Wiping at the tears that fell from her heavily mascara-ed eyes, Buffy Summers belted out the song that blasted from the CD player at the top of her lungs. This was the fifth time she’d played it since she’d peeled out of the house she shared with her philandering boyfriend. Eight was her lucky number, her favorite number as it was, so she was hoping by the eighth time she listened and sang along, Liam “Angel” O’ Connor would be out of her heart and out of her head.

“I need someone
a person to talk to
someone who'd care to love
could it be you
could it be yo-ou

The situation gets rough,
and I start to panic
it's not enough
it's just a habit
and, kid, you're sick
darling this is it…”

Catching a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror to her red Convertible, Buffy grimaced. She looked like a goddamn raccoon and it was all his fault! Some publicist I am. No, Angel, you should do a movie with her! She’ll make your career skyrocket! Yeah, and she’ll make our relationship perish. Bitch.

“Well you can all just kiss off into to the air
behind my back
I can see them stare
They'll hurt me bad, but I won't mind
They'll hurt me bad, they do it all the time
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, they do it all the time
Yeah, yeah
They do it all the time
Yeah, yeah
They do it all the time
Do it all the time!”

She growled, brushing her long, blond locks from her face. The wind blowing from the top being down in her car was causing her hair to get stuck in the tears that wet her face. And just how long had he been doing it? He had to have been fucking around before. Just had to. Three years, three goddamn years and he throws it away on that whore Cordelia Chase? That fucking ass…

“I hope you know that this will go down on your permanent
record!
Oh yeah?
Well don't get so distressed
Did I happen to mention that I’m impressed?

I take one, one, one cause you left me and
two, two, two for my family and
three, three, three for my heartache and
four, four, four for my headaches and
five, five, five for my lonely and
six, six, six for my sorrow and
seven, seven, for no tomorrow and
eight, eight I forget what eight was for and
nine, nine, nine for the lost gods
ten, ten, ten, ten for everything, everything, everything!”

God, I knew he’d screw me somehow. I just knew it. What did I expect? He’s like a younger Warren Beatty: a player. That jackass, I made him who he is, I fucking made him!

“Well you can all just kiss off into to the air
behind my back
I can see them stare
They'll hurt me bad, but I won't mind
They'll hurt me bad, they do it all the time
Yeah, yeah
Yeah they do it all the time
Yeah, Yeah
Yeah they do it all the time
do it all the time
do it all the time
do it all the time
do it all the time
do it all the time
time, time, time, time
t-t-t-t-t- time, time time
do it all the time!”

Catching her breath from singing, Buffy flipped back to the beginning of the song as the sign she’d been waiting to see as some kind of Nirvana came into sight.

Welcome to Sunnydale!

Buffy murmured to herself as she pulled toward the familiar street that once upon a time she’d frequented on a daily basis. “Oh God, please let him save me, please…”

********

William “Spike” Pratt grumbled to himself as he grabbed the last beer out of the fridge and contemplated heading out for more before guzzling this one down. He was nowhere near inebriated and inebriated was where he wanted to be. He’d had a shit day.

He’d lost his job that day. Or, as his editor-in-chief had put it, he was to take a ‘leave of absence’. A paid leave of absence, but it was not something Spike wanted to do. He was not a man to sit around and waste away. He loved his job. Okay, so he didn’t love his job, but he didn’t hate it either. It gave him experience; it got him out in the world, and allowed him to dabble in the entertainment world without actually having to be completely immersed in it. Even if he was admittedly drawn to it; both drawn to it, and scared of it.

He worked for the local newspaper, Sunnydale News, reporting on underground bands that visited the area. The club in town, The Bronze was place muck like Mama Kin’s in Boston: some big bands had started there, and therefore, the club had become kind of the rabbit foot of venues. Sometimes he was able to acquire access to the big shows in L.A. as well.

It was in Spike’s blood to not only write, but to be part of the music scene. Hell, it was the closest thing to actually being in the band he’d dreamt of being in as a kid. As a matter of fact, he had been in a band, but it hadn’t exactly worked out as all the band members got married and moved away, not really sharing the dream of becoming famous that Spike had had.

That day his editor had claimed he’d lost some of his edge. His writing wasn’t up to par; there were too many mistakes and flubs, the flow of his usual flawless writing was off, and he thought it best that Spike take some time off to rest and recuperate, hopefully get back his old magic.

Maybe this is just what I need. Maybe its not that my writing is really floundering, but maybe this is just the time I need to do what I want to do: get back to playing guitar. Maybe write some music and start a band again. I bet Harris would want to. I’ve seen him do drums, he’s good. With a little prodding and some sucking up to Anya, maybe we could do something with our instruments instead of just letting them collect dust.

He was just about to dive into his recurring fantasy of screaming fans clamoring for more from him, women fainting as he grinned at them, and men looking up to him as though he were a Rock God, when a loud, even knock came from the door.

Grumbling once more, Spike made his way to the door and whipped the door open. “Sod--” he stopped abruptly and his eyes widened as he took in the blond before him.

She had dark circles under her eyes—literally. It looked as if she’d drawn heavy eyeliner under her eyes and it had all melted nearly down to her cheeks. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was mussed. He barely recognized the girl he’d known for so long.

“Buffy?”

“Hi!” she greeted him, smiling brightly. “Have some time for an old friend?”

**Song "Kiss Off" by Violent Femmes**

“What…happened to you?” Spike asked delicately, not wanting to upset her. It was obvious she’d been crying and he could see she was shaking a bit.

“Can I come in? I must look horrible.”

He stepped aside, allowing her to step over the threshold. She looked around, “Bathroom?”

“You forgot where it is,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, Spike,” she said sincerely.

“We’ll talk about that later, just follow me.”

Leading her in the living room, down past the connecting study and around the corner down a hall, he led her to the half bath. She smiled up at him gratefully and closed the door behind her.

Spike stared at the shut door, bewildered. Buffy Summers has just blown back in my life. What the hell is that about?

********

Okay, Summers, pull yourself together. First, you need to wash your face, you look like hell. Then you need to make amends with your former best friend and hope that he’ll let you stay here for a few days…

Relieving herself and then turning on the water faucet, Buffy splashed several handfuls of cold water of her face, jolting herself from her self-pity stupor. Wiping vigorously with the slate blue towel that hung limply from its spot on the towel rung next to the sink, her skin turned slightly pink. Grabbing his slim black comb from the top of the small sink counter, Buffy lifted it and noticed gel in clumps between the teeth. She knew it was gel because that’s what Angel used to make his dark hair spike and this was exactly what his comb looked like. Running the comb under the spraying water, Buffy sighed heavily. When the clumps were sufficiently gone, she carefully ran it through her knotted hair, vowing that she was so going to cut it. Screw Angel and his love of her long hair. It was as good as gone in the morning.

Shutting the sink off, she stepped back and stared at herself. Okay, red puffy eyes, but no more raccoon eyes. Her hair was slightly damp, but the knots were gone and she looked at least somewhat presentable. Looking down at herself, she found she still wore the pink skirt, cream cami and matching pink cardigan that she’d had on for the appearance Angel had had that evening. The appearance in which she’d found out that Angel had taken up with Cordelia and was leaving her. He hadn’t even had the decency to tell her first, no, he’d done it in a public announcement. He’d broken up with her in public.

Prick.

“Buffy? You okay in there?”

Spike was still waiting outside? She stared at the door, disoriented for a minute. “Yeah,” she said finally, “I’m coming.”

“You uh, need anything?”

Whipping the door open, she stared at her old friend, drinking him in. He was a few inches taller than her, slender, but built. His hair was still the bleached blond he’d always had it at, and currently instead of slicked back; it appeared he’d disheveled it, causing his natural curls to spring forth. His cheekbones were sharp, his eyes a penetrating blue. Currently he was sporting dark blue jeans and a navy t-shirt, not his usual attire of black on black. His feet were bare, he held a beer bottle in his hand, and he just looked so welcoming, so much like home. Unable to help herself, Buffy threw herself at him, winding her arms around him, and burying her face in his neck.

“Buffy?” he asked slowly, hesitantly hugging her back.

“I had a crap day, Spike. I just wanted to get here and see you. I know I haven’t seen you in three years, and I know I sucked at keeping contact, but I still always thought of you as my best friend. Please…can I stay here?”

“For how long?”

“Just a few days. I’ll pay you.”

“What about that ponce you’ve been dating?”

Buffy held him tighter. “He dumped me. He was cheating on me.”

“Jesus,” Spike swore on a whisper.

“He had an appearance today with her, more promotions for their movie, and he announced in front of everyone that he and Cordelia Chase were together and were making plans to move in together. I looked like a laughing stock today, Spike. He not only broke my heart, but he made a fool of me.”

“That bastard--”

“And I left. I just left. I didn’t even tell my boss or anyone I was going, I just took off. I couldn’t stand it. I went home and I packed some things and--”

“How long do you need, Buffy?”

She pulled back, wiping at her tears. “Just a week or so…”

“Look at me, luv.”

She looked up into his eyes and found sincerity and concern swirling in their depths.

“You can stay as long as you need, okay? I know we haven’t talked much, or seen one another, but who am I to turn away an old friend? We’ve known each other since we were bratty kids, yeah?”

She nodded, smiling with relief through her tears.

He smiled gently, brushing some tears from her cheeks. “’Sides, I just got laid off for a bit. I’ll have plenty of time to spend with you. We can play catch up.”

“Ooh, Spike, you’re a lifesaver!” and she threw her arms around him again.

He chuckled, feeling that all of this was a bit surreal. He’d lost his job, well, sort of lost his job, and gotten back his best friend She’d been lost to him for quite some time and he’d felt that pain like a stab to his heart. Buffy had always been the only person that had ever truly understood him and when they’d lost touch, he’d felt as though he’d lost an appendage.

He had to admit, now that she was back, in whatever capacity she was back in, he felt parts of himself getting back to being whole. With true friends, it didn’t matter how much time passed, it only mattered on whether or not you could pick up as if you’d just seen each other the day before.

“Hey, you want some hot chocolate?” he asked, pulling back a tad and tilting her chin up so she could look at him.

“I want food. You got food?”

Spike grinned. “How about we go to that Rich’s?”

