William “Spike” Pratt sat back in his luxurious lean back chair, head back and hands gripping the armrests of the chair.

“Arghhh!” he roared for his audience of one and jerked, once, twice, three times before his whole body fell lax.

“Blondie bear,” his audience scolded, crawling out from under his desk and wiping her mouth. “Everyone’s gonna know what you were doing if you keep screaming like that.” Harmony Kendall stood and smirked at him saucily as she adjusted her skirt. “Such a bear you are when you scream like that.”

“Harm? Did you clean me off the way I like?” Spike asked, ignoring her complaints. He had to get back to work now and didn’t care to hear her concerns. He owned the damn company and if he wanted to get a blow job in the middle of the day by his receptionist, he would. They could all screw for all he cared, his needs came first. If they wanted a happy boss, then it was best he got his rocks off when he could.

Rolling her brown eyes, Harmony tossed her honey blond hair over her shoulder and held it like a pony tail in one hand while she set to work sucking up the remnants of cum on his shiny cock. Spike moaned in blissful delight and had flashes of a certain other honey blond doing the same kind of service for him – though he had a hard time picturing that one doing this sort of thing. She was much too sweet, much too kind, and much too innocent for that sort of thing. Before long, Spike was hard again and Harmony hunkered down on him, trying to quickly get him off, most likely fearing another roar.

This time, Spike had to bite his lip from screaming the name of the girl he’d been thinking of, and when Harmony had done her job, and well this time, he quickly stood and tucked himself back in his pants, thinking it was a good thing no one could see inside his office.

“Thanks, babe,” Spike said, bustling the girl to the door before she started cooing and doting on him the way she always did after a tryst.

“Blondie bear, stop!” Harmony yanked herself free from his grip so she could face him. Placing her hands on his chest, she pouted up at him. “Are you coming to my house tomorrow?”

“Harm--”

“Say you will, Spikey, please? It’s Christmas tomorrow and you shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m not going to be alone, luv. Making the rounds tomorrow, you know that. Got lots of people to see.”

Harmony’s pout deepened. “You mean all your other girlfriends?”

Spike grinned rakishly. “Come now, luv; don’t be a bad sport. You know I need you.”

“Yeah, you need me to suck you off in the middle of the day.”

“Now, that’s not true!” he exclaimed with a mock gasp. “Sometimes I need that delectable pussy of yours too.”

Harmony glared at him. “You’re impossible. Just say you’ll come, Spikey. Just come for a little while. I want you to meet my parents…please?”

Inwardly, Spike cringed though he tried hard to keep his expression from showing the aversion to that request. “Sure, pet. I’ll come by. Round two, okay?”

Squealing and clapping her hands together in delight, Harmony jumped up and down and peppered his face with kisses.

“All right then, luv. Off you go, back to work,” and he swatted her behind to get her going.

“We’re closing early today right?”

“Yes, just another hour to go.”

Smiling happily, Harmony bounded off and Spike sagged in relief. Now he just had to come up with a good excuse for why he couldn’t meet the Kendall clan the following day.

He was ready to return some calls so he and his staff could call it a day, when the object of his fantasy while receiving his blow for the day, came bustling in the door. She wore a pencil straight black, mid-calf length skirt and a white button down with a black cardigan over it. Spike itched to learn what was underneath all the prim and properness. Her hair, the hair he’d imagined brushing his thighs earlier, was pulled back in a ponytail and he had the urge to pull it out.

“Buffy Summers, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he greeted her, a little too enthusiastically judging by the look she gave him.

She smiled, “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Pratt--”

“William,” he corrected, his blue eyes twinkling at her.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. William--” she stopped talking off his chuckle.

Grabbing her hand, noting the softness of her skin, like silk, he led her to the sofa’s on the far end of his office, the sofa’s that had a spectacular view of Boston Common and all its Christmas glory. He frowned when she pulled from his grasp abruptly and he continued on, trying not to call attention to it.

“Call me just William, Buffy,” he told her and gestured for to sit. “How many times have I asked you to call me that?”

She sat, notepad in hand, stiff as a board, peering up at him with hesitant green eyes. “I think I’d like to stick with Mr. Pratt.”

“Give me a Christmas present, and call me William. What can I do for you, Goldilocks?”

She frowned slightly at that and looked down. The look did not go unnoticed by Spike and he frowned in response.

“Goldilocks?” she asked, blinking.

“Your hair reminds me of spun gold. What’s wrong? Not used to receiving compliments? Doesn’t your boyfriend pay you compliments?”

She shook her head, “I do not have a boyfriend, and that’s not important. Mr.—William,” she shook her head, as if clearing it and Spike had to bite back a chuckle. God, she was adorable. “Mr. Wood called about his book. He wants to redo chapter four. Again.”

“How is it that you don’t have a boyfriend?”

She blinked up at him. “Honestly, Mr. Pratt, if I knew the answer to that, I would have one, now wouldn’t I? Now please, let’s focus on this so we can go home --”

He grinned. “You’ve got some sass, I like it. Call me William.”

She sighed and he could see she was getting frustrated. The idea of being on the receiving end of Buffy Summers’ anger turned him on for some wild reason. “Fine. William. Have you had a chance to look over the edits? I think you should talk to him about redoing the chapter, we don’t want it to disrupt the entire flow of the book--”

“Because you are a beautiful woman, Buffy. How old are you?” he continued on, ignoring her talk of business.

He wasn’t worried about damn Robin Wood and his sodding memoirs about being a principal. If the man hadn’t changed every week what chapter he wanted to redo, Spike and his publishing company, “Pratt & Co.”, could have proceeded with the publishing already. Wood could wait. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was today, perhaps the fact that it was Christmas and he was going to spend it alone in his apartment – his choice, however --or, if it was that he’d just been thinking of her while Harmony went down on him, but he was unwilling to deter himself from the task of flirting with Buffy.

“I’m thirty,” she stated quietly, looking down.

Only five years younger than I am, he thought. Kneeling before her, Spike tilted her head up, making her look at him. “What’s wrong, luv?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, of course,” he said softly, getting lost in her beauty. He had to resist the urge to sweep a finger down her funny shaped nose, just to feel it.

“I don’t think you should be talking to me about this sort of thing. It’s . . . unprofessional,” she said firmly, looking up at him.

“Now, Buffy. You’ve been working for me for how long?”

“A year.”

“Right, a year. And I’d like to think we’re friends. Aren’t we friends? We talk everyday.”

“We’re…co-workers,” she replied softly, refusing to meet his eyes, “I’m your secretary, we have to talk.”

He recoiled slightly. “I like to think we’re friends.”

“Impossible.”

“How is that impossible?” he demanded, getting angry.

“Because I won’t have sex with you,” she blurted out, and then immediately, her eyes widened and her hand clamped over her mouth.

Spike, for the first time in his life, was completely rendered speechless. All he could do was stare at her in complete shock.

“Y-you d-don’t h-have to have sex with me to b-be my friend!” he sputtered, frustrated that it took him that long to get that sentence out. God, it was a throwback to his nerd of Potsie-like proportions days.

“I think I should go,” Buffy muttered, looking completely horrified and stood.

“Wait!” Spike called to her, still kneeling.

Buffy stopped abruptly, her back to him, her small form trembling.

“Look at me, please.”

She turned slowly at the same time he stood and they faced one another. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Can you have a seat, Buffy?” he asked quietly, gesturing to the chair that was reserved for clients.

She nodded, gulping and sat with her head down.

“Look at me,” he demanded softly.

She looked up at him as he came nearer and the expression on his face tore at his heart strings. She was positively fearful of him, no doubt afraid she was about to get the axe before Christmas. Like he’d do that to the best secretary and best up and coming editor he’d met in a real long time.

“Buffy, you don’t have to sleep with me to be my friend and I’m not sure where that idea came from in the--”

“Harmony talks,” she interrupted.

“What?” Spike whispered. Shit, did he now need to worry about a sexual harassment suit? That chit really needed to keep her trap shut.

“Harmony talks,” she said again. “And…sometimes it’s not that hard to figure out what you do in here with her. And Darla, and Anya and--”

“Yeah, I got it, Buffy, thanks,” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “Darla and Anya don’t even work here!”

“No, but they visit often. Darla every Monday and Wednesday, and Anya every Tuesday and Thursday. The schedule you have is actually quite impressive. Especially with Harmony’s break at noon--”

“Buffy.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Then why did you tell me to shut up?”

“’Cause I don’t want to hear it!”

“But it’s the truth!” she yelled back at him.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with us not being able to be friends, Buffy.”

“No, but…William, I’m…I can’t be your friend.”

“Why?” he asked hoarsely.

“I’d rather not say.”

“Your job is on the fucking line if you don’t!” he growled, ignoring the voice that warned him he was treading on thin ice – and not just harassment-wise, but sending Buffy recoiling from him further-wise.

