Spike took her arm again, this time bringing her hand to his elbow, “Sure thing, pet. I’ll try not to use it.”

~*~*~

Forty-five minutes later over the remains of a pepperoni pizza, Buffy and Spike were talking. He told her tales of his boarding school in Oxford and his absentee parents who spent more time on vacation than at home. Adolescent pranks and problems riddled his teenage years as he became the man he is today. Bringing the topic back to her, Spike inquired about the gallery. “So what made you say, I want to run a gallery in this Podunk town?”



Buffy giggled as she sipped her coke. “I didn’t. The shop is my mother’s, but she is too sick to run it. I stepped in when she got sick.” Her eyes misted up in unshed emotion. “So anyway, I don’t own it, just run it.”



“Where’s your mom now, pet?” Spike reached out and patted her hand in a comforting way.



“At the Sunnydale Long Term Care Facility. After her operation when they found out she had brain damage from the rumor, my father put her in there instead of hiring someone to take care of her at home.” He not only could hear the bitterness in her voice, but also feel it down to his bones.



“How long has she been there?” Buffy allowed his fingers to intertwine with hers on the table. He rested her hand in his making it so comfortable for her that she would never want to let go.



“Three years. I go visit her every week, telling her how the shop is going. She has good days and bad days.” Buffy withdrew her hand and put it in her lap. Spike knew she was withdrawing from the conversation and from him, he knew he had to do something quick to get her back. “During her bad days, I just sit by her side holding her hand.”



“So you want to be a painter versus a manager of a gallery?” Spike wanted to change the topic to something less melancholy maybe to talk about her passionate work would draw her out more.



“I didn’t. Actually, I’m an ice skater. I’ve been competing pretty heavily lately and I am going to regional in a few weeks. The shop and my painting just pays for the bills, you know?” Spike nodded as she continued. “I always love the cool grace of the ice. You could put your foot down and never lift it off of the ice. One continuous line twisting and twirling around the blank white canvas of the ice.” He saw the wistfulness in her eyes.



“I’ve never thought about the ice like that, but you are right, love.” Spike saw a spark in her eye and realized what he had unconsciously done. He bowed his head and peeked at her through his eyelashes. “So how about your sister? Is she an artist?”



Smiling again, she shook her head, “No, she just runs the main shop floor. She just started college so she’s there less and less. I miss her sometimes.”



“I bet. So does she go visit your mom with you?”



“Actually, my mother is not hers.” Buffy looked away as if ashamed.



“What do you mean pet?” Spike sat forward, hoping she would extend her hand again, but she stood stock-still.



“My fath… Hank. He brought her home one night. We didn’t know… not until she was older that… well, Dawn and I look alike… you know?” Buffy looked out the window. “She was… is… solid evidence of his… and when she figured out that Joyce wasn’t… well.” Buffy looked down at her fidgeting hands in her lap. “Dawn… she’s a sweet girl. But, she feels the guilt he should…” He heard her take a deep breath and let it out.



“I understand, pet.” Spike sat back, giving her the space he felt she needed. Not wanting to pressure her, he picked up the check and went to pay their bill. Coming back, Buffy finished her drink and her gloomy mood was gone. They walked in silence to his car and he helped her get in the classic black Desoto. Content to just sit with her beside him, he didn’t feel the need to talk. She gave him short directions to her place but that was the only sound coming from inside the vehicle. Parking his car in her apartment building lot, Spike helped Buffy out of the car and walked her up to her apartment door.



As she unlocked the door, she looked back at Spike. He was leaning against the wall, looking straight at her with lust in his eyes. Carefully choosing her words she said, “I had a very nice time… William.” He gently smiled at her hesitation to use his Christian name.



“I did too, pet.” Spike moved forward a bit, waiting for an invitation into her home.



She opened the door a little and looked at him again. “I have an early morning tomorrow, I’d ask you in, but…” Buffy wasn’t entirely lying, she did have an early morning. The fact that she knew he wanted an invite inside and probably wouldn’t want to leave when he got it, she didn’t want him to think that something would happen between them.



Straightening up at her rebuff, Spike grazed his fingers over her upper arm, “All right, pet. We’ll do this again, yeah?” Buffy numbly nodded, all to aware of the goose bumps his fingers were creating. She didn’t even notice his head coming closer until she felt a warm, moist kiss on her cheek, overlapping her lips a bit. Smirking, Spike moved away and headed down the stairs. Buffy shut her door quietly and rested her weight against it. William Winthrop was an enigma. Part of her wanted him to insist that he come in to see her place and part of her was thrilled that he didn’t.

Chapter 4
Two weeks later Buffy was carrying groceries up the stairs to her apartment. She hadn’t heard from Spike in about a week. He showed up at her mom’s shop last weekend looking for her, but she was out on an errand with a local artist. He left another red rose with Dawn. Buffy shook her head, she shouldn’t be missing him; he was just like her philandering father. Climbing up the last set of stairs, Buffy headed towards her door and a flurry of color stopped her dead in her tracks. Looking in front of her door was a huge bouquet, more like an arrangement, of flowers. Red, orange, yellow, and purples dominated the buds offset by flowing greens of the foliage. Stricken, she moved towards the door before she dropped her bags and opened it. She put her groceries down and went back to retrieve the flowers. A card peaked out from under a purple rose and she snatched it up.



Buffy-
Thinking of you

-William



No other explanation to the delivery as given. Smiling like a schoolgirl she took the flowers over to her sink and filled up the reservoir. She took time to smell each perfect bud and fingered some of the petals. Why was she feeling this way? This was wrong! He was supposed to be rude and crude instead of sweet and sentimental.



She stalked over to her grocery bags and started to put away her findings. This would not do, all she has to do is call him and tell him she didn’t want to see him again. He would give up, wouldn’t he? Without time to change her mind, Buffy called Willow at work. “Hello, Willow Rosenberg-Osborne. May I help you?”



“Wills?”



“Hey Buffy, what’s up?”



“I need to talk to Mr. Winthrop. Do you have his number?” Buffy twirled a piece of hair around her fingers.



“Sure… hold on… OH… You have to go through Harmony, his secretary.”



“Harmony? They let that ditz be a secretary?” Buffy shook her head, what kind of moron runs that company… Hank.

“Yeah, she’s actually pretty good. Hold on and let me transfer you.”



Several clicks later she was connected with William’s office. “Hello, Mr. Winthrop’s office, this is Harmony, may I help you.”



Trying to disguise her voice, Buffy said, “Yes I would like to speak to Mr. Winthrop.”



“May I ask who is calling?” Damn, Buffy should have known she wouldn’t get past Harmony.



“Buffy Summers.” She could hear the gears in Harmony’s brain working hard.



“Oh my god, Buffy? How long has it been?”



Biting the inside of her mouth, Buffy was about to tell her just to transfer her when she heard his voice. Low murmurs of protest on Harmony’s part and then the next moment Buffy heard several clicks and the phone ringing again. “Hello, pet.” His deep timber excited her blood stream.



“William, I need to talk to you.”



“I was hoping you would call.”



“William, please… let me speak.” She paused and he stayed silent, continuing, “The flowers are lovely, thank you. But… I don’t think we should see each other again.” She knew she caught his attention when she heard him quickly inhale.



“Why is that, pet?”



“I’m really busy and my schedule is packed…”



“That’s bollocks, love, and you know it.”



“Our schedules don’t mesh, William. I’m sorry.” She hung up before he got a chance to say anything. Within two minutes, her phone was ringing. How did he get her number, it was unlisted: Willow or Xander? It was the only explanation. He knew she was friends with both and probably threatened life and limb to pry it out of either one of them. When the phone stopped ringing, she set it off the hook. He would know she was home, but not wanting to talk to him. Maybe he would get the clue.



The rest of the day went fine for Buffy. She finished painting a canvas at home and took it when she went to visit her mother. Grateful that she had a new painting to look at, Joyce was in high spirits. Buffy took the painting that she finished two weeks ago back to her apartment to contact the buyer that it was ready. Three hours of practice on the ice, proved beneficial when she met with a local competition coordinator, learning of a statewide convention in less than a year. She set the painting on her mantle and made dinner for herself. She put the phone back on its cradle and continued her preparations. She pricked the potato and put it in the oven. Setting her steak to the side, Buffy started to make her a salad.



Thirty minutes later, someone was knocking on her door. She wiped her hands on a towel and went to answer it. Not to her surprise, it was William. He looked gaunt and tired. His blue eyes no longer twinkled with mischief and the start of dark circles surrounded them. His hair was no longer slicked back, but little tiny white curls formed at the top. “May I come in, pet?” Buffy nodded and stepped to the side. She was so flabbergasted at his appearance, she forgot about her earlier decision about him. William stepped in and handed over a black leather duster and suit jacket. Hi maroon dress shirt was rumbled as were his pants. She hung the coat up and turned back to him. He moved away from her and headed toward her mantel, memorizing the painting she just placed there. His eyes roamed over the seascape. The beach glittered with shells and hidden animals while the angry sea beat down on the beauty. Filled with wonderment, he looked at the tiny girl that created the painting. Smelling the food cooking and eyeing the steak on the counter, he looked hopeful, “It’s been a long day, is there any chance I could get some of that?”



Nodding, she went to clean another potato and stuck it in her microwave. She came back into the living room to find him sprawled out on her big blue overstuffed couch with his shoeless feet up on the maple coffee table and his arm flung over his eyes. “Would you like anything to drink?” She stood to the side of the couch, when he lifted his arm slightly and his lips turned upward.



“Anything would be fine, don’t go to any trouble.”



Buffy went back to her fridge and found a beer Xander left the last time he was over. Grabbing the bottle, she opened it and poured it into a glass. On her trip back, Spike’s arm was removed from his face and he was watching her with half closed eyes. “Tough day?”



“You could say that again.” Buffy sat on the couch, as far away from him as possible when he took a deep drink of the liquid she provided him with. With a grimace he tipped the glass and asked, “Domestic?”



“Only thing I had, sorry.” She tucked her feet underneath her, waiting for him to start talking, but he never did. Instead she watched his eyes filter back to her painting. Interested in what he thought about her work, she watched him trace the crests and troughs of each wave as it broke on shore. The microwave finished and she got up to take it out and put it in the oven with her potato. With twenty minutes left on the potato, she went out to her patio and started up her gas grill. Coming back in, she noticed he took off his tie and unbuttoned some of his buttons on his shirt. She went back into the kitchen and fixed William a salad. Eventually he came into the kitchen, watching her prepare the dinner. Silently, she moved around getting sour cream and butter from the fridge and putting them on the table. He helped setting the table with silverware and napkins as she put the steak on the grill.



Dinner was eaten in quiet. Buffy didn’t know what to say to her intruder. He looked so beaten and tired. Tempted to ask what was wrong, Buffy decided that if he wanted to tell her, he would have. She also concluded that her phone call wasn’t the worse thing that happened to him, if it had, he most certainly wouldn’t be on her doorstep like a little orphaned child. Clicks of silverware on her dishes and low chewing were the only sounds heard in her dinning room.



Spike sat in Buffy’s dining room eating quietly. Luckily, she grilled the steak rare, just like he liked it. The potato was done to perfection, soft on the inside and a bit of crunch on the outside. Savoring the food and company, Spike ate quietly, knowing what he was about to do would totally change their lives. Either she would call his bluff and he would be totally shut out of her life or she would go along with it and they would be bound together forever. Praying that it would be the latter, Spike began to formulate a plan.



After dinner, Buffy cleared the dishes and began to clean up the kitchen. Standing side by side, Spike helped her by drying the dishes. If a stranger would look in on them, it would look so absolutely domestic and natural. Leaning on the counter Spike waited for Buffy to finish wiping the counters down. She was such a beautiful creature, how could he think about crushing her like he was? Working up his nerve, Spike took her hand and led her back to the couch. He let her sit down and he sat on the opposite end, knowing being within arms reach could have detrimental consequences. She looked expectantly towards him and he looked at the painting. “Your work is very good, you know?” She nodded her head, not knowing where he was going with it. “I would like to buy that painting.” He pointed at the seascape.



“I’m sorry you can’t.” He looked over at her with his eyebrow raised. “It’s already spoken for.”



“Really? How much are you selling it for?” Spike leaned his arms on his knees. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “I’m sure it isn’t enough.” Silence fell again and she started to fidget. What did he want?



“William?”



“Yeah, love?”



She grimaced at the term and he shrugged his shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why are you here?” She motioned at her apartment. “I know I didn’t let you talk on the phone, but… I meant what I said and it would be a waste of breath for you to try to convince otherwise.” A his lips twisted in a rueful smirk. Such innocence… how does she not see it?



“Pet, I… see… oh bugger!” Spike slid down the couch and sat next to her. “Now, here me out… this… isn’t easy… but it’s the only conclusion I can come up with.” Her green eyes sparkled bright with partial morbid curiosity and fear. Sighing heavily, Spike’s eyes became unfocused as he looked at the painting. “Over the past month I’ve been looking through the books of Mercenary. That’s what I was doing today.” She nodded, not sure where this was leading. What did she care of the books at the company her father used to own. A budding of realization started to bloom inside her head. “Moneys been missing, you see. Lots of it. I’ve been tracking it down.” Spike ran his fingers through his hair, messing the curls even more. “That’s what I was doing today when you called.” He looked over at her and smiled a little, “Heard Harmony say your name and I knew I had to talk to you. She didn’t want to transfer you in.” His eyes went back to the painting, staring a something in the horizon. After a minute of silence he continued, “I finally got hard proof today. Bloody thief wasn’t very cleaver about it.”



“Hank?” Her suspicions were confirmed when Spike whipped his head around and looked at her. His blue eyes were wide and his lips slightly parted as he nodded. “Thought so. Hank never was known to be smart about anything.” Buffy pouted, thinking of his infidelity and years of harsh treatment of her mother.



“Yeah, not smart. I don’t know what to do.” Spike clasped his hands together. “See, if… Hank was arrested it would be bad for the company. Stock prices plummet and… workers,” Spike spared a glance her way, “would get laid off.” The induendo was not lost to Buffy as she gasped. “But, see… I just… he’s stolen something from me… from all the workers… and I can’t just let him get away with that.”



“Oh god!” Buffy gasped and her eyes welled up with tears. Spike looked over at her, wondering what she was thinking. “My MOTHER!” Spike’s eyes widen when he realized she fell in a deeper trap than the one her set. Her mother was the perfect reason to get her to marry him. To save her mother from more pain, Buffy would do anything.



“Oh, pet. I never thought of her. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do. Dragging him through the courts isn’t going to be good.”



“Can… if… if he gave the money back… would you just let him go?” Buffy’s eyes sparkled with tears and he wished he could make them go away.



“Pet… it’s just… it’s so much money… over a long period of time. I talked to him this afternoon… he claims he didn’t do it.”



“Maybe… maybe if I talk to him…” Buffy’s brain was whirling around with possibilities. This would just squash her mother’s health.



“Even if you did, sending him to jail would be bad all around. And if I don’t persue it, what does that make me look like?”



“Oh god Spike… this will crush my mother. After all these years and all the women, it would certainly crush her!”



“Shh, pet. We’ll figure out something.” Spike put his arm around the now crying Buffy. Her sobs moved him to the core as he tried to comfort her.



“We have to think of something, Spike!” Buffy pulled away and looked at him.



“Well, there is one idea I have… it’s… not very good, but it might solve all our problems.” Spike looked deep in her eyes, trying to gauge what she would say. “If… if we would get married… I couldn’t very well turn in my father-in-law… now could I? We would be family. If

he gave the money back… and if the investors ever found out… I could point to the returned money and that he’s your father… I think that would work.” Spike sat back and watched the emotions run through her eyes.



“You want us to get married? I can’t!”

Chapter 5
“You want us to get married? I can’t!” Buffy’s eyes looked into Spike’s. There was no way she could marry him. One thing in her life she promised herself was she would never lead the life her mother did. She spared him a glance; his eyes were the deepest blue she’s ever seen. “Look, we have to find another way.”



“There isn’t another way.” Spike stood up and started to pace around the room. His trap was set but she narrowly escaped or was it that she never entered it in the first place? This wasn’t good. Maybe he could lure her in again.



Buffy stood up and faced him. Her body spoke of desperation. “Find another way, please. You said yourself, bringing it to light wouldn’t be good for the company. There has to be another way.”



“Are you daft?” Spike stopped his pacing and looked at the tiny slip of a woman. “If the investors ever found out, it’d be my head.” How could this little woman be the spitfire that he had first met? She looked so fragile, so innocent. Spike wanted to hold her in his arms and make all the bad things go away, if only she would let him.



She looked so compassionately at him, “I know, but William, it’ll break her. One more wrong to shame her, you know? I can’t do that to her.”