Her eyes widened. “It’s still up?”

“Of course! That diner has been around for years, it’s not going anywhere. Come on, luv, let’s get you some food. Don’t know what you’ve been eating in L.A., but you’re much too skinny.”

“Thanks, Spike,” she told him dryly and he chuckled.

“Sorry, pet.”

She shrugged, “Don’t be. It’s true. I just never have the time to eat.”

“Well, now you will have plenty of time.”

She beamed, “I give you permission to fatten me up.”

Spike smiled warmly at her, feeling his heart stirring at her shining face smiling up at him so trustingly. “I really missed you, Buffy,” he whispered.

“I missed you too, Spike. I’m sorry we lost touch for so long.”

“Come on, you can tell me all about it over some breakfast, all right?”

“Oh, where do I begin…”

Over home fries with onions, scrambled eggs with cheese half melted, two sausage links and two slices of bacon, toast with grape jelly smeared on it, an orange juice and iced coffee, Buffy relayed the story of her life for the past three years.

“All I’ve done is work,” she told Spike, placing the bacon between two slices of toast. “That’s it. That’s been my life. Work and Angel. God, how pathetic does that sound?”

He watched her take a bite of the bacon sandwich and had to grin. He missed the interesting things she did with her food. There was something infinitely adorable about the girl before him that made it difficult for him to stay mad at her for any length of time, and made it difficult for him to deny her anything.

“That couldn’t have been all you did,” Spike drawled.

Munching, Buffy nodded and then swallowed down her mouthful with iced coffee. “It was. I threw myself in my work, and I threw myself into my relationship with that prick. You know how I am. I want something, I like something, I care about something, and I throw myself into it, immerse myself. Well, I did that with my career and I did that with Angel. I wasn’t satisfied being an assistant PR, no, I wanted the whole enchilada, so I dove into making that happen and then what happened? I got promoted, got the guy, and I thought ‘My life has finally begun. I have the freedom to do whatever I want and be happy’ and I got screwed. That’s what happens when you want too much I guess.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Buffy. Your job is still good isn’t it? Can’t let Angel leave a sour taste in your mouth with everything. He’s just a small insignificant speck in the grand scheme of things.”

She wrinkled her nose and reached for the dish that held Spike’s coffee cup. She looked up at him sheepishly, “May I?”

“Sure.” And he watched as she poured maple syrup in the dish, stabbed her eggs with her fork, and then dunked them in the syrup before eating it.

She closed her eyes and hummed, swishing about giddily in the seat. “Yum!”

Spike laughed, “Oh, I have missed you.”

Her eyes popped open and she nodded, swallowing. “I missed you, too. I did. I really, really did. And I know I showed it something awful, right? It was just so easy to get swept up having to be here and there and everywhere. Honestly, there were times I wish I could have been cloned. The thing is, when you make a name for yourself in that town, everyone wants you.”

“And what will happen now that you’re gone and they can’t find you?”

“Right now, I don’t care. I have assistants they can turn to for the time being. I just don’t care.”

“You could change your mind in the morning.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it in the morning.” She sighed and placed her fork down, leaning in to him. “It’s just…Spike, I’ve spent my whole life trying to be better than I am, striving for more, and feeling like if I had more, I’d be complete. Even before this whole thing with Angel I was beginning to feel like the more I want is actually less.”

“You’ve always been that way, yes. I blame your parents.”

“I blame them and my incessant need to prove that I’m good enough and I’m smart enough and…and…”

“And that gosh darnit, people like you?” Spike supplied, grinning.

Buffy laughed, “Thank you Stuart Smalley. Yes, that’s it exactly. I just always felt inferior.”

“That is partly your parents and partly you. I remember you bringing home report cards with A’s and B’s and your parents asking you why you didn’t get all A’s. Meanwhile, I got a couple C’s and I felt inferior to you.”

She put her hand over her heart in a thoroughly dramatic manner. “You did? I never knew that.”

“How could you? I never told you.”

“Well, trust me; there is nothing to feel inferior about. What kid stresses about bringing home their A and B report card? Most kids stress about bringing home a D, not a B. And look at me, Spike. I’m a mess!”

He had to agree, she kind of was at the moment. At least by her standards and the way he was used to seeing her. Buffy had always been put together neatly, not a hair out of place and currently, she had no makeup on, her hair was in a messy pony tail and she had syrup on her cami. She had always been the sort to show one face to the world – a prim and proper, all business Buffy – and another face to him – unrestrained, wide-eyed, and mischievous. But despite what she showed him, she still managed to keep that first face close by.

“You’ve never looked better,” he told her.

She gave him a look.

“So you’re fraying a bit at the edges. I think it’s a good look on you. You need to be a little messy, Buffy.”

“’Fraying at the edges’. You are so a writer. So, what’s this about being laid off?”

Spike groaned and placed his cup down on the light brown Formica, already there coffee rings marking his spot. This was classic Buffy and Spike of years before. Escaping from the idiots in their lives and heading down to Rich’s, the blue and chrome trailer looking diner that served the best coffee in town and was a best kept secret among the locals. Sure the brown booths were ratting, the stools at the counter squeaked and coffee rings marred every surface, but it spoke of simplicity and home. Just what they both needed at that time. Their reunion wouldn’t be complete without this.

Spike told her about what his editor had told him that day about taking some time off to hopefully get back into the swing of things after a hiatus, and Buffy nodded sympathetically.

“Isn’t it funny how we both got together tonight?” she asked after a minute, offering him a sausage link.

Taking a bite, he nodded. “Serendipitous.”

“Now there’s a word. Do you still hang out with that old punk crowd you ran with? I see the stud you had in your forehead is gone.”

Spike burst out laughing. “My eyebrow, Buffy, not my forehead.”

Buffy laughed and shrugged. “My memory is going with my old age and stress.”

“Stress, I’ll give you, but you’re the same age as me, luv. You’re only twenty-nine.”

“God, I’m twenty-nine and I’m going to be thirty in four months. What the hell have I shown for myself?”

“What are you even talking about? A breakup does not necessitate an entire life upheaval.”

“No, but being dissatisfied with your life does.” She sighed. “I feel like I have so many things I want to do and haven’t done any of them yet.”

“Like what? Name one.”

“Sky diving.”

Spike nearly gasped and sat back in shock. “You’re petrified of heights!”

“All the more reason to do it,” she told him, waving her fork with home fries and eggs on them.

“All right, how about something that entails you having your feet on the ground, eh?”

“I’d like to get drunk. I’m almost thirty years old and I’ve never been drunk.”

“Well, I can help you with that, kitten.”

“And I’d like to have an orgasm before I keel over too.”

Spike’s eyes popped open. “You’ve never had an orgasm?”

Buffy shook her head and sighed. “Nope. Makes you wonder why I did stay with that jerk off huh? I think it’s me. I think I’m incapable. I can get myself off no problem, but someone else touching me and I just can’t quite get there.”

Spike squirmed slightly in his seat. He hadn’t had a frank conversation with Buffy like this in three years and he had to admit, it was kind of turning him on. He would also go so far as to admit it had turned him on in the past too. But that was an entirely different story.

“Well, I don’t know that I can help you with that, but I can definitely tell you that its not you. Whoever you’ve been with should have made sure you got off before they did.”

Buffy shook her head, looking hopeless. “It’s not like some of them hadn’t tried. They did. They get and A for effort. Well, except for Angel. After a while, he just gave up trying.”

“Horse’s ass. If he cared about you, he would have continued trying.”

“Well, as it turns out, he didn’t care at all. Which brings me here. So, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Still hang out with that old crowd?”

“No, pet, I don’t,” Spike smiled.

“Do you think you could rassle some of them together? I’d like to party the way you did in high school.”

Spike chuckled, “Oh pet. Look, we’ll party, but we don’t need them to do it, yeah?”

Buffy sighed, a triumphant smile on her shiny face. “Yeah.”

Surprisingly enough, Buffy slept like the dead. She realized she had when she woke up in the morning and realized that she hadn’t woken up a half dozen times, hadn’t tossed and turned and stared blankly up the ceiling above her praying for sleep to return. No, she’d slept the whole night through and it was without the aid of a pretty blue pill that she coveted so much when insomnia was at its worst.

Sitting up, she took in the room that was to be her room for however long she chose. It was of medium size, maroon in color and had few furnishings. Her full bed was smack dab in the middle of two windows and under the one to her right was a nightstand that she’d shoved her undergarments in the night before and held a lamp and alarm clock. Across the room was a long bureau with a mirror attached and to the left in the corner was a closet. Next to the closet sat a blue papazan with gigantic white flowers. It was out of place in the room and Buffy gathered it had been banished to the guest room, not going along with the décor of the rest of the home. Kind of like her in her own life. How fitting.

The layout of the house had come back to her the night before when she’d relaxed enough to remember. The bottom floor was the living room, study, bathroom, kitchen and dining room. The top floor was her bedroom, Spike’s bedroom and a full bath. Climbing out of bed she stepped into the plush carpet and strained to hear for any sounds that Spike would be up. The smell of pancakes hit her instantly and humming in delight, Buffy scurried to the bathroom before heading down to greet Spike.

With freshly brushed hair and a washed face, she felt rested and ready to see what the day would bring. For once, she wasn’t scurrying about with planner and phone in hand. In fact, she’d switched off her phone the night before just after she’d left for Spike’s. It was probably under the seat by now. And her planner had been tossed in her backseat in her haste to get out of the stupid promotion for Angel’s stupid movie.

Growling slightly, Buffy entered the sunny white kitchen.

Spike looked up with brows raised from the skillet on the island in the middle of the kitchen, “Are you that hungry that you’re growling?”

“Thoughts of Angel infiltrated. Sorry.”

“No worries, kitten. How are you feeling?”

“I have not slept so well in so damn long. Thank you!”

Spike chuckled and flipped a cake, “You’re welcome. You certainly sound chipper.”

“Well, I feel free. No work, no stupid boyfriend, no worries, no stress, no running around like a chicken with its head cut off. No being around people that could really give a rat’s ass about me.”

“That’s right,” Spike agreed, nodding, flipping the pancake on a plate next to him. “You’re here with me and I care.”

Buffy melted. “Thank you.”