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Because you break my heart,” she whispered and stood, fleeing the room.

Chapter Two: Ghost of Women Past

Spike arrived home that night feeling weary and contemplative. It had started snowing on the way home, something that usually made him smile, but on this particular evening, he didn’t care to revel in it. His thoughts were on Buffy, what she’d said and how he’d upset her enough to leave the office for the rest of the day. Something she’d never done even when she was sick and he ordered her to go home.

What had she meant by “Because you break my heart”? Had he unintentionally done it already? His own picked up speed at the thought. Was it possible that Buffy had feelings for him? The thought was thrilling and daunting at the same time. Thrilling because this was Buffy, a wet dream come to life, and he found her simply fascinating. She stood for everything he was not and everything the women he took up with were not: innocence, purity and light. He didn’t wish to taint her, didn’t want to drag her down in his world of darkness and break her heart as he most certainly would. Or already had as the case may be. Therein laid the daunting aspect of Buffy possibly having feelings for him.

Staring out as his spacious luxury apartment, Spike sighed. He loved his apartment. He took great pains to make sure it was homey enough for him. It held the color schemes he loved –- red, cream, black and silver-- and it was adorned with posters of old movies and covers of favorite books he’d had framed. He loved being at home. He never minded being alone. Now he did, though, now he minded.

He’d been hoping to elicit a night of fun with any one of his mistresses, but they had family gatherings to attend and with the exception of Harmony, he was not invited. Usually, he didn’t mind, but tonight he did. Tonight he wanted a warm body to lose himself in, to reaffirm that he was a powerful and rich man that could have anything he so chose, and being free of commitments was what he chose.

Pressing the button on his answering machine his father’s voice, another William, rang out. “William, my boy. It’s your father. Your mother and I are attempting one last time to persuade you to come out here and spend the holidays with your family. Surely you can put aside work to spend some time with your parents and siblings. Call me.”

Spike sighed and sank into his stiff black sofa and kicked off his shoes, sinking his sock covered toes into the plush cream carpet. He stared blankly at his Hi-Def TV mounted on the wall and shook his head. The last thing he needed was to spend the holidays with his family in England. To have to see his siblings married with kids, with a family that they nurtured and loved, and to know that he had nothing and somehow fell short despite his successes because of it. It was just too much for Spike to handle. Inevitably, they’d all ask when he was going to settle down and he’d fight them tooth and nail about it. He didn’t need to settle down. He had sex, he had women in his life, he didn’t need to fucking settle down! He’d given up those pipe dreams a long time ago. William of old no longer existed thank-you-very-much, marriage and all that rot was just a means of control and he wanted no part of it. Period. End of story.

One would think though that if he were perfectly happy with that conclusion, he’d have no problem defending his lifestyle and seeing his family. Growling, Spike got up and started to pace. Okay, so there was no reason why he had to spend tonight alone, even if he had chosen to spend Christmas alone. And, he could always take Harmony up on her offer if he found himself desperate the following day. But, for now, he was feeling pretty desperate so he decided it was time to score some tail.

********

Spike barely registered the female leaving his red and black bedroom, dropping a quick kiss and a thank you on her way out the door. He didn’t even remember her name, and it didn’t matter much either. He wanted some action and he got some action, someone to make him feel good and forget about Buffy for a spell. Though, he hadn’t exactly forgotten Buffy in his travels. She’d still been there, tormenting him with her angelic qualities the entire night. So, he’d chosen a brunette beauty and she’d delivered with all the naughty deeds he’d been itching to engage in.

Rolling over in his black silk sheets, Spike promptly fell into a deep sleep, his mind too tired to contemplate anything anymore.

********

“Wake up, bad boy…wake up, up, up!”

Spike groaned and rolled from his back to his side, trying to block out the annoying and yet disturbingly familiar voice chirping in his room.

“Wake up, my Spike.”

There was only one woman that ever said that and now he knew why that voice was familiar. He sat up like a shot in bed. “Dru?”

She giggled from her spot on top of his dresser, dressed in a long black skirt and red lace top, her dark hair pinned back and her red lips formed in a perfectly crazy sneer. “Hello, my Spike.”

“What the bloody fuck are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Tsk, tsk. Such bad language,” Dru admonished, twitching a finger back and forth.

“I’ll have worse fucking language than that if you don’t start talking! I’ll have the police on your ass you crazy bint--”

“It’d be difficult to arrest a ghost, don’t you think?” she asked, fluttering her lashes innocently.

“What?” he asked hoarsely. Sure he pretty much hated the bitch now, but that didn’t mean he wished her dead.

“I am not actually your Dru. I just look like her.”

“Why?” Spike asked slowly.

“Because I am the Ghost of Women Past, and Dru was a large part of you past, was she not?”

“You’re what?”

“The Ghost of Women Past. I, William, am the first of two others specter’s that will visit you tonight.”

“Why?” he whispered, fearful. “What is this? A sodding Dickens novel?”

Dru smiled. “We’re going to show you.”

“Show me what?”

She smiled eerily. “You’ll see. Get up, get dressed. I’ll even turn my head.”

“I don’t want to,” he said petulantly.

“Do you want to travel naked then, William, hmmm?”

“N-no.”

“Then get up and get dressed. And dress warm, will you?”

Spike wasn’t sure why he was doing this and where they were going, but with extreme reluctance he crawled out of bed and dressed. Something told him that she’d keep good on her suggestion to travel with him naked if he didn’t do as asked.

Slipping on his black jeans, black t-shirt, socks, shoes and duster, Spike was ready to go, albeit very reluctantly.

“Where are we--” And the room spun before he could get the question out. As if watching a play, before him was himself, sitting at a seedy punk bar, nursing a beer.

This scene seemed achingly familiar.

“What are you showing me?” Spike whispered to Dru, or the Ghost that looked like Dru, rather.

“Just watch,” she purred.

“Can they see us?”

“No one can see or hear us.”

Spike’s belly clenched as he watched his Dru, his once upon a time Dark Princess, stroll into the bar as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She was wearing the same outfit as the Ghost had on.

Arrows penetrated Spike’s heart. He knew what was about to happen, and like witnessing a car wreck, he found it difficult to turn away.

“William,” Dru purred to Spike sitting at the bar, settling down next to him, a seductive grin on her ruby red lips, her eyes painted dark.

Spike looked up at her, “Sod off.”

“Now, now, don’t be like that. Why are you being like that?”

“You were with another man in our bed, Dru. How did you think I’d be after seeing that?”

Dru clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You silly boy, Mommy needs to have her fun. You need to learn to share like a good boy. Good boys share Mommy.”

Spike, the Spike watching the scene, wanted to shake his old self for he was starting to cry like a ponce. He watched in horror as his former self turned to Dru and began pleading with her.

“Why, Dru, why? You and I, we were forever. We’re perfect for one another, yeah? Why do you have to be with other blokes? Don’t I keep you satisfied?”

Dru laughed derisively. “Oh, William. You have much to learn. You have kept me satisfied in all that you do…all that I’ve had to teach you. I made you into who you are. For that, you shouldn’t be so unhappy with me. You should be grateful. I made you Spike. I made you.”

It was true. She had. She’d taken an unpopular miserable sod and turned him into someone people stood up and noticed. William was a geek; Spike was a force to be reckoned with. And it was all under Drusilla’s tutelage, all under her guidance, for she saw him, saw the man underneath the glasses and mop of hair. And in one fell swoop, on that fateful day, he’d lost her.

Spike shut his eyes as he watched the scene he knew all too well. The scene of his heart breaking and of him making Drusilla decide between him and the other bloke, only to have her choose the other bloke, later on finding out, there were many blokes.

“I can’t watch this anymore,” Spike told the ghost. “I can’t watch him beg. He’s pathetic.”

“He’s you.”

“I know he’s me!”

“Dru,” he heard himself say. “It’s me or him. I can’t share you like that. I won’t.”

“Grow a set!” Spike shouted at his former self. “Stop crying and whining like a bitch!”

Looking at him sympathetically, Dru patted him on the head and said simply, “Him.” She trotted off then, once again as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

The Spike in the bar sobbed in his beer, and the Spike watching turned away in disgust. “Get me out of here, please,” he whispered to the ghost, shutting his eyes.

“Do you remember what happened after this?” Dru the Ghost asked.

Spike glared at her. “I took up with Winifred.”

“Ahh..” Dru smiled knowingly. “The nice woman who wanted nothing more than to mend your broken heart.”

“Look--”

“Spike, please don’t go. We can work this out!” Winifred.

Spike’s head snapped to the new scene unfolding before him. They were in Winifred’s, or rather Fred’s, very pink bedroom. Her hair was mussed and black mascara was running down her cheeks. She was on the bed, sitting up, the covers pulled up over her lap and she had a tank top on. His other self was zipping up and throwing a t-shirt on.

