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Chapter 8: ‘The Charger’


After Buffy had finished her song, Spike just couldn’t resist the applause and the next stupid remark that came out of his mouth:

“Great job, Princess,” he chuckled as he strode up to the stage. “The way you sang it? Almost made me believe you meant every word!”

‘Dammit, Buffy makes me hard by just lookin’ at her. How the bloody hell am I supposed to be around her all day and not make a fucking fool out of myself?’ Spike swallowed hard and covered his dilemma by smirking widely at his ex.

Buffy sighed and asked, “What the heck are ‘you’ doing here, William?” She tried to sound more exasperated then she truly was. Actually, Buffy was rather excited that Will was there, in fact, she was damned near delighted by it.

“Mr. Spike!” Dawn leapt up from the table and joined the couple. “Look at my new dress,” she ordered eagerly. “What do you think,” she asked with a giggle, spinning to show off the pale pink lace concoction.

“I think you look like a lovely little fairy princess,” Spike chuckled softly as he eyed the dress that Buffy had insisted on. He turned to grin at Buffy warmly, only to catch a hopeful look on her beautiful face.

‘Oh Will,’ she mused wistfully, ‘you’re so damned adorable and sweet when you want to be. Why can’t you…’

“Again, why are you here, Will?” Buffy snapped abruptly. “Come to see the little doll or annoy me?” It was making her a little nervous to have William so close to her again, especially after the other night’s fiasco. When William was close? Buffy was a squiggly mass of jelly, especially in the brain and heart department.

“Thought I’d come by and save my two girls from this den of sin,” Spike grunted. He winked, mischievously at Dawn, eliciting a wide grin from the small girl.

“Hmph, be careful Willie,” Buffy warned. “Your poetic side is rearing its sensitive head,” she quipped. As hard as she tried, Buffy could not hide the pleased smile on her lips.

“Oh, Mr. Spike,” Dawn exclaimed with glee, “all of the King’s knights write poetry for their lady loves!” The child’s blue eyes lit up with delight as she grinned at Buffy in adoration.

“He’s written plenty to me,” Buffy muttered under her breath. Even if William didn’t know it, his ex-lover knew all about the secret poetry that he had dedicated to herself. She had read most of it, conveniently; although Will had tried desperately to hide it.

“I thought I’d take the Bit to the track with me, Buff,” Spike mumbled quickly, an unwanted blush on his face. “The Charger is showing today and I thought the kid might enjoy seeing it.” He glanced over at Buffy, anxiously, trying to clock her reaction.

“The track,” Buffy groaned her hands on her hips. “You really think that the little doll should go to the track! For God’s sake, Will, what are you thinking? Or are you even thinking at all?”

“I’m thinking that the track might be a sight better then this den of inequity, luv,” Spike chuckled. “If you’re so off on it? Why not tag along? We can have a nice lunch, together, at the track and…”

“Hmmm,” Buffy muttered. “Just who else will be there, Will?” She asked suspiciously.

“Old Rupert and of course Harris,” Spike shrugged non-chillingly. “Maybe Finn and Jesse, oh and Dalton. He’s the bookkeeper for…”

“I know full on well who Dalton is,” Buffy snorted in reply. “He’s Angel’s accountant and I know, too,” she grumbled, “that The Charger is at the track. What? You don’t think I know what Angel’s possessions are?” Buffy gave William her most wide-eyed, innocent look.

“You should know,” Spike muttered with gruffly, “you ‘are’ one of Angel’s possessions, aren’t you.”

“What did you just say?” Buffy snapped.

“I said that the Bit and you might like to see Angel’s most prized possession,” Spike replied evenly. He tried to have the look of a bloody choir boy when he responded.

“Can we go, Buffy?” Dawn asked. Her eyes were wide with excitement and Buffy felt her defenses and her tummy sink.

“I don’t know, honey,” Buffy stammered, unsure as how to handle this new development. “There’s some mighty questionable men at that track and all. I don’t think…”

“If you’re with us,” Dawn rambled on, excitedly. “It’d be all right, huh, Mr. Spike?”

“Course it would, Buffy,” Spike chimed in, his voice as sweet as honey. “With you there, Princess Buffy, things will be just perfect. Right Bit?”

“Right!” Dawn squealed in delight.


“Oh! He’s just beautiful, Mr. Spike!” Dawn exclaimed in delight, as she patted The Charger’s handsome head.
“I bet King Arthur’s horse was not so grand,” the little girl squealed, again, when the thoroughbred nuzzled Dawn’s tiny hand with his nose.

“Probably not, Bit,” Spike murmured softly, glancing at Buffy’s pretty face, studying it. His ex had not said much of anything since they arrived at the track. Nor had she spoken much while they ate their simple lunch together there.