“It’s true pet. Three years apart doesn’t mean that I stopped caring. I reckon we’ve got a lot to re-learn about one another, but we have time, yeah?”

“Yes,” Buffy nodded, “Do you have orange juice?”

“I do, pour me some too?”

“Of course. Hey, where’s your phone book?”

“In the study on the desk. Who are you going to call?”

“Don’t worry about it!” she called as she bustled out of the room.

“Why do I feel like I should?” Spike muttered as he shut the skillet off and went to grab the neglected juice.

********

Settling back in Spike’s black swivel computer chair, Buffy drew her legs up to her chest as she rang Scissors, the place she used to go when she was younger to get her hair cut. Tugging on her golden locks, Buffy grimaced. The hair she’d put off cutting because Angel insisted she keep it long, the hair that inevitably got thrown back in a ponytail by midday and the hair that took what felt like a half a bottle of conditioner to get the knots out in the shower.

She was done with it.

“Just a cut?” the woman with the nasally voice asked on the other end.

Buffy chewed her bottom lip and contemplated that. “Uh, a color too, I think.”

“All right. See you in two hours.”

Buffy grinned and clicked the phone off. A whole new Buffy was coming soon.

********

Spike found it fishy that Buffy had stepped out to “take care of something” and he had half a mind to follow her and make sure she wasn’t doing any of the crazy shit she had been talking of doing the night before, such as skydiving. Buffy, he remembered, got something in her head and didn’t let it go. She was much like him in that case, but at least his ideas included keeping his feet on the ground. Unless of course he counted that LSD trip he took in high school. Buffy had scolded him for weeks after he showed up on her doorstep claiming The Grateful Dead bears were out to get him.

And, after she was done scolding him, she’d expressed that she was envious of him for having done it. She wanted to have, as she put it, “the balls to try that”. Spike assured her, she wasn’t missing much, knowing that as wound up tight as she could be, she’d have most likely a bad trip and he’d end up babysitting the whole time.

Not that he would have minded babysitting her. There was something quite appealing about being Buffy’s knight in shining armor. She was always on her girl power bit, the “hear me roar” kick, and once in a while, he would have liked if she leant on him a bit more. She was now though. Sort of. In her own Buffy way. Wanting him there, but still wanting to be independent. It was something he admired about her greatly, he had to admit. He’d come across a few in his day that would much rather lie down and let him make the decisions for them. Like Harmony Kendall, his ex, for one. The girl that he’d taken up with shortly after finding out Buffy had started dating Captain Forehead, his special name for Angel. The other special name being The Talentless Wonder.

Harmony had been an annoying twit. She was the poster girl for a wannabe fifties woman. All she wanted to do was marry him and bear his children. That had sent Spike running for the hills. As much as he wanted to settle down one day, he did not want a passive woman. He wanted one with some fire, a mind of her own, whose eyes flashed like Buffy’s when she was yelling or excited about something –

“Spike, look what I did!”

Buffy was back and sounding excited. Hell, what did she do… Getting up from his desk chair and away from the computer, he mentally braced himself for what he was about to see. He found her beaming at him, glowing, her cheeks pink, her lips spread into the widest smile he’d ever seen her wear and her hair.

He started. Her hair, her lovely long locks were shorn!

“Do you like?” she prompted, pointing to her hair.

“What did you do?” he asked hoarsely.

“I got it cut! I love it, don’t you love it?”

“But I liked your hair – did you put black in your hair?”

She giggled, “I did! I got that bleached blond look – no offense, Spikey—toned down to this golden color and then had them put in a few streaks of black. I love this new length. It’s long enough, just brushing my shoulders, but not too long.” She moved her head from side to side, causing her short bob to move and bounce. “See? Perfect. And even better? Different.”

Stepping closer to her, Spike inspected her new hairstyle. Reaching out, he fingered her locks, brushing his fingers through her hair. “So soft,” he murmured.

“So much healthier now,” she told him and started off. “So, I heard about this place you can do rock climbing. Wanna join me?”

“Buffy, I thought we talked about this keeping your feet on the ground thing. I was thinking more of something along the lines of visiting a few flea markets.”

“We can do that after; I want to go rock climbing. It’s not outside, not experienced for that. It’s at some gym. Come on, please?”

He stared at her, thinking if he glared at her hard enough, she’d change her mind. No such luck, she just smiled sweeter and got that flash of excitement in her eyes.

“All right, Buffy,” he said on a heavy sight. “Let me go change.”

Buffy was going to kill him, that’s all there was to it. She was out for blood. His blood. She couldn’t exact her revenge on Angel, so now she was after him.

He looked up at her, at the proffered juice she was handing out, a sympathetic look on her face. “How’s your back?”

“How’s my back, she asks,” Spike muttered, grabbing the juice bottle from her hand. “What are you trying to do to me?”

“I didn’t realize there was enough room; I thought I needed to make the rope shorter.”

“And you yanked me down on my ass! I didn’t even get up far enough so that it would look at least somewhat cool. No, I just looked like a gigantic ass!”

“And looking like more of one the more you keep yelling at me,” she retorted, annoyed, crossing her arms across her chest. “You need more ice?” she asked, gesturing to ice pack he had pressed against his back as he sat on a bench against a blue wall while other climbers laughed and had fun.

He scowled at her. “I’m fine.”

“They said you can keep that pack. Do you want to go now or wait a few? Can you walk?”

“I don’t know if I can walk, I nearly had to crawl over here didn’t I? Why don’t you just rip my dick off while you’re at it?”

“Would you stop being such a baby?” she hissed at him. “I said I was sorry like a dozen times!”

“Well say it a dozen more!”

“Hi, I was just wondering if you were okay?”

Both heads swiveled to find a buxom blonde looking directly at Spike with sympathy, her doe eyes appraising him as if she might cry for him.

Spike smiled easily. “I am. Thank you.”

“My name is Tina. If you need anything,” she handed over a slip of paper with a number scrawled on it. “Call me.” She smiled quickly and bounced off, her tits bouncing like air bags.

“How does she know that we’re not together?” Buffy wondered aloud, frowning. “Honestly, some women have no shame at all. Reminds me of that goddamn Cordelia Chase. Just moves right in on my guy and doesn’t care who’s in her way.” Buffy shook her head and looked down at Spike, who was looking up at her, slightly amused now. “What?”

“Working out some issues, luv?”

“Yes! I hate women like that. I hate men too, but I’m an equal opportunity hater I think. I hate them all.”

“Such strong words, pet.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and sat down next to him, grabbed his juice and took a sip. “I like to exaggerate. In this instance though, not so much. I’ve decided I have a lot of rage inside me.”

“I think you do too and it’s all directed at me.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Stop being such a wuss. Come on, I’ll make it up to you and take you out for a really nice dinner. Whaddya say?”

“I say let’s blow this Popsicle stand.”

Giggling, Buffy helped him to his feet and gave him a gentle, tentative hug. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry.”

“I know you are, luv,” Spike said gently, inhaling her scent, amazed that even after a workout, she still smelled sweet. “I’m over it now.”

“All right, come on my little cripple. Keep the ice pack on!”

“I can’t walk and hold it on me at the same time, woman!”

“Fine, I’ll hold it there and you just walk.”

Spike hobbled out of the gym with as much dignity as he could after having fallen on his ass in front of everyone, and currently having Buffy pressing an ice pack against his lower back as if he were a child.

********

“Buffy, what about your house?” Spike asked over chicken marsala at the Olive Garden.

Munching on her garlic herb chicken con broccoli, Buffy shrugged. “It’s mine. He moved in with me. Now he can move his lopsided ass right on out.”

“Don’t you want to make sure he’s not taking something that’s yours and wants to claim as his?”

“What is he a Viking? No, I really don’t give a shit what he takes. And I spent so little time at that goddamn house; I probably wouldn’t even know what he took that was mine to begin with.”

“Buffy that sounds really sad.”

“Haven’t I been saying this? Besides, that bitch won’t want anything that has to do with me anyway. I hear she’s quite jealous and territorial. Yeah, hope that works well for her. I wish those idiots all the luck in the world, cause you know what they say: If they’ll do it with you, they’ll do it to you. This is the third time that whore managed to snag someone already involved.” She bit on a piece of broccoli with vigor. “I hope she rots in hell.”

“Tell me how you really feel because I don’t feel that you’re quite yet in touch with your emotions.”

Buffy giggled and surveyed the room, spotting a couple, a young couple smiling shyly at each other. The guy had his leg bouncing up and down and the girl was playing with the bracelet around her wrist. Buffy smiled at them.

“What are you smiling about?”

“That couple over there, they’re on a date.”

Spike looked in the direction of the couple. “How can you tell?”

“Just watch them for a minute. Look at the way they’re looking at each other. They’re all shy and sweet…”

Spike watched them, smiling softly when he saw the guy fumble with some bread he was trying to hand to the raven haired girl he was with. “Okay, yes, they are on a date.”

“It’s sweet, really. The way they’re both blushing, how he keeps laughing nervously, the way she’s ringing her hands in her lap every so often.”

“The way he keeps taking a sip of wine and she’s barely eating,” Spike said, continuing her narrative.

“Even if he’ll most likely cheat on her and she’ll become a scorned and angry woman instead of the happy girl she is right now. He’ll brag about how he ripped her heart to shreds and--”

“Okay Buffy, look away, they’ve caught us staring and look freaked out. Not to mention you’re kind of freaking me out and dampening the mood.”

Buffy turned and looked at her friend sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“I still see my sweet girl from before, and yet, there’s a bitter, haggard woman inside of you that keeps coming out.”

“It’s like I’m Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde,” Buffy said dryly, ripping a piece of garlic bread off and popping it in her mouth.

“Little bit. More like, well, a woman scorned.”

“Can you blame me?”

He shook his head, “No. I can’t. I hated that bastard from the start.”

Her eyes widened. “You did? Really? What was it about him? The fact that he can’t really act? That he looks like a big doofus and when you look at him you just know that he’s really not thinking anything?”

The fact that he was dating you, was the ready answer that ran through Spike’s mind, but if the thought threw him for a loop, then he was sure it would throw her for one too. Even if it was the truth, and even if he’d known it to be the case for some time now. That was neither here nor there. Whatever little “crush” he’d had on Buffy Summers, was long gone. Or at least it was supposed to be.