Spike stalked over to her and grabbed her shoulders, “What do you want me to do, give up my career?” He shook her body once, trying to reign in his anger, but it was obviously too far gone. Her eyes were wide and glistening with moisture. He could tell he was scaring her, but she was being difficult. If only she would agree, he could make the pain go away. “Here’s the deal, I’ll pay the money back to the company, and the books will be even then. Hank can pay me back over time. No one would be the wiser. Then if someone does find out I can explain that I couldn’t put my wife through that. Don’t you see that, woman?” His eyes burned into her, trying to will her into agreeing.



Buffy stepped back, extricating herself from his grasp. She desperately tried to come up with another solution. “Why marriage?” Spike looked over at her and breathed in heavily. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”



Spike’s eyes closed for a moment blocking his pain from her. A tell-tale twitch in his jaw told her he was trying to reign in his temper, but he was not succeeding, “Why is that?” Spike briefly wondered why she didn’t want to marry him. Lots of women were lining up in the wings to have just one night with him, why was she having such difficulty with a lifetime? It was more than he offered anyone else.



“William, please. We have to find another way.” Her pleading fell on deaf ears. He felt the blood rush through his arteries and veins. She was rejecting him! That’s what she had tried to do this afternoon and what she was doing now. Anger boiled up in him. He could feel it start in his legs, washing over his torso, and finally heading up to his brain. Frustration, loss, and pain were running through his stunned mind as he faced off with Buffy.



“Are you already spoken for? Is that it?” Incredible jealousy bubbled within him, overriding his anger. Was she seeing another man, is that why she had tried to break it off earlier today? Someone she thought was better than him? Was another man spending time with her, touching her, kissing those sweet lips, taking her out?



Shocked at the insinuation, Buffy gaped at him, “Oh course not! I… I don’t love you, that’s why. I could never love someone like you.” Spike couldn’t believe his ears. This woman was telling him she could never love him! And, what was that comment about ‘someone like’ him? Obviously, she thought she was better than him. Damn bloody bitch!



Three quick strides later, Spike grabbed Buffy and hauled her towards his chest. “Don’t say nasty things you don’t mean, little girl.” His lips came down with bruising force. She twisted and turned, trying to free herself from his grasp, but he only held on tighter. One at a time, his arms snaked around her…holding her more closely and fiercely than before. Forcing her lips to part and their teeth to clash, Spike picked up her slight form from the ground and headed over to the couch. A faint taste of coppery blood hit her tongue as he mashed himself into her, she wasn’t sure if it was hers or his. Struggling, she tried to whip her head away, but by now, she was firmly seated on his lap. One hand held the back of her neck still and the other tightened around her waist. The frantic and violent kiss started to become gentler. A tip of his head one way, the soft puckering of his lips, the movement of his fingers on her waist all made Buffy want to give in. Her inner voice reminded her that this was wrong, that he was evil, that he had grabbed her and kissed her, and it even compared him to Hank. Despite all that, her arms wiggled free and crept around his neck, seemingly of their own volition, touching the soft hair above his collar. Noticing the slight change, Spike wanted more. He wanted everything from her. Softening his lips more, he let up on the pressure against her, letting her lips return to a plumper state. He licked her bottom lip, wanting her to open up for him. The struggle in her brain intensified as new sensations assaulted her body. Her pursing her lips closed and pushing on his chest alerted Spike that he had not won this round. Holding on to her waist, Spike refused to let go. He did pull his head back to look at her. She was an angel in his arms and it was like heaven when she cooperated with the snogging. He could tell she was even enjoying the kisses. Why did she stop them? He rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t… no… don’t you see. It could be so good between us. Didn’t you feel it?” Buffy shook her head, trying to break the contact he had. “Baby, we’d be perfect. Please, there is no other way. You’ll see, baby. I know you felt it, too.”



Buffy struggled and he finally let go, letting her stand. She turned around with her fingers at her mouth, touching the bruised skin, “Ask me again, why I wont marry you.” Her voice held poison as she watched him run his hand through his hair. “How? How can you do that and think its ok? The only thing I feel for you is disgust.”



Spike sat with his feet planted on the floor. A hysterical laugh formed, “Don’t you see, you silly bint? It’s the only way we can protect ourselves? It could be wonderful, pet. We have the passion.” Breathing heavily, he peered at her from his position. She was walking away from him, wringing her fingers together as she walked slowly into the kitchen. He heard clattering sounds and water running briefly. Deciding he should see what she was doing, he followed. She stood with her back to him, fiddling with a coffee pot. “Pet? What are you doing?”



“I won’t marry you, William,” she said, so softly, he almost didn’t hear her over the percolating machine.



“Buffy, love…” her back stiffened at his term of endearment, “pet, it’s the only way to protect your mum. You want to do that right?” Buffy moved over to a drawer and opened it up and took something shiny out. She stared intently on the object in her hand. Spike walked slowly behind her and touched her shoulder. He peered over her head to look down at the diamond ring she held within her hand. It looked like an engagement ring. Spike surmised it must be her mothers. “I’m sorry Hank put you in this position.” She shrugged off his hand and he stepped back. He knew silent tears ran down her face, but he couldn’t stop this, it was what he wanted, she was what he wanted. She put the ring into the drawer and picked up something else. “I don’t want to hurt you, Buffy, but it’s the only way to protect her. Don’t you see?”



“She still loves him, you know? After all the lying and cheating, she still sees him as the man she thought she married. I will never do that, William.” Buffy stayed silent for a moment. The only noise in the apartment was the coffee percolating and their breathing. “I can’t marry you.” She turned around to face Spike, “But… what if everyone thought I was your… if we were involved… would that do?”



“What?” Spike looked over at the woman, with a determined face and her eyes were filled with tears, she faced him with an alternative. “Pet, no. You don’t want that…”



“I will not marry you. If… if you are serious with the investors… just say I’m your mistress.” Buffy moved over to the coffee pot, pouring it into two cups. Spike leaned against the opposite counter.



“But, pet… don’t lower yourself to mistress status… it’s…” Spike was at a loss for words.



“Make it so with Hank. I won’t cut you out of my life. Here…” she handed over a key to the apartment. “This should be proof that we are… involved. We can have dinner or something once a week. Tell whoever whatever, I don’t care. Just take care of it. Protect my mom.” Spike felt bad, had he just defeated her? Had he just broken the strength that he’d admired so much?



“Buffy, no. Don’t you see? I’ll marry you, it’ll be OK. You don’t have to be…” This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to be his wife, not be his…. mistress.



Buffy slowly looked up and directly into his eyes, “I don’t want to marry you, Mr. Winthrop… I cannot offer you that. What I have offered… it should be enough for your precious stockholders.” Buffy dumped her cup of coffee out in the sink. “I really don’t feel like company. Please lock the door when you leave.” She stepped out of the kitchen and disappeared into the bedroom, firmly shutting the door. William stood in the kitchen, staring at the key for a long time. Breaking out of his reverie, he left the apartment barely remembering to take his suit jacket and duster with him.

Chapter 6
Buffy woke up alone in her apartment, thankful that not only was it the weekend and Dawn was opening the store, but the apartment was empty. She thanked the powers that be for that and started her day. Any attraction she felt towards Spike was purely physical and could never be acted upon. He was just like Hank, always thinking with his dick rather than his other head. Last night, he proved that point. Buffy rubbed her arms where Spike had held her so tightly. Refusing to think about Spike and Hank, she decided some artistic therapy was in order. Two hours later, Buffy was cleaning her brushes when she heard the front door open. Glancing at the clock, she noticed it was barely nine. Two thoughts went through her mind, was it a burglar or something much worse: Spike. She made her way out to the front room and was assaulted with the vision of Spike in a pair of tight black jeans and t-shirt. She could see every muscle underneath said shirt as he walked backwards into the apartment, carrying a huge carton. Another man on the other end of the long box smiled at her as he helped haul the box in. Buffy stood in the living room gaping at the two men when Spike noticed her. “There you are, pet.” Spike put his end of the box down and went over to her. “I knocked but you didn’t answer. I see you’ve been painting. Missed a little here,” Spike kissed Buffy on her nose and continued to ramble. “This is my friend, Clem.” Clem waved his hand after he put his side of the box down. “I saw that your couch was a little old, so I got us a new one.” Spike started to cut the box apart, while he kept talking. “Got a right good deal, too. Didn’t I Clem?” Clem nodded his head vigorously. “So, it’s blue, like your old one. No need to redecorate everything.” Spike continued to cut his way through the packaging, finally revealing a beautiful midnight blue couch. Buffy couldn’t believe him; he was acting like nothing was wrong, like they were lovers. He acted like he was moving in. Realization dawned and Buffy’s blood pressure skyrocketed.



When Buffy managed to get her voice back she said, “William… um… can I talk to you for a moment?” Spike nodded and followed Buffy into the closest room with a door, her bedroom. “What are you doing?” Buffy whispered loudly. Spike knew we was going to get an earful, he just had to play it cool. Make her feel non-threatened and then everything would work out. He would be in her apartment, her bed, and her life. Before she knew it, she would like him and soon would be in love with him. Smirking, Spike thought about all the delicious things he could do with her if she loved him.



“Unpacking the couch, pet. What does it look like?” Spike smiled as innocently as he could. After leaving last night, he brainstormed all night with Clem, an old college friend. After a bottle of bourbon they decided that Spike should move in with her to get close. He could then prove that he could be the man that she wanted.



“Who said… anything about new furniture?” Buffy was confused; Spike was staring at her so innocently.



“Pet, if I bring any clients over, I have to impress them.” Spike said like it was the most natural thing to do.



“Why would they be coming to MY apartment?” Buffy couldn’t believe her ears he wasn’t making any sense. “We are supposed to be just dating… nothing more, Spike.”



“Not just your apartment, I’m moving in.” Spike said smugly.



“You are not!” Buffy’s voice rose in volume as she tried to keep her temper in check. So it was true, he thought he was moving in. “That was not the deal!”



“Shh, pet. I know what we discussed last night, but… we have to have hard ties. Living together will give us that tie.” Buffy stood still, looking at Spike and shaking her head. Looking around the room, Spike took inventory. The room was large and had an attached bathroom. Her full-sized bed was made up neatly with a floral comforter and sheet set. A complimenting canvas hung over her bed; obviously she made it to go with her sheets. A small dresser sat near the window, as did an armoire. The closet door was open and he could see it was large.



“I guess… I could move my studio in here and you could have the other bedroom…” she held her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it as she thought about the options.



“I think… I’ll come by tonight and we’ll discuss it, yeah?” Spike started to formulate a plan to get Buffy out of the apartment so he could move his bedroom suite in. “What are you doing today? Clem and I are going to be coming back and forth a lot today; maybe you should go to the shop so we don’t distract you?”



“I… am heading there shortly. Let me move my studio from the spare bedroom, so you can move those things.” Buffy walked out of the room and headed towards the other room. Clem sat on the couch and gave Spike two thumbs up as he followed Buffy.



“Pet, let us do that. Promise to be careful and all that rot. You go to the gallery. We’ll be OK. Male bonding, you know?” Buffy nodded and headed back out to the living room.



“It was nice meeting you, Clem. Don’t have too much fun.” Buffy grabbed her purse and headed out the door.



“Wow, I thought she was going to let you have it there, for a moment. She seems pretty nice.” Clem commented after the door closed.



“Yeah, she is. Look, we have to take her furniture out of her bedroom and donate it to Goodwill or something. We just have to get it out of here. Then move my stuff in. That tiny little bed couldn’t hold a man half my size,” Spike chuckled. He made a quick call to the movers he had set up down the street to come up. The two men worked on getting the old couch out of the apartment and down the stairs. Coming back up, Spike and Clem moved Buffy’s clothes out of the drawers and into boxes. The movers made their first trip up with Spike’s bed, a king sized piece of art. A dark wood four-poster bed now dominated Buffy’s bedroom. Spike watched as each piece of his bedroom entered the room and he begun to unpack her clothes back into the drawers. He tried not to pay attention to her delicate items, but couldn’t help himself. Little scraps of lace and material filled the drawer when he finished moving every single piece by itself.



The movers left and Clem watched TV in the living room, waiting for Spike to come back out. Spike finished unpacking his clothes and made room for them in the closet. He knew she would be mad at this invasion into her life, but he hoped to God he could convince her he wasn’t all that bad.



Clem left after he helped Spike move and set up the rest of his necessities in the apartment: A desk, his computer, and his entertainment system. Worrying what Buffy would do if Spike left and she walked in, Spike ordered Chinese to be delivered.



Tense minutes passed as Spike waited for Buffy to come home. The Chinese was staying warm in the oven and a quick call to the gallery confirmed that Buffy was on her way home. Moving from couch, to the large desk in the corner to the dining room Spike practically ran a hundred miles around the tiny space. He looked over at the clock and swore the hands moved backwards, taunting him. Finally the telltale click of the lock turning caught Spike’s attention. Standing behind the couch, Spike greeted his new roommate. “Hello, pet!” Spike put a false smile on, hoping that her head wouldn’t explode. “I hope you like Chinese.” He knew she liked Chinese, Willow told him so after he threatened to fire her. “It’s warming in the oven; let me go dish it out.” He walked into the kitchen, preparing the dishes to put on the table. “I know you are probably very tired and hungry. I know I am after a long day.” His head popped out of the kitchen when he didn’t hear a sound from her. She was standing in the middle of the room looking around at all the new furniture in the living room. Her eyes were round and wide as she took in the new entertainment system, desk, and matching chair to the couch. “Pet? Here, sit down and tell me about your day.” Spike inwardly grinned at himself, he was being the perfect boyfriend. Buffy made her way over to the dining room table and sat down. Spike brought out dishes piled up with food. On his second trip from the kitchen, he brought her a drink. They ate in silence again. Spike wasn’t sure if it was because he was anticipating an ugly scene when she found her bedroom, their bedroom, changed or if she just didn’t talk while she ate.



A satisfied smile adorned Buffy’s lips as she finished her meal. She sat back and watched Spike finish his plate of food. After all was done, she stood up and removed the plates, “Looks like you and Clem were busy.”



Spike followed her into the kitchen, helping to dry the dishes as she washed. “All day.”



“William, I’m… I’m not sure this is the best.” Buffy rested her hands on the sink as she looked down at the suds. “I’ve… I’ve never lived with a man before, and…”



“Shh, don’t worry, Buffy. We’ll work it all out, yeah?” Spike stood behind her, wanting to touch her, but he just stood still.



“William, my mom… how can I… what am I going to tell her?” Buffy turned around and they were practically inches from each other. “She’s going to find out. Someone will tell her, they always do. I’d rather tell her before someone else does.”



“You’re a good daughter to your mum, pet.” Spike wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. He felt her sigh and wrap her arms around his torso, taking comfort where she could get it. “We’ll go see her this week, tell her in person.”



She stiffened, “She can’t know about Hank.”



“Shh, sweetheart, no, nothing about Hank. We’ll tell her that we’ve been dating and moved in together. She’ll be OK, pet. I’ll charm her, just like I did you.”



“Shaw, you did not charm me, Mr. Winthrop.” She looked up at him and fluttered her eyelashes.



Spike groaned when he saw her eyelashes flutter. “Be the death of me, pet.” Buffy smiled and turned back to the sink, washing the remaining dishes. Times like this made it all worth it for Spike. “Say, pet. Why don’t we watch a movie? Got the entertainment system hooked up. I don’t know how you survived without a television.” Spike shook his head in wonderment.



“I used to have one, but it broke. I never got another one.” Buffy walked out of the kitchen towards the couch. Spike grabbed another wine cooler for her and a beer for him. He followed her out and sat on the couch.



“So what will it be?”



“I don’t know. Whatever you have.” Spike got up and went over to the cabinet that held his DVD movies. He briefly scanned through the collection and found what he was looking for.



He popped the movie in and sat back down, waiting for it to start. “Now, pet. If you tell anyone that I have this movie, I will bloody kill you.” Buffy looked up and giggled as she saw the credits start. It was the “Princess Bride.”



