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I hope I get readers and reviews for this. I'm trying really hard to get this fic going in the right direction.
(Spuffy stuff will start...soon!)
Chapter 2: ‘The Horse; The Scheme; The Marker’


Summary: Spike gets an unexpected surprise in this chapter that will turn out to change his life. Will it be for the good?

Buffy mulls over her feelings about the men in her life. Will she do something incredibly stupid?


Angelus had been gone, to Chicago, for less then forty-eight hours and Spike was more then ready to make his appearance at Heaven’s Haven. Just to irk the great Princess Buffy, or at least he told himself that. It had been two days and nights since Peaches had left for the Windy City and the blond bookie was more then ready to stir up some trouble with his ex-girlfriend.

Spike was more then aware that his very presence angered his little Goldielocks and he couldn’t wait to push the issue even more. Especially with the great Angelus gone for two weeks.

Angel had shown up at Spike’s apartment, two nights before, all full of piss and vinegar about this bloody piece of horsemeat, The Charger. Although Spike took bets, placed bets and ran odds on all kinds of horse racing, etc. He still didn’t like Angel’s latest scheme, not one bit.

There was a bloke by the name of ‘The Doctor’ who worked for Angel that had a nasty little habit of ‘coking’ racing thoroughbreds like The Charger. The horse would be a kind of ringer; a pony that might not be a winner, or even a show spot. This ‘Doc’ would shoot a highball of coke and some other nasty little concoction into the targeted steed, just before the race. When the race was over, the chosen horse would win, yes, but the poor beast would drop dead of heart failure soon after.

It was a sure way for Angel to clean up on bets, since the customers would always bet for the sure thing; another horse. When the second best racer would win, the payoffs would be staggering, especially for Angel.



Since Spike was Angel’s best bookie, it was his job to take the high rolling bets and make sure that this Doc did his job. Spike would do it, of course, but he didn’t have to like it. Which he didn’t.

Spike checked his look in the full length mirror that Buffy had hung in his bedroom, four years before. Just glancing in the mirror caused Spike another strong sense of loss.

‘Four bloody years and I still can’t get the bird out of my head,’ he grumbled to himself as he straightened his tie. ‘She’ll fucking haunt me for the rest of my miserable life.’

Johnathan, Spike’s butler, was scurrying about, making his breakfast. Johnny boy had been in Spike’s employ since before Buffy had left him, years before. The butler was Spike’s way of holding onto some semblance of his Buffy, in some way. Even though Jonathan had married by now, with a wife and two kids.

There was a quick, urgent knock at his apartment door and Spike swore angrily. Buffy’s first show would be starting, that night at 7:00 and Spike intended on being there. In full view of the little bitch and…

“Who the bloody hell is it!” Spike shouted through the door before opening it.

“My name’s Ted Merrick Mr. Jameson,” came a nervous answer form the other side of the door. “Angel O’Connor sent me to see you.”

“Oh Christ,” Spike growled under his breath. “Peaches is gone for just two days and he’s still fucking around with me.” Without thinking, Spike threw the front door open and glowered at this Ted what's-his-name.

“What the fuck do you…” Spike barked angrily, until he spied a little girl, standing next to this Ted fellow. Just by the look of it, Spike guessed that these two must be related; the child had this Merrick’s blue eyes.

“Mr. O’ Connor,” the nervous bloke repeated, “he sent me. He sent me from Chicago, just yesterday. It’s a debt, something I owe Mr. O’Connor,” the man finished on a weak note.

“What’s this got to do with me?” Spike asked with exasperation. He was still feeling a bit guilty about using a curse word in front of the little girl and it was easier to be angry with this idiot, Merrick.


“Mr. O’Connor said I could come here, to you Mr. Jameson. He said I could place my marker with you and…”

“Your marker?” Spike asked with a raised brow. Spike came to the conclusion, from the first, that this Merrick bloke didn’t have two bits to rub together. Much less any real marker for a bet.

“My daughter,” Merrick mumbled sheepishly, “she’s the marker.”

“No bloody way!” Spike hissed in self-righteous shock. (As if Spike Jameson could be shocked, self-righteously or in any way).


“Mr. O’Connor,” the man interjected, “he said you’d be a bit put off and all. But it’s true, Mr. Jameson. Angel O’Connor said I should come to you and offer my little girl as my marker. The ‘deal’ is a sure thing, Mr. Jameson. I swear on my little girl’s sweet head. Mr. O’Connor said to call him, right away. He said you’d have the phone number, in Chicago and…”

Spike spun about and headed to his phone; a man with a mission, of sorts anyway. He flipped open his notebook and looked up Angel’s number, in Chicago, then dialed it quickly.

‘If this bastard is lying,’ Spike grumbled to himself as he waited for the operator to place the call. ‘I’ll rip his head off, kid or no kid and…’

Angel actually answered the call, pretty fast for him, Spike thought.

‘Bloody hell,’ Spike mused, ‘Peaches finally learned how to answer the telly. There is hope for the free world. All by himself!’

Spike listened as Angel rambled on about this Merrick bloke and the debt this dead beat owed him. It was plenty; that was for sure. Apparently Merrick’s wife had died years before and the kid was all the loser had in the world. This deal was supposed to be a sure thing, according to Angel. Ted Merrick should be back from the deal by that night and the kid, Dawn was it? She’d be gone back with daddy, by no later then 8:00 or 9:00 PM that evening.

“You owe me Spikey,” Angel had muttered to Spike with a wicked laugh. “Come on, surely the great Spike can handle a measly little brat for a day, right? Pawn her off on Johnathan, he’s got experience with these little rugrats. It’s for a day; you owe me; I own you.”