Finally, after some deliberation, he answered. “All of the above, luv.”

That seemed to be the right answer for she smiled triumphantly and sat back, taking sip of her wine. “Yes, all of the above.”

“If you wanted to go to the house, let me finish before you get your knickers in a twist…” and he waited for her to sit back. “If you wanted to go to the house and see what was happening, I’d come with you.”

“You would? You never wanted to visit me before.”

“That’s not true. I did want to.” I just didn’t want to have to see you living with that pompous ass. It was bad enough that I knew about it. “I just never got to.” Cause I lied and said I was following a story when you’d call and ask me out. “But now, as you know, I have the time. And if he is there, I can punch his bloody lights out for hurting you as he did. “It’s the least I can do.” Since I was never supportive of your relationship with that talentless hack before.

Buffy sighed heavily and stared at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know, we’ll see. I just like being away from it all. I’m afraid I’ll get sucked into some kind of vortex and be dragged into it all over again.”

“I am all for you taking a break, Buffy. It sounds like you need one, but I’m just saying that you might want to at least make sure that idiot isn’t screwing you over even more than he already has.”

“We’ll see,” Buffy murmured and sat up. Grabbing her fork, she stabbed a piece of his chicken. “You mind?”

He smiled, “Not at all, luv, not at all.”

Stumbling into Spike’s kitchen in the middle of the night, Buffy was surprised to find him awake and at the table, typing away on his laptop.

“What are you doing up?” she asked bleary-eyed, her voice thick with sleep still.

“I couldn’t sleep. I figured if I got up and wrote a little, I’d be able to get some rest.”

Taking a glass out of the cabinet and filling it with water, she watched him tap away. She smiled at how adorable he looked. Hair tousled and unruly from sleep, loose black sweats and a white undershirt, no socks.

“Spike, you don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”

He shook his head, not taking his eyes from the screen. “No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Otherwise I never would have been able to stay here with you.”

“How do you figure that?” he asked, looking at her briefly.

“No girlfriend would let you get away with having another woman stay at your house.”

“Well that other woman would have to understand that we’re a package deal,” Spike drawled. “Have one, have the other.”

Buffy smiled. “I don’t think that’d fly. If it were someone else, it wouldn’t fly with me.”

“I’m a rare breed, what can I say?” Spike joked. “And it’d take a rare breed to take up with the likes of me.”

Buffy smiled. “You want some hot chocolate or something? Do you have any? I could make it the way my Mom used to make it for us when we’d have sleepovers.”

Spike grinned at her. “I’d like that. I have some in the cabinet next to the cups. And mini-marshmallows too.”

Buffy laughed breezily. “Of course! You know Spike; I’ve been meaning to tell you that I love this house.”

“Buffy, you spent nearly every day in this house when we were growing up. You make it sound as though you’re seeing it for the first time.”

“Well, I am in a way,” she replied softly, shrugging.

“What do you mean?” he asked, finally stopping typing and focusing on her. Well, sort of, his hands were still poised on the keyboard, but his attention was directed on her.

“Well, when we were growing up I took it for granted. I took my house for granted for that matter. I liked it well enough, but I always envisioned more. Then I got more and now I see I’d like less. I hate my house now that I think of it. I hate how vast it is, how there are rooms I never visit because I never have the time. That’s the thing about making it big, you can have all that you want and more, but then you don’t know what to do with it and never have the time to figure that out.”

Spike stared at her, pulling his hands from the keyboard and studied her. When they were younger, Buffy would always talk of the things she wanted to have – a big house, gorgeous husband, a nanny for her child so she could feel free to travel and hobnob with big time actors and actresses, and all the other various important people she planned to know. She’d always planned to have her hand in a little bit of everything. He’d always seen it for her because she’d drilled it in his head that it was what she wanted and was going to have. Now though, now looking at her in her white pajama bottoms with pink and blue stripes, pink tank top and her hair pulled back in possibly the smallest ponytail known to man, Spike could still see the girl that had envisioned all those things and he could see why she hated it now.

It wasn’t that she was just going through a bad breakup and a slight crisis of self, but Buffy quite simply did not fit that lifestyle. Her being part of that glitz and glamour, and wholly fake lifestyle did not match her. It was if she were trying to jam herself into something the way a person might try to jam their foot in a shoe that doesn’t fit them quite right. It looked well from the outside, but after a while, it got too restricting, too tight, and too uncomfortable to comfortably keep walking in. She wasn’t a glitzy, glamorous city girl at heart. She was a small town girl with old fashioned values. Trying to be someone else for so long, trying to shoe horn your way in had to be exhausting. No wonder she was having a crisis of self. It must be hard to reconcile what you wanted to have with what really makes you happy. The two didn’t always coincide as Buffy was learning.

It made Spike wonder if being a Rock God would necessarily make him happy, or if he would be shoe horning his way into that life if he tried it. Buffy had tried it though, right? If he hated it, he could always leave later the way she had…couldn’t he?

He watched her looking around, drinking in the room as the hot water started to whistle in the pot. Some thing he too preferred to do the old-fashioned way.

“It was really nice of your parents to leave you the house,” Buffy noted, taking the pot off the stove and pouring the water in the mugs she’d selected for them.

“I reckon they felt guilty for taking off back to London,” Spike muttered and got out the milk for the hot chocolate concoction.

“Yeah, my parents are just happy to have new digs in Beverly Hills. Especially my mother.” She shook her head, sounding wistful, regretful. “Your parents were always so kind and supportive. I always wanted to trade your mom for mine.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Buffy said nodding. “Your mom was the only one that told me to do the things that made me happy and to bugger everyone else. I always got the impression she meant my parents. You know, we should go visit them.”

“What?”

“We should visit your parents. Take a trip. We’ve both got the time.”

Spike shook his head. “Buffy, you’re beginning to worry me.”

She blinked up at him as she stirred her hot chocolate. “Why?”

“I’m starting to get the sense that you’re running, pet. You’re not so much trying to heal as you’re looking for a quick fix.”

She bristled, shaking her head. “No, I’m not.”

“Buffy--”

“Just thinking about all the nice leisurely things I never got to do and would like to do, that’s all.”

“Pet, it’s more like you feel you have to punch a time clock. You’re not even thirty yet, you have plenty of time to do all these things, and you don’t have to do them within the span of a few months.”

“But I want to! What if I get hit by a bus tomorrow or what if I find out that I can’t do anything else than what I’ve done and I end up taking a shit job just trying to get by, and never get to do all the things that I’ve wanted to do? I just can’t stand the fact that there are people like Angel out there that can shit on others and get to do whatever the hell they want and I don’t get to! It’s not fair.”

“Life--”

“So help me, if you say life isn’t fair. I know it isn’t and that’s such a cop out thing to say. It’s a crap chute on what’s fair and not fair –can’t you make the unfair things swing in your favor? Isn’t that possible? Aren’t we in charge of our destiny?”

Spike sighed heavily and took a sip of his hot chocolate. “Buffy, look, all I’m asking is that you take your time a bit here. Try not running around with your head cut off, that’s all I’m asking. You want to make some changes in your life and do some different things, then I’m all for it. Just don’t run. When you’re tired, you’re gonna crash, and I’m worried about the crash is all.”

“Well don’t. I’m fine.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you trust me?”

Gazing into her impossibly mossy green eyes, Spike had a distinct sinking sensation wash over him. “I--” he coughed slightly. “I trust you.” Starting to not trust me, though.

Sitting up in her bed, her borrowed bed, Buffy pondered what Spike had told her earlier about “slowing down” and “taking her time.” The fact was she’d rushed through what was supposed to be the best years of her life and got nothing out of it except money. Money, as she was learning, was not the root off all happiness. Sure, it could buy some really great things that made her happy for a little while, but it wasn’t the end all be all. If she died tomorrow, what would become of all that money? It would just go to her parents and they’d live even more comfortably than they were now. And did she really feel all that benevolent about spreading the wealth when their entire life had been about pushing her to make said money so that they a) didn’t have to support her anymore and b) so that she could somehow “pay them back” for all the years they had supported her? Granted, the only years they’d had to support her was until she turned eighteen. So, really, she was paying them back for all the years they were in actuality responsible for her. Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought and she pondered snatching all they had out from under them. “I’m paying you back!” she’d say with a sneer, the irony of it all being lost on them most likely.

Okay, so it wasn’t like cutting her hair or rock climbing would matter much if she were dead either. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true, she thought. At least when I’m up there in heaven I can look back at my life and see all the things that I enjoyed about my life, and is the rat race I’ve been part of, is that something I’ve really enjoyed? No. Not that I hadn’t enjoyed it for a little while, but it’s so fake, all of it, and I never felt like me. I kept waiting for the fun to start, for what people saw at home to be in my own life. I forgot as one of those that weave a story for the folks at home, that it’s just that – a story. None of it is really real. Doesn’t it mean something that when I needed to get away from all that crap I went to the one person that I could always be myself with?

She had to admit, she felt irresponsible. After working so hard for so long it was difficult to just take some time off. She felt reckless. As if she was playing hooky. In high school, Spike was always the one cutting class and trying to get her to go with him. The one time she did, she felt anxious. She kept looking over her shoulder expecting that at any minute she was about to get caught. And she had. The next day, she’d received detention and it was a horrible, horrible moment when she had to look at the Vice Principal as he told her she was to report for detention after school, the look of disappointment evident on his face. Buffy was the good girl, the straight A student, involved in almost every club, her name behind any even the school funded, and she’d been gotten “in trouble”. Still, to this day, it made her shudder to remember.

Things were different now though. She was under no rules save for her own. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. Her phone, she’d shoved in a drawer so she wouldn’t be tempted to open it and listen to her gazillion messages of everyone wondering where the hell she was. Each time she passed by that drawer though, it got a little bit harder not to take just a peak.

Heaving a sigh, Buffy shook her head. No. This is my life and I’m going to do what I want and how I want and damn it all if everyone, even Spike, doesn’t like it.