“Oh, I used to love this movie!” Buffy sat on her feet as she began to watch the tale of Wesley and Buttercup. Spike sat back arm flung over the back of the couch watching her watch the movie. She watched intently, eyes wide open and mouth agape bringing Spike joy in just watching her. Through the course of the movie, she changed positions, eventually leaning back into the couch. Somehow, Spike found the silken threads of her hair and started to wind them around his fingers. She sighed peacefully at the end of the movie and he looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed and a sweet smile showed on her lips. Too tempted, Spike moved and rested his lips on hers. Softly, he kissed her lips; he felt her shift in her slumber and kiss him back. Pleasure ripped through his body, settling in his groin. Moaning, he deepened the kiss. His tongue moved on her lower lip, beckoning hers to come out and play. Slowly, she woke up, registering what was going on. Bringing up her hands to rest on his chest, Buffy gently pushed him away. “William,” her low whisper was music to his ears. Grunting, he moved his head in closer to hers. She opened her mouth instinctively, letting his cool tongue roam over hers. He tasted of beer and tobacco. In the far recesses of her brain she asked herself when did he smoke? Sighing into him, she let him set the pace of their kiss. Normally turned off by smoking, Buffy liked his taste, it was nothing like the taste of ashes she had expected. His hands found her waist and held onto her while he changed their positions. Practically picking her up and pivoting her, Spike twisted them around. Sitting down into the cushions, he held Buffy reclined on his lap. He supported her with an arm behind her back and the other at her waist. His slow smooth kisses became harder as his need increased. Licking down her jaw, he concentrated on the soft skin of her neck, nipping and licking the smooth area.



Fog quietly settled around her senses as she enjoyed this treatment. Thinking that they would have act like a couple in public she didn’t stop the slow seduction. It was actually very nice. It had been too long since she had made out with someone and even longer since she had been in a regular relationship. Unpleasant thoughts of three years ago and Riley developed. He was a sweet man with a sweet heart, but he couldn’t be a second fiddle to her mother’s sickness. He needed someone to be there for him all the time and Buffy was unable to do that. Buffy understood and hoped for the best for him, she even introduced him to his new wife, Sam. Pushing back into her memory, she remembered Parker. He was after one thing and one thing only: sex. When she refused him, he spread a rumor around the local community college that she was a prude. The declaration didn’t bother her as much as Parker telling her she wasn’t worth a go. Shuddering at remembering the sneer he threw at her when she didn’t feel ashamed at not falling into bed with him. Finally her memory traveled back to her first love, Angel. Romantic ideals of a sixteen year old, intent on falling in love and then loving forever clouded her judgment. Angel was older, 23, when they met at the local club. His smooth words and actions enticed Buffy. She followed him around, worshipping the ground he walked upon. Her first exploration into sexual desire was with him. Patient and gentle, Angel coaxed her through the rites and revelations a virgin makes. On her seventeenth birthday, his declaration that he was involved with someone else, and that he was leaving her because she wouldn’t put out shattered any ideals she’d ever had about love. Between her father and the three men in her life, they destroyed any chance she ever had to find true and everlasting love. Heartbreak and mistrust were all she had.



He first noticed a shudder and then a moaning sob. Her breath quickened and muscles became tense. Not realizing that her actions were not from lust and arousal, but from her painful memories, he kept kissing and touching. The hand at her waist found its way up her torso towards her breasts. They felt so smooth and soft; he wanted to rest his head there forever. Suddenly, Buffy tensed even more and pushed away. She scrambled to the other side of the couch, hugging herself and breathing hard.



“Pet?” Buffy whimpered. Spike reached for her, hoping to calm her. He had no idea what was happening. “What’s wrong?” Her eyes glared at him, accusing him of things he had not done. Silent green eyes met intense blue for endless moments. “What the fuck is your problem?” Spike asked, he couldn’t figure her out. Buffy got up and went into the bathroom.



Minutes passed as Spike stared at the bathroom door, willing her to talk to him. She finally came out, tear streaked eyes and holding a tissue. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… let it go so far. I’m sorry.” She turned and went into her bedroom. Spike sat on the couch trying to think what her problem was. She seemed to like kissing him, why the sudden mood change? Then, he heard her gasp and yell, “WILLIAM!”

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Chapter 7
A/N: Warning: Un-consensual sex coming up. This means RAPE. Please go to Chapter 8 if you do not want to read it.

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Spike wiped his face with his hand when he heard her. He knew this was it. Slowly, he walked into the bedroom. A dim light on the nightstand illuminated the relatively large room now filled with his furniture. Buffy stood at the end of the bed with her hands on her lips looking like a pissed off angel. “Care to tell me where my furniture is?”



Spike looked directly in her eyes and saw the fire, the passion, he encountered when they first met and it turned him on. Deciding to play with her, his lips turned into a confident smirk as he came towards her. “Well, you see, love.” Flames rose high in her eyes as she bit her tongue. “My furniture couldn’t possibly fit in the other bedroom. I didn’t realize how small of a space it was, so I made an executive decision.” Inches away from her, he inhaled her scent.



“How dare you move my furniture out of my bedroom and put yours in here.” She inched towards him with her chin held high and eyes ablaze. This further embedded the idea Spike was like her father, making unilateral decisions without anyone else’s wants or needs in mind.



“Oh, pet, I tried calling you, but the gallery phone was busy.”



“That’s bullshit, William, and you know it! So what? You moved my stuff into the spare bedroom? Did you move my clothes too?” She stomped over to the closet and flung the door open, almost off its hinges. Seeing her clothes neatly hung beside his, she looked questioningly at Spike.



“Actually, that mattress was lumpier than a fat mans ass. I gave it to Goodwill.” Spike turned his back towards her so he could hide the smile trying to erupt on his face. “The bed’s big enough, we can share.” He heard her gasp of shock and could feel her ten feet away tremble with anger and indignation. Still turned away from her he added, “Anyway, for this to work your friends and my friends have to believe that we are living together…” Spike turned around to look at her. “As a couple. No one would believe that I would have a separate bedroom.”



Her mouth opened and closed several times, her brain trying to form words, but her vocal chords not cooperating. She walked over to the dresser and opening the drawers. She found her clothes and his, hidden away in the piece of furniture. Stepping back, Buffy raised her hand to her mouth, muffling her sobs that now bubbled up. Her green eyes met his and he saw her harden. Her body became rigid and he saw her emotions in her eyes become opaque. She was building a wall around her soul, never to let him in again. “I hate you, do you know that? You disgust me.”



“You know you feel it, too.” Spike stepped closer to her only to have her move away. Her fingers trembled at the end of her arm, the only indication that he was affecting her.



“You’re just like him. You don’t care about others…” Her heart hardened as she came to a realization of who William Winthrop really was. He was just playing a part when he took her out for pizza, sent her flowers, ordered food, or helped her clean up it really wasn’t him who was so thoughtful. It was just a means to get what he wanted, her.



“I care about you…” Spike answered her and tried moving closer.



“All you care about is yourself. I should have known…” She turned around from him and strode into the little bathroom, seeing his things scattered among hers. She came back into the bedroom and looked at him. “When you were kissing me…on the couch. I should have figured it out…” Distracted, Buffy looked over at the furniture. “It was trying to tell me you were like them.” Her voice dripped with hatred. Without letting Spike interrupt, she continued, “Hank, Angel, Parker, and even Riley. You all wanted something and you didn’t care if it destroyed me as long as you got it.” Anger and jealousy flared in Spike’s eyes as she talked about other men. “You don’t care if it destroys me. None of them did and you are no different. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. My subconscious was trying to tell me the whole time.”



“You were thinking of them when you kissed me?” The deceiving calmness in his voice disarmed Buffy and she nodded her head.



“You may have wiggled yourself into my life, but you never will be here.” She patted her chest near her heart.



Spike quickly strode over to her and grabbed her upper arms and shook her. “Don’t ever think of someone else when you are with me.” He smashed his mouth down onto hers. Her harsh cry didn’t even faze Spike as he mashed their mouths together harder. He felt her legs try to kick and push away from him, but it was too late, his anger consumed him and blocked his thought process. Struggling to free herself, Buffy slapped Spike across his cheek. The sting of her blow did nothing but further infuriate him.



Spike threw her body over to the bed. Buffy stumbled and hit her torso on footboard, bruising her rib cage. She fell over the mattress and started to climb across, towards the door. Spike followed her, climbing on top of her body. His knees straddled her body as he turned her onto her back. Spike grabbed her hands, pushing them above her head, holding them there. She wiggled and bucked, trying to free herself. Cries and sobs came from her mouth as Spike peppered kisses along her neck. “I know you feel it too, Buffy. Let yourself feel it.”



Buffy felt his knees pressed into her thighs, holding her still while he did as he pleased. She looked up to the ceiling, the same ceiling she looked at when she fell asleep. Tears blinded her as she felt Spike hold both her hands together with one hand. His free hand moved down her body, touching her, molesting her. He lifted his head from her neck and he watched his hand move over her breast, squeezing it. Tears rolled down her face as she moved it back and forth, hoping that one more moving part would throw him off. “Oh, baby, don’t cry. It’ll be good. We’ll be good, you’ll see.”



“Stop, please.” His head made it back to her neck, tasting the salty trails of her tears as he held her down. She felt his fingers on her shoulder and neck just before she heard him rip her blouse right off of her. There was no use in fighting, he would overcome and she would have to submit. Shutting away her heart and mind, she gave up. It was like a death wish, it was over, and she was tired of fighting. If he wanted her body, that’s what he would get, the only thing he would get. She felt like she was an observer, not really feeling anything anymore. She couldn’t feel her arms held in a punishing grip or his heavy body moving over her. Wordlessly, his mouth went down to taste her lace covered nipples. Still holding on to her arms, Spike moved down to taste her. Such a delicacy. Her pert nipple stood up through the lace material, begging for him to release them. Not paying attention to her empty eyes, his hand came down and unlatched her bra. Her arms stayed put as all his attention was directed at her chest. Fabric was pushed to the side as his mouth devoured her. Fingers made their way down to her jeans and they slowly came off. She allowed him to pose and prod her body, hoping he would be quick.



Spike had other ideas. He felt like he was worshipping her. Wanting to enjoy the whole experience, he slowed his seduction of her body, kissing and sucking on her sensitive flesh. She stopped moving and fighting him off a while ago as his hands trailed down to her waist. Glancing up at her face, he saw the vacant look in her eyes. Cursing himself at what he had done and what was about to do, Spike unbuttoned her jeans and dragged them down her legs. She would never understand, not until he showed her. They would be terrific together he just knew it. Her passion may be locked away for now, but Spike was determined to bring it out again. Smiling, his fingers ran along her bare legs, tiny goose bumps forming as he passed his skin over hers. Her body stayed still as he moved over her, taking off his own clothes, touching her, kissing her, making love to her. His fingers passed over the coarse curls at the apex of her legs. Deliberately, he pushed her legs apart, opening her up for his enjoyment. Her legs fell apart easily, letting his fingers dip down. His long index finger probed her slit, running up and down as he put more pressure on it. Dipping inside, he was amazed at the slick heat he encountered. Nudging her lips open with his thumb, he flicked her clit eliciting a betraying gasp from Buffy. Smiling, Spike dipped his head down and kissed her inner thighs. Struggling again, Buffy tried to close her legs, but between Spike’s head and his hands holding her legs apart, she couldn’t. Her breathing increased as she felt Spike probe her tender skin with his tongue. The pressure he built up inside her was ready to explode. His nose nudged her clit and she grasped the sheets, Buffy screamed as her first orgasm overwhelmed her. Breathing erratically, Buffy expected Spike to take her fully. She didn’t expect him to continue to kiss and lick at her slick opening. With one hand, holding onto her knee, he used the other to probe into her channel. She idly wondered if he could tell that she was a virgin. Breathing shallowly, she tried to lock herself away again, desperate not to take pleasure in his plundering, but she couldn’t. Her body screamed for release and she could do nothing to stop it. His fingers now caressed her inside as his mouth took up residence on her clit, sucking it into his mouth and playing with it. Buffy’s back arched as her second orgasm came and pounded her into the ground.



“See, I told you. It could be wonderful, pet. Just let it happen, I promise to make it good for you.” Spike climbed up Buffy’s sweat slicked body, positioned to fully take her. He kissed her hard on the lips, swallowing her scream as he swiftly surged into her. Breaking off from her mouth, Spike looked questioningly down at Buffy. His blue eyes were dark with lust and power as full realization of what he had done hit him. Shifting his weight, Spike sank lower into her virgin tunnel, waiting for her body to relax. There was no going back; he had taken something from her that he could never give back. Resting his forehead against hers he whispered sweet nothings, hoping his behavior did not damn him in the future. Silent tears ran from Buffy’s closed eyes as her body protested against the invasion. “Shh, kitten. Be all right. I promise. Relax, I’ll make the pain go away.”



But, her body didn’t relax. It only became tighter, as her soul protested and rallied in her mind. Opening her mouth, she let a sob out as she cried for the little girl that still held delusions of love shattered. In her mind’s eye she watched Hank lead the little girl away, and Angel lead the young teenager toward the pit of hell. She watched Parker cheer them on. Now, they were all encouraging Spike as they watch him rip the last vestige of her innocent heart away, throwing it on the ground, shredded and beaten. Crying for the little girl that she once was, Buffy’s body succumbed to the relaxation Spike talked about.



Spike started to move on top of her. She felt his hot breath on her neck, the sticky fluids that they currently shared, and his heated skin on hers. She felt him touch her clit again as he moved in and out of her channel, slick with her juices and blood. Refusing to open her eyes, she willed her body to relax, hoping Spike would finish soon. It hurt, of course, but the thing she wanted to stop was the pleasure. She felt another orgasm approach and she tried to beat it down, knowing he wanted her to give in. Spike’s head nestled in Buffy’s neck, kissing and nibbling on her skin when he felt her muscles grasp around his cock, almost strangling it. Roaring to life, Spike increased his pace, emptying his seed into her womb.



Spike collapsed on top of Buffy, still embedded in her. Slowly, he became conscious that he was crushing her and rolled off. Hearing and feeling the slight pop of his member leaving her body, she immediately curled into a ball with her back to him. Glancing down at his body, he decided to go get cleaned up. He walked naked into the bathroom and didn’t close the door, Buffy heard him use the toilet and running water.



She curled into a tighter ball when she heard the water stop and felt his presence in the room again. Spike sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at her, watching her through half hooded eyes. “Sweetheart, going to clean you up a little, kay?” Spike received no answer, but she didn’t pull away when he started to lave her lower regions with a washcloth. Finished, he threw the washcloth into the bathroom again. He climbed into the bed behind Buffy, spooning against her. His arms came around her, holding her firm to his chest as he peppered her neck and shoulders with kisses and little bites. “I didn’t know Buffy…” a few more open mouthed kisses placed on her neck, “I would have been gentler.” He felt her shudder and knew he just lost any chance of gaining access to her heart.

Chapter 8
Spike woke up with a start. He reached over the bed only to encounter cold sheets. Spike sat up and looked around the room. The sun had started to peek its golden head through the blinds of the window. He stumbled out into the living room, buck naked as he frantically searched for Buffy. Moving from room to room, Spike started to panic. Had he just pushed her over the edge? Was she gone? He went into the spare room that she used as a studio, he found a wet canvas and felt relief. She wasn’t gone. She wouldn’t have started a canvas if she were leaving. Spike went back into the living room, trying to find some clue at where Buffy had gone. Sitting next to the phone was her personal phone book flipped to the XYZ section. One entry adorned the page: Christoph Zambockwitz: special coordinator, Sunnydale Ice Rink, 555-9697. Remembering seeing her skates the previous day, Spike quickly went to the closet that Clem had found yesterday to check. They were gone. Buffy must be at the rink. Yesterday when Clem found them, he commented he had seen Buffy skate at a competition a while ago and that she was quite good.



Spike dressed rapidly in the same clothes he had worn yesterday and grabbed his car keys. He drove through an unfamiliar part of town, looking for the building that held the ice rink. Finally, finding the building, he parked and went in. Soft music piped through the speakers as Spike stepped into the arena. On the ice, Buffy gracefully glided past with one leg extended behind her. The shallow arc of her blade turned her direction. Her eyes were closed as she communed with the ice, instinctively knowing where the edge of the rink was. Her long hair floated behind her as she moved away from his position. She picked up speed to head down to the other side of the rink. She wore dark skin tight pants and purple workout top. Her skates were white with a glint of sharp steel edge underneath. Spike sat down on the bleachers as he watched her practice, unaware of his presence. Her face was flushed pink from the cold and stress of working out. He watched as she positioned herself for a salchow, landing perfectly. If she noticed his presence, she didn’t show it. She kept skating from one end of the rink to the next performing a couple different jumps and maneuvers Spike didn’t know the name of. She slowed her speed, and rested her hand on her knees as she cooled down. Twisting, Buffy relaxed her muscles as she continued to make slow laps around the rink. Over the sound system, Spike heard a cough, “Getting better, Buffy. Going to have to work on that double axle going into the salchow. I don’t think your ankle is strong enough yet, it keeps wobbling.” Buffy looked up into a lighted booth and smiled. Her teeth were bright and if Spike didn’t know better, she would look like she had no worries. But, he did know better and he knew he was the cause of one very big one. “Meet you in the weight room in fifteen.” She gave the man in the lighted booth a thumbs up and continued to slow her pace. She practiced hopping from foot to foot, changing the blade that was on the ice.