‘Is that a female’s voice I hear,’ Spike wondered as he heard the distinct sound of a bird’s laughter at the other end of the phone line. ‘I wonder if Buffy knows…’

“Do I have any bloody choice?” Spike asked his employer with a growl.

“Not really,” Angel chuckled in reply. “Come on, Spike, you can handle a little dame like old Teddy boy’s brat. Give her a lollipop and have Johnny entertain her. This deal is so sweet and I’m sure that we’ll all makes thousands from it!”

In the end, Spike had no choice but to accept his boss’s terms and allow this desperate bloke, Ted Merrick to leave his own child as a marker. Spike didn’t like it, but there it was.

“Get out,” Spike barked at the weak ponce of a man, after he’d hung up the phone. “We’ll take care of your kid,” he added gruffly. He glanced at Johnathan, who seemed quite taken with the idea of babysitting this little brat.

“Get back here, by no later then 8:00 tonight,” Spike added with menace. “Or I’ll…”

“I’ll be back, tonight, baby,” Ted murmured to the stoic little girl as he bent to kiss her cheek. “You be good for Mr. Jameson and his friend, right?”

“Right Daddy,” the little girl replied in a childish voice. “I’ll see you tonight Daddy,” she finished with a sigh.

Ted Merrick nearly ran from the apartment, leaving behind a shell-shocked Spike; a beaming Johnathan and a very confused small child.

“Uhm, Mr. Jameson,” Johnathan mumbled, “your breakfast is ready, sir.”

“Right,” Spike spat back as he eyed the little ‘marker’ that stood next to him. The child held a stuffed pink pig in her arms; Spike hadn’t noticed that before now.

“Kid? You hungry? When was the last time you ate?” Spike asked the girl, warily.

“For the record,” the girl began in a very grown up manner, “my name is Dawn Merrick. I’m named after my Granny Dawn Lee, my mommy’s momma. And, yes, I’m starved. Daddy bought me a hot dog, yesterday, at the train station in Chicago.”

Spike frowned briefly, ‘bastard couldn’t even feed his kid,’ he thought, disgusted at the missing father.

“Johnathan,” Spike addressed his butler, “set another plate on the table. We’ll be havin’ company for breakfast.”


Buffy brushed on the pale blush, to her pallid cheeks as she checked her look in her dressing room mirror. Even though everyone about her told her she looked great, she couldn’t help but feel that she lacked something. Some ‘spark’ of some kind.

It was now 10:30 PM, the beginning of her last set at the club, and Buffy felt oddly disappointed for some reason. Angel had been gone for over two days and nights, and Buffy had been sure that William would make an unannounced appearance at the club. However, he hadn’t showed up and for some reason, this really bugged Buffy.

For some reason, Buffy had thought that William, or Spike as he preferred to be called, would show up while Angel was gone. Just to irk her off, if for no other reason. Spike hadn’t shown up; Buffy was less then pleased about that that was for sure.

“Why the hell should I be surprised,” Buffy huffed at her reflection. “William would never go against Angel, he’s too, too…well, he’s too damn weak. That’s why I left his sorry ass in the first place!”

“Miss Buffy,” Andrew’s sweet voice interrupted her angry thoughts, “it’s time for your next set, dear.”

“Thank you Andrew,” Buffy replied, all business and professional like. “I’ll be out in a sec.”


Buffy sidled up onto the dim lit stage, her red, spangly dress was smoothed and the picture of perfection. She sat on the piano, played by Daniel Osbourne, her best friend Willow’s guy. The crowd quieted, even the waiters and waitresses who poured the forbidden alcohol into their glasses.


Daniel began the introduction to the Gershwin brothers’ song that Buffy was going to begin the set with:


‘There’s a saying old, says that love is blind
Still we’re often told seek and ye shall find
So I’m seeking for a certain lad…I’ve in mind

Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet
He’s the big affair I cannot forget
Only man I ever think of with regret…

I’d like to add his initial to my monogram
Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamp?

There’s a somebody I’m longing to see
I hope that he turns out to be
Someone who’ll watch over me
I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood
I know I could always be good
To one who’ll watch over me

Although he may not be the man some
Girls think of as handsome
To my heart, he’ll carry the key

Won’t you tell him please to put on some speed
Follow my lead, oh, how I need
Someone who’ll watch over me

(Words and lyrics by George and Ira Gershwin)


Buffy was back, in front of her dressing room mirror. She looked at her reflection with a raised brow.

‘You look like crap,’ she told herself ruefully. ‘Didn’t anyone tell you that booze and…’

“Miss Summers,” came Andrew’s excited voice from behind the door. “I’ve got a message for you!”

Buffy groaned, for some reason, but bade Andrew to come inside her room.

“There’s a young gentleman,” Andrew gushed happily as he held out a bouquet of roses and a note. “He’s been out in the show room, for all of your performances tonight. His name is Holden Webster III and he wishes to have a talk with you!”

Buffy wasn’t sure, but she could swear that Andrew was more excited by this Holden’s request then she might be. However, since Angel was in Chicago, and Buffy knew, most likely, that her boyfriend was not alone in the Windy City? Then, she figured, what was the harm in accepting Mr. Holden Webster’s flowers and his request?


A/N: A quick note…I seemed to have talked my hubby out of the camping trip for various reasons! Yeah! I detest camping, even in a motor home.

Anyway, I can update all my fics through the week now and I’m so happy!

Next chapter, coming soon: Spike gets another unexpected, albeit nice surprise visit in the early morning hours! Who could it be?

Thanks for reading and please review, spufette.





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