With that thought in mind, Buffy lay down to get some much needed rest. There was a tattoo she’d been thinking about getting in the morning…

*********

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Spike rapped on Buffy’s door. He’d heard her milling around in there and was wondering what she had planned for the day. Plus, he was worried that she was still peeved at him for his sage words of advice that he never seemed to follow himself. Hadn’t he always marched to the beat of a different drummer and told Buffy that what she needed to do was loosen up a bit? So why he was now telling her to get a hold of herself, he wasn’t sure. Only think he could come up with was that Buffy had always been the straight-laced one, the one that had it all together and he was always the one that flew by the seat of his pants, got himself into trouble, and somehow still landed on his feet. She was attempting to reverse their roles without even realizing it and it was cause for concern.

“Buffy? What are you doing?” he asked through the door, trying to discern by the movements inside what she was doing. Knowing her she was attempting to make a rocket to the moon out of a few household appliances a la Better off Dead.

The door swung open and a fresh faced, sweet scented Buffy greeted him. She wore black straight leg pants, black v-neck top and black flats.

“Hey, I was wondering if Buffy was in here, Audrey,” Spike greeted her, grinning.

She shot him a mock glare and grabbed her black hand bag from the top of her dresser. “Audrey Hepburn always was favorite of mine,” she said haughtily and walked past him, pushing him slightly out of the way.

“Where are you off to this morning, my little daredevil?” he asked following her, appreciating the tightness of her pants around her bum.

Keeping her head held high, she headed for the front door and without turning around, answered him. “I’m going to get a tattoo.”

Spike froze. “What?”

“I’m going to get a tattoo,” she said simply, sounding put out that she had to answer him again.

Her hand had just closed around the doorknob when Spike sprang into action. He lunged forward and grabbed her forearm, spinning her to face him. “Oh, no, Princess, I don’t think so.”

Buffy glared up at him and tried in vain to yank her arm free of his grasp. “Why not?” she demanded.

“It’s a tattoo, Buffy. That’s permanent ink on your skin. I don’t even have one!”

“So? I have to use you as some kind of ruler by which I made the decision on what I should get?”

“Everyone will see it on you!”

“Well,” she said softly, “not everyone.”

Crossing his arms about his chest, Spike looked down at her, narrowing his eyes. “And just where do you presume to get this tattoo?”

She looked up at him, pouting, her succulent bottom lip protruding. “On my lower back,” she said petulantly.

For a minute he was distracted by her pout, thinking, Oooh, pouty….look at that lip, before what she said sunk into his head. “What?!” he roared. “Your lower back? Are you daft?”

She grinned, suddenly seeming to enjoy his outburst. “You know what they say, right? Tattoo on the lower back, might as well be a bull’s eye.”

He was too stunned at her words to make a move quick enough to halt her. She was out the door in a flash as he stared after her, mouth gaping open.

When he came to, he rushed out the door, nearly smashing his foot on the swinging door in the process. “Buffy, wait!” he shouted as she started to climb in her car.

“Now what?” she asked tersely.

“Don’t take that tone with me, missy!” he shouted after her, bounding up to her car. “Just look, let me shower and get dressed and I’ll come with you.”

She hesitated, frowning slightly. “You won’t talk me out of it?”

“Could I?”

“No.”

“No, well then, at least let me help you find a respectable one.”

She gave him a look and rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

She is going to be the death of me, Spike thought as they made their way back to the house. When did I become my father? And to a grown woman!

Buffy tried to tell him that there really wasn’t much ‘respectable’ when putting a tattoo on your lower back. Spike was insistent though. There had to be something, and he was adamant about not only finding one, but making sure she wore shirts that didn’t ride up and show off the tattoo.

“Don’t need anyone getting the wrong idea,” he told her.

She smirked, “What if I want them to?”

He gave her a look and she shrugged. He got the distinct impression she thought he was just being paranoid and overly protective.

Well, yeah he thought as she lay on her belly, getting in position for the funky tattoo she was getting on her back. He couldn’t even describe what it was. All he knew was that it meant ‘tranquility’ and it was to be all in black.

Holding out her hand, he grasped hers and allowed her to use him as her rock. He watched her face contort in all sorts of expressions from pain to uncertainty to calm back to pain. He squeezed her hand, lending her strength and she sighed.

Talk was minimal for a while, most of the time was spent with the both of them discussing the rag he was flipping through and making commentary on it. Then the subject of sky diving was somehow brought up and the tattoo artist jumped in, having a wealth of knowledge on the subject – including where to go, what the prices were and how ‘safe’ it was. Spike glared at him. That’s all he needed. For her to get it in her head to go skydiving. He was hoping that was an idea that had been firmly uprooted. Apparently not, he wagered as he watched her talk animatedly to the tattoo artist about it.

“Buffy, luv, feet on the ground, yeah? We agreed?” Spike interrupted, feeling he needed to remind her.

She broke off and looked at him. “I didn’t agree to anything.”

“Buffy…” Spike muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s a rush,” the tattoo artist gushed.

“Maybe you could come with me, Mike,” Buffy told him. She was now inviting tattoo guy to go skydiving with her?

“Buffy, you’re not bloody going skydiving!” he exclaimed.

“Spike, you’re not my father.”

“No, but I’m the guy you’re staying with and clearly the only one thinking here!”

“Hey!” she exclaimed.

“Your boyfriend is kind of rude huh?” Mike muttered sympathetically to her.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Buffy said a little too quickly for Spike’s liking. “But he is an ass apparently.”

“Dude, it’s totally safe,” Mike told him. “You know, as long as your chute opens and that’s like a one in million chance that that doesn’t happen.”

“Knowing her luck, it would be that one in a million,” Spike nearly hollered. “Don’t help, Mike. Just don’t help.” An image of Buffy’s body lying in a broken heap on the ground did not settle well with him at all. It gave him the chills.

Buffy turned her head from him, and he could see the tell tale signs of a pout. Christ, he hadn’t wanted to upset her.

Kneeling by her side, he tilted her head up and made her look at him. The unshed tears in her eyes tore at him. “Buffy, luv, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“It’s not that,” she whimpered.

“What?”

“It kind of hurts now. Hold my hand?”

Dumbly, Spike reached out and took her hand, squeezing it. She smiled softly at him and shut her eyes tight. He wanted to stave off her pain, but was also hoping this meant she would call off her sky-diving idea. Maybe she’d see the bad in that, the way she hadn’t seen it in this one.

********

When she was done and had a brand spanking new tattoo and a sore lower back, Buffy was grinning from ear to ear, the pain apparently forgotten. While she paid, she kept looking over her shoulder into the mirror behind them at the cash wrap and staring with a smug grin at her back.

Spike had to admit it was sexy.

“Do you like it?” she asked him excitedly.

He wanted to say no so that she’d stop on this train of –train of whatever she was on, but couldn’t bring himself to dampen her mood. She was so excited about it. “Yeah, luv, I like it,” he told her honestly, smiling tenderly at her.

“You should so get one,” she told him, nodding adamantly.

“Oh, but I’m so not,” he said, mocking her. “You think I want to get one after you nearly cried getting it?”

“Well…it goes away after a while.”

“That’s what they all say. I wager you’d get your tongue pierced and try to tell me that didn’t hurt?”

Her eyes widened with growing excitement.

“Forget it!” he exclaimed, pointing at her warningly.

Buffy grumbled and looked away from him.

“I can tell you that really does hurt,” Mike said behind the counter. “I got it done and my tongue swelled so bad, I just took it out. I mean, they jam a needle through your tongue!”

Buffy and Spike stared at him, the irony not lost on them. The man had a zillion tattoos and an eyebrow ring. How did that not hurt any less? they both wondered.

Shrugging, Buffy glanced at Spike, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think it’d be my thing anyway. Though I hear it’s great for blow jobs.”

Mike handed her her cash back with a kind of loving reverence and Spike waited until her money was in her purse before he grabbed her arm and nearly pulled her out of the tattoo parlor.

“You’ve got a lot to learn about men, sweetheart,” he drawled, trying to tamp down his own growing fantasy of Buffy with a tongue ring going down on him.

“What do you mean?” she asked innocently.

“I mean you don’t talk about blow jobs like that so casually, especially with a guy like that who was just waiting for an opportunity.”

Buffy grinned slowly, her smile much like a Cheshire cat. “I know, that’s why I did it. Guess I’ve still got it.” And she sauntered away slowly, swinging her hips from side to side.

“Mother of God, help me,” Spike muttered, casting his eyes to the sky before running after Buffy in case she found something else to do that was going to give him heart failure from the distance of the curb he was standing on to the car, twenty feet away.

*********

“How’re you doing, luv?” Spike asked later on that evening handing Buffy some ibuprofen. Her tattoo had started getting itchy and sore as the day went on. It was evening now and all she seemed inclined to do was lie on her belly on his living room floor, whine to him occasionally and flip through the channels.

“I’m okay,” she said, sitting up and taking the proffered ibuprofen. Washing it down with her water on the coffee table, she looked up at him. “What are you doing in there?” she asked, pointing to the study.

“Trying to write some.”

“Write what?”

“Lyrics.”

She raised a brow. “Lyrics? I thought the band, well, disbanded.”

“It did, but I’m thinking of using this time to see if I can write some new material and maybe start another one.”

“Why?”

His eyes narrowed, “Some of us didn’t get our dreams realized,” he snapped and stomped off. Bloody chit.

“Spike, no, I didn’t mean it that way!” she called after him, her tiny feet running to him. She put a hand on his arm and tugged him to look at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It just surprised me. I thought you liked writing and I know that you had a dream for making it big with your band once upon a time, but I thought that was over. I didn’t know--”

“How could you?” he snapped. “You’ve been lost in your own little world doing your own little thing, rubbing elbows with celebrities and shacking up with one. How could you know possibly anything of what I want anymore?”

Buffy stepped back, releasing him. “Ouch. That hurt.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, you did. I’m glad you got that out though. I would hate for you to have all this anger toward me all this time. But you know Spike; you’re not exactly innocent either. There were times I did try to get in touch with you and I never got anything in return.”

“Oh, how many times did you try? Twice?”

“More than that and you know it! I thought we agreed that it was both our faults!”

“More so yours than mine,” Spike muttered.

“You’re such an ass!” she shouted, glaring at him.