She came near to his position and suddenly said, “Aren’t you bored yet? How did you find me?” She skated away, but looked back to where he sat.



Spike got up and walked over to the small door to the rink and leaned against the wall. His hands buried deep into the pockets of his black leather duster as he watched her come back. He shrugged, “How long have you known I was here?”



Stopping a few feet out on the ice she put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side, “Well, if you were trying to hide your arrival, you didn’t succeed.”



Spike’s face broke out in a grin. “Yeah, love, I didn’t try to hide. I saw your address book opened, wasn’t very hard to figure out.” Spike stepped carefully out onto the ice, trying to come towards her. He needed to feel her, if just for one brief second. Buffy smiled flirtatiously and started to skate backwards. “Come here, pet.”



She looked around the rink making sure no one saw her and she shook her head. “I don’t think so.” It was time to take some dignity back. She pushed harder and flew back a couple more feet. Spike kept stepping closer, trying to maintain balance on the slippery floor. She watched as he struggled to come towards her. A small giggle wanted to bubble up inside her. He was on her turf and she was going to win this round.



“Please, pet. I need to touch you.” Spike started to run towards her, thinking she was playing a game. Suddenly, Spike found himself falling forward and smacking his body onto the ice. “Umph.”



Buffy cautiously skated around his prone body, far out of arms distance. Spike sat up and rubbed his forehead, watching her circle him. A little voice inside her asked, ‘how could she let him do that last night?’ She should have fought harder, longer. She should have, but she didn’t. “I hate you, you know?” The venom in her voice startled Spike. He looked at her face and saw nothing but disgust. “What you did last night… it was disgusting.”



Spike reached his hand out, wanting her to stop the dizzying motion. “Stop! I can’t talk to you while you bloody circle me like that!” Buffy stopped her movement, but stayed far away from him. Spike struggled to stand up, “Look, I… I messed up last night, right? I just lost it, Buffy. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”



Buffy’s frown deepened, “You still did, William, and I’ll never forgive you.” She started to slowly back away from him. He almost didn’t hear her say, “I’ll never forgive myself.” Turning back towards him, she said loud enough for him to hear, “I have to go weight train. Be gone when I get back.” She stepped off the ice and affixed the guard to the bottom of her skate. Spike stood out on the ice for minutes after she left, just staring after her. She had slipped through his fingers again.



~*~*~

Buffy walked slowly through the town of Sunnydale. Dawn was manning the gallery, insisting Buffy was in a bad mood and needed to go home. Buffy didn’t want to go home. Spike was at home, the bed was at home, and she didn’t want to face either one. She turned the corner, heading into a dark ally that separated two main streets of Sunnydale. Barely looking where she was going, Buffy passed a group of bikers hanging out near the backdoor to a bar. She didn’t notice when a man started to following her. She almost made it to the opening on the other side, but she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder, “Where you going, doll face?”



Buffy turned around and was faced with a hulky giant standing in front of her. Standing well over six foot, he had tattoos and various piercings throughout his uncovered flesh. Wanting to gag, Buffy looked the stranger in the eye, “Home.”



She turned around and was five feet from the street, when her body flew against the brick wall. Struggling to get up, Buffy felt a fist connect with her jaw. “Think you’re better than me?” The man kicked her in her stomach. “Can’t talk to me?” He punched her again. “Next time you might want to be nicer.” The other bikers came up and pulled the man off of Buffy, telling him that was enough. The group walked back into the bar, leaving Buffy bleeding and supported by the wall.



Struggling to stand up, Buffy looked around. People didn’t even notice her or the attack. Tears ran down her face as she felt her ribs, at least one was cracked. She started to walk towards the gallery; it was only a few blocks away.



Buffy stepped into the back door into her workroom. Dawn heard her come in and came into the back. She saw the bruises and cuts on Buffy’s face. Gasping, Dawn quickly dialed Buffy’s doctor; she knew Buffy would refuse to go to the hospital. Buffy sat on her workbench, holding her ribs when the doctor came in. Dawn stayed out in the main shop as the doctor examined Buffy. The doctor started wrap up Buffy’s ribs when Spike walked into the outer gallery shop Dawn glanced up and noticed him, “Hey Nibblet, is Buffy in?”



Dawn looked at Spike and noticed the bruise on his forehead from the ice. She knew that Spike moved into Buffy’s apartment and they had a fight the first night he was there. Buffy was in too much of a bad mood for it to have gone well. Dawn also surmised that they couldn’t be in a real relationship. Buffy never lived with anyone after she moved out of Hank’s house. It just didn’t make sense that Buffy would allow a man to move in with her after a few weeks. “She’s in the back with the doctor.” Dawn watched as Spike dashed into the back of the store. She wondered if Spike was the one that beat Buffy up, but dismissed the idea as soon as it entered her mind. His fists didn’t look bruised and he looked genuinely startled when she told him about the doctor.



Whatever Spike expected when he went into the backroom, it didn’t prepare him for what he did see. Sitting on the workbench, a bruised and battered Buffy sat with an ice pack against the right side of her head. Her shirt was off, but she still had a sports bra underneath from her earlier workout. Another female stood in front of her with bandages, wrapping her torso up. He saw Buffy wince as the other woman continued to pull the bandages tighter. Spike assumed she was Buffy’s doctor. “You OK, love?” Spike stepped closer as Buffy looked at him with cold, scared eyes.



Her eyes narrowed and she mumbled over the ice pack. “Got attacked. I’m fine.” She looked away, not wanting to ruin the illusion she was supposed to create. “Nothing to worry about.” The doctor grunted with disagreement but finished wrapping up her up anyway.



Spike looked over at the doctor and knew Buffy would play her part so he stepped closer to her. Gently, he took the ice pack away from her face. Her eye was swollen shut and a deep gash below it oozed a little blood out of it. He replaced the ice, holding it to her face, “Who did this?”



Buffy looked up at him when she heard the rough tone of his voice. “I don’t know.” The doctor started to clean up the supplies and let the two talk. Buffy could tell Spike didn’t believe her, “Seriously, I don’t. One moment, I’m walking down an alley between Main and Vine, the next thing I am up against a wall.”



“Which alley?” She could feel the anger rolling off of him.



Buffy took a glance at the doctor still in the room and whispered, “The one behind Willy’s, but Spike, please, leave it be. I’m alright.”



Spike stepped closer, practically on top of her now, “Buffy, they hurt you.” She saw his jaw clenching and the steel in his eyes as he tried to reign in his anger.



“Spike, please. I don’t want to deal with it. Just got knocked around a bit…been through worse.” She gave him a pointed look, reminding her he did worse last night.



Spike stepped back; the blow of her words hit him straight in his gut. “Buffy, look love.” She sent a scathing look his way, but sat quietly because the doctor was in the room. “I care about you. Deep down here.” Spike pounded his fist into his chest. “All I see is you. I’m drowning in you, Summers.” He took her hand in his. “No one touches what is mine.” Spike looked earnestly into her eyes as the doctor left and begged her, “Please, who did this?”



Their eyes met. Tears rolled off her face as Spike gathered her up, holding her firmly against his chest, letting her cry. It broke his heart, listening to her tears of sorrow. They were like daggers through his soul. The pain on her outside didn’t even come close to the turmoil inside her. Being held in his arms felt like sweet torture. On the one hand she craved his tender, comforting touch but on the other, she was mortified that she allowed her rapist to touch her like this. His hands slowly caressed her back, encouraging her to let her pain out. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to the sweet persona that Spike was sporting. Everything in his body language and eyes told volumes of his understanding. But, the nagging voice inside her head reminded her of the previous night. Buffy couldn’t help it. This man holding her was such an enigma: anger, jealousy, compassion, and possessiveness all rolled up into one man. The sobs subsided and her emotions rolled up into a ball, ready to be put away in her mind. She became aware of the low humming coming from Spike as he held her. It sounded like a sad, yet soothing, lullaby. The last of her tears rolled off her face and onto Spike’s shirt. Her breathing, still irregular, was calming down. She felt Spike shift, making it easier for him to support her weight. His hands still stroked her back. She became aware of her fingers clutching Spike’s shirt, crushing the fabric between her digits. She relaxed her hands, letting his shirt go. Buffy pulled away while she smoothed the crinkled fabric on his chest.



No words passed between the two. Spike backed away towards the front area of the gallery. A few moments later, he came back to Buffy and picked her up like a damsel in distress. He quickly strode out the back door and into the alley where he had parked his black car.



Buffy fell asleep on the way home, her energy and emotions were spent. Spike carefully carried her up to the apartment and tucked her into the bed. He quietly left the room, letting her rest. It was time for him to go into action. He’d make sure that she was safe from now on.

TBC

Chapter 9
The next day was spent in quiet reflection as the two occupants of the apartment tried to forget the previous two days. The doctor that Spike had arranged to make visits insisted on bed rest for a couple days for Buffy. Buffy wasn’t happy when the doctor told her she would not be able to put on her skates for at least a month, probably longer. Buffy’s injuries seemed pretty superficial, no bones totally broken and the bruises and cuts on her face already started to heal. Her ribs were tender and when she tried to move, they hurt, so she couldn’t really argue about the bed rest. The doctor also set up a home rehabilitation schedule for Buffy. Spike left for a short time after the doctor’s visit to grab some things to make it easier for Buffy. Buffy sat in the bedroom, filled with his furniture, fuming that she was stuck. It hurt too much to move off the bed and walk around. But, it also hurt to lay in the bed... his bed. Buffy sighed; Spike really was sweet yesterday when she got hurt. He stood by her the whole way, making sure she had everything she needed. One thing was for sure he was a possessive man. Between the sweet words and kisses and the rampage of jealousy that resulted with him raping her, Buffy didn’t know who Spike really was. She lay there, wondering who the real Spike was.



Spike came back a few minutes after he left, carrying a bag from the local pharmacy. He came into the bedroom, intruding on Buffy’s private thoughts. Setting down the bag, he showed her a pager that would allow him to move around the apartment and even the neighborhood, but still be in contact with her if she needed something. He also bought a grab bar to help her get into the bathtub, in which Buffy vehemently declined the use of and told him to take it back. Complying with her wishes, he took the bar away. He attended to her, like a new mother fussing over a newborn baby. She shooed him out of the room a couple times, only to have him trot back in a few minutes later baring some sort of peace prize either hot food, trinkets, or most importantly chocolate.



Glancing at the clock, Buffy noticed it was getting late. Her back was hurting, once again, and she picked up the pager. Buffy hadn’t used it yet, since he bought it, Spike was always hovering around the room, not giving her chance to want anything. After dinner, she made Spike leave the room so she could have some peace. Buffy assumed he was working on his computer when she heard little clicks of the keyboard. She pressed the button and heard a commotion as Spike flew through the door, looking at the room. “What’s wrong?”



The look on his face almost made Buffy laugh. His cheeks were red and his brows furrowed with worry. He crouched down a little, looking like he was going to tackle a burglar. She looked at him, realizing he might be the most attractive man that ever came into her life, and the ugliest, too. She stifled a giggle, trying not to jar her sore abdomen. “Did that thing shock you?”



Spike stood up straight, trying to calm himself down when he realized she wasn’t hurt or in danger. “Uh, no, pet. Just… are you alright?”



Buffy nodded, “Could you get me my pain pills.” Spike nodded and went into the bathroom. A minute later he came out with a glass of water and her pills. He helped her sit up and waited until she finished swallowing the pills down. He went back into the bathroom and came back with a new glass of water and her pills.



“Getting late, pet. Time to put you to bed.” Spike helped Buffy lay back down. He went back out into the living room and shut down the computer. Coming back, he had a paperback novel in his hands and started to get ready for bed, too. Buffy was amazed at the lack of shyness Spike had. He stripped down naked and put on his silk pants. Buffy tried not to star at the chiseled form, but she couldn’t help it. His butt looked like it was chiseled marble, smooth and muscular. Glancing away when he turned in her direction, her face flushed and lips pursed. He saw her looking at him through the mirror, Spike knew she would deny it if he called her out on it. He couldn’t help but chuckle inside.



Spike climbed in between the cool sheet, propped up by his pillow. He noticed after a few minutes that Buffy hadn’t fallen asleep yet. She laid flat on her back, staring at the ceiling, listening to him turn the pages of his novel. “What’s wrong, pet?” Spike was staring down at her when she turned her gaze over to him.



Her eyebrows rose in surprise, “Oh, well… someone made me stay in bed all day with nothing to do… kind of not sleepy.”



Spike’s whole body shook in a chuckle. It was true he made her stay flat on the bed all day, hoping to heal her ribs a bit faster. “Want me to read to you?”



Buffy’s eyes widened with shook, she remembered Joyce reading to her when she was a child. With some consideration, Buffy raised her head to look at the book jacket, “What are you reading?”



Spike smiled and showed her the worn book. “Count of Monte Cristos, one of my favorites.”



“What’s it about? I hope not some philandering Victorian Count deflowering into young maidens.” Her eyes rolled when she thought of all those romance novels Joyce read about a strong man saving the virgin and then plundering her himself. Buffy smiled innocently and almost laughed at Spike’s reaction. She didn’t mean for her comment to mirror them.



If Spike’s eye sockets could have gotten wider, his eyeballs would have popped out of his head. “No, it’s about a man falsely accused of a crime and sent off to prison. While in prison the people who set him up become rich. His life falls apart. When he escapes, he wants revenge.”



“Does he get it?” Buffy scooted, as much as her injuries would allow.



“Here… let me start from the beginning,” Spike turned to the beginning of the book and scotted closer to Buffy, letter her rest her head on his stomach. “‘On February 24, 1815, the watchtower at Marseilles Signaled the arrival of the three-master Pharaon, coming from Smyrna, Trieste and Naples….’”



Buffy stayed awake long enough for Edmond Dantes to escape from the Château d’If. Spike put a book mark into the book at the start of the new chapter and carefully placed Buffy back onto her back. Turning off the light, Spike settled down next to Buffy, lightly clasping her warm hand into his.



A/N: The Count of Monte Cristos by Alexander Dumas is TRULY one of the best novels I have ever read over and over and encourage everyone to read it.

Chapter 10
Buffy woke up enclosed in a familiar cocoon of warmth. The past two weeks seemed to fly by. Her ribs didn’t hurt too much unless she moved too fast. She could sleep on her side, instead of on her back, a big plus, Buffy thought. Every night she would fall asleep with her head resting on Spike’s stomach, listening to him read to her about the devious and sometimes dubious adventures of Edmond Dantes just to wake up wrapped up in his arms. He only read a couple chapters a night, drawing out the story, but she didn’t care. It felt so natural to listen to him read. That realization made Buffy reel. She hopped up from the bed and staggered out into the living room as fast as she could. It felt natural, with Spike? That wasn’t right. She shouldn’t feel so comfortable with him, shouldn’t trust him. She regretted it the last time. But the fact remained that she did feel comfortable with him and somewhere, very deep down, she trusted him and it scared her.



Spike walked into the living room, looking for Buffy. He was enjoying holding her warm pliant body next to his when he felt her stiffen and crawl out of the bed. She practically ran out of the room, making Spike wonder what was wrong. He gave her a minute or two alone and decided to head out after her.



She was standing next to the empty mantle; the owner of the painting came yesterday to pick up the piece. Her eyes were wide and her skin pale as he watched her pace. He wondered what had her that agitated but decided to let her walk out her energy. The doctor still had not given her his consent to skate or weight train and he found she had an extraordinary amount of energy. The second day after her attack, she refused to lie in bed like how he wanted her. It seemed to Spike that every time he would turn his back, she would sneak into her workroom. When he came to check on her, she was missing from the bed and he would find her standing stiffly in front of a canvas, moving the brush delicately across it. Each time, he would get her back in bed, only to have her sneak down the hall again.



A couple days ago, Spike escorted Buffy to the facility that held Joyce. Normally, Buffy would walk or grab a cab if she had a painting with her, but Spike refused to let Buffy go alone. Buffy lead the way into the facility. Spike didn’t know what to expect. On one hand this woman was Buffy’s mother, someone she respected and loved dearly. On the other hand, she married the weasel Hank and stayed with him all those years. Buffy rounded a corner and entered a room, Spike following her. In the center of the room was a single bed with a frail woman sitting up, drinking hot chocolate. She looked over at her visitors and smiled. The resemblance was amazing. Despite the difference in age and hair color, no one would ever mistake the relationship between them. Buffy, without hesitation, went over to hug the diminutive woman. Her short, dark ash blond hair hung limply, curling at the ends, it contrasted with the long, straight, light blond Buffy sported. The premature wrinkles around Joyce’s face stretched as she smiled at her daughter. “Buffy, I’m so glad you came.”