‘I wonder if Angel let Buffy in on the whole bloody rotten horse doping scheme,’ Spike mused. ‘Nah,’ he decided just as quickly, ‘Peaches would never tell Buffy somethin’ this sordid. My girl wouldn’t stand for it.’

Buffy was wearing a smart little dress suit; the skirt hemline was just to her knee. This afforded Spike a good view of his Buffy’s legendary legs, especially accented by the heels she wore. The long coat jacket seemed to show off Buffy’s slim figure, while accentuating her ample breasts. Throw in the powder blue shade of the whole attire and the tiny blond came off as mouth-watering.

The hat Buffy wore was just too delicious, really, or so Spike thought. It was a powder blue/somewhat grayish shade and a variation on the fedora. Almost like the one he wore himself. With her long honey blond hair, all down and hanging around her shoulders? Well, a mere mortal man could not hold his own with Buffy Summers.

“Can I ride The Charger, Mr. Spike?” Dawn asked suddenly. “Do you think the jockey might take me around on him? Please?” Dawn’s pleas tugged at Spike’s heart, causing him to relent immediately to the Bit’s wishes.

“Sure thing, Bit,” he began quickly, “I’ll just have Tito…”

“I don’t know, Will,” Buffy mumbled warily, “what if something happens and the horse bolts or…”

“He won’t, Miss Summers,” Tito, the jockey, offered quickly. “The Charger is purebred, from the most genteel stock. The little girl will be safe as home on him. I promise.”

“Okay,” Buffy sighed in defeat, she certainly couldn’t fight all of them. Now could she?

As Tito trotted off with Dawn, on the Charger, Buffy watched nervously. “She’ll be all right, right Will?” She asked anxiously, never taking her gaze from the horse, the jockey and her own little charge.

“She’ll be fine, Princess,” Spike replied gently.

“Why William,” Buffy whispered as she watched the trio trot along the far side of the track. “Why are you doing this? What are you playing at?” Her voice just dripped with suspicion.

“Thought the Bit might like to meet the horse,” Spike shrugged non-chalantly, trying not to spark any more suspicion on Buffy’s part. “What’s the harm, eh, luv? The little kid gets to ride a horse; I get a breath of fresh air and you…”

“Get to spend time with ‘you’ is it?” Buffy eyed her ex-lover, knowingly. “Okay, William,” she sighed, “be honest. You thought that little doll and me might be won over by you. Right? Well, maybe Dawn is won over by you, but me? Not again, mister! And besides,” Buffy scowled, “I am so not your ‘love’ or anything like it!”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Spike spat impatiently, even as he moved in closer to Buffy. His mouth was just inches from her’s, and he wanted so badly to kiss her. Take her in his arms and just pepper her face with his hot, needful kisses. “If I wanted to just spend time with you, Elizabeth Summers? I’d would ‘ave…” Spike hissed, “and for the record? You’ll always be my ‘love’ and such, Buffy, luv,” he finished with a wicked smirk.

“Oh for God’s sake, Spike,” came the familiar voice of one Xander Harris. “Just grab the girl and kiss her stupid! You know she wants you to!”

A loud, raucous choir of laughter erupted from the men standing close to Xander.

Buffy glared, wide-eyed at the group of men who now watched her and William. Xander Harris, Rupert Giles, Riley Finn, Jesse (whatever his last name was) and Dalton the CPA, stood, staring at the couple by the track fence.

“Oh look,” Buffy exclaimed, sarcastically, through gritted teeth, “it’s the whole ‘moron’ gang!” She pointed at the men who continued to laugh loudly at both Buffy and Spike.

“You look lovely my dear,” Rupert Giles gushed at the little blond bombshell. “As always, of course,” he added with a genteel smile.

“Thank you, Giles,” Buffy giggled, hugging the older man affectionately. “You’re always my favorite,” she whispered into Rupert’s ear.

“Is he getting any wiser then?” Rupert murmured in question.

“He’s still a stubborn, pompous and…” Buffy hissed.

“Oh, just like you then?” Giles chuckled as he hugged Buffy Summers just once more.

“Hello, Miss Summers,” Dalton warbled shyly. “You look just wonderful,” he finished with a watery grin.

“Put your bloody tongue back in your mouth, Dalt,” Spike spat harshly. Dalton did just that, reluctantly. Everyone in Spike Jameson’s world knew of the blond bookie’s possessive nature where Buffy Summers was concerned.

“So, how is it that the whole ‘gang’s’ all here?” Buffy was less then happy about the riff-raff that presented itself to her now.

“Your ‘boyfriend’ has a way of bringin’ all the blokes together,” Spike muttered bitterly.

“Angel?” Buffy asked innocently. “What’s Angel got to do with this?”

“Well,” Spike began in a gruff voice, “he…”

“He wants us to check out The Charger,” Rupert Giles offered. “Make sure the steed is well kept and fed. While he’s gone that is,” the wise older man stammered.

