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Author's Chapter Notes:
Always felt that Spike would have wanted to give Buffy his opinion about Angel as often as possible.
Never Ever Tell by Lilachigh

Meeting 16 Agony Aunt



The Greyhound bus from L.A. had been delayed getting back to Sunnydale. Buffy was dog tired. She needed a shower and bed and then probably another shower, she decided.

She wondered if she ought to do a quick patrol before she went home. Her trip to see Angel had left her feeling miserable. She needed to kill something - quick!

She was cutting across the road when she noticed a light was still on at Giles’s. He must be working late. She sighed. She’d better tell him she was home. She just hoped she wasn’t in for a long lecture about vampire boyfriends.

The front door opened under her hand. When would he ever learn to lock it! She hesitated, as she realised the light she was seeing was from a TV set. She walked to the doorway of the downstairs bathroom and stood, amazed, staring at the sight of Spike, illuminated by the light from the TV screen. The vampire was chained, lying back in the bath, watching the TV which had been poised on a shelf at the end of the tub.

The chains chinked as he moved and the light shone on his brilliant blue gaze as he looked up at her from under those irritatingly long black lashes.

“You ought to work on the Slayer stealth bit, pet,” he drawled. “Heard you coming a block away. Smelt you, too. Well, smelt the ponce’s hair gel on you, actually.”

“Shut up, Spike,” Buffy said automatically. “What are you doing in the bath?”

“Playing the soddin’ banjo!” Spike fired back at her, irritated. “What the bloody hell do you think I’m doing, Slayer. Your Watcher decided he wanted me out of the dining-room. At least I can stretch out in the bath. Mind you, could prove difficult when i want to wash. I might need help getting my jeans off. Like to help?”

‘Pig!” Buffy sat on the edge of the tub and stared at him. How on earth had they got to this stage with William the Bloody? It seemed so unfair when Angel couldn’t -

“So how was the Great Irish Wanker?” Spike asked, lying back and tapping his boots together.

“Fine,” Buffy replied shortly.

“Oh, yes, I bet. That’s why you’ve got great dark shadows under your eyes, and a mouth that looks like a prune.”

Buffy resisted the urge to leap up and check in a mirror. “You can’t possibly know what I look like in this light,” she said crossly.

“Vampire vision, sweetheart, remember? So, you don’t want to talk about Liam, then?”

There was a long silence. Buffy did want to talk about Angel, but not to Spike.

Suddenly there was a rattle of chains and a slim, cold finger gently touched hers where they were clenched convulsively round the rim of the bath tub. “If I told you he wasn’t worth one single tear of the many you’ve shed over him, would you feel it necessary to stake me?” came the English voice out of the darkness.

Buffy felt a reluctant smile cross her face and her fists relaxed under the cool stroking motion. “Probably. You know nothing about us and how we feel.”

“Nothing? I know about love, Buffy. And I’ve known Liam for over a hundred years. What’s the old saying, ‘you can choose your friends but not your family.’ He looks inwards the whole time. At what he’s feeling, what he’s doing. His women always, always come second. You’re better out of it. Believe me.”

“You sound like one of those Agony Aunts writing in a trashy magazine! Auntie Spike’s Advice Column. Hey, it could catch on.”

Spike snorted and whisked his finger away. He grinned to himself. He’d achieved what he’d set out to do - make her smile. God knows why! But it really annoyed him that his Sire could make her so unhappy. If anyone was going to upset the Slayer, it should be him.

“Let’s face it, Slayer, with your lousy choice of boyfriends, I could write a whole book of advice!”

Buffy jumped up, her dark mood vanishing. Honestly, Spike was so full of it. She didn’t know why she was sitting here in the dark, talking to the evil undead.

“Writing a book means using words of more than one syllable,” she said sweetly, and turning, flicked off the TV and swept out of the bathroom, happily ignoring the vampires roars of ‘Turn it back on!” as she left.

to be continued





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