Buffy smoothed down an errant hair on Joyce’s head. “It’s Thursday, isn’t it?” Buffy sat down next to her mother, holding on her hand. Buffy was thankful Joyce had not picked up on the fading bruises on Buffy’s face or her stiff gait.



“Of course, dear. Who do we have here?” Joyce’s soft eyes landed onto Spike’s white head.



“My name is William, Ms. Summers.” Spike came slowly to the bed, on the same side as Buffy. He took Joyce’s hand and kissed the thin skin.



Joyce in turn smiled brilliantly, “Call me Joyce, please.” Spike nodded and rested his hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “Are you a friend of Buffy’s?”



“Yes, Ma’am.” Spike squeezed Buffy’s shoulder, afraid she would ruin the agreement with her mother.



“Oh, don’t ma’am me, mister.” Joyce gently scolded Spike. “Would you two like a cup of Cocoa? Or tea?”



“None for me, Mom. William?” Buffy looked at Spike for the first time since the entered the room. He saw trepidation in her eyes.



“Do you think they have some of those little marshmallows?”



Joyce’s kind eyes crinkled up as she smiled. “I believe they do.” After Joyce called the cafeteria to ask that they bring another cup of cocoa with marshmallows, Spike sat down next to Buffy, holding her hand. The gesture was not lost on Joyce and she gave Spike a knowing wink. Spike got along very well with Joyce, his seemingly natural charm wooed Buffy’s mother, having her insist he come back and see her again.



Spike chauffeured Buffy to the gallery whenever she wanted to go. He was too afraid to go to work the past week, knowing Buffy would try to walk wherever she wanted to go if he wasn’t there. Buffy found it incredibly funny how Spike would jump at her every whim, enjoying the faux relationship. Every once in while Buffy would remember the first night and the anger bubbled within her. A few times Spike had caught her in the memory and ended up with his feelings on the floor, totally eviscerated by Buffy’s callous words, but knowing he deserved them.



Their life started to calm down into a routine. Spike started going to work in the afternoons, spending the mornings cuddling with Buffy, watching her paint, and making sure she was safe at the gallery. He started to bring work home to toil on at night while Buffy painted or did her rehabilitation exercises. To Buffy’s dismay, Spike would pick her up at six from the gallery. The one time she walked home with Dawn before he came to pick her up, he virtually ripped her a new ass. She was amazed at how angry Spike was, even while they ate dinner with Dawn. Dawn was astonished at the show of concern Spike displayed, even though he was volleying from yelling to sulking. He finally got over it when Buffy promised not to walk home again and wait for him. She would have promised anything to get rid of the sulky Spike. Yelling and anger she could handle, but his pout was driving her crazy.



Spike took the whole day off on Thursdays to go see Joyce with Buffy. They were getting along wonderfully, even when Spike would visit Joyce without Buffy. He found that even in her weakened mental state, she was a kind woman. Even on her bad days, Spike would drink a cup of cocoa or two while he sat and held her small hand.



Life progressed for Buffy. She finally got permission to skate again. She found that her injuries and subsequent break from the ice made it a bit harder to do her jumps. She worked heavily on the weights, trying to make her legs and abdomen even stronger than before. She trained hard, starting practice at six in the morning, a fact that Spike had tried to talk her out of.



Days turned into weeks as the couple became more comfortable with each other and their new lives. Buffy never questioned Spike about Hank and what was happening on that end, but she did find out from her mother that Hank had retired from the company and now was living a life of leisure.

a/n: Thank you for your great reviews and comments. As you can see, Spike has made a very concentrated effort to be the man that Buffy deserves... he knows that he messed up royally. He has not made physical contact with her since that first night when everything went astray. He is trying to insinuate himself in her everyday life, proving that he is more than just her philandering father in hopes that Buffy will see past the facade and his mistakes and see him for who he wants to be. And, that folks... just took this chapter up to 1000 words *smiles*

Chapter 11
Buffy found it very disconcerting that her friends had accepted Spike into her life so easily. No one had questioned the fast courtship or the fact that he moved in with her. Willow and Xander welcomed him instantly into their group. She almost felt like the outsider with how easily Spike got along with everyone. Even Oz got along with him, coming over with Xander to watch sports on the big screen television. The two American men getting enamored with world “football” as the days went on. Willow came over and spent quality time with her friend, knowing that once the baby came, her time would be cut short.



As it got closer to Willow’s delivery date, Buffy started to go over to Willow’s apartment while the men went over to hers. She painted a mural of a park and children playing in the nursery. Willow absolutely loved it. Spike would come over to fetch Buffy after the game was done, dropping Oz off in the process and peaking into the baby’s new room.



Willow grew bigger and bigger, ending up taking maternity leave two weeks early because she couldn’t walk from the car to her office. With Spike’s transportation help, Buffy stayed most of the day with Willow, keeping her company.



Buffy was fixing Willow a fruit salad when she came into the kitchen with her hand over her expansive belly, panting. Buffy looked up from the cutting board and saw the flushed color on the redhead’s cheeks. “Willow, what’s wrong?”



“Buffy,” pant, “I think…,” more breathing, “my-water-just-broke.” Willow doubled over in pain as her labor pains hit her.



“Oh my God!” The large knife dropped to the floor as Buffy hopped up and down. “Are you sure?” Buffy twirled around, looking for something, not quite sure what.



Breathing through the pain, Willow finally felt the contraction loosen. “Yeah, kind of think that little trickle going down my leg isn't the tons of water I've had to drink.” Willow winced at the harshness of her words, but Buffy was too busy hopping up and down and looking around the counter to notice.



"Okay calm down, easy slow breaths. Okay where's the...the thing." she made gestures with her hands, "Oh the whatchmacallit. Shit, Willow the..." Willow stopped her and held up the phone.



"You mean the telephone?" Buffy stopped her impression of a dog chasing its own tail and looked at the phone in Willow’s hands.



"Yes,” Buffy looked up at the ceiling, thanking God, “Yes, the phone, okay call Oz, tell him you’re in labor and to meet us at the hospital." Willow shook her head at her friend; sometimes she could act as the stereotypical blond. A few short minutes later, Buffy was running to the car, keys in hand. She hopped in and started the engine. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have a license, Willow needed to get to the hospital and Super Buffy could get her there. She put the car in drive and gunned the engine, only to realize Willow was still hobbling down the walk. Buffy slammed on the brakes and put the car in reverse, coming back for Willow. Buffy hopped out, opening the passenger door for Willow, helping her get in. "Hurry, hurry, hurry!” Willow shot her a look that could have made Atilla the Hun piss in his pants.



"Sorry but that marathon I ran this morning took a bit out of me. Oh, my bag… it’s in the closet.” Willow looked at Buffy as she sat in the car.



Realization dawned on Buffy and she ran back into the house to grab the bag. Somehow, they made it to the hospital in one piece, despite the erratic untrained driving of Buffy.



~*~*~



Spike walked into the maternity ward, carrying a vase full of white roses for the new mom. Buffy had finally called him an hour ago, letting him know about Willow and her new baby girl. Oz got to the hospital an hour before Willow actually gave birth, amazed that she went through only four hours of painful contraction to only have to push a total of three minutes before the baby popped out.



Spike walked into room 405 to encounter a vision of beauty. Sitting in a rocker, Buffy held a pink bundle, rocking back and forth in her arms. The tiny red face peaked through the cloth and wailed when she saw his shocking white hair. Buffy shifted the bundle in her arms, quietly shushing the baby. She looked up, smiled at Spike when she saw the flowers. She indicated for him to put them on the bedside table, next to a sleeping Willow. Spike came over to her and bent down to peer into the blanket. “Well, hello there, little poppet.”



Buffy smiled and cuddled the bundle closer, “Meet Ilana Rachel.” She moved her arm down, so her face popped out more towards Spike. He looked down at the vision; Buffy smiling gently at the baby, talking in soft whispers, taking care of this miracle. Madonna and child. Tears threatened to escape Spike’s eyes as he watched the woman he was falling in love with, so far beyond the lust he first felt all those months ago. She cradled the baby back in her embrace, comforting the baby as her mother slept

a/n: Originally the babies name was Tara, however, it was pointed out to me (despite my betas and my best efforts) that I used Tara as Buffy's skating competitor

Chapter 12
Spike refrained from any kind of sexual contact with Buffy, including kisses, no matter how tempted he was at night as he held her body next to his. He knew he pushed far beyond any normal boundaries that first night, letting his jealousy gain control over his body, creating an uncrossable chasm between them. She seemed receptive of his presence once again, not shying away from his accidental brushes, or of being in the same room as him. She started laughing at his jokes, genuine laughter, not the fake chuckles she used to force out when they were around her friends. Spike thought that they seemed to turn a corner and their relationship was of friendship instead of forced hostility.



Entertaining the idea that he might have something more with Buffy, Spike made reservations at a nice restaurant. Buffy needed to get her mind off of her mother. Joyce’s health had declined since he first met her. She slept during most of their visits. Even the paintings Buffy brought stopped giving Joyce joy. Spike knew the end was near and instinctively wanted to protect Buffy from the pain, but he knew he couldn’t shield her forever.



~*~*~



The dinner was delightfully romantic, Spike being the perfect gentleman. Buffy enjoyed the food, the atmosphere, and even the company. They walked up to the apartment arm in arm, not even realizing the comfortable pose they held. Spike lighted candles on the mantle as they watched the late night news. Spike sat on the couch, letting Buffy lean into his frame as she fell asleep. He sat there through Jay Leno’s Tonight Show, but finally had to admit that he had to wake Buffy up to go to bed. He moved forward, letting her body slump down into the cushions. He looked at her sweet face, so regretful of the circumstances that brought him into her life, yet so thankful for them, too. Not being able to control himself anymore, Spike leaned his lips against hers, enjoying the warm pliant lips against his. She woke up with a start, feeling his unfamiliar, cool lips on hers. She looked up into his eyes. Surprised green met lustful blue and the connection was made. Buffy moved forward, and let her lips brush against his. It was his turn to be surprised. His eyes turned to midnight blue when he saw no malice, no hatred, nothing but lust and friendship shining back at him. Could it be more than just lust? Spike pushed his thoughts out of his mind, willing to take what she would give him. He picked her up, letting her drape her legs over his forearm and arms around his neck. He carried her into their bedroom and laid her down. She moved quickly and caught his arm as he turned around. He looked back at her, seeing her fingers slowly unbutton her blouse. With trembling hands, she reached out for him. He sat down, next to her, watching her shrug off her blouse and unzip her skirt. Standing before him clad in bra, panties, garter belt and stockings, Buffy breathed in slowly not knowing what else to do. She began to move her hands over her body, suddenly embarrassed at her brazenness. Spike reached out, stopping her arms. He looked soulfully into her eyes, silently thanking God of the gift he was about to receive. His fingers found her hips and rested there. His head came forward to lean on her small abdomen. He felt her shake and kissed her belly button, reassuring her.



Slowly, his fingers moved down her thighs and reached for the clasp of her garter belt. Unlatching each tiny clasp, he reverently worshiped her body. Spike dragged her silky stockings down her legs, trailing his fingers across her uncovered skin. She hissed as he tickled behind her knee, caressing the soft skin. She stepped out of the stockings, letting Spike look at her. This was more of a gift for herself than for him. She felt so sexy and loved tonight that she wanted it to continue. Spike took off the garter belt, his eyes roaming over her scantily clad body. She smiled down, encouraging him to continue. He reached for her again, only to stop a few millimeters away from her bare belly, savoring the electricity flowing from her body to his. She watched Spike withdraw from her, only to see him start taking off his shirt; she was glad he changed when they got home and she didn’t have to sit through him taking off his whole suit. He revealed his toned body, letting her eyes wander over his skin. He proudly sat on the bed while she stared at him.



Spike took her hand and gently pulled her closer, her knees hitting the mattress between his jean clad legs. His hands flew behind her, reeling her even closer. His cool fingers danced up her spine, finding the clasp of her bra. The straps fell first because she held the cups. He smiled knowingly and carefully moved her hands way, letting the lingerie fall to the ground. Her rosy nipples stood out from the brown areolas. He felt her falter, once again. He made eye contact and brought his face closer to her body, not looking away as he made contact with her breast. He slowly sucked in the nipple, running his tongue around it, making her moan. He paid similar attention to her other breast, all without loosing eye contact. His fingers found the edge of her lace panties, drawing them down her legs as he sucked on her breasts. She moved out of them, straddling his hips as she climbed onto the bed. He twisted his body, letting her fall down to the mattress, laying her pliant body out for him to gaze at. He noticed her breathing increased and a rosy tinge to her skin, feeling proud knowing he created it. Spike stood up and quickly divesting of his jeans, he got back onto the bed. His erection pressed tightly against Buffy’s leg as he moved closer. Holding her like a prized doll, Spike began to kiss her. First he met her lips, sucking on her lower lip and making her moan. He trailed down her cheek to her neck. Inhaling her scent, he licked and nipped at the tender skin, letting his lips acquaint themselves with her skin.



His hands were not idle while he made love to her face with his mouth. They caressed, pinched, and touched every part he could reach. She mewled with pleasure as his finger wound in her soft curly hair, probing to find a prize. She widened her legs, allowing him access to her treasure. His hips found themselves pressing up against hers, ready to connect. He looked into her shiny eyes, knowing she was there with him. He grasped his long cock, positioning at her entrance. In one smooth motion, Spike seated himself in her warmth. Her tight channel clenched at the invasion. He kissed her lips, letting his tongue probe inside her mouth. He felt her body relax, not only did her tongue play with his, but he felt her muscles relax around him, letting him move in and out smoothly. He set a slow pace, letting her body become accustomed to his love making.



He watched the emotions cross Buffy’s face, the wonderment and pleasure carrying him through it. Her back arched off the bed, moaning his name. He smiled, knowing she gave herself to him, allowing him to love her. He felt his heart swell in love for her. He drove into her two more times, finally succumbing to his own pleasure. He rested a bit, still connected inside her. Slowly, realizing that he probably was crushing her, Spike moved out of her and off of her. He gathered her body into his arms, feeling her own arms wrap around him and they went to sleep.

Chapter 13


The next day Buffy got up early to skate in the morning and opened the shop at noon. Spike dropped her off at the gallery ten minutes until noon, wishing her a good day and headed off to his own office.



Buffy set her belongings in the back, ready to unlock the doors when the answering machine caught her attention. She grabbed a pad of paper and pressed play, thinking it was a customer. “Yes, this is Gladys Mayer from the Sunnydale Rehabilitation Center. I need to get in contact with Buffy Summers.”



With her heart thumping, instinctively knowing it was her mother, she dialed the number, preparing herself for the inevitable news. “This is Buffy Summers, I got a call from Gladys Mayer.”



A few clicks whirled in Buffy’s ear when she finally was connected. “Gladys here, may I help you?”



“Yes, I’m Buffy Summers, I believe you called?”



“Oh… yes dear… I’m sorry to say…” Buffy’s eyes closed, her suspicions were confirmed.



“She’s gone?”



“I’m terribly sorry dear. She never woke up this morning.” Tears ran unchecked down Buffy’s face. The nurse rattled off some information that Buffy didn’t hear. Her knees weakened, leaving Buffy sobbing on the cold floor. She should call someone. Willow? Hank? Spike? Dawn? The phone lay at her side, beeping from the disconnection. Without much thought, Buffy dialed Dawn’s cell phone number. Buffy didn’t have to say anything, Dawn knew. She could tell by Buffy’s voice.



The day was much of a blur, Buffy had no idea what was going on or who was with her. All she knew was her mother was gone and she was free. The pain of her mother’s death was surprisingly not painful. Buffy knew it was inevitable and saw it coming closer. The only pain she had was to lose her best friend, never again able to go visit her, talk to her, comb Joyce’s thinning hair. The heartbreak Buffy was feeling wasn’t directly related to her mother, it was because of Spike. Last night’s revelation that she loved him, truly loved him, broke her heart because she knew she what she had to do. Their relationship was based on something wrong, unnatural.



Sometime during the day, Dawn called Spike, only to find out that he was in a meeting. She left a message with Harmony that it was a family emergency, but by the time Spike came out of the meeting, Harmony was gone. He had no idea what he was walking into when he opened the door to the gallery. It was quite a shock to see Oz holding little his baby in the front room, rocking her asleep. Oz’s normally impassive face was twisted with sadness. Spike sprinted into the back, passing Xander on his way. Spike stepped in the normally warm work room to find almost all the ladies in his life sitting on the couch, huddled in a hug. Dawn and Willow flanked Buffy’s suddenly miniscule frame. Buffy peaked through a gap between Willow and Dawn to see him fall to his knees, tears running down his face, almost like how she first collapsed. She got up and went over to him. Kneeling on the floor, she took his shaking body to hers, trying to give the comfort that she knew he needed. Buffy knew he had been visiting Joyce without her, getting to know her, making her time pass faster. Willow and Dawn left the two lovers, embraced on the floor, alone.