“Sorry, babe, I gotta go. Thanks for the last shag though,” he drawled and sauntered out, carrying his shoes.

“But I just told you I loved you!” Fred shouted to him and burst into tears, sobbing her hear out.

Spike shut his eyes at the sight. He’d done that to her? He’d hurt her that bad? He hadn’t even realized. “I’m sorry, Fred,” he whispered, sitting on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry I was such an ass. I didn’t mean to…I was hurt too…” Seeing how he’d left her so callously while she sobbed her heart out, tugged at his long frozen heart strings.

Winifred had been so kind to him, so patient and understanding. She’d let him unload on her about Dru and his heartbreak. He’d even cried in her arms. But then she’d gone and told him she loved him. That had been it for him. He didn’t want to be in a serious relationship; he just wanted to blow through them the way Dru had blown through him.

Shutting his eyes, he pleaded with the ghost; the sound of Fred’s crying breaking his heart, “Take me out of here, please.”

“Maybe this will be more to your liking, hmmm?”

Opening his eyes, Spike found a girl with honey blond hair standing before him, her back to him. She was hunched over some kind of table with blue yoga pants stained with blotches of paint and a tight white t-shirt in the same state. She wore no shoes and before her on a high wall was a sheet, hanging down.

“Buffy,” he breathed and came round the table to drink her in. After what he’d just seen, she was a sight for sore eyes. She would never have done what Dru did to him, never, and he could never conceive of doing to her what he did to Fred. And yet her words from earlier that day came back to him Because you break my heart.

He chuckled when he saw what she was doing. She had her hands dipped in gooey paint in a paint tray; there were about four trays, all different colors: red, blue, yellow and green. Her hair fell around her face, hiding her from his hungry gaze, but he could tell she was young. His eyes drifted back to her form. Underneath those pencil skirts and buttoned up to the neck blouses, was a luscious body, just as he’d suspected.

“How old is she?” he asked Dru.

“Eighteen.”

Same age I was when Dru dumped me.

“She’s so beautiful,” Spike gushed.

“Isn’t she?” Dru mused. “She’s all relaxed and--”

“Happy,” Spike finished. “She looks happy.”

And, as if she’d heard him, Buffy looked up, her hair falling back from her face and she narrowed her eyes at the sheet. Spike smiled, excited to see what she was going to do. She lifted her hands covered in blue paint and with determined strides, made her way to her ‘canvas’ and smeared her hands on the sheet. She giggled and hummed in delight and Spike couldn’t help but laugh.

“I want to join her!” he exclaimed.

“Her fun is contagious,” Dru commented and smiled sweetly.

“Buffy, Scott’s here to see you.”

Spike scowled. Who dared interrupt her fun, which was now his fun, and who the bleeding hell was Scott?

Both Buffy and Spike looked over to find a dark haired girl that looked to be about ten, standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened with mischief at the sight of Buffy’s hands splayed on the sheet.

“Don’t even think about it, Dawn,” Buffy told her. “Can you let him in here?”

Spike was bewildered. He didn’t know she had a sister!

Grumbling, Dawn went to get Scott and Spike crossed his arms, “That’s right; now we’ll get a good look at who this Scott is.”

A minute later, a dark haired fellow with gray eyes came waltzing in, dressed as if he’d just walked out of The Gap.

Spike snorted. That was not Buffy’s type at all, and that fact was nailed even further home when Scott made a disgusted face while watching Buffy smear her hands in the red paint.

“Buffy, I wanted to talk with you…” the boy started.

“Sure, Scott. About what?”

Spike had to chuckle, Buffy was barely paying him any mind; apparently this Scott guy didn’t matter much to her.

“I—we—I want to break up with you.”

Spike’s eyes widened and Buffy froze. She looked up at him. “What?” she asked.

“I think we should break up,” Scott amended. “I mean, you’re going off to college, I’m going off to college. I think we should see other people.”

Buffy smirked. “You mean, you want to bang other people, right?”

Scott shuffled his feet and looked down, shrugging slightly.

Coming over to him, Buffy placed a hand on his shoulder. “Scott, it’s okay. Really. I’ve wanted to break up with you for a while now anyway. I just didn’t want to hurt your delicate sensibilities. Seeing as how you cried during The Lake House the other night, I didn’t want to crush you with my refusal to sleep with you on top of my desire to no longer date you.” She spoke so gently and sympathetically, Spike almost believed she truly was sorry. The glint in her green eyes gave her away, and the words were really just dripping in sarcasm.

Scott stared at her, as if he too were trying to figure out if she was being honest when he realized, at the same time Spike did, that Buffy’s hand was covered in paint and rivulets of red were dripping down the front of his fifty dollar shirt.

“Bitch! This is my favorite shirt! ” Scott screamed at her and ran off.

Spike laughed when Buffy burst into laughter. A second later Dawn, followed by an older lady with golden hair like Buffy’s, came into the room. He had to assume it was her mother.

“Buffy, what just happened with Scott?” her mother asked, concerned.

Buffy was laughing so hard she was crying. “Oh, he broke up with me, mom. Gave me the ‘I’m going to school, you’re going to school’ spiel.”

Her mother looked confused. “Aren’t you both going to the same school?”

Buffy laughed harder. “Exactly. He’s an idiot. Good riddance! He was so high-maintenance. Anyone that takes longer than I do to get ready to go out has to go.”

Her mother laughed. “I always did think he was a bit much for you.”

“Yeah, he was a snob,” Dawn joined in.

“Buffy, honey, why don’t you wash up and help me with dinner? Dawn has agreed to set the table.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” Buffy chirped.

Cupping the side of her face with her hand, Buffy’s mom looked at her imploringly. “Sure you’re not hurt sweetheart?”

Buffy smiled, “I’ll all right, Mom, honestly.”

“What do you say we use it as an excuse to gorge ourselves on ice cream and go shopping after dinner? I’m sure your father won’t mind.”

Buffy smiled brilliantly. “Can we go to the bookstore?”

Her mom smiled, “Of course.”

“Can I come?” Dawn chimed in.

Buffy grinned, “Of course, brat!”

Spike took a step to follow Buffy as she started out of the room followed by her sister and mother, and he ended up stepping back into his bedroom.

“I wanted to see more!” he shouted at Dru.

Dru shrugged and plopped herself back down on the dresser. “That’s all you needed to see. A window into her world.”

Spike smiled wistfully. “She seemed so happy. So content. She didn’t beg him for another chance, she just let him go.”

“Buffy was a very together girl at that age. She marched to the tune of a different drummer and no one got in her way.”

Sitting down on his bed, Spike nodded wistfully. “I wish I could have been like that. Happy with who I was. Instead I was miserable and took up with the likes of…well, you.”

Dru laughed, “Not me, it was her. I’m just a form of her.”

“Yeah, just the same though,” he muttered.

“Best that you get some rest now, Spike. The other two will be here soon,” and with that Dru disappeared.

“But why did you show me her?” he demanded, calling out to the Ghost. “Why did you show me her?” he whispered. Not that he hadn’t appreciated seeing her; he’d been granted a gift by seeing a window into her world and he found he was full of all sorts of questions: Did she still paint? What happened to Scott? Did she get another boyfriend soon after? Did she have many boyfriends? Did she ever suffer from self-doubt the way he did?

Crawling back into his bed, he stared up at the ceiling thinking how different life would have been had he not cared so much about being popular and sought after. Buffy had been a free spirit at eighteen, and he had been nothing but miserable. It wasn’t as if he’d had any reason to be miserable either. He had family dinners like the Summers’ did, he loved his parents the way Buffy seemed to, and he enjoyed his siblings…to a point. He said to a point for his siblings were stars and he’d been boring and drab William. He’d wanted to shine like them, wanted to be the star of the family. And now…now he was nothing more than the black sheep. He wasn’t the “good son” anymore. Course, to him being the “good son” meant plain and nerdy, to them though, he’d been reliable and dependable.

Not any longer. Now they felt they couldn’t count on him for anything, and he could hear the sadness when he’d call and cancel on the big holidays and fail to call after a major even in their lives. He hurt them.

And I hurt myself, was the last thought Spike had just before he fell back to sleep.

Chapter Three: Ghost of Women Present

“Blondie bear, it’s time to wake u-up!!”

Spike shot up in bed once more, his eyes wide. He felt more than just a little disoriented and seeing Harmony standing at the foot of his bed caused him to feel even more disoriented.

“Harm? When did you get here?” he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

“I just got here.”

“Oh? Why don’t you let yourself out, eh? Your blondie bear needs some sleep,” and he nestled back in bed.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Mister!”

His bed started to shake and her laughter filled the room.

Spike was up and out of bed in a flash and, staring down at himself fully dressed; it all started coming back to him. He looked up at Harmony. “Shit.”

Spreading her arms wide, Harmony the Ghost sang, “Ghost of Women Present!”