“Oh,” Buffy said evenly, a little unsure of just what was going on here. Something was up, that was for sure and Buffy would find out what it was.

“When are you going to marry my friend Anya, Xander,” Buffy grumbled, trying to change the subject. “You could make an honest woman of her you know.” For some reason, Buffy resented Xander Harris, she just couldn’t figure out why, really.

“True,” Xander replied with a nod of his dark, handsome head. “I certainly wouldn’t mind marrying my girl,” he continued merrily. “It’s her that won’t have me,” he added ruefully.

Xander watched both Buffy and Spike, carefully. He would like to say he was confused by the interaction between the couple, but he really wasn’t. In all of his twenty-nine years, Xander Harris had witnessed some strange stuff. The oddness that was Spike Jameson and Buffy Summers really wasn’t all that odd after all. Hell, he, Xander had felt the strangeness that he saw about him always.

His own childhood; Xander’s that is, had been totally fucked up, no question. The third child of three, Xander had born the brunt of his parents’ unhappiness.

By the time he was thirteen, Xander had seen his parents marry off his older sister, Celia, to a man totally unworthy of her. Then, after she was gone? Francis and Mary Harris took out their anger on Xander and his older brother, Frank. If beatings were in order? Then Xander and Frank got them, no question about that. Even if the beatings were not in order.

Xander was well aware of Spike’s childhood history, and Buffy’s as well. He knew that both of his friends were carrying a heavy load around with them. Spike was an orphan, even if Buffy truly wasn’t. Buffy, she lost her mother some years ago, leaving a callous, hard man like Hank Summers to raise her alone.

“So, how’s the ‘great forehead’ doing?” Xander asked, knowing that Buffy was well aware of who he was talking about.

“Angel’s in…Ooooh, you!” Buffy growled when she realized that she had been played by the likes of Xander Harris.

Spike began to laugh, loudly, followed by the other men and their lewd, hearty laughter.

“William,” Buffy snapped to attention. “It’s time to go home now,” she ordered. “Get the little doll off that horse and…”

“Yes, your highness,” Spike chuckled good-naturedly. “By the way, sweet,” he continued thoughtfully, “where’s the Bit going to stay while you’re warbling at the club tonight?”

Buffy scowled again; she had not thought this out as well as she should have. That was for certain. Okay, Maggie, her housekeeper, could watch Dawn, but then again? The older woman had made it clear that she felt the young girl was a burden, nothing more.

“I…” Buffy began with a hesitation. ‘Where is the little doll gonna’ stay?’ She wondered sincerely.

“I’ll take her to my place,” Spike stated with authority. “Johnathan can stay there, late tonight and I’ll pay him extra. He can whip the Bit and me up a lovely supper. When you’re finished up with your bloody show,” he snorted, “then you can give me a ring on the telly and I’ll see to it that the Bit gets back to your place. All safe and sound,” he finished with an angelic smile.

“No,” Buffy muttered stubbornly, “I think that Maggie should watch Dawn and…”

“That old battle axe wouldn’t know how to watch a little bit like Dawn,” Spike snarled. “Come on, Buffy,” he hissed, “be realistic. The Bit should be with someone that actually cares about her. Like me,” he finished with a grin.

“Oh, all right,” Buffy sighed. “You’re probably right; Maggie doesn’t seem too keen on Dawn. I wonder sometimes,” she continued, deep in thought, “if Maggie doesn’t have a hard outlook on life?”


Spike sat on his couch, sipping a nice glass of whiskey and reading the Times. It was close to 10:00 PM and the Bit was sound asleep, in his guest room, again.

Johnathan had made sure that both Spike and the young girl had been served a rather nice supper. Afterwards, the butler bade the child to wash up and climb into his employer’s guest bedroom bed.

That had been about 9:00 PM and now, Spike found the quiet solitude of his apartment quite comforting. He could not wait until Buffy made her appearance from that bloody club she worked at. Okay, so it might be one of the most prestigious clubs in town? It still belonged to Peaches and Spike detested that bloody, brooding idiot of a boss.

There was a quick, urgent knock at his apartment door and Spike noted the time on the wall clock.

‘Still too early for Buffy to show,’ Spike frowned as he stood to answer the door. He peeked through the hole in the door and saw Xander Harris standing there. Looked like his friend’s bird, Anya, was with him.

Spike opened the door, a little concerned about this turn of events.

“Spike,” Xander greeted his boss, coolly. “I think we’ve got a problem,” the dark-haired man spat.

“A bit of a problem,” Anya threw in for good measure. “Show him the paper, honey,” the woman ordered Xander.

Xander motioned for Spike to sit back on his couch and spread out the New York Times in front of him.

“Didn’t you tell me that Dawn’s last name was Merrick?” Xander asked in a serious tone.