The sun set as the moon rose and Spike held Buffy to his chest. Her breathing was slow and deep, indicating her sleep. Tears still ran down Spike’s face, he was quite fond of the older Summers’ woman. Doubt littered his mind, knowing that she could pull away from him again. Their agreement was based on sparing Joyce’s feelings and now that her feelings were inconsequential, would Buffy find him inconsequential?



~*~ ~*



The day of Joyce’s funeral was so bright and cheery, such a contradiction to the feelings of the few guests surrounding the grave, watching as a white casket lower into the ground. Spike held Buffy as she wept for her mother’s life. Willow, Oz, and Ilana stood behind them, tying to give Buffy the support she desperately needed. Xander stood with some people from the skating association Buffy belonged to. Dawn stood next to Buffy, weeping for the mother she never had and the one she did have and rejected. Hank held his obligatory husband spot on the other side of the casket appropriately sullen and stoic. When he showed up, Spike felt Buffy’s body stiffen automatically. He watched Hank through half closed eyes, directing Buffy away from him.



Roses flew through the air, hitting the ground that swallowed Joyce’s still body and people turned their back, retreating to their inner sanctums. Spike continued to hold Buffy, letting her pay tribute her mother. Hank walked up behind them knowing this would probably be the last time he would have a chance to talk to Buffy.

“Buffy.” Her body stiffened into a board. Spike looked over his shoulder at Hank, glaring. “I’m sorry… she was very special.”



Slowly, Buffy turned her body. Spike saw the fire flaming from the sadness, “Don’t.” Buffy held her chin held. “You have no idea how special she IS.” Without another word, Buffy strode towards Spike’s car, waiting for him. Dawn already had taken up residence in the backseat.



After a couple minutes, Buffy hazard a glance at the two men that were talking animatedly. Spike shook his finger and stood menacingly in front of Hank. She couldn’t hear their words, but knew it was about Buffy. She watched Hank say something nasty, she could tell by the way his mouth formed the words. She knew all to well the scathing words that that mouth could form. She saw Spike tense his jaw and strike. His fist flew so fast, Buffy didn’t even have time to register it before Hank was on the ground, clutching his jaw. Spike bended down close to Hank and said a few words. Then, he got up like nothing happened and walked to the car.



Back at their apartment, Buffy bandaged Spike’s knuckles in the bathroom. She noticed on the drive back that they became purple with tiny cuts marring his normally smooth skin. She ushered him past Dawn, Willow, Oz, Ilana, and Xander to fix them. She didn’t ask what the argument was about, and he didn’t offer her any explanation. He sat patiently on the toilet and let her fuss over him, reminding him of the first time he met Joyce and the way Buffy fussed over her. Tears flowed between the two in the tiny bathroom, ignoring the food and guests in the other room only to cling to the other.



Food in the refrigerator, guests long gone, and their thoughts and doubts hidden left the apartment’s tenants quiet. Buffy fell asleep once again in Spike’s warm embrace, wondering what would come tomorrow and how she would handle it.

Chapter 14



Sitting over at the dining table with a mug of coffee and the paper, Spike watched Buffy move around. She didn’t get up early to train. Her brushes were dry. Spike was worried. She took Joyce’s death so gracefully. Never screaming at the injustice, the insanity, only tears of sorrow and love. As it got closer to noon, Buffy watched Spike. He showed no signs of going to work, she shouldn’t question it because she showed no signs of going back to her life. He caught her staring at him, “I’m not going to work today, kitten.”



She looked shocked, “I thought… the big merger…” Buffy didn’t want him to put his life on hold for her necessities.



“Can wait, pet.” Spike walked up to Buffy, holding his arms wide. She stepped closer, into his embrace. His head tilted down, burying itself in her fragrant hair.



She let his embrace warm her bones and then pulled away slowly, “No, you go. I’ll be fine here.”



Spike looked down into her green eyes, nodding. He wrapped her back into his embrace and stood there for a minute, drinking in her comfort and pouring out his.



~*~*~



Spike climbed the apartment stairs, wearily. He unlocked the door, opening and getting into the dark chamber. Spike didn’t notice the loss of warmth in the apartment nor the lack of noise that usually came from Buffy. He went into the kitchen and made himself a drink, slowly looking over the mail. He sat quietly, unwinding from the countless phone calls he had today when it suddenly hit him. Buffy was not in the apartment. He looked at the clock, it was past eight, too late to be at the gallery. He moved quickly through the apartment, first to their room and then to her work room… it was empty. The painting supplies long gone from the shelves, canvases wrapped up and taken. He went back into their room and opened the drawers… empty. She had left.



Sitting on the couch, the one he bought for her, Spike sunk down into the cushions. She went through with her threat. Once her mother was out of the picture she would allow her father to fry in hell for his transgression and let Spike fry along with him.

Chapter 15 (missed Ch14? Go back one chapter, it's tacked on the end)
Four months later…



Buffy strolled down the sandy beach in a pair of white linen Capri pants, a yellow t-shirt, and white zip up sweatshirt. The sun popped out from beneath the clouds, warming the cool air. She walked up to a large flat rock and sat down with her sketchbook. Gliding her hand across the paper, Buffy recorded the beauty that was early morning in the Bodega Bay area. The cool breeze rustled the trees around Buffy as she continued to sketch the blue waters and green pastures. Her golden hair, now tinted slightly darker whipped around her face, making the daily excursion come to an end. She walked back the way she came, not disturbing the beach’s natural residents as she made her way back to her rental house, owned by her mother’s brother, Rupert Giles. She idly wondered why her uncle would own such property, surrounded by similarly large, worn houses that sold for more than half a million dollars. He was a kind man that couldn’t stand Hank Summers from the very beginning, and she knew he would not tell anyone of her whereabouts. He acted as her liaison to her customers and friends, allowing Dawn to go to school and not worry about the art shop. She didn’t want to put Willow or Xander in danger of loosing their jobs by staying loyal to her friendship so she stayed out of contact with them.



She kept her lease of her apartment, knowing she would eventually come back to it. Her uncle had told her of an angry, bleach blond man looking for her, inquiring her location. Evidently Hank had given Rupert’s name as a possible association to her. He had sent her a few letters, but she had not opened them, she send them back to her uncle, untouched. A few orders for paintings came in, giving her a necessary income. Every time she sent something to Sunnydale, Buffy would smile sweetly at the old postman, asking him to smear the location stamp. She had received several requests from Spike, through his company for paintings and she accepted the order. She knew he was trying any angle to get in touch with her, but she stayed hidden. She finished the paintings, having Rupert deliver them. Spike knew she was okay, he spent enough time studying her other paintings to know her work and he knew that what was delivered was indeed her work.



The days melted together, giving Buffy much needed time and space to grieve. She spent the mornings on inspirational hikes and the afternoons at the local ice rink. She trained harder than ever, recovering the loss of time and strength the attack cost her. She built up her stamina and ankle strength, affording new and different jumps and twists in her program.



She learned how to drive and got her license. The money she was paid from the sale of her art paid for a used car, giving her a mobility she never had. She drove down to the harbor, and up the coast. She watched the whales migrate from their mating waters to their birthing places, amazed at how elegant those large creatures could be. She painted a large 4 by 4 foot mural of a particularly large gray whale, coming up for air. His body came out of the water, revealing his forty-foot frame, dwarfing the other marine mammals around. It was her favorite painting by far. She felt like the whale’s large eye saw into her soul, searching for it.



~*~*~



Spike sat in his office, drinking his stash of whiskey away. It’s been five and a half months since she disappeared. The painting on his wall told him that she was alive and doing all right. Her strokes were clean and precise, accurate to a fault, creating an illusion of a sunrise through a corporate window. He knew she painted it for him, knew she knew morning was his favorite time of the day. It was when he held her without question and inhaled her essence. Even now, when she’s gone, he still held her in his dreams. Lying still and quiet on the bed, enjoying her warm skin against his. But it all was an illusion, just like her painting.



The sound a knocking broke through Spike’s muddled thoughts, he looked up to see Xander Harris standing in the doorframe to the office. “What do you want, whelp?”



“Are you drunk without me?” Xander walked into the room. Through the past months, the two men had gotten close in Buffy’s absence. They bonded over drinks at the local bar and became good friends. Spike even let Xander in on the little deal they had pertaining to her father. Xander was amazed that Buffy would go along with such a thing until Spike explained about her mother. Xander sat down in one of the chairs opposite of Spike’s desk.



“What’s it to you?” Spike slurred. He poured another three fingers of whiskey into his glass and gulped it down.



“Nothing, man… just… what would you do if she walked through that door, and saw you like this?” Spike looked at the door, hoping that she would walk through the door. “Relax, she ain’t here. But, if she would, you wouldn’t be earning any points with her.”



“Well, she ain’t here and she’s not going to be. She left. Left the apartment, left the shop, left me.”



“I would’ve leave you too, if you acted this way.”



Spike’s blue eyes flared with anger. Turning his gaze on Xander, they narrowed, “What did you say, wanker?”



“I said that you are being a royal pain in the ass and I don’t blame her for leaving.” Spike stood up and stalked over to Xander. Xander stood up, ready for him.



“Mind repeating that?”



“You,” Xander pushed a finger into Spike’s chest, “Are,” another push, “Being,” Spike growled, “A,” Xander ignored the warning and continued to poke him, “Pain in the ass.”



Spike pulled his fist back, “Don’t want to hurt you, whelp.”



“Whatever, Spike. The point is, if she happens to come by again you are in no condition to get her back.” Xander backed away, heading to the door.



“She isn’t going to come back.” Spike’s voice sounded suddenly sobered.



Xander turned around, “Are you sure about that?” Xander walked out of the room, leaving Spike to contemplate what he’d said.

Chapter 16
Spike huddled deeper in his clack leather duster. Her mumbled under his breathe about stupid whelps and their ideas. The arena’s seats were ice cold and hard as nails. Spike couldn’t get comfortable as he watched the room fill up with spectators. It was Saturday mid morning and Xander dragged him to a local ice skating competition, in hopes to get a lead on Buffy’s whereabouts. Spike didn’t want to be here, he’d rather be at home, sleeping in his warm bed that still smelled sweet, like Buffy. Being here reminded him of her. Of watching her practice with her coach. The loops, lutzes, combos, spins, turns, jumps… everything here breathed as Buffy. Names like Choctaw, Biellmann, Rocker, Flying Camel were now names he knew, could recognize. He knew which side of a blade the skater should use, the foot to take off on and land. He knew it all and he hated it. The Zamboni whirled around the ice, clearing the debris and training slices as Xander sat down, handing Spike a drink container. Thankful for some alcoholic refreshment to get past this memory, Spike sipped at it eagerly. “Ugg, what the fuck is this?”



“Coke,” Xander sat back and watched the Zamboni do its job. “Did you know that there is a thin layer of water sprayed across the ice to make it smooth again?”



“Where’s my beer, whelp?” Spike yelled. A bunch of people around them looked at Spike, scolding him with their eyes.



“No alcohol, kiddy show.” Xander indicated at all the little kids in the arena. “It’s not a hockey game.”



“Give me a bloody break, would you? Not only do I have to sit here freezing my rocks off and look at the bloody ice, but now I can’t even drink a bloody beer while doing it?” Spike threw his hands up in the air.



“Relax, Spike. If you want to get her back, you are going to have to pretend to enjoy this type of thing.” Xander sat back, watching the Zamboni leave the ice. He knew there was a chance that Buffy would be skating here. He remembered her talking about the entry fee and who else was going to perform, he just hoped that she really was going to be here. He didn’t want to have to spend the whole day with a grouchy Spike without something good coming from it. “Look, sit back and relax. These people know Buffy, they’ve known her for years.” Spike sat back in his chair. Buffy might not even be able to skate, she could be pregnant. He didn’t use any protection with her, and he doubted she used any. It was such a spur of the moment situation, Spike didn’t even think of the consequences. And, now she was gone and he couldn’t reach her.



“So have you whelp, and where has that gotten me?” Spike groused. It was too much to be in the cold arena again.



“I may be her friend, but these people…” Xander indicated at the skaters lining up to make an entrance. “These people share a passion with her. They understand her, the call of the ice. And if you don’t understand it, then you won’t understand her.”



Spike looked over at Xander, the lights dimmed as the last minute arrivals took their seats, the show was about to begin, “I did understand her.” Xander looked over at Spike, silently disagreeing, “I understood and she left.”



“Look, Spike, I don’t want to judge, really, but… what choice did you give her?” Spike looked over at his friend, wide eyed and amazed. Silently, Xander went back to watch the local little children skate.



~*~*~



Buffy stood back stage, she had already warmed up her muscles, and now she had to wait. The anticipation boiled up inside her, practically boiling over. Her long time coach came up beside her, thankful that she was still skating. “Nervous?”



“Like a race track horse about to piss in a cup.” Buffy laughed at the grimace her coach made.



“Colorful language you’ve acquired.” The coached nose scrunched up, not approving of the phrase.



“Ahn, I was just joking… I heard it on one of those late night talk shows. Yeah, I’m nervous girl.”



“You’ll be fine.” She patted Buffy on her shoulder.



“Yeah, how would you know, haven’t seen me skate since before my mom…” Buffy’s thought trailed off, “I could step out there and land on my butt.”



“Or you can step out there and be magnificent.”



“Thanks, Anya… you’re the greatest. I won’t even do the Bunny Hop for you.”



“Oh, bunnys… so twitchy… why would they name that?” She walked away from Buffy and then turned back. “Oh, I saw Xander, didn’t tell him you were here.”



“Thanks, was anyone else with him?”



“Not that I know of.” Anya stood at the door, watching the little kids finish their program.



“Thanks.” Buffy stretched once more, relaxing her muscles.



“Oh, Buffy?” When Buffy stood up and looked over to her coach she continued, “It’s good to have you back and happy. It’s been a long time since you’ve been this excited.” Buffy smiled, it had been a long time.


a/n: Are you ready for it? Are you sure? Next chapter will be very interesting!

Oh, one more thing... I did receive on of those type of reviews... you know what I'm talking about. Seriously, I warned all the readers what was to come. I couldn't make it any clearer. I put up warnings on the actual chapter and warnings on the over all story. This is fiction as in not real! Although, this story contains depiction of rape, it isn't about rape... and I do hope the majority of people realize it. This is taking an event (like in S6 Seeing Red) and playing out a horrible circumstance and living beyond it. How they could potentially live beyond it... anyway.

A/n: I swore I posted this chapter yesterday.... I swear! So this is a little bit more of a tease as the two don't meet... but the are getting close. I wonder what will happen in their explosive relationship

Chapter 17


Breathe

In

Out

Steady



Buffy stepped out on the platform, watching her strongest competitor exit the ice. The crowd was still clapping, thoroughly enjoying her performance. Buffy wanted to puke. Not that Tara’s performance wasn’t good, it was too good. She floated through the air, and her elements were perfect. Buffy cringed; it had been almost a year since her last show. Other than the rink officials, no one had watched her skate but Spike. Trying to push down his memory, Buffy stretched, listening to Tara’s scores… almost perfect. There wasn’t much room for Buffy to take the lead. Buffy looked out in the black crowd, mentally scanning for Xander. Anya said he was here, she wondered why he would go to something like this, especially if she wasn’t dragging him here.



Her cue was handed to her, and she stepped out onto the dark ice. A hush fell across the room; she skated to the middle of the arena.



Breathe

In

Out

In

Out



The spotlight did a dramatic search for her on the ice, sweeping across the ice until it found her. Her head down with her hair loosely curled and arms above her head, Buffy hid her face from view. Only her green sequined little outfit was visible. Her feet were crossed, and then the music started to rumble in the speakers. Her hips twitched to the island inspired beat. She twisted, keeping her face hidden as the music started to crescendo…and she pushed off, slow turns and paces as she started. She heard whispers of recognition as the beat changed, increasing. Shoving off, she raced down to the end of the ice.



You think that we connect
That the chemistry's correct
Your words walk right through my ears
Presuming I like what I hear

And now I'm stuck in the web you're spinning
You've got me for your prey



Her first jump in the program came up. Buffy prepared her body, coiling it into a tight spring to take off and land a perfect double axle. The crowd went wild, Buffy smiled wide as she flew down to the other end of the ice. This was what she lived for. Her body relaxed, knowing this was home.