“You’re such a bratty bitch!” he shouted back. Never had he wanted to kiss a woman more. This was what he loved about Buffy. They were the best of friends, but man, they could argue. And when they argued, it never failed to excite him. She never backed down, she always gave as good as she got.

“Well, fine! If that’s the way you feel then I’ll just leave!” she hollered, stomping toward her bedroom. He had to bite back a grin at how glorious she was when angry. “Mike slipped me his number this afternoon, maybe I’ll just stay with him!”

Spike froze, Wait, what? “He did what?” he nearly roared stomping after her.

She turned to him, “He slipped his number in with my money. Clever huh?”

“You are not staying with that oaf. No fucking way, Buffy.”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“Oh yes, I am. God knows someone needs to be while you’re out of your bloody tree. You stay here, you get me? You don’t go anywhere unless I’m right there with you, you hearing me you daft woman?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Give me a break, Spike. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I am an adult.”

“You’re an adult all right,” he muttered. “You’re bent on getting into trouble wherever you can and driving me round the bend while you’re at it!”

Buffy smiled suddenly and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Spike, I have missed you. Even arguing with you. No one has ever made me feel quite so loved and protected as you have.”

Tentatively, Spike hugged her back, mindful of her sore tattoo. It proved to be his downfall though, wrapping his arms around her. Her scent surrounded him, her body was pressed against his and he felt whole, complete – aroused.

Pecking his cheek, she parted before his arousal got to be noticeable. “I—I’m sorry I yelled at you, Buffy.”

“Don’t be. I deserved some of that.”

“And I deserved what you gave me.”

“Then I guess we’re even then?” she asked and stuck out her hand. “In the past?”

He took her soft, delicate hand in his and nodded. “In the past.”

A song, a bloody irritating 80’s pop song kept running through his head at that point… Catch me I’m falling…falling in lo-ove!

“How’s the back today?” Spike asked the following morning when a groggy Buffy ventured out in the kitchen where Spike was sipping his second cup of coffee and checking email on his laptop.

“It’s all right I guess,” she answered on a yawn and poured a cup of coffee. “What are you doing? Writing some more?”

“Checking e-mail.”

Buffy nodded and sipped her coffee. “I don’t even want to know how many is waiting for me.”

“Guess who left me a voice mail this morning?”

“Who?”

“Your mother.”

Buffy’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head and she stood up straight. “What?”

“Do you want to listen to it?”

“A very emphatic no. I don’t need to hear the worry over the house in her voice.”

Spike looked at her, puzzled. “House? What house? She didn’t mention a house.”

“Not directly, no, but that’s what she’s thinking of. She’s worried I won’t go back to work. If I don’t go back to work, she’s afraid she’ll lose that house I got her and my Dad. Her voice is laced with faux worry and greed.”

Spike chuckled, “Didn’t realize a voice could be laced with greed.”

“If you’re around it enough, you pick up on it rather quick.”

“Buffy, she’s your mother. All you have to do is call her, say you’re taking some time off and hang up.”

“She’ll ask questions!”

“That you don’t have to answer,” Spike pointed out. “What happened to the grown woman last night that told me she could take care of herself and do what she wanted?”

“That woman turns into a teenage girl with no backbone when her mother gets involved. She has the uncanny ability to make me feel like taking a break is irresponsible. Not to mention if I bother to tell her that work is stressful and I should have any complaints – then she just tells me to basically suck it up and deal. Other mothers talk it out with their kids; they might even give advice, not her. It’s just ‘Look at what you have, Buffy’, ‘They’re your bread and butter, Buffy’, ‘You don’t want to lose everything do you, Buffy’? And all of that if I tell her what a pain in the ass a celebrity is being, or another agent or whatever. She just wants me to lie down and be a doormat.”

Spike stared at her speculatively. “Buffy, luv, I think a lot of your issues have to do with your mom and maybe not so much the job.”

“I think a lot of my issues have to do with being told what to do for most of my natural life.”

“I thought your job was to tell others what to do?”

“One would think,” Buffy muttered. “I have control to a point, Spike. But mostly, it’s catering to what ‘they’ want. What will make ‘them’ happy. Having to kiss their ass a lot of the time and play a stupid game to get them around to your way of thinking. It’s tedious and exhausting.”

“I guess I don’t get how people can change from being normal individuals to demanding Prima Donna’s so quickly,” Spike wondered out loud.

“Well, because suddenly they have people bowing down to them, saying how great they are, how fantastic and willing to do anything to make them happy. They realize they don’t have to want for anything and can make other people do their dirty work. So, they do. Not all of them are like that, but it’s the bad apples that spoil the bunch.”

Spike grinned. “So the saying goes. Buffy, look, you don’t have to tell her anything, but at least tell her that you’re all right and that you’re here.”

“What if she comes to get me?” Buffy demanded, throwing her arms up.

“Then you don’t go!” he said, throwing his arms up in return. “Buffy, you’re twenty-nine years old, this is your life, and she does not have control over you anymore. You have control over you, remember that,” Spike told her sternly.

Buffy heaved a big sigh and nodded. “Right. I’m an adult. This is my life, not hers, and all that matters is my happiness.”

“Exactly,” Spike said proudly.

“So, you want to call her for me and tell her that?” she asked, scrunching her face up as if pained.

Spike laughed at how adorable and how incredibly chicken she could be. “No! You’re telling me you’re willing to go sky diving, but you’re terrified of calling your mother? You are an enigma Buffy Anne Summers.”

“All part of my charm. You know I think I’ll actually do the sky diving first. Then when I’m on a high from not dying, I’ll call her.”

“You’re not going sky diving, but think of the fun if you told her you were on your way out the door to do just that?” Spike suggested, grinning widely.

Buffy’s eyes widened and she started to laugh. Squealing, she rushed over and hugged him, peppering his face with kisses. “You’re an idea man, I like that!”

Spike looked up at her, dazed.

“I’m going to shower and call the skydiving place before I call her…” she muttered and sauntered off.

It took him a minute…

“Hey, get back here! That’s not what I meant, Summers!”

*********

Spike managed to talk her out of skydiving, but did insist that she call her mother. After some shopping and milling around town doing the avoiding thing, he made her do it. All it took was the threat of her mother calling out a search party in the form of police. Buffy immediately paled at the thought and said she was on it.

Sitting next to her on her bed and holding her hand for support, Spike watched Buffy wince when her mother answered the phone.

“Buffy, what are you doing?” he could hear Joyce ask. Why doesn’t she ask how she’s doing first? he thought angrily.

“I’m spending some time with Spike,” Buffy answered timidly.

“Why?”

“I needed a break.”

“A break? Can you afford it?”

“Yes, mom, I can—“

“I heard about Cordelia and Angel. What happened, Buffy? What did you do?”

Buffy’s jaw dropped and Spike growled. Before Buffy could blink, he snatched the phone from her. “Hey, Joyce?”

“Spike?”

“Yeah, listen, we gotta go, sorry. Buffy and I have an appointment. We’re going skydiving. We’ll ring later, you know, as long as our chute’s open. Bye!” Clicking the cordless off, Spike pulled a comatose Buffy off the bed. “Come on, kitten.”

“Why did you do that?” she sputtered.

“I could hear her, what she was saying and she pissed me off. She had no right to say that to you. It wasn’t your fault Angel was a jackass and didn’t appreciate what he had.”

Buffy blinked up at him. “It wasn’t?”

“No, it wasn’t. You listen to me, Buffy: You’re a prize, a hell of a woman and if he didn’t see that and get that, then he’s not fit to breathe your air. You get me?”

She nodded dumbly.

“Good, now come on,” he said and led her out of the bedroom.

“Where are we going?”

“You said you’ve never been drunk before. Well, sweetheart, you’re about to get pissed.”

Spike took Buffy to the nearby watering hole, The Phoenix. One half of the place was a bar with a dance area that had karaoke over the weekend, and the other half was a restaurant that served the best bloody wings he’d ever had. It was a fairly respectable place, a place he was sure he could keep an eye on Buffy. And now, two hours in to their evening out, Spike wasn’t sure who needed to be drunk more: Buffy for what her mother had accused her of, or him.

Being around her again was slowly driving him mad. That little crush he’d had once upon a time was coming back – or rather was back if he wanted to admit it to himself, but he didn’t so in his mind it was coming back.

And now, after she’d made him sing karaoke, “You can call me Al” by Paul Simon, with her – as it was their song from childhood – Spike was feeling that if she was going to be dragging him into further hijinks, he needed to be at least somewhat pissed to do it. Currently she had the song list in front of her which was a thick three ring binder, and she was bopping her head to the music being sung in the background as she trailed the tip of a pencil down the page and giggled every now and then. Adorable pain in my arse,, he thought, smiling as he watched her.

“Do you think I could pull off Joan Jett?” she asked, poking her head up to peer at him. Her expression was a mixture of innocence and seriousness.

He couldn’t help but grin at her. “What song you thinking about, kitten? ‘I Hate Myself for Loving You’?”

“As if! No way, are you kidding? Could I be any more cliché singing that?” Spike chuckled at her speak which was becoming freer, funnier and increasingly slurred. “I was thinking of ‘I Love Rock n’ Roll.’”

“I don’t think so, luv. She’s a bit hardcore for you.”

She pouted then and turned back to the page. She’s going to bloody well kill me isn’t she? he mused zeroing in on her extended lower lip.

“Britney Spears did it,” she muttered.

“And she bloody well hacked it, didn’t she?”

Buffy nodded and sighed, acquiescing. “Yeah, she really did.”

“Maybe we’ll practice, eh? For another time?”

She smiled brightly then and downed the rest of her fourth margarita whilst glancing at the page. Nearly slamming the glass down, she squealed and clapped her hands. “That’s the one!” and she burst into giggles before jotting down her next ‘number’ and stood, wobbling slightly. “You want anything? I’m getting another.”

“You think you need another?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically, “I’m not even going to justify that with a response,” she said before walking off, stumbling just a bit.

“What that bloody git was thinking letting her go, I’ll never understand,” Spike muttered to himself as he sipped his fifth beer. He was nearing a buzz, finally. This night had proven he could drink Buffy under the table. It had also proven that she was a friendly drunk; she talked to each and every person that walked by their table, smiling genuinely, if not drunkenly at them. She was also complimentary when drunk and he attributed it to her being a happy drunk that felt free in saying things she felt coming to the surface.