“Oh fuck me,” Spike muttered and sank back onto the bed that was no longer shaking.

“Nope, sorry, not here for that!”

“Okay, I realize that you’re taking her form or whatever, but could you refrain from talking in constant exclamation points like her?”

Harmony the Ghost glared at him. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Spike fell to the ground when he was no longer on his bed, but nearly falling off his desk at work.

“Arrggghhh!”

He spun to find himself getting the customary daily blowjob from Harmony. He watched himself cum in her mouth and then watched her stand, having to crawl from under the desk as if she were some kind of slave.

“Harm?” his other self said and pointed to his cock.

Immediately, Harmony knelt down and cleaned him up. Spike, the real Spike, grimaced. Why did she do that? Why did he do that? God, he was treating her like a piece of meat! He’d never realized how awful it was until he saw it, outside of himself.

“Now be a good girl and run off to work,” his other self said, patting Harmony on the head like a dog.

Harmony sighed. “But Spikey…” she pouted.

“Come on now, I’ve got calls to make.”

Harmony nodded and turned to walk slowly out of his office.

“We follow her,” Harmony’s ghostly self said and led him out of the room, following Harmony who ran to the break room and sobbed.

“Oh Christ,” Spike swore, watching the girls shoulders shake. “I knew she liked me, but I always thought she was just clingy!” he exclaimed, defending himself. “I didn’t know she cared this much!”

“So it was all right when you didn’t know she cared this much?” Harmony the Ghost asked, gesturing to its human version.

“Harmony?”

Spike whirled to see Tara, a fellow co-worker come in. “Are you all right?”

“I – I just want him to love me!” Harmony exclaimed and sobbed harder. “I try so hard, but he only wants me to blow and fuck him.”

Tara’s soft chocolate eyes were sad as she patted Harmony’s back. “Why don’t you try not doing those things?” she suggested gently.

Harmony shook her head, “Then he’d just find someone else. At least I’m part of the line up,” she said sadly.

Spike wanted to throw up. God, that was disgusting. Of him! That was disgusting of him!

“And now,” and Harmony the Ghost snapped her fingers. Suddenly, they were back in his office and his other self was pounding Darla into the desk, her screams spurring his other self on.

It was erotic, Spike had to admit, and yet, he was finding the whole experience surreal and any stirring of lust he might have felt had been tamped down by the knowledge that Harmony was in the other room at that moment, sobbing, while he fucked Darla.

Sure Harm was annoying; a nag and a bother and was pretty much a ditz, but…but she had feelings too. She loved him for Christ’s sake. Him! That in itself proved what a ditz she was, and yet, it tore at him. He thought she knew the score…

Okay, so she did want him to meet the parents and she did always try to spend more time with him, but he thought she knew…

“Oh, that was sinful!” Darla gushed, pushing his other self off her and immediately reaching for her clothes.

Naked Spike sat watching her appreciatively. “It was. So, maybe you want to come over later and have a repeat of that?”

“No can do, babe. I’ve got to attend some charity benefit,” she rolled her eyes.

“So, come over after then.”

“Are you getting soft on me now?” Darla smirked at him, zipping up her skirt.

“Tonight’s my birthday,” his other self whispered.

Spike shut his eyes. He remembered that time; it had been just a few months before. He was feeling particularly low that day and was reaching for Darla to keep him company outside their arrangement. He remembered the hurt he’d felt when she accused him of going soft; as if he weren’t allowed to, as if he weren’t allowed to have other needs beyond sex.

And really, had he ever allowed himself to? How sad was it that he had been feeling particularly alone and low that day and Harmony was in the next room feeling alone and low as well? All because of him. He reached for the person that didn’t give a shit about him, while he shoved away the one that did.

“Christ,” he swore and as soon as the words were out, he was in a place he only vaguely recognized. “Where are we?” he whispered as he fought to remember why this place looked so familiar.

“Dawn, I thought you were coming home. We’ve had this planned for months!”

Buffy. Buffy’s studio apartment! Of course. He had taken her home one time when she had been violently ill and he’d worried that she wouldn’t make it home in one piece. Her place was small and a tad on the dark side. He could see homey touches here and there—a worn out sofa with an inviting afghan draped over it, ratty chairs that promised to swallow you whole. Pictures of her mother and Dawn scattered the walls interspersed with arty posters much like he owned.

Like a moth to his flame, he sought her out, whistling low when he caught sight of her. She was sitting on her full sized bed, her phone pressed to her ear. Her hair was down, just the way it had been when he’d seen her at eighteen, and she wore light makeup that accentuated her eyes. What she wore really blew Spike’s mind. His eyes traveled up her form starting at the black stiletto’s she wore to the black hose to the short, black, flared velvet skirt to the shimmery red v-neck that was speckled with gold. She was simply breathtaking and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She truly was a wet dream come to life!

And now she was pouting into the phone, a sadness crossing her features that was reminiscent from earlier that day.

“Is this happening now?” Spike asked, concerned.

“Well, it happened earlier,” Harmony told him.

“Dawn, I know you love him. But, Dawn…I really wanted you to be here,” Buffy was saying into the phone.

“What’s happening?” Spike asked quietly, watching in despair as a tear made its path down Buffy’s cheek.

“Her sister has decided to spend the holidays with her boyfriend instead of with Buffy.”

“What about her mum and dad?”

“Her mother died a year and a half ago and her father left the girls; he remarried and started a new life in California.”

“God, no,” Spike whispered. “I didn’t know any of this.” His eyes swept the room. “I remember giving her a raise after seeing this place. Surely she can afford something bigger!”

“She is paying for more than an apartment now,” Harmony informed him.

“What else is she paying for?” he demanded.

“Dawn is in college and Buffy is helping put her through.”

“What about their father?”

“He wants no part in their lives.”

“That sodding wanker--”

“I’m sorry…No, I don’t mean to make you feel guilty. I know…I know you need to relax and have fun.”

“God, no,” Spike whispered hoarsely as he watched Buffy crumble and fight to not let her sister on to it.

“I gotta go, Dawn. Yeah, I’m gonna call Tara. Call me--” she held the phone from her ear, staring down at it. “Tomorrow.”

Shutting her phone, Buffy gave into the tears.

“Can’t I do something instead of just stand here and watch? Can’t I touch her? Hold her? Something? Anything?” Spike demanded of Harmony who kept shaking her head. “What kind of fucking ghosts are you? How can you show me this—all of what you’ve shown me and not let me do something?”

“There is plenty you can do,” Harmony said cryptically.

“Like what?”

“Just watch,” she said and pointed to Buffy who was now uncorking a bottle of wine. He watched her pour the red liquid into a nice, but plain wineglass and then down it in one gulp. He couldn’t help but smile. Then she did it again. And again.

“Fuck me, she’s gettin’ pissed!” Spike chuckled.

Walking to her bed, she bypassed her stand up mirror and stopped. She peered into it, holding her head high. “Well, hello, Mr. Pratt…”

Spike gulped.

“No, no, I insist. I will call you Mr.-- What’s that? You want to be my friend?” She broke into laughter that chilled Spike to the bone. It was derisive and haughty, and it did not coincide with Buffy’s personality at all. “You are not my friend, Mr. Pratt. I am a lady, you are,” she wrinkled her nose, “a whore.”

That punched him in the gut harder than anything he’d seen thus far. That was worse than reliving Dru. Tears rushed to his eyes. “No,” he whispered.

“I am not here for your amusement, Mr. Pratt. I am not here for you to stare at and ogle. You are here for my amusement. If you’ll excuse me, I have a date to attend to,” and she trotted off from the mirror, nearly tripping over the pink oriental in the middle of her wooden floor in the process. Almost spilling her drink, she plopped onto her bed and looked up sadly, meeting his eyes. It pained him that she could not see him. If she could, she’d see the sheer regret in his eyes.

No amount of money in the world could buy Buffy Summers’ respect. He hated it with a blind passion that that was how she saw him.

“I’m not really like that, Buffy love,” he started to tell her, his tone taking on a pleading quality, “I’m really not. I am a good guy. I know I am, at least I know I can be--”

The phone ringing interrupted him and he watched her reach for it with limp arms, her expression one of defeat.

“Hello?...Oh, hi Tara. No, she’s not here…She’s with her boyfriend and his family…No, I’m fine, really. Long day and all…”

Harmony snapped her fingers and Tara’s voice came through. “So, what did he say to you to make you leave?”

“Who? Mr. Pratt?” Buffy asked.

“Who else? He has a penchant for making the females in our office cry – and not over their jobs either, over him.”

Buffy sighed, “He didn’t say anything, really. It was what I said, what I almost …admitted.”

“What did you almost admit?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Buffy!”

“Tara, really, I’ve had a crap day. I don’t want to get into it.”