Sorry I'm not home right now
I'm walking into spider webs
So leave a message And I'll call you back
A likely story, but leave a message
And I'll call you back

She continued with combinations, increasing the level of difficulty as the crowd continued to cheer. Her energy increased, she continued to push hard, listening to the music and the cue hidden in the words. She knew she shouldn’t have picked that song, even if he was here, the meaning would have been lost on him… it was all his fault. She was perfectly fine in her little bubble world until he made her fall in love with him. Yes, it was all his fault.



You take advantage of what's mine
You're taking up my time
Don't have the courage inside me
To tell you please just let me be
Communication, telephonic invasion
I'm planning my escape...



Twists and turns that Buffy knew by heart blurred past her as she continued the program. Axles and salchows landed. Her body flew across the ice, racing for the finishing line.



Sorry I'm not home right now
I'm walking into spider webs
So leave a message And I'll call you back
A likely story, but leave a message
And I'll call you back



And it's all your fault
I screen my phone calls
No matter who calls
I gotta screen my phone calls



Breathe

In

Out

In

Out



Buffy felt a change on the ice. She wasn’t even sure if it was real, maybe it was her imagination. She was ready and she felt him. His eyes watching her. She was infused with warmth and encouragement. Not glancing at the audience, she continued the program. Her jumps seemed higher, the blade cutting through the ice smoother.


Now it's gone too deep
You wake me in my sleep
My dreams become nightmares
'Cause you're ringing in my ears.



Her smile bloomed, realizing the song was almost over, it seemed unreal. She really missed skating in front of people and the added encouragement she felt made the feeling so much stronger. The big finish was approaching and Buffy started to doubt herself again. Sure she could do it perfectly in practice, but that didn’t guarantee it now.



Sorry I'm not home right now
I'm walking into spider webs
So leave a message And I'll call you back
A likely story, but leave a message
And I'll call you back



Sweeping her legs across the ice, she built the speed necessary to get her though the last of it. Her body jumped up, tightly revolving. Once. Twice. Three times. Gravity working against her, Buffy landed and immediately took off again, hopping up and spinning quickly.



And it's all your fault
I screen my phone calls
No matter who calls
I gotta screen my phone calls



The song faded away, ending the lyrics and Buffy stood there, proud and ecstatic. Her arms stretched out above her head, framing her svelte body. She bowed down, knowing she did a good job. Her skates glided across the frozen canvas and made the way to the edge of the rink. Anya handed her the blade protectors and a huge hug. Smiling, Buffy let the excited blond guide her to the booth where scores were called. Buffy felt overwhelmed. Knowing that by tomorrow everyone that she knew would know that she was back.



Breathe

In

Out

In

Out



A/n: Lyrics from No Doubt: Spiderwebs… I found them online.

Chapter 18
Spike made his way down to the bleachers as the lighting increased. A skater was leaving the ice, finished with her program. Her dark blond hair and multi colored skirt floated behind her. She reminded Spike of a witch. He found Xander easily. “What did I miss?” Spike sarcastically asked.



“Oh, Tara McClay, good skater, very graceful. Was Buffy’s biggest competition.”



“Really? Now I wish I didn’t have to drain the lizard.”



“Ug, and Buffy let you kiss her with that mouth?” Xander shook his head as the lights dimmed again. He saw a small figure work its way out into the darkened arena. The sparkles on her leotard glinted, reflecting some light, the only visible part of the next skater. The spot light swept along the ice, faux searching for the skater. Finding her, the brilliant forest green outfit and setting everyone eyes ablaze with the flittering light. Her blond hair curled around her shoulders and hung in front of her down turned face, blocking the view. Her graceful arms were swept above her head. The almost Caribbean beat started through the speakers and the skater started to move her hips. She shimmed, letting her hips dip down. As the lyrics joined the melody, her body floated off of her starting position. Recognition filtered off of Xander’s face, it was Buffy. Spike was too busy trying to find his drink to even notice the look in Xander’s face or the petite skater on the ice.



You think that we connect
That the chemistry's correct
Your words walk right through my ears
Presuming I like what I hear

And now I'm stuck in the web you're spinning
You've got me for your prey



Xander stared at his friend flying across the ice, faster than he’d ever saw her skate. He saw her muscles tighten, ready to jump. A loud roar erupted form the audience when she landed. Smiling, she started her journey back to the other side of the rink.



Sorry I'm not home right now
I'm walking into spider webs
So leave a message And I'll call you back
A likely story, but leave a message
And I'll call you back



Spike looked up, only to see the back of the person in front of him. He was getting up to take his unruly child out of the arena. Sighing, he continued to look for his refreshments. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the skater jump and extend herself on the ice, but paid her no heed.



You take advantage of what's mine
You're taking up my time
Don't have the courage inside me
To tell you please just let me be
Communication, telephonic invasion
I'm planning my escape...



He found his drink, finally. Spike took a sip and sat back. He looked at Xander, who was totally enthralled watching the skater. Shrugging, he looked around, everyone was watching the graceful athlete. Little children with looks of awe studied the rink, watching the glittering woman lap it again.



Sorry I'm not home right now
I'm walking into spider webs
So leave a message And I'll call you back
A likely story, but leave a message
And I'll call you back



And it's all your fault
I screen my phone calls
No matter who calls
I gotta screen my phone calls



Spike finally forced his eyes on the ice, shocked to find the face that haunted him. There she was with a huge smile on her face, flying on the cold floor. Her legs twisted and turned through the elements, gracefully completing the fancy footwork.



Now it's gone too deep
You wake me in my sleep
My dreams become nightmares
'Cause you're ringing in my ears.



She was a vision, an angel flying down to save him. He watched her body relax, become one with the ice. She turned in his direction, and her smile widened. It looked so natural… so beautiful.



Sorry I'm not home right now
I'm walking into spider webs
So leave a message And I'll call you back
A likely story, but leave a message
And I'll call you back



Spiraling around the ice, she continued to push harder, jump higher, skate faster. His own eyes traveling over her luscious body even more trimmed and toned than before. Wherever she was, she had a gym and an ice rink to practice in.


And it's all your fault
I screen my phone calls
No matter who calls
I gotta screen my phone calls



Spike didn’t bother listening to the song, the lyrics lost on him as she finished the program. Her final combination made the people in the arena jump to their feet. She really did a wonderful job. Her movements stopped and she smiled up to the bleachers. Her smile firm on her face as she bowed and left the ice, only to encounter her coach. Spike didn’t like Anya, she wouldn’t tell him where Buffy went, even when she admitted she had been in contact with her. Jumping up, not bothering to talk to Xander, Spike ran down the bleachers, hoping to get backstage to see her, to talk to her. Spike quickly got past the guard to the entrance and slipped behind the scenes. Different skaters were milling around, listening to music and envisioning their routine. He jumped up above the small crowd, hoping to get a glimpse of her location. Out of the side of his eye, Spike saw Anya following someone in a green outfit into a dressing room about thirty feet away. Spike quickly walked over to the dressing room, only to be stopped by a large man. “Only ladies, sir.”



Spike looked up toward the heavens, “Bloody hell.”


a/n: That little scamp, Buffy! She is such a tease by running into the ladies dressing area... more to come

Chapter 19

Spike stood outside the door for “Ladies Only” for over half an hour and hadn’t yet gotten a glimpse of her. The competition was over and the public was finally allowed down on the floor. Xander walked over, “Talk to her yet?”



“Not bloody likely with Bubba over here guarding the bloody door.” Spike pointed at the large guard.



“She in there?” Xander indicated the door behind Spike.



“No, she’s in the men’s room. What do you think, Whelp. I just stand here all fucking day for the hell of it? The bloody chit hasn’t come out yet.”



“Hey, man, relax. It’s just that Anya is over there. Maybe she can get Buffy out.” Spike stood straight and looked over at Anya with his eyebrow arched.



“Wait, she didn’t come out of this door. In fact… barely anyone has.” As they looked at Anya, a door about fifteen feet away opened up, letting some ladies out of the room. “Oh Balls! There was another bloody door?” Spike looked over at the guard and he shrugged. Stalking over to the congregating group, Spike fumed. He’d been standing there like a nancy boy all the while, Buffy probably escaped through the other door.



“Anya…” Xander said.



She turned around and smiled, “Xander Harris, where have you been hiding yourself?” Spike walked up beside them, scanning the crowd for his pixie. “Spike, I didn’t know you liked these kinds of shows.”



“Uh, yeah.” Spike stood on his toes, hoping to gain enough height to spot Buffy.



“So Xander, you’re looking good, who have you been giving orgasms to?” Anya innocently batted her eyes while Xander sputtered a response of nobody.



“Anya, my boy here, Spike, is looking for Buffy.”



A dark scowl formed on Anya’s face, “I don’t think that is a very good idea. She doesn’t want any orgasms from your friend.” She looked over at Spike, “I’m sure your orgasms are nice, but she isn’t interested.” Anya turned back to Xander, “Did you know she won today?”



The conversation ended abruptly when the competition officials started to hand out the trophies. They listened as the younger skaters that were in the “junior” category, received their prizes and acknowledgements. Finally, the awards for the adult competition were announced. With bated breathe, Spike, Xander, and Anya watched the third place and second place winner graciously accept their trophies and money. Finally, Buffy walked up in a light green jogging suit and her hair pulled back loosely, accepting her award. She smiled enthusiastically at the presenters and waved at the crowd that cheered her on. In one split second, she met Spike’s eyes. Her breath faltered and smile dimmed when he saw recognition in her face. Then, she broke the contact and scanned the rest of the crowd. Spike started to push his way through the crowd, intent on getting to the mock stage area before Buffy finished accepting her award and shaking hands. The skaters from the “junior” portion of the competition surrounded her, giving an impenetrable shield ten feet around her. She turned away from him, walking to a room on the side, with the children following. With a flip of her hair, she once again disappeared into a room he was banned from.



Swearing, Spike received many poignant glares from parents and “junior” contestants. The bodyguard, nicknamed appropriately was standing in front of the door again. With one last glare at the bane of his existence, Spike stalked off in search of Xander, hopefully still talking with Anya. He looked around the small backstage area. Most of the parents were escorting their children out of the building, leaving only family and friends of the adult participants left. He found a seat and sat down. Xander and Anya were no where to be found. He watched the twin doors of the room she herded herself in. The skaters now exited with their belongings. Most carried duffle bags larger than themselves. He sat back, itching for a cigarette, but not daring to leave.



Xander strolled up, sans Anya, and sat next to Spike. “Did you get to her?”



Spike looked down at his feet, frustrated, “No, she’s playing hard to get. Damn bitch.”



“Hey, hey. I don't know what went down with you two that made her think she had to disappear, I have some ideas though. All I know that if she's here, she doesn't feel the need to hide anymore and if there is any chance of you two getting back together, you'd better watch your anger. Anya told me that she’s going to be in town for a while, but no permanent plans.” Spike looked hopeful at Xander. “She probably going to be pissed to find you still living at her place.”



“Yeah, well. Probably an inch of dust in my old place… not going to clean it, now am I?”



Xander chuckled and slapped Spike’s shoulder, “Yeah, I shudder at the thought of some dust. Anyway, she said that Buffy and some girls from the competition were going down to O’Malleys… she invited me… and you.”

a/n: I was re-reading the next couple of chapters and decided I needed to add more... so hopefully after a quick redo I will have a new and improved ending to this tale. I will touch upon the healing between Spike and Buffy after the rape, including his insecurities that led to the debacle. This story isn't supposed to be about how to heal from a rape as Buffy never received professional treatment.

Thank you for all the nice reviews, you guys are great! I replied to most of them, so if you are interested, check out my replies. If you enjoyed this, please check out some of my other works. Inner Sanctum is very hot! The Forever Series was my first work, but very plot driven.

Chapter 20
O’Malleys was packed with people from the skating competition. Spike scanned the crowd, finally spotting Anya’s outrageous hair. Xander followed Spike, heading to the table in the back. He heard her laughter first, it was sweet and unrestricted. As he came up on the group, he watched her swat a man on his shoulder, laughing with him. Jealousy roared in Spike, his inner demon coming forth, ready to claim what was his.



She looked up at him as he approached, his gait clear and concise, leaving her no doubt that he was coming for her. Her back straightened, chin lifted, and fingers threaded together on top of the table. She flipped her hair back and smiled, “William, Xander! It’s been a long time.”



A million questions formed in Spike’s mind. How have you been? Where were you? Why did you leave me? Xander scratched his head when Spike fell silent, just staring at her. “Yeah, Buffy. Been a while.”



“Yeah, oh. This is the gang… Kathy,” a bubble blond waved, “Anya you know,” Anya nodded their way, still glaring at Spike, “Tara,” the same dark blond that skated before Buffy smiled shyly, “And this is Andrew.” She leaned into Andrew, making Spike’s jaw ache. The blonde pip squeak looked like he couldn’t handle one beer.



Andrew stood up and practically knocked the table over. “Hey good to meet you too. Always good to have another male around. You know… hanging with all the ladies,” Andrew smirked, trying to look like a ladies man. Suddenly he got an excited look on his face and started to bounce on the balls of his feet. “Hey, your duster looks like the one on my Neo action figure. I bought it on Ebay. I also got this Jedi figure… it’s so cool…Boba Fett… the bounty hunter.”



Spike smiled knowingly, “Yeah, why don’t you write that address down.”



“Hey, you’re English right?” Andrew looked at Spike, wondering if he could be cool like him.



“Yeah,” Spike drawled, his eyes riveted at Buffy who was holding her head in the hands, shaking it slowly, knowing her game was over the minute Andrew opened his mouth.



“I’ve seen all the episodes of Doctor Who… not the Red Dwarf, though, because…” Spike stared at Andrew, amazed that this person kept talking. “It’s not on DVD yet.”



“Uh huh, that’s… uh… admirable. Buffy? Can we talk?” Buffy looked up from her hands. Her green eyes surprised that he finally talked to her.



“Uh, yeah…” Buffy stood up. Spike walked around the table to hold out her chair. She glared at him, wondering why he was acting like a gentleman. Then it dawned on her, he was waiting to get her alone. “Bar?” Spike nodded and followed Buffy to the bar. She found two stools in the middle of the bar, people milling around talking and watching the televisions. She looked over at him. His eyes didn’t hold the electric charge they once had. Dark bags under his eyes marred his face, making him seem paler than he was. His cheekbones seemed to jut out further; he didn’t look like he was eating properly. “So…”



“Yeah. Hey, give me a beer, mate.” Spike grabbed the bartender’s attention and gulped his beer. “Look… you didn’t have to…” Spike looked into Buffy’s eyes, lost in their glittering depths. The war between them still raging, he inhaled, hoping to calm down. “You didn’t have to leave…”



“Were you?” Buffy sat, looking straight at him. She knew she had to get through this, afterwards she could break down, alone, where no one could hear her cries of pain and anguish of her love.



“Huh?” Spike sipped his beer at a more leisure pace. His fingers itched to touch her, to hold her, to mold her.



“Were you going to leave?” Buffy didn’t let her gaze stray as she saw his emotions flitter across his face: surprise, anger, guilt, and longing. “Because, it looked like you still were there.”



Shock hit Spike, “You… you were there?”



Buffy ducked her head, “Yeah, had to store my stuff. Drove all night to get here…” Buffy looked back up, her eyes softened, “You never left.”



“No,” such a simple word yet it spoke volumes.



Her eyes glistened with restrained emotion. “Why?”



Spike stared back, once again lost in her. Her scent, her warmth, her eyes. “Never going to leave you.” His hand reached out to hers on its own volition. “Not like the others.”



She didn’t pull away from him instead she savored the warmth seeping into her skin. She stared at their joined hands. She shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't give him another chance. There was no way to erase the past, no way to forget.



“I… I never meant for it to go that way.” His thumb caressed the top of her hand, feeling the blood pump underneath the light layer of her skin. He felt calmer now, as if all his anger and insecurities melted away. “Wasn’t supposed to.. .”



Buffy looked up into his eyes.



“I was going to treat you like the goddess that you are. My golden goddess.” Buffy opened her mouth to say something but he lifted his other hand and rested a finger on her lips. “Got to get this out… I wanted you from the first moment I saw you, glaring at Hank on the dance floor. Knew, I knew it was more than lust.”



Spike looked at the bar, still resting his hand on hers. She slowly moved her wrist, rotating her hand under his until her palm met his. She threaded her fingers in his. Inhaling, he looked at their intertwined hands.



“I tried everything to get you to see me. Sure you went out with me once, but you were ready to cut me loose, I knew it. Then… the lame brain scheme with Hank. I wasn’t going to tell Joyce, you know. I would have handled him quietly, no one would have known. But, I couldn’t let you know that or you would have banished me, yeah?”