“My Id has come out to play,” she told him cheekily when she came back from getting another rather large margarita.

“Oh?” he asked, raising a brow.

She smiled mischievously, “You’ll see!”

“Why does that strike fear into my heart?” he asked, leaning across the table so she could hear him better.

She laughed, throwing her head back. It was a kind of evil laugh. “Well, rest assured that I will be singing before you, so you don’t have to worry.”

Spike’s eyes nearly fell from his skull. “What did you do, little girl?”

“Nothing bad. Hey, if you’re going to be starting up the band again, you better get into practice, buddy!” she told him, waving a finger at him.

“Buffy--”

“Hey, Buffy, can I buy you a drink?”

Their heads turned to see a tall natural blond grinning almost shyly at her. It was one of the men she had spoken to earlier, Buffy having complimented on his long, wavy hair.

“Oh, I’m sorry Kyle, I just got one. Maybe next time?” she told the guy, smiling brightly, if not a bit too flirtatiously for Spike’s liking.

Kyle blushed and nodded. “Just give a shout,” he said before walking away.

Buffy smiled sweetly, “How cute was that? So very sweet!”

“Yeah, sweet,” Spike muttered, “Buffy, you want to not flirt with the entire room, I mean they’re all drinking and I’m sure not all of them will be as kind as Kyle there was--”

“Up next is Buffy Summers!”

Jumping out of her chair, Buffy grinned and broadly. “That’s me!” And she scampered off to grab the mic being held out to her in the middle of the small dance floor.

When the strains of the song started, Spike racked his brain, trying to figure out why his blood suddenly turned cold in his veins. This song was familiar…

”You’re the one who makes me come running
You’re the sun who makes me shine
When you’re around I’m always laughing
I want to make you mine”

“Oh bloody buggering fucking hell,” Spike swore, swiftly moving closer to Buffy, wanting to make sure no Neanderthal’s got any ideas. His eyes nearly bugged when Buffy began swaying her hips quite seductively to the song, her eyes taking on a ‘come hither’ look.

”I close my eyes and see you before me
Think I would die if you were to ignore me
A fool could see just how much I adore you
I get down on my knees I do anything for you”

Spike stared, feeling half aroused and half worried when she dropped to her knees. When the men in the room began to cheer, Spike glared at every single one of them.

”I don’t want anybody else
When I think about you I touch myself
Ooh I don’t want anybody else
Oh no, oh no, oh no

I want you I don’t want anybody else
And when I think about you I touch myself
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh ahh”

One hand made the path from her shoulder, across her chest and down between the valley of her breasts…

“Touch yourself!” was shouted.

I don’t want anybody else when I think about you
I touch myself ooh I don’t want anybody else
Oh no, oh no, oh no

That hand drifted across her belly and down over her hips as the she sang the last bit, and that’s when Spike had had his fill. Nearly lunging at her, he grabbed the mic from her and tossed it to the woman waiting at the switchboard.

“That’s it. Show’s over,” he told Buffy and yanked her up.

“No!” she told him petulantly and made to get the mic back.

“I don’t think so Buffy Anne Summers!” Spike barked and yanked her to him. Hauling her up over his shoulder, he carried her like a sack of potatoes toward the Exit.

“Spike, put me down!” he heard her yell at him.

“No!” he answered shortly.

Clapping sounded from the patrons in the bar and he paid no mind, though he heard her say happily, “Byeeee!”

Once outside, Spike focused solely on getting home. The great thing about The Phoenix was that it was within walking distance of his house.

“Spike…” he heard her murmur, but he said nothing in return until he felt her start to hit his ass with her hands as though he were a drum set.

“Anyone ever tell you that you have a really nice ass, Spike?”

That did it. In one swift move, he set her down on her feet, holding onto her as she steadied herself.

She looked up at him. “Why did you do that?”

“You were pandering to all the Cro-Magnon in there!”

“It was just a song,” she waved him off. “And you didn’t get to sing yours!”

“Just what did you choose for me?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“’Love Stinks’. Remember in college when you sang that at a party?”

And it was in that moment that Spike realized he was back to where he’d been before. There was no sense in fighting the truth, it was staring him right in the face and she was intent on making him feel it and remember it. He remembered singing ‘Love Stinks’ all right. Buffy had been dating some stupid sod at that point in time and having to be around them for most of the night while his then girlfriend shagged some bloke in another bedroom had inspired him to get pissed and sing a song about the exact nature of what he felt at that time. Love did stink as far as he was concerned, which was why he avoided it at all costs. Buffy, however, was the only girl he knew that had the power to make him confront it.

Inside he was kicking and screaming, having a real hissy fit about the whole thing. He was not going to be that hopeless puppy with a crush, he simply wasn’t. It was with that thought in mind that he grabbed her and kissed her hard. She tasted of margaritas and sugar—sweet and tangy and something uniquely Buffy. Before he could get lost in that kiss, of the feel of her soft lips finally upon his, he released her and proceeded to drag her off to the house.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “I remember.”

Nothing was quite as sobering or as intoxicating as a kiss. Especially a kiss like that. A drive by kiss. A kiss without explanation, a kiss that was just suddenly there. Buffy said nothing as Spike drug her back to his house, all she could do was stare at the back of his head and think Did he just kiss me? For that, the rest of the trip was met in silence.

When they got back to the house he muttered to her, telling her that he was going to get her some water and aspirin. She followed him, stumbling a bit, trying to fight against the drunkenness. It wasn’t easy. She’d had a lot to drink, at least for her anyway. All she could do was watch him move about the kitchen, trying to stand still and not sway.

Handing her the glass of water, he ordered, “Drink” and she did so. Then he filled it up again and handed her some aspirin. “Drink again,” he ordered and took the pills.

When she was done, she blinked at him and he stared at her. “Get to bed, Buffy,” he said after a long while.

“Spike?” she asked, stopping him on his retreat from her.

“Yeah?”

“Are you mad at me?”

Her voice was so small and so full of worry that he instantly felt like a git. How was it her fault that he never told her about his stupid crush? How was it her fault that she was so perfectly clueless? That was her. That was just Buffy.

“No, Buffy,” he shook his head and sighed, “I’m not mad at you, luv.”

“Cause you kissed me.”

“I know.”

She chewed her bottom lip and looked down for a minute. “Why’d you do that?”

“I felt like it. Got my motor revved with that song.” It was partly true, she had. She’d also angered him by turning on all the blokes in the room.

She didn’t look like she completely believed him, but at the same time wasn’t going to question further. “Oh.”

“Let that be a lesson to you,” he teased and then regretted it. Now she’d be afraid that every time she did something remotely sexy, she would unwittingly turn him on and elicit more less than brotherly attentions from him. And she did sexy things without knowing it. Hell, the way she beamed up at him turned him on. “Look, just too much liquor and…okay?”

She nodded. “Under rug swept.”

“Right. Get some sleep, yeah? Hopefully you won’t have much of a hangover tomorrow.”

“If I do, is there a gross remedy you have to concoct just in case?” she asked, grinning now.

He laughed, “Yeah. Tylenol and sleep.”

“Oh,” she looked disappointed. “Is that all you did back in the day?”

“Yup, that’s all I did back in the day.”

“All right. Well, good night Spike. Thanks for my first drunken experience. Hope I didn’t traumatize you too much.”

“No, kitten, you didn’t. Good night.”

He willed himself to walk away and not go to her and wrap her up in his arms. It was what he wanted to do more than anything, but was what he could not do.

*********

The next morning when Buffy woke, she yawned loudly and then braced herself for the onslaught of some kind of sickness. There was none to her great disappointment. All she felt was tired still. Grumbling, she tossed her covers back and went to shower, she also felt gross.

Coming out of the bathroom clad in a big blue towel, she bumped right into a bleary eyed Spike clad in only baby blue boxers.

“Sorry!” Buffy said, holding onto her towel in one hand and touching his chest with the other. She gulped, looking at that chest her hand was on. That’s a six pack isn’t it? she thought in awe as her eyes traveled over his torso. She’d seen Spike shirtless before, but not in recent history, in past history, like high school maybe even some college history and she did not remember his being that hard, that muscled and defined and –

“Buffy, d’ya mind?” he barked at her.

“Sorry, I’m a little--” she started and he pushed past her to head into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. “— slow this morning.” She stared at the white bathroom door. Holy Mother of God. The shower started and Buffy found herself wondering how toned and muscled the rest of him was….

Shaking her head, Buffy started for her bedroom. It would do no good dwelling on that. Sure, she’d had a crush on him once upon a time, but that was over and she was nursing a broken heart and a broken life. She was leaning on him that was it. That was all. There would be no more crushing on Spike; that was in the past. Besides, she remembered all too well what happened the last time she’d had a crush on him: He’d taken up with Drusilla and spent a good three months blowing her off to be with the vapid ho. That Dru draped herself on him like tinsel on a tree. Just hung there, limply. Buffy had taken up with Scott Hope and until Spike had learned that Drusilla was indeed cheating on him with any man she could get her hands on, he was completely blind and unbearable to be around.

The night he’d ended things with Dru was the night he’d found out about her cheating ways.

Flashback

Buffy watched from her spot on the couch of the college party with rapt attention as Spike took the stage. He was all black and leather, all with his brow pierced and a scowl on his gorgeous face that somehow just made him hotter to Buffy. She adored his smile, but she figured she was in a rebellious bad boy stage and she could live out that fantasy with Spike safely. He was her best friend who would make sure nothing bad would ever happen to her (he’d told her as much) and he was a bad boy. She had the best of both worlds in him.

Scott was trying to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, but Buffy’s attention was solely riveted on Spike as he took the stage with his band. He’d been kind of cranky all night and she was hoping that whatever had crawled up his ass and died would be exercised when he sang. He seemed happier when he was singing. God knew Drusilla didn’t seem to be making him happy; something had to. In fact, she hadn’t been supporting her boyfriend at all that night. Buffy had though, like a dutiful best friend, despite Scott wanting to get physical somewhere in the annoyingly loud frat house.

But Buffy only had eyes for Spike. It was a crush and it would pass, but for now it seemed to want to stay.