“Buffy, if you almost admitted what I think you admitted, watch yourself. He breaks hearts. That’s what he does. He’s ruthless – just like the women he seems to sleep with – with the exception of Harmony. That Darla and Anya don’t seem to have hearts at all.”

“I don’t know, Tara. I don’t think he’s really all that ruthless…I think he’s lonely.”

Tara snorted. “Lonely? You have seen the women come in and out of that office in the past year, right?”

“How can he be happy like that?”

“He’s a man.”

Money doesn’t buy you respect at all, Spike thought, hating that this was what his employees thought of him. This is what he showed the world: You can have money and power, but it doesn’t mean that those things don’t make you a gigantic arse. Seemed he was that and then some.

Buffy shook her head, a determined and knowing look on her face. “Something happened to him to make him like that. I know it’s kind of clichéd, but I really don’t think he realizes it. Maybe he doesn’t want to face it and deal with it. That man is sad. I can see it in his face. He might have a lot of women, he might even have a lot of friends, but I can see the loneliness in him. I feel sorry for him.”

“Why?” Tara asked incredulously.

“I know what it’s like to be lonely. I know what it’s like to feel sorry for yourself.”

“Buffy, come over here. Come and spend Christmas with me and my family.”

Buffy shook her head, “Not tonight. Maybe I’ll come over tomorrow okay? I’ve had too much wine right now and I think I just need to get some sleep. Maybe put on ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ as I drift off.”

“You are a brave soul, Buffy. Call me tomorrow, or I’ll call you. Good night.”

Clicking her phone shut, Buffy sighed heavily, staring off. “I’m not brave. Just too proud,” she murmured. Lying down on her bed, she curled herself in a ball. “Just like William.”

Coming over to her, Spike knelt by her side and reached out to caress her face, only to go right through her as if he were the ghost. Tears dropped from his eyes. “If I were with you, you wouldn’t be alone. I am going to make sure you’re never alone, Buffy, okay? You’re right about me…you’re right…”

An inhuman roar sounded from Spike’s throat when he found himself back in his apartment, kneeling before his own bed.

“Never thought you’d kneel before anyone, Spike,” Harmony mused.

Turning, Spike settled his eyes on her as she crossed her arms across her chest and gave him a knowing look.

“I’m sorry--” he started.

“Don’t say it to me,” Harmony told him. “Say it to them.” And with that, she was gone.

Spike knelt there, staring at his empty and lonely bed. Buffy was right. He was lonely. No matter how many women he had, he was alone. He had no one to call his own, no one that truly cared, and no one that truly saw him.

Tara thought he was happy; hell, all this time he’d tried to convince himself he was happy. But he wasn’t. Darla and Anya came to him to screw and anything outside that arrangement was laughable in their eyes. Kind of like how he treated Harmony – and look how hurt Harmony was by him. How awful was he to her? He treated her like dirt! He might as well have made her spit shine his shoes while she was down on her knees servicing him. God, why did she put up with that abuse?

Because she cares for me. She fancies herself in love with a git like me.

Harmony was going to get a raise first thing Monday morning, and an apology. Possibly a bouquet of flowers, though, that might be giving the wrong signal. Their affair was over now, as far as he was concerned, but he would make it as easy on her as possible. There would be no more hurting and abusing Harmony Kendall.

As for Anya and Darla, well, they were going to have to go. He’d quit them cold turkey. It was going to be hard, but the alternative was a continuance of the derision he received from his colleagues, and a continuance of the derision he received from Darla and Anya. They didn’t care for him; he was just a body. He did it to Harmony, they did it to him, and he was through.

Then, of course, there was Buffy. Buffy who was alone in the world, Buffy who saw through his machismo façade, Buffy who was an angel as far as he was concerned, and he wanted nothing more than to be worthy of her.

Right now, as he was, he wasn’t worthy of her. He was worthy of the scum on the bottom of her shoe maybe and that was about it.

Crawling into bed, feeling the lowest of the low, Spike planned how he was going to make Buffy Summers happy, and hopefully himself in the process. The night’s events soon took their toll and once again, he was fast asleep with visions of Buffy dancing in his head.

Chapter Four: Ghost of Women Future

Spike was cold. Scratch that, he was freezing. Shivering on his bed he reached for his covers, only to find them not there. Grumbling he sat up and that’s when he saw it: A figure all in white. Staring at it, he concluded it had to be a woman by not only the size, but from the fact that in the all white cloak, there were definitely the shape of breasts.

The cloak was almost pearlescent and the hood was long enough that it draped over the face of this Ghost.

“Lemme guess,” Spike drawled, “Ghost of Women Future?”

The Ghost nodded.

Climbing out of bed, Spike sighed heavily. “Do you talk?”

The Ghost shook her head.

“All right. I’m ready.” At that point, he just didn’t have it in him to goad the ghost into talking. He was tired and wrung out and from what he’d seen so far that night, and he was not looking forward to what else he was going to see. Though…though if he had already decided to make changes, then perhaps what she’d show him was the good things that were to come from those changes.

Slapping his hands together and rubbing them, Spike grinned. “More than ready, actually.”

*********

Spike was back in his office. This time, he stood behind where his other self sat. Facing his other self was Buffy; a resplendent Buffy in sleek black pants, and a purple v-neck top that brought out her green eyes. Her hair was draped around her shoulders and she was beaming at him.

“So, when is the big day?” his other self asked her.

“Riley wants our wedding to happen soon, he says he can’t wait to marry me.”

“Can’t say I blame him, pet.”

“William, I’d really like it if you could come.”

“Of course I’ll come. Might even bring a date. Or not. We’ll see.”

Spike watched the scene before him in abject horror. Buffy was engaged? That was not how he imagined the future at all!

“Riley really wants to meet you,” Buffy continued. “He says I sing you praise all the time and he wants to meet the man that made me into such a great editor.”

“Well, thanks,” the other Spike said graciously. “Though when I taught you all I know, I didn’t think you’d take it somewhere else.”

Buffy smiled and looked down, sheepishly. “Well, you know how it goes…”

“I do. You met him, you liked him, and obviously vice versa. So, you left.”

Buffy frowned slightly. “I’m sorry, William.”

“Don’t be. You’re happy, yeah?”

Buffy nodded, “I am.”

“I’m happy, you’re happy. We’re all happy.”

Spike frowned at his other self and came round to look at him. He didn’t look happy, and if how he was feeling was any indicator, then he knew that his other self was definitely not happy. In fact, he felt sick. He felt the way he did when Dru left him only magnified by a thousand. This was Buffy. And while he could fully admit to himself now that he knew deep down he and Dru weren’t forever as he once thought, he knew that if he were given the opportunity to be with Buffy, they would be forever. Eternal.

“You stupid sod, say something!” he shouted at his other self that just sat there, smiling cordially at Buffy. “Tell her not to marry him! Tell her you love her instead.” He froze. “Bloody hell,” he whispered. His eyes widened and he looked at the Ghost of Women Future. “I love her. I do. I love Buffy Summers.”

The Ghost did nothing, didn’t even move a muscle.

“How far is this in the future?” Spike demanded. The Ghost held up three delicate fingers. “Months?” The Ghost shook its head. “Years?” The Ghost nodded.

“If I don’t change things, this is what will happen?”

The Ghost nodded.

“But I have to know at this point that I love her. I mean…how could I not? She’s the first person I seek in the morning when I arrive, the only one I can really talk to here. When I’m not…otherwise engaged, I seek her out. I become grumpy when I don’t have a chance to talk to her and I live to make her smile at me and to make her blush and oh God, I’m in love with Buffy Summers. I mean, I knew I felt something for her before, knew I wanted to be part of her life in some way, but after all I’ve learned tonight…I’ve fallen for her. She’s an angel, my sunshine, the light in my very dark tunnel and I just want to bask in her.” He shook his head as he looked to Buffy who was now telling him all about her wedding plans and Spike watched her, sadly. “I don’t want to hurt her if she’s happy with him. Don’t want to ruin it for her. She deserves happiness with all she has to deal with. She deserves a knight to swoop in and love her wholly. If this Riley bloke is the one…who am I to stop it?”

He watched sadly as Buffy bid his other self goodbye and walked out of the office. The Ghost pointed to her and Spike followed Buffy, down the hall and to the elevator. The doors dinged open and Darla was stepping out just before Buffy came on. Buffy stared at her, blankly, and Spike shook his head, “No,” he murmured. “No.”

The Ghost was pushing him onto the elevator, and Spike happily obliged. It was where he wanted to be anyway; near Buffy to feel her warmth and sunshine. He was completely bewildered when Buffy started to cry; heart wrenching sobs that compelled him to try and hold her, and he growled when he couldn’t.

“Buffy, what is it?” he whispered.

“Oh, William…” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. “I wish things could have been different. I just couldn’t wait for you, and I can’t even trust you. We’re better off as friends…I just wish I wanted my fiancé the way I’ve always wanted you.”