“Yes,” Spike replied quietly, taking in the second page of the Times.

“Well…” Xander continued. Before he could finish, Spike spied the news item that his friend was pointing at.

“Oh, bloody fucking hell!” Spike groaned as he read the article before him.


Buffy was singing her second to the last set for the night. She couldn’t wait to get this night over with. She was anxious to get to William’s and collect the little doll, Dawn. Then they could go back to her place and talk all night if need be.

If she was going to be a good role model for Dawn, Buffy needed to ‘rescue’ her from William’s and…


Her emerald green dress shimmered in the spotlight, of that Buffy was sure and she began the haunting, sweet tune of her first song:


‘Embraceable You



Embrace me
My sweet embraceable you
Embrace me
My irreplaceable you
Just to look at you
My heart grows tipsy in me
You and you alone

Bring out the gypsy in me

I love all
The many charms about you
Above all
I want my arms about you
Dolt be naughty baby
Come to me
Come to me do
My sweet embraceable you’


Buffy glanced up and was more then surprised to see
William standing, right in front of the stage, staring at her.

She was definitely confused here, since her ex was supposed to be at his place, keeping an eye on Dawn. What the heck was he doing here? Now?

Spike glared at Buffy, desperately, and nodded his head towards the dressing rooms in the back. Thankfully, Buffy seemed to catch on and finished her song. Which by the way, hit a big nerve with Spike, no question.

‘She’s singin’ that for me,’ he convinced himself quickly, then remembered why he was here.

When he got to Buffy’s dressing room door, Spike knocked, heavily on it.

“Come in,” Buffy sang out, a little unsure as to how to handle this new event of the night.

“There’s a problem,” Spike mumbled, sitting down next to Buffy’s vanity chair she occupied.

“What’s the problem?” Buffy asked with a shrug, careful not to show her true inner turmoil.

“It’s the Bit,” Spike continued, his steely gaze directed into Buffy’s green eyes.

“What’s wrong with Dawn!” Buffy gasped anxiously. “Where is she?”

“Asleep,” Spike quipped, “at my place. It’s about her father,” he mumbled.

“What about her father?” Buffy’s voice sounded oddly childish all of a sudden.

“He’s…” Spike held out the Times and pointed to the news item on the second page.


“That’s the Bit’s dad,” Spike whispered sadly, staring down at the column of print.

Buffy took the newspaper from William, reluctantly, and began to read the black and white print of the article.

She couldn’t believe her eyes, truly, as she read the horrible words on the paper.

“Will?” Buffy gasped when she finished her reading. “This can’t be…”

“It is,” Spike spat harshly. “Theodore Merrick is the Bit’s dad and that’s definitely his picture,” the blond man frowned.

“He’s dead?” Buffy murmured in shock. “A robbery?”

“So it would seem,” Spike grumbled bitterly. “The question is, what did Angel know about this?”

Buffy clasped her hand over her mouth and stared wide-eyed at William. She could not believe that Dawn’s father was dead and that Angel apparently had something to do with it. Or at least knew something about it. Then again, maybe she could.

“What’re we going to do?” Buffy asked, suddenly quite sober from all of this horror.

“Don’t’ know,” Spike replied with a shake of his blond head. “But I do know this,” he stood up and reached out his hand to Buffy. “You’re comin’ home, with me, now. The Bit needs you, and me. Tell that ponce of a bloke, Andrew, that you won’t be finishing your show tonight. Understood?”

“I understand,” Buffy whispered, stunned. “Let me talk to Tara McClay,” she added firmly. “She can finish my show tonight; she sings better then me anyway.”


Spike and Buffy rode along in his car, silently. Buffy just stared out the window. He wondered what his girl was thinking.

“Buffy,” he began quietly, “if you need to talk to me. Please…”

“I hate Theodore Merrick,” Buffy rasped without looking at William. “I think I hate Angel even more, right now anyway,” she spat.

Spike pulled the car over to the nearest curb and turned off the engine. He looked over at Buffy, noting the silent tears in the corner of her beautiful green eyes.

“If that bastard wasn’t already dead,” Buffy hissed through clenched teeth, “I’d throttle the idiot myself!”

“I know, Princess,” Spike mumbled, feeling quite ineffective at the moment. “I feel the same way,” he offered weakly.

“Oh, Will,” Buffy whimpered, “what’s gonna’ happen to the little doll now?”

Before Spike could answer, Buffy broke down into tears and threw herself into his arms.

“Oh, baby,” Spike murmured sympathetically as he stroked Buffy’s soft golden hair, lovingly.


A/N: Okay, in the next chapter, there will be Spuffy loving! As God as my witness…oh, sorry, that’s another story!

Seriously, Spike and Buffy will ‘bond’ in the next chapter and you have my word on it!

Thanks for reading and please review, spufette.





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