Taking the mic in his hand, his eyes fell on Buffy and she pushed at Scott to make him listen while Spike started to sing an oldie but goodie.

”You love her
But she loves him
And he loves somebody else
You just can't win
And so it goes
Till the day you die
This thing they call love
It's gonna make you cry
I've had the blues
The reds and the pinks
One thing for sure

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah”

How very true, Buffy thought thinking of how she wanted to be the apple of Spike’s eye, but it was stupid Dru while she was saddled with stupid Scott. And she’d only saddled herself with Scott because Spike had first saddled himself with Dru. Oh the twisted games we play.

“Two by two and side by side
Love's gonna find you yes it is
You just can't hide
You'll hear it call
Your heart will fall
Then love will fly
It's gonna soar
I don't care for any Casanova thing
All I can say is
Love stinks

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

I've been through diamonds
I've been through minks
I've been through it all
Love stinks

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah
(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah”

She clapped the loudest and hooted when he was done. And that was when Dru stumbled into the room looking about ready to pass out with her clothes askew and her blood red lipstick smeared up on her cheek. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what she’d been obviously doing.

Spike glared at her and Buffy went to him, taking his arm. “Spike, be calm. Dump her ass, but don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she hurt you.”

He looked down at her, softening. “I will.”

And when he’d gone up to Dru to end it, having finally seen what she was, Buffy stood right behind him, offering her silent support and resisting the urge to flip off the stupid Goth girl that let a man like Spike get away.

End Flashback

“No wonder he got so angry when I mentioned that song. How could I have been so stupid? How could I forget that night?” she muttered to herself as she dressed. “I just kept thinking of how hot he looked.” Sighing, she looked at herself in the mirror, trying to blot out the image of her with her hand on Spike’s chest. How hard it’d felt, how soft, how toned. Closing her eyes she told herself, Get over it Summers. Get over it. He’s your best friend! You lose him at this point in your life and you lose everything. And with that sobering thought, Buffy pondered what her next adventure was going to be.

Chapter Thirteen



Buffy hadn’t been too keen on visiting LA right away. In fact, over the next few days she wasn’t keen on much that involved leaving the house or changing out of her pajamas. Spike felt bad. He was the one that had insisted she face her demons, that she slow down, that she think about what she was doing and now she was doing that with a slightly depressive air around her.



When he wanted to go for a walk, she said she was too tired and instead curled up with a book that was on her “list” and read. At night, she’d help him make dinner and then curl up with him on the couch for some late night TV and rest her head on his shoulder, her arm wrapped around his middle.



He had never felt so good knowing that for the first time in their life together, Buffy Summers was finally leaning on him for something, was looking to him of all people for strength. She’d always been the one to say that the “only person you can rely on is yourself. You have to find what you need within yourself; another cannot give what you lack to you.”



Whatever strength had left her, Buffy was finding it within him and it felt so good. She needed him, and being needed was a thrilling feeling, if not a little daunting. He didn’t want to lead her wrong, didn’t want to let her down.



“How are you doing?” he asked her one night after watching a cheesy chick flick that she’d insisted on watching with him. The only light on in the room was flashing of the TV and Buffy had pulled up an afghan to cover them as they watched TV.



She sighed, “Oh, I’m all right.”



“Are you lying?”



“Not really. I’m just really…tired. I’m tired. The euphoria of leaving has left and now I’m just worried.”



“About?”



“What I’ll do now.”



“You always land on your feet, Buffy. Now is no exception to that.”



She looked up at him. “I do? I always land on my feet?”



He nodded, looking at her solemnly. “For as long as I’ve known you. When you got a B, you made it an A, when you were told ‘no’, you found a way to make it a ‘yes’. When you got your heart broke, you always found someone to ease your pain. You’ve always trooped on Buffy.”



“I don’t feel very much like a trooper right now,” she said, wrinkling her nose.



He reared back a bit. “Are you kidding? Is this the same girl that got her hair cut, went rock climbing, got a tattoo, got pissed, and wanted to go skydiving? How do you do all that and not feel like a trooper?”



She shrugged. “I’m having a pity party, what can I say?”



“Well, you’re allowed to have it for the rest of this night, but that’s it.”



“That so?”



“Yes,” he told her firmly. “We figure it out tomorrow, what you’re gonna do.”



“Spike…”


“Yeah?”



“Only I can figure that out. You can’t figure that out for me.”



“I can help, no?”



“Maybe. But that’s something I have to figure out for myself. I can conceivably afford to take some time off and not have to worry. Especially after I sell that damn house. There is no way I won’t make a huge chunk of change of that puppy and not have some left over when I buy my old one.”



“Then why don’t we start there? With the selling of the house.”



“That entails having to go to LA.”



“You have to do it eventually, Buffy. Best to put it all behind you and get it over with than have in looming ahead of you.”



“You’ve always been so wise, Spike,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend? You’d make a great boyfriend.” If Spike could have seen her face, he would have seen the incredible blush that crept to her cheeks and then proceeded to color her whole face.



“Never found a girl worth my while I guess,” he murmured.



“You always did have bad taste.”



“Not always.”



“Oh? Who?” and she sat up, looking at him curiously.



He shook his head, “Forget it.”



“Spike--”



“Just forget it, Buffy.”



“Not Dru, right, please tell me it’s not Dru.”



He chuckled, “No way in hell.”



“Then who?”



“Buffy! I said to let it go.”



His exasperation and adamancy on the topic stunned her. And intrigued her more. Who in the world was he talking about and why was he unwilling to dish? That was not like him. He had always told her everything! It wasn’t fair that he was all with the secrecy. That wouldn’t do. She had to at least know who she was up against so she could scratch the bitch’s eyes out.



********



The next morning was apparently the day Buffy wanted to go to L.A. Spike figured it out when she marched in his room at nine in the morning and nudged him awake, softly calling his name. Not fully awake, he thought perhaps it was a dream, or fingers crossed, a reality: Buffy was in his room after having shared a raucous night in his bed. But when he opened his eyes and found her fully dressed and frowning at him, he supposed not. In his fantasies, she was there curled around him and he would wake her with slow kisses and caresses. She was certainly not dressed, and she was certainly not frowning at him.



“What’s up kitten?” he asked, yawning and stretching his arms over his head.



Frowning even deeper, she pulled up the covers that had drifted down his waist, covering him. “I’m ready to go to L.A.”



He woke up right quick after that. “Today?”



She nodded solemnly. “You still want to be my Van Helsing?”



He sat up. “Of course I do.”



“Good, cause I’m gonna need you, Spike.”



She wasn’t kidding. Angel was there when they pulled up and Buffy immediately went into a rage. “What could he possibly be still doing here? He was supposed to be moving in with that hussy!” She jumped out of the car and made a dash for the house before he’d even cut the engine.



Quickly, Spike followed after her, running into the house and finding a seriously enraged Buffy hurling obscenities at not only Angel but at Cordelia Chase. Spike recognized her from magazines and previews of her movies he’d seen on TV. She was pretty, he decided, but she was no Buffy. And from the sour face she was sporting, she couldn’t hold a candle to his girl.



“Get the hell out of my goddamn house you stupid oaf! And what is she doing here? I thought for sure she wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere that had to do with me.”



“Angel was just picking up a few things,” Cordelia told her snottily. “We’ll be clearing out soon.”



“What did you do to your hair?” Angel asked, pointing at her.



“That’s right Angel, you just concentrate on one thing at a time,” Buffy snapped. Marching up to him, she snapped her fingers in his face. “Hello McFly, get the fuck out of my house!”



“Looks as though you’ve moved on already,” Cordelia said, pointing to Spike. “Where ever did you find him?”



That was Spike’s cue. Here he was going to play the part of the devoted boyfriend – even if the part of ‘boyfriend’ was false, devoted was not far off.



Coming up next to Buffy, he wrapped an arm about her shoulder possessively. “I’m Spike, and yes, you’re right, she has moved on. Isn’t that right cupcake?”



Buffy halted her tirade and turned to look at him, confused. He sure hoped she could read his eyes because at that moment he was desperately trying to send the message to her to play along. It must have worked because in the next instant she smiled brilliantly and leaned into him.



“That’s right,” she purred.



Leaning in, Spike pecked her cute little nose and turned to Angel, grinning like a madman. He’d wanted to do this for so long and even if it was fake, he sure as hell was going to milk it for all it was worth.



Take that you bastard, he thought as he grinned at Angel.



Angel scowled at him. “I’ve heard of you.”



“Have you now?”



“You were her friend there, from Sunnydale.”



“That’s right, he was,” Buffy piped up. “I should probably thank you for bringing us together, Angel. If you hadn’t dumped me, I never would have went back to Spike and I never would have realized how much he truly meant to me.”



Spike beamed and drew her closer. When she looked up at him adoringly, he leaned in and kissed her softly. She started at the contact at first, but then relaxed and kissed him back.



“Excuse me!” Angel barked. “Do you mind?”



Spike turned a glare on him and Buffy looked up at him, dazed. Whaddya know? he thought happily.



“I think you heard the lady, you pillock. Clear out.”



Angel looked at Buffy. “I just came by to see if you had come back. No one knew where you were, Buffy.”



“Is that why it looks as if half my house is missing? You were raiding it while I was gone.” She held out her hand. “Give me the keys.”



Grumbling, Angel handed them over. “What are you going to do? Shack up here with…with what’s his face?”



“I’m selling this place and moving back to Sunnydale.”



Angel’s eyes widened.



“An-gel,” Cordelia sing-songed. “I’m bo-ored. Can we go now? I’m tired of these civilians.”



Spike glared at her. “Shut your trap, you two bit whore.”



Cordelia’s face turned to one of abject shock.



Growling, Angel grabbed Cordelia’s hand. “This conversation isn’t over yet, Buffy. When you can talk to me like an adult, give me a call.”



As he strode out the door, Buffy shouted after him. “I don’t have anything to say to you! You left me remember, jackass? Get out and don’t ever come back!”



The door slamming was his only response.



Shaking out the tension, Buffy turned to Spike and threw her arms around him. “Thank you so much. That was brilliant!”



Oh, kitten. If you only knew. I should be thanking you!