“Buffy, they can be different, I swear, they can be!” Spike gushed, wanting desperately to gather her to him and comfort her. “I’m going to change, luv, I am. I’m not going to be the same anymore, you can trust me. I’d never do anything to hurt you -- I love you, Buffy, I do, and I’m going to prove it to you--”

The doors dinged open and Buffy straightened. Stepping out from the elevator, she was gathered into the arms of a tall, oafish, plain looking bloke whom he assumed was Riley.

“Hello, my love,” the man greeted her, smothering her in kisses that she did not seem to want at that moment in time. “How was your visit with William?”

“Fine, Riley,” Buffy said, trying to smile and failing miserably.

“Come on, we have lots to do this afternoon. I want to get a jump start on getting ready for our new house, doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Spike grimaced; did he have to talk to her as if she were a child?

“How about we do that later, Riley? I thought maybe we could go ice skating or--”

“Well, hon, I’ve had it in my head that this was what we were going to do today. You know how I hate going against our schedule.”

“She wants to go ice skating, you git, you take her ice skating!” Spike shouted.

Buffy sighed and nodded, “Okay, Ri.”

“Tomorrow we’ll go, okay, honey?”

“Yes, Ri.”

He took a step toward her, desperately wanting to follow her as Riley blathered on about something Buffy didn’t appear to be listening to (nor him for that matter), when he stepped back into his office. He turned to the Ghost that was next to him. “I ever tell you that I fucking hate being fooled like that? I wanted to be with her!”

“Okay, lover, I’m ready.”

Spike turned to see Darla, spread out like a Christmas feast on his desk while his other self stood, looking a tad disoriented, and fully dressed.

“I’m talking to you,” his other self said, the hurt apparent in his voice. “I was trying to tell you about Buffy’s wedding coming up.”

Darla rolled her eyes. “I don’t come here for talk, Spike. I come here for sex. I don’t date you – I have a boyfriend, remember? Now, I only have an hour, could you get over here and fuck me already?”

Spike watched in disgust as his other self started to disrobe. “Get me out of here!” he roared. “I can’t fucking watch this!”

With a snap he was back in his apartment. “I’m not going to let things happen like that,” he told the Ghost, pointing at her. “I’m not. I’m going to change things. I’m going to be what she needs – already it’s more than what that white bread is giving her.” Spike shook his head and started to pace. “Fucking schedule he has for her…she wanted to go ice skating!” He stopped and stared at the Ghost. “Do you say anything?”

The Ghost stood there, mute.

Angrily, Spike stalked over to it and whipped off the hood revealing--

“Buffy,” he breathed, gazing down at her reverently.

“Not her,” the Ghost stated.

He dropped his hands in defeat. “I know, I just…wish. She’s…she won’t be happy with him?”

“Riley is a good man, he’s just predictable. He’s safe and secure and--”

“And everything that is not me, right?” Spike murmured. “I get it. So, she’s not exactly happy and I’m…I’m just a fucking mess--”

“You’re the same, just with feelings attached. Not that you didn’t have feelings before, but well, you weren’t very good at admitting to them. You and Buffy will suffer from wanting what you think you cannot have – and for Buffy’s part, she will suffer thinking that even if she were able to get it, she wouldn’t be able to trust it. Riley is a simple man, but like I said, a good man. He supports her even if he doesn’t always listen to her.”

“I would listen,” Spike said vehemently. “I would listen to her. If my Buffy wanted to go ice skating in eighty degree heat, and there were no rinks around, I’d find a way to take her. Do anything to keep her happy, I would.”

“Your Buffy?” the Ghost smirked.

Spike shot it a wary, and yet amused grin. “You’re a little like my Buffy. I know that girls got sass in her.”

“You have seen it, though she doesn’t show it often.”

“No,” Spike shook his head, “She doesn’t. But she will.”

“That so?”

“You challenging me?” Spike asked with a raised brow.

Buffy the Ghost smiled, “Perhaps I am.”

“Well you needn’t challenge me to force me to get what needs to be done, done. I’m gonna make her happy.”

“And you? Are you going to make you happy?”

“I’m not happy now, am I?” he said rhetorically. “I don’t see how stopping the way I’ve been and going for the woman I really want – the woman I love – is going to make me unhappy. I’ve made a right mess of things with myself, my family, with Buffy and with Harmony. It’s time to fix those things, time to make them better.”

“I don’t know how he could stand it,” Spike shook his head. “How he could sit there and listen to her talk about her wedding and not say anything. And yet I get it. If he thought she was happy – if I thought she was happy – I wouldn’t stand in her way.”

“That is the mark of someone that truly loves and cares for another,” Ghost Buffy said, smiling. “So, I take it the things you’ve seen tonight helped open your eyes to what you were missing – not just with Buffy, but with yourself as well.”

Spike nodded adamantly. “Yes, God, yes.”

“Good. The gang and I have been talking and we were wondering if there was something different we could do, but this has proven to be most effective when employed.”

Spike stared at her.

Ghost Buffy burst into laughter. “It was a joke. We have a sense of humor, too!”

Spike chuckled. “Yes, this trip into my world – and hers – proved most effective.” He paused thoughtfully. “When do I tell her?”

“When do you want to tell her?”

“Now, I want to tell her now.”

“Then do so.”

“But--”

His alarm went off then and Spike jumped a mile.

In bed, he was in bed. The sun was up, pouring into the windows, and he could see it was snowing and – where’d the Ghost go? When did it become day? Rubbing his eyes, he looked down at himself, naked. Just as he was when he first went to bed, but…

He shook his head and jumped out of bed, reaching for his clothes strewn on the floor. “No,” he said aloud, “That was real. All of it was real. I know it. I felt it. And now…” he threw on his duster, “I’ve got a girl to see about.”

Chapter Five: Merry Christmas

Spike talked to himself the whole way there, convincing himself that the night before had not been a dream as he had been led to believe. It couldn’t have been. It had to be real. The things he saw and felt, the way he felt now about her…it had to be real.

He made it to her apartment in record time despite the weather having slowed Boston down just a bit. He was on a mission dammit, and he was going to see through this particular mission.

His whole life depended on it.

He remembered now exactly what floor she was on – he remembered everything. Now that he accepted what he felt, now that he was blessedly aware, he remembered everything. Such as how she liked her coffee, how she stuck two pencils in her hair and pulled it in a bun when she was annoyed with it, how she liked peppermint patties, but didn’t like candy canes, the sound of her laugh when she was talking with Tara, her smile that a few times, he’d been on the receiving end of – and there was more. More that he wanted to learn and needed to learn, but what he knew, what he’d learned through the night was enough to tell him that he’d be a damn fool to let her go.

Changes were in effect, starting now. Starting with Buffy.

Rapping on her door, Spike bounced on the balls of his feet, willing her to come to the door, willing the door to open and let him in her life that much sooner.

He rapped again and heard a groggy, “Coming!”

Checking his watch with a frown, Spike grimaced. It was seven in the morning, no wonder she was groggy, and with all that wine she’d had the night before too.

The door opened slowly and Spike smiled broadly.

She was indeed rumpled from sleep. Her hair was ratted on one side, her make up was smeared under her eyes, giving her that chic smoky look and her eyes were slightly bloodshot. Her clothes were wrinkled, and her hose had a run in them. To Spike though, the besotted man that he was, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever clapped eyes on.

“Merry Christmas, luv,” he greeted her when she stood there, staring at him.

“Have you come to fire me?” she asked. Then, slightly puzzled and impressed: “You remembered where I live?”

He shook his head, “I have not come to fire you, and yes, I did remember. I remember more than you think, Buffy.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly.

“I came to talk with you about a few things do you mind if I…?”

Her eyebrows knit. “Do I mind if you talk to me? Mr. Pratt if this is about yesterday--”

“Well yes, it is, and yet not.”

“It either is or it isn’t.”

“It isn’t then.”

“You’re lying.”

“You’re right I am, but I’m willing to try just about anything to get inside.”

“You want to come inside and talk to me? Don’t you have places to be, Mr. Pratt? It is Christmas; don’t you have…somewhere to be?”

“The only place I want to be, Buffy, is right here, talking to you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Very sober, though I’m sure you’re feeling a little hung from all the wine you had last night.”

Buffy froze and Spike winced.

“How did you know I had wine last night?” she asked evenly.

Good job, mate. Always just blurting shit out and not thinking it through aren’t you? Always acting before you think, always speaking before you think, too. Perhaps a plan would have been in order before you came over here?

“I—Can I come in?” he asked, hopefully.

“Not until you told me how you knew I had wine,” Buffy reasoned.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, trust me.”

“I don’t trust you already, so…you might as well just tell me,” she returned matter-of-factly.

“Ouch, pet.”

“Waiting.” And she crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her foot.