Buffy nodded. A tear ran down her cheek, he reached up and wiped it away.



“And, that night. I’m so sorry.” Spike choked, his emotions finally surfacing. “God, it would be so easy for me to say I didn’t know what I was doing, but I did.” A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “I wanted to possess you, show you who you belonged to, make you feel the same thing I felt… but you didn’t belong to me, did you pet? I belonged to you. I have from the very first dance.”



Buffy tilted her head, she heard the sincerity in his voice and her heart went out to him. Spike moved closer to her, resting his head against her shoulder.



“You consume me," his voice was so tiny, "filled me up to completion. I was so bloody scared when you were attacked. What if something happened to you? What if I did that to you? I couldn’t handle it.”



She withdrew her hand from under his. Trembling, Spike was afraid that she was leaving him again.



“Don’t. Please don’t,” he whispered. "But I did something to you, didn't I? I wrecked anything that was slowly building. I can never forgive myself for that. Never."



She wrapped her arms around his body, angling her body to his and brining his head to her neck. She patted his back, consoling him through his emotions.



“I decided, I wouldn’t touch you like that again…” his words tickled the sensitive skin on her neck. “But, I couldn’t bloody do it. I had to hold you, love you, and show you that I wanted more. I love you.” She felt hot tears drip down to her collarbone, washing over her skin. “I still do… bloody hell, look at me, crying like a nancy boy in the middle of a pub.”



“Don’t say that… no one is paying attention.” Her fingers ran down his back, smoothing his duster. His words washed over her soul, washing away any lingering pain and resentment. She already came to terms of their relationship, understood why things happened the way they did understood what he was saying. Could they have a future? Could they start over? Things still were too messed up, things needed to be said, needed to be mourned.

"And… and I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have run. I just couldn’t handle it.” She looked around the busy bar and restaurant and bent her head towards his. With a low voice she asked, “Want to get out of here?”



His eyes lit up and she saw the flicker of electricity they were missing. They walked out of the bar hand in hand into the night.

a/n: I revised this chapter a bit... I needed to add a little more emotion... Oh, if I get 5 reviews from 5 different people then I'll post next chapter quickly (and may be talked into posting the rest this weekend)

Chapter 21
Spike sat on the couch, looking at the new painting over the mantle… a gray whale sticking its grotesque head out of the water. He shook his head, only Buffy would find art in that. He listened for the noise of her coming home, to him, but only silence greeted him. He took another sip of his whiskey; the fire burned his throat, making him feel something.



Last night was like an epiphany that never was realized. They ended up sitting on a park bench in the middle of the elementary school playground. They sat quietly, not quite knowing how to fix the riff between them, but knowing the other person was ready and willing. They just weren’t able. They didn’t talk about her absence or the deal. She talked about the weather and he updated her on the different business deals he was working on. When dawn approached, he asked her back to the apartment, but she refused. She wasn’t ready for that. He watched her drive off in her car as light broke over the horizon, leaving him to go home to the apartment, now filled with Buffy’s belongings.



He walked into the living room and saw the huge canvas filled with the whale breaking the surface of the water, staring at him with his one big eye. He moved around the apartment and saw that she dumped the rest of her belongings in the spare bedroom. He noticed she hadn’t collected much. She had three suitcases and her art supplies. Venturing into the room, he saw familiar and new paintings. Spike didn’t sleep in the bed, too many memories, especially now that she was back. So there he was on the couch, drinking his whiskey as the sun peaked in the sky and the whale followed his every move. It felt like the whale was looking through him and knew every little secret and nuance Spike hid. Rubbing the palm of his hand over his eyes, Spike put his drink down and closed his eyes. Rest would be good.



~*~*~



Buffy knocked quietly, not really sure why she was knocking on her own apartment door. She was the one that paid the rent all these months, it was hers, right? Losing her confidence, Buffy stepped away from the door, ready to walk back down the stairs and out to her car when the door flew open. A shirtless Spike leaned against the jam with one arm above his head. His hair was ruffled and his eyes looked dark and sleepy as he peered out into the hallway to see who dare bother him. When his eyes fell on her she saw him change. He immediately stood straighter and tried to tame his wild hair with his fingers. Without words, Spike moved to let Buffy into the apartment.



Standing in the living room, she looked around. Yesterday, she was not really surprised to find him still living here, but she was amazed that he had not changed anything about the décor. Most of it was still hers. She turned back to face Spike only to find him looking at her like she was a steak and he was a starving man. With a shy smile she sat on the couch, looking at the whale painting. “Hey you moved it!”



“Yeah,” Spike scratched his eyebrow with his thumb as he made his way over to the chair. “he was staring at me.” The painting was leaning against the wall with the back of the canvas showing.



Buffy laughed, genuine laughter directed at him. “I think he can see into my soul.”



“Bloody hard to get any sleep when he’s staring holes through you,” Spike shook his head. Buffy looked around and saw his pillow and a blanket on the couch.



“You slept out here, why?”



“Couldn’t sleep in there,” he pointed at the bedroom, “when I know you were near… it’s ours.”



“Oh.” The couple fell silent, still not knowing where to go. Were they together again? Stepping into the apartment, Buffy wanted to throw herself at Spike and feel him again. His kisses, his touch, his voice vibrating through her.



“I don’t know what to say… what I need to say… what you need to hear.” A tear formed in Spike’s eye. “Whatever it is, I would say it and mean it… please, tell me what I need to do, say, be…” he dropped down on one knee and crawled over to her, kneeling a few inches from her. “I’ve been in hell these past months not knowing, not understanding… not with you.” His hands were shaking when they came up and rested on hers. “I’ve missed you… not just in the bed, but everywhere. I miss your company, your friendship. I just want to start over, can we do that?”



“I don’t think we can.” Buffy whispered, moving her hands so their palms were together.



“Can we try?” Spike looked in Buffy’s eyes, glistening with moisture. She smiled and nodded.



~*~*~



The day was spent in quiet amazement. They touched and cuddled on the couch. Talking softly as if they were revealing the most precious secrets of their world. “Where were you, pet?”



She looked up at him, “Huh? Oh, Bodega Bay.”



“Oh, was it nice?” Spike tightened his grip on her.



“Mmm, very nice. But colder. Want to see some pictures?” Spike nodded numbly, he was overcome with the need to know where she had been. She got up and held her hand out to him. Taking it, he was lead into the spare room, filled with her belongings. Buffy showed Spike some of the paintings she created during her absence: the beach that she lived on, the harbor, the valleys of spring flowers blooming, and her Uncle Rupert’s house.



“Looks like a lovely area, pet.” His hands rested on her hips while they stood back and looked at the paintings.



“Oh, it was… so peaceful.” Her wistful tone cut at Spike, deeply cut.



Letting her go, he turned and walked out of the room, “Guess that’s why you cut yourself off from everyone.”



Buffy followed him after she heard his hurt tone, “What? What’s wrong, William?”



“Nothing, everything is bloody perfect. You had a perfect house on a perfect beach near a perfect bay. Your life was bloody perfect!” Spike’s voice rose with every word.



“William?” Spike stalked over to his whiskey, pouring a half of a glass and swallowed it quickly. “What’s gotten into you?”



“What’s gotten into me? Come on, love, what do you expect from me? A happy dance? You left me.” Spike pointed at his chest. His lips twitched into a self-deprecating smile, “I loved you and you left me.” His lips jutted out in a pout with his declaration, Buffy’s heart melted despite the inclinatin to remind him why she left.. “You were…” he waved his hand towards the paintings in the spare room, “there, and I was here. No one would tell me anything.” She saw him fight the tears in his eyes. “Bloody uncle of yours returned all my letters.”



His jaw twitched and Buffy was afraid he would break the glass he was holding, “Calm down William… no one knew, at least…” she stopped and inhaled, “not many. The ones that did know, well… they stayed quiet because I didn’t want to be found.”



Spike collapsed on his knees, staring at Buffy, “Was it so awful? Was I that awful?”

Yes! Buffy wanted to rant at him. Yes, you raped me, took what little innocence I had! What did you expect me to do? Play mistress forever? I hated you! I hated you and you made me love you. But, she didn't rant at him. Couldn't rant at him. It didn't matter how they started, what mistakes they made. She knew he loved her, she loved him. Her soul may have been patched, but his was bleeding.

Buffy quickly walked over and knelt in front of him, “Oh no, William. Don’t think that.” Her hand came up and cupped his jaw. His tears ran openly down his face. “I needed time. I was so confused.” She felt her tears run down her own face. “I… I didn’t know how I felt, I was so confused. I hated you and yet...”



Spike looked up into her wet eyes, “What do you feel?”



“I… uh… I… William, I was so confused.”



“Are you still confused?”



“I… uh… William…” Buffy looked into his eyes, knowing he knew her secret.



“Are you still confused?” His voice dipped low, caressing her with words.



“No,” Buffy took one deep breath. “I love you.”



Hope bloomed in Spike when he finally heard her words, “Really? You mean that?” Buffy nodded as Spike grabbed her and hauled her closer. His arms banded tightly around her and he let the tears and insecurities wash out of him. “I’m so sorry, pet. I just wanted you, needed you, loved you so bloody much.”



Buffy smiled through her tears and labored breathing. “I love you too, William.”



Buffy clung to Spike and Spike clung to Buffy as their emotions finally made it to the surface, refusing to be pushed down. Spike moved his head back to look at her. With tear tracks down her face and makeup smeared, she couldn’t be any more beautiful. They melted together: lips, arms, torso, legs. It didn’t matter. They were together, they were one, they were perfect.

Epilogue


16 months later…



Spike sat behind his desk, diligently working. Proud that the company did a total turn around in the past couple years. The stockholders were happy, the employees ecstatic, and most of all Spike was happy. The silver band on his left finger glinting in the fading daylight brought his thoughts from work. Running a hand through his bleached hair, Spike smiled to himself. This life, his life, was wonderful and couldn’t get any better. He looked at the picture on his desk and smiled. It was their three-month anniversary today and he wanted to go home.



Gathering up the paperwork to bring it home, he closed his black leather briefcase, a Christmas gift from Buffy. Spike walked past his secretary and out to his car. Oh life was good! The sun was out, birds sang their melody, and he was going to see his wife. Spike drove through the streets easily and headed to the gallery. He stopped on the way to pick up a dozen blood red roses for Buffy. He hopped out of the car and headed into the gallery. Dawn glanced up when he entered the front of the store. She had graduated college and stayed on to help Buffy with the business management side of it. Grateful that she freed Buffy up for more important things like him, Spike always had a smile for the kid. “Hey, Spike. She went home early.” Dawn said quickly, avoiding eye contact.



“Is she alright?” Spike set the roses down and looked at her.



“Um, yeah. All right. Just a little woozy.” Dawn turned around, and started to shuffle papers.



“Dawn?” Spike growled her name.



Dawn sighed, she hoped he wouldn’t come into the store today she hated lying. “She’s fine Spike.” Spike eyed the girl warily and picked the roses back up. He walked out without saying goodbye, his thoughts directed totally on Buffy. The past week she had been whiney and picky. Nothing he did seemed to please her. Spike wondered if she came down with a flu or a cold.



Driving up to their house, Spike’s wedding present to Buffy, he cut the engine off. The house, a two story three bedroom colonial sat on a quiet cul-de-sac. Buffy parleyed the enclosed sunroom as her new studio. Her argument was that it was best to paint in natural light. She gave him the basement, allowing him to decorate it as his. Black paint, a brand-new stereo system, built in speakers, wide screen T.V., wet bar, and a leather couch transformed it into what Buffy lovingly nicknamed ‘The Crypt.’ Spike let Buffy make all the rest of the design choices in the house. She always asked his opinion, but Spike insisted she had better taste and if the design didn’t include flowers, he would be all right.



He quickly walked through the garage and into the house. The kitchen was dark, as the rest of the first floor. Stepping up to the second floor, Spike spied a light on their empty spare bedroom. They hadn’t gotten to decorate it yet. Spike walked into the room, surprised to see Buffy laying on the floor with her hands behind her head. Her legs swayed a bit as she hummed a childhood song. “Buffy?” She jumped a bit when he spoke, she didn’t hear him run through the house. She greeted him with a bright smile and patted the carpet next to her. Her engagement and wedding ring glinted in the light. Spike came in and sat down next to her. Grinning, he swooped down to capture her lips. “What are you doing in here, petal?”



Buffy smiled again and looked around, “What do you think? Green walls?”



“To match your eyes?” Spike teased and lay down on his side, facing her. His head propped up on one hand, allowing his other to play with her hair.



“Hmm, no, not to match my eyes.” She looked shyly over at Spike. His face was alight with curiosity. He bent down to nuzzle her cheek. “I was thinking green is pretty neutral and cheery.”



Confused, Spike propped his head up again, “I thought we decided to keep the rooms white until we figure out what to do with them.”



“Well, I know what we are doing with this one.” Buffy smiled and laid her hands on her stomach, watching Spike.



“Another studio? Pet, don’t you think two is enough?” Spike teased Buffy.



“No, not another studio. I thought you loved my paintings?”



“I do, love. So not another studio. What then?”



“A bedroom.” Buffy looked at the ceiling, suppressing her smile. Sometimes he was so dense.



“Another bedroom? He already have ours and the guest room. We don’t need another bedroom.” Spike pouted.



“Yes we do.” Buffy took her hand and reach for his. She brought his palm to her stomach and let it rest. “Or, to be exact in eight months we will.”



Spike’s eyes widened in comprehension, “Do you mean? Are you?”



“Pregnant? Yes, I am.” Spike moved so fast, Buffy didn’t even see him. He covered her face in kisses and his hands explored her stomach. Every inch of her was covered by the time Spike came up for air, both panting with want and need.



“Oh my god, am I hurting you?” Spike slid off of Buffy quickly, afraid he had done something.



“No, it’s ok. I’m ok.” Buffy rolled on top of Spike, straddling his hips. “I’m more than ok.”



Spike grinned up at her with his hands on her hips. She looked radiant. Her golden hair tousled from his fingers, lips swollen from his kisses, and eyes dreaming of their child. Naked desire flared in his eyes. Buffy say the moment when the mood changed. His hands stilled and his pupils dilated. Smiling as sweetly as she could, Buffy swiveled her hips on his, grinding her groin into his growing erection. Spike whispered, “Guess we’re going to have to celebrate.”



“I supposed we have to.” Buffy smiled and started to unbutton Spike’s shirt. His tie already gone, she displayed his chest. “Mmm, celebrate it real nice.”



Buffy squealed as Spike rolled them on the floor, switching positions. “No alcohol for you, so what does that leave us? Seems to me, Mrs. Winthrop, someone is a little over dressed.” Spike quickly divested Buffy of her clothes, leaving his panting and writhing on the carpet below him. He shucked out of his pants and boxers rapidly



Lying down, Spike watched Buffy. Her skin glittered with perspiration, and eyes watching him watch her. Everyday, he fell more in love with her. Her strength, her energy, her enthusiasm. Buffy, knowing he had slipped into his poetic and reflective thought reached out and grasped his cock. Squeezing it lightly, she ran her thumb around the tip. “Think someone wants to join the celebration.”



Groaning, Spike touched her breast reverently. “It’s hard to believe that there’s someone growing inside you.” Spike’s lips touched hers. Breaking away, he continued, “In a few months these will be ripe and full with milk.” His head bent and he sucked her nipple into his mouth. “Mmm, delicious.” Spike moved his head to her other nipple, laving it with the same treatment the other on received. He inhaled her sweet scent. Such power and grace, the best part was it was his. Buffy wrapped her legs around Spike when he moved over her. Wanting and needing to feel him slide into her. Feeling his thrusts. Spike moaned when Buffy positioned him right at her entrance, not leaving her intent a mystery. Sliding over her, he captured her mouth, sucking on her bottom lip. Simultaneously, he sunk down, penetrating her. Twin sighs of relief echoed through the empty room.



Moving gently, Spike’s eyes watched Buffy’s. Blue and green collided, speaking to each other. Buffy’s hips moved, meeting Spike’s. The energy swirled around them, creating a cocoon of love. Spike shifted, allowing deeper penetration, hitting Buffy’s g-spot just right. Her eyes widened as the pleasure overwhelmed her. She felt her muscles start to contract, free from her mind, the fluttered around Spike. Feeling the exquisite contraction of her muscles, Spike fell over the precipice, too, spilling his seed into her womb. Rolling over, Spike brought Buffy up on his chest to rest.



Oh, yes, his life just got better.

The End

A/N: I would like to thank everyone that enjoyed and reviewed this story. If you like my writing style, please check out my other owrk on this site and Sinfully Yours Fictions