“I was visited last night by three ghosts and the Ghost of Christmas Present showed me what you were doing last night--”

“Yeah. Ok. I’ll see you on Monday, William--” and she started to shut the door. Spike quickly put his hand on the door and pushed back, and then shoved his foot at the door, stopping her from closing it.

“That’s what it took for you to call me William?” he asked incredulously.

“What are you doing?”

“Buffy, can I just come in and talk with you for a bit? Please? It’s Christmas; can you find it in your heart to let me in on Christmas?”

After some deliberation on Buffy’s part, she finally stepped away from the door, gesturing for him to enter. “All right, fine, come in. You’re probably not exactly fit to be out in society right now, and God only knows what you’d do if I made you go be in it.”

“So, I just have to act crazy for you to take me in?” he asked as he entered her apartment, taking it in the way he had that eventful night.

“Well, whatever break you’re going through, it’s probably safer to do it here than out there.”

Spike grinned at her, “You’re funny.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly. “So…how did you really know about my wine drinking last night? Just a guess or…?”

“I saw you. I’m not crazy, pet. I know it seems that way, but I’m really not. You were going out last night, your sister Dawn was supposed to come up, but she cancelled to spend the holidays with her boyfriend. You were pretty upset about it. Brave girl that you are though – and proud-- you didn’t let her know how much it upset you.”

“Yeah, you’re really gonna have to go now. If you’re about to have some kind of mental collapse, I actually don’t want it to be here.”

“I know your mom died and your father has a new wife and family. You pay to put Dawn through school and when you were eighteen, Scott something-or-other broke up with you,” Spike blurted out quickly, to prove to her further that he was telling the truth.

“Get out!” Buffy yelled at him, opening the door and pointing to the hall.

“Buffy, let’s talk this out.”

“No, see,” Buffy said adamantly, shaking her head, “this isn’t something we talk out. This isn’t like a problem we have to solve. You’re a fucking loon, get out of my apartment!”

“Pet, if you’d just listen to me--”

“The more you talk, the more you freak me out!”

“Is that why you’re shouting?”

“Yes! How do you know all this stuff? Did you go digging for it?”

“A file on you wouldn’t tell me about your drinking last night,” he said logically. If he was at least calm, maybe she’d calm. “Or Dawn. Or Tara calling you and inviting you over. Have you decided to go over there today?”

Her mouth dropped open and she made like a guppy.

He grinned. “You’re just adorable.”

“All right,” she conceded, “You stay. I’ll go.”

Sprinting after her, Spike caught her just before she made it fully out the door.

“Let me go, psycho!” Buffy hollered at him.

Kicking the door shut, Spike turned her to him. “Only if you let me talk. Just let me say my peace and get out what I need to get out and then I’ll leave if you want me to, all right?”

Meeting his eyes, she stared hard into them for a long time before relaxing. “Fine.”

Releasing her, Spike ran a hand through his hair and started to pace. “Do you mind sitting?”

Clamping her mouth shut, Buffy shook her head and demurely walked over to her couch. Settling into it, she looked up at him, waiting patiently.

He grinned down at her. “You remind me of yesterday when you came to see me about Wood. Sitting there so proper.”

Self-consciously patting her ratted hair, Buffy grimaced. “Nothing really ‘proper’ about me right now.”

“You’re beautiful to me just the same,” he told her fondly.

“William?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you get to talking please?”

He nodded briskly, scratching the back of his head, “Right then. All right. Last night I…well, I was sleeping. All snug as a bug in a rug like and I got woken up by Dru of all people, only it wasn’t Dru.”

Buffy raised her hand.

“Yeah?”

“Who’s Dru?”

“She’s my ex. The girl that single-handedly ripped my heart out and stomped on it and left me there to bleed openly like a gaping wound.” He pointed at her. “Why did you raise your hand?”

“I don’t know. You were just so into what you were saying, I didn’t want to rudely interrupt. That image of the bleeding was quite descriptive and more than a little gross by the way.”

“Thanks, pet. You don’t have to raise your hand. This is your place after all.”

“Yeah, but you’re the crazy in the room, so…”

“Love that sharp tongue of yours, Buffy.”

“That’s great. Keep talkin’.”

“Right, so, it was Dru. Except not Dru.”

“Ghost of Christmas Past?” Buffy offered.

“How’d you know?”

“Well, if the Ghost of Christmas Present came, then the Ghost of Christmas Past had to come first.” She rolled her eyes very dramatically. “Everyone knows that.”

“Right then, okay, so Dru takes me on a little trip and what I saw was disturbing to say the very least…”

He relayed his night, and she listened with rapt attention. When he explained the parts with her involved, she winced a few times, fidgeted a few times, and looked away a few times as well. But she didn’t kick him out or tell him he was nuts.

“And so when I got back from seeing us in the future, Buffy, I knew,” he said, finishing up and kneeling before her.

“Knew what?” she whispered.

Putting a finger under her chin and tipping her head to look at him, he declared with full honesty and with more than a little fear, “I’m in love with you, Buffy Summers.”

Her eyes widened and she made like a guppy again. “Y-y-you can’t be!”

“I am. I’ve had feelings for you all this time, Buffy--”

“And all that you just told me…God, William…” she shook her head and got up from her spot on the couch, moving away from him, too far in his opinion. Instead of staying on his knees this time around, he got up and stayed where he was, letting her have the floor this time.

“You just come over at seven in the morning and start spewing all this stuff about Ghosts and past, presents and futures and me engaged and you expect me to just…” She trailed off, staring into space thoughtfully. “But then you tell me things that happened, things that you possibly couldn’t know.” She shook her head and looked up at him. “I’ve heard that just before people crack up, they have a form of ESP.”

“Buffy, love, I know it sounds far fetched, but it’s true, luv, it is. Somewhere deep inside you, you know it is. You know it.”

They stared at each other for a long time and Spike could see the inner battle she was engaging in with herself. He didn’t necessarily blame her, it did sound crazy. He just needed a little crumb from her…

Finally, she opened her mouth to speak and Spike held his breath in fear. She held his heart in her hands now; she could make or break him with a single word. Not that he’d go back to his old lifestyle, and at that point was already ‘old’ to him, but he’d be a mess without her, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. He was after all, love’s bitch.

“Do you want some breakfast?”

Chapter Six: It’s A Wonderful Life

“And then he says that you’re the best I’ve got and should be thankful. Can you believe it?” Spike finished waving his arms around like a madman, gazing at the slightly bored blond perched atop his desk. He thought only said slightly bored because she wore a smirk with the gaze that said “Can we get on with this now?”

He chuckled at her look. “I can’t help it luv. Three sodding years later and I’m still finding ways to prove that I hadn’t dreamt that whole experience that night, that it had been real.”

“Well, Blondie bear, you convinced me a long time ago. So, do you think we could go home now? Maybe the Ghost of Christmas Past, Present and Future can visit you tonight and show you what fate will befall you if you don’t start cleaning up after yourself in the bathroom.”

Spike gave her a look. “Did you have to add in the Blondie Bear?”

Buffy grinned. “I did. I think it’s cute she still calls you that. I feel a connection to the girl now, no matter how thoroughly annoying she is. After all, it was partly her doing as – which one was she?”

“Present.”

“Right, present. It was partly her other ghostly doing that you turned around. Plus, she’s engaged to my fiancé.”

Spike growled and pulled her from the desk and into his arms, nipping at her lips. “He’s not your fiancé. He’s hers. You’re mine.”

“I’m not your fiancé though, and technically, he was slated for me…” Buffy teased, giggling in his arms.

“You do beat all girl,” he growled again and bit her neck lightly, pushing her luxurious hair from her neck and out of his way. He was ever so happy that his “best editor”, as Riley Finn had called her today, had taken to wearing her hair down these days. The occasional bun would appear, but it wasn’t often. Her clothes too had changed. She wasn’t so bundled up tight like a schoolmarm, but instead wore professional outfits that showed his girl had a flare for fashion. It seemed the happier she became, the “looser” she became.

She did, however, wield an iron fist when it came to him. Not that he was complaining. His girl kept him on the straight and narrow – though he hadn’t any desire to stray. It had been a long time before Buffy had agreed to go out with him, and it was with a lot of work on his part. She had been honest with him in the fact that while she did feel things for him, she was not about to jump into anything with him and have her heart broken. “I’ve had my heart broken enough and not all by men,” she’d told him. So the order of the day had been friends first.

Friends, which he realized that they really hadn’t been. Not really anyway. Stepping into Buffy’s world, being invited in, was much more different than poking yourself in every now and then. He opened himself to her and gave of himself, feeling both the fear and the freedom of giving and sharing oneself with another.

Openness and honesty were the only ways to prove himself to his ladylove and knowing that, he wouldn’t give her any less. He was pleased to find that Buffy returned the same in kind.

After six months of getting to know one another as friends, she finally agreed to date him. They took their time, and Spike learned what it meant to be in a relationship that was not shallow and about impressing the woman to keep her. There were no shades of Dru with Buffy. She did not demand he change his ways, she simply made it clear she was going to be involved with it; with him. The change hadn’t been a difficult one to make, either.

The first order of business had been ending his relations with Anya and Darla – both of whom were put out, but not because they were going to miss him so much as they were going to miss getting laid. Some women, he’d realized, could be just the same as men in that respect.

His second order of business had been Harmony. No more daily blow jobs, not more sex, instead he gave her a nice raise, gave her a bit more responsibility to help her gain some confidence in herself and when Riley Finn had blown into town and set up camp as the new editor in town, Spike happily introduced the man to his best receptionist. He also spent the day keeping Buffy from him as well as he could. The pair had inevitably met though, Buffy claiming she wanted to at least lay eyes on the man she would have been destined for, and then promptly declaring after having met him, “Dull as a doornail.”

Harmony’s transition, pre-Finn, had been a bit more difficult, since the girl fancied herself in love with him, but after a few sob sessions in which she begged for another chance and Spike explained over and over that she had done nothing wrong, that it was him, Harmony slowly let it go. And when Finn had come along, she’d gone to work for him, still coming in every now and then to show off how well she was doing and how happy she was.

“Can we go home now?” Buffy asked on a sigh. “It’s Christmas Eve, it’s been a long day and I’m tired.”

“Hard day luv?”

“No, just when you know it’s a holiday and you want to go and get it started already.”

“When will Dawn be coming in again?” he asked, tugging her into the elevator with him.

“Not until tomorrow morning with…what’s his name again?”

Spike smiled, “RJ.”

“Right. That’s it. Why can’t I remember that?”

“Probably because you don’t like him.”

Buffy shrugged, “Could be.”

“Tell you what, I’ll order Chinese while you take a bath and by the time you come out, it’ll be there and waiting for you.”

Moaning happily, Buffy leaned up and kissed him. “You’re the best.”

“Aren’t you glad you finally agreed to move in with me?”

Buffy smiled, “It only took how long to convince me?”

“A year, a very long year.”

“Time is of the essence, and it was worth it wasn’t it?”

“Naturally,” Spike murmured and nipped at her lips before claiming them in a sweet kiss.

********

While the water ran for her bath, Spike placed their order for delivery and with trembling hands took out the long flute crystal glasses and bottle of champagne he’d bought for this night. It was a special occasion, and he was sincerely hoping the champagne and the cause for celebration wasn’t in vain.

Spike had fancied himself the settling down sort in his younger years, and then that idea had waned with heartbreak and the passing of time in which he’d given up all hope – and he convinced himself, the desire – of finding his match.

Well, he’d found her now and he wasn’t about to let her go. How he’d managed to live so much of his life without her, he didn’t know. The word “perish” came to mind in conjunction with the thought of ever losing her.

“Spi-ike!” Buffy called from the bathroom.

He smiled, knowing exactly what she’d done. She did it every time: She’d forgotten her robe in the bedroom. Walking into the bedroom, he picked her robe up from the bed and stood outside the bathroom door.

“Yes, my love?” he asked.

“Can you get--”

Walking in, he grinned and propped the robe up on the hook next to the tub/shower.

She smiled up at him, her shoulders glistening from the water and her body immerged and hidden by scented lavender bubbles. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Pushing up his sleeves and kneeling next to the tub, he picked up her washcloth from the side of the tub and dipped it into the water. Gesturing to her back he asked, “May I?”

Nodding and smiling, she sat up and leaned slightly forward, sighing blissfully while he gently washed her back with the sudsy cloth.

“Mmm…that feels nice,” she murmured.

He was about to ask if he could join her, having completely forgotten about the food, when the doorbell rang, reminding him.

Cursing under his breath, he sighed regretfully and stood, handing her the washcloth. “Food’s here luv.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Chuckling, he left for the kitchen and set about dishing out their food on plates. By the time he carried the plates out to the dining room, Buffy had emerged, pink and scrubbed clean, clad in her white robe with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

“You’re adorable,” he said, pulling a chair out for her and pecking her nose when she sat.

She beamed up at him. “Thanks!” Looking at the spread, she oohed at the sight of the champagne. “Wow, we’re going all out tonight huh?”

“Yup,” he agreed and patted his pocket that held the heart-shaped, princess cut diamond he was hopefully going to put on her finger.

Tucking into their meal, they chatted over their day once again, their plans for the next morning, what time they needed to be up and ready and what time to start dinner. The sort of conversations couples had when preparing for a family gathering. Unbidden to his mind rose the image of a Christmas morning with children – theirs – the tree full up with presents underneath, the kind he had as a child when the presents spilled forth, threatening to leave the unspoken nest of ‘under the tree’ and ventured into the room that held them, taking up some veritable space.

“What?” Buffy asked, placing her glass down.

It was then that Spike realized he’d been staring at her with what he was sure was a dreamy look on his face.

Do it now, mate. Just say it. You have a window. “Buffy…”

“Yeah?” she asked and bit into a chicken finger.

“Will you marry me?”

She stopped mid bite and stared at him. “What?” she asked, half her mouth still around the chicken finger.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s attractive.”

Clearing her throat, she finished her bite, chewed and swallowed. Placing her hands in her lap, she looked at him. “Okay. What?”

Pushing his chair back, with a lump forming in his throat, Spike gestured for her to move her chair back a bit. She did so and with his heart thumping like a jackhammer, Spike knelt before her, producing the ring box from his pocket. He gazed up at his wide-eyed Goddess and said with as much courage as he could muster, “Buffy Summers, I love you more than anything or anyone in this world. You are the love of my life and I don’t want to ever spend a minute without you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and so I am asking you, please, will you marry me?”

His girl could be such a sap so it was of no big surprise to him that her eyes were swimming with tears. She nodded and his heart leapt though he longed to hear the words. Finally, she was able to speak them, “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you!”

Whooping with joy, he jumped up and pulled her from the chair and into his arms. After spinning her round, he set her down on her feet and peppered her face with kisses.

“Spike, can I see the ring? Put it on?”

He blinked and then shook his head, “Of course!” Snatching it from the table where he’d tossed it amidst his joy, he opened the box.

“Oh Will, it’s so beautiful.”

He grinned. He knew he’d done right when she called him “Will”.

“Put it on me, please!”

Spike was more than happy to oblige and, upon seeing the ring on her finger, glistening in the dim light, he felt a rush of emotion that threatened to bring him to his knees.

Gathering her in his arms, he held her to him tightly, thanking the Gods, the ghosts, God and whatever other power had brought Buffy into his life and made her his.

“I love you so much,” he gasped.

“Spike…please…”

“Please what, baby? Tell me. You want the moon? I’ll lasso it down. You want a star? I’ll get one for you. Just tell me what you want.”

Looking up at him, she smiled. “It’s simple, really.”

“Tell me.”

“My foot. You’re stepping on it.”

“Oh!” Looking down at where his shoe was covering her bare foot, he moved quickly off and she giggled.

“I like the moon idea!” she told him and threw herself back in his arms, smothering him in a kiss. “But you know what I really want right now?”

“What? Whatever you want is yours.”

“I want you to make love to me,” she whispered.

Picking her up in one swoop from where she stood, Spike led her off to the bedroom, feeling very Rhett Butler-like.

Placing her down on the bed, he stood to undress and watched her undo her robe with hungry eyes. He couldn’t seem to get his clothes off fast enough, and when, finally he was free, he climbed atop the bed and spread her legs, wanting to feast on her sweet nectar.

He made love to her pussy with his mouth, nibbling, sucking, teasing and tasting. When she came, screaming his name, Spike rushed up her body, and slowly slid himself home. Shutting his eyes at the feel of her wet and tight heat surrounding him, he moaned in pleasure.

“Spike,” she whispered and he popped open his eyes, gazing down at his fiancé.

She smiled up at him. “I love you.”

God, he would never tire of hearing her say that. Thrusting in her wet heat, Spike caressed her skin, kissed her lips and never let her not feel him for one second.

“I love you, Buffy,” he gasped as he neared orgasm, “I love you so much.”

“Spike!” she shouted, her eyes rolling up in her head. And when he felt her walls clench and milk him, he let go, bathing her womb with his seed. Soon, we’ll be making babies, he thought hazily and cradled her to him in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

“I think we did well, don’t you?” The Ghost of Christmas Present asked her friends as they peered down upon the world from their spot on the clouds, checking on past subjects, and preparing for the new.

“I feel like a peeping tom!” Ghost of Christmas Past complained.

“Oh suck it up. We’re going now,” Ghost of Christmas Future reprimanded before they were off, all three feeling their mission had indeed been accomplished.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night

*we all need a little cheese right? This is what Tammy tells me, so blame her :)*