A knock on the door interrupted there little pow-wow, and Spike was thankful for the reprieve. It wasn’t easy talking about things that he’d basically worked hard to repress. And, it wasn’t easy hearing things that he’d let his mind drift over on those moments of self –consciousness, but always attributed to his insecurities, and therefore dismissed. He’d done a lot of blaming for his actions – namely Sam in the conception of his fame, but he’d never taken any responsibility for those actions.
And really, why would one want to take responsibility for their actions when it was so easy to just place the blame elsewhere?
“Hi, Angel, I didn’t – what happened to the convention?”
Spike’s head snapped to the door where Buffy was currently greeting Angel. He stood, swaggering over, scar brow raised in a silent challenge as he came up behind Buffy.
“We broke for lunch and I really can’t stand any of the psycho’s there so I was wondering if you’d have lunch with me – “ his gaze fell on Spike and he straightened. “Oh, hey.”
“Hi,” Spike said, his tone anything but welcoming and inviting.
Angel looked down at Buffy, “So, uh, how are things going?”
Curious. Had Buffy been talking? He looked at her, “Yeah, Buffy how are things going?”
She gave him a look and then exited the room, shutting the door behind her, effectively shutting Spike out. He scowled at the door and planted himself in the middle of the room so the first thing she saw when she came back was him.
Angel’s eyes widened when Buffy shut the door behind her, and on Spike. “You think that’s wise?” he asked. “He might start asking you if you know who he is.”
Buffy started to giggle, “You have a wicked sense of humor, Angel.”
He shrugged and grinned, looking proud, “Thanks. I try. So, is it okay? I mean, was it hot and heavy in there?”
Now her eyes widened. “We weren’t—we were just talking – there wasn’t—“
“Buffy,” he said gently, his eyes lit with humor. “I meant were you engaged in a hot and heavy conversation? All complete with somberness and lots of nodding and saying ‘You’re right, you’re right, I know you’re right.”
She laughed, “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”
“Only the person saying ‘You’re right’ really ends up doing nothing.”
“Oh God, I hope that doesn’t happen.”
Angel shrugged, “It’s a process I hear. Hey, can I ask a question?”
“Lunch?”
He looked at her sheepishly, “Actually I was hoping to ask him if I could get an autograph for my niece.”
Buffy smiled, “Ask him. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
Angel gave her a funny look. “You sure about that? Buffy, whatever it is you’re feeling for him, I think I can pretty much say from his behavior towards me, that he’s feeling the same way.”
She shook her head, “No, no, he doesn’t.”
“Buffy, in the short time I’ve known you, I’ve pegged you as a smart girl. Don’t make me take it back.”
She smiled, nervously. Grabbing his sleeve, she tugged on it, “Come on, let’s go ask him. And, maybe we could all do lunch?”
“Ah, Buffy, I don’t know about that—“
“I think it’d be fun. Spike and you will like each other once he’s done … doing whatever it is he’s doing.”
“I think that might entail peeing on you.”
She barked out a laugh and tugged on him again, opening the door.
Spike heard her laughter as she talked with the Great Forehead, and now he watched as she tugged him in her room by the sleeve. He narrowed his eyes at them, softening only slightly when Buffy smiled brilliantly at him. He always had been a sucker for her smile.
“Spike, Angel wants to ask you a favor.”
“Oh? This should be good.”
Angel looked at Buffy warily before directing his attention to Spike. “I was wondering if you’d sign something for me for my niece. Seems I got a clue and know who you are now.”
Spike’s tense gait relaxed. “Your niece you say? How old is she?”
“Seventeen. She’s a huge fan of the show. You’re all over her room.”
Spike couldn’t help but grin, “I am?”
Angel nodded and Spike caught Buffy giving him an ‘I know what you’re thinking’ look.
He held up his hands in surrender at her. “Not even going there, pet.”
“Right,” she balked.
He looked at her sternly, “Buffy, I was just thinking how nice it is to be ‘all over’ someone’s room.”
“This is where Buffy doesn’t say a word,” she told him and then implored Angel, “Do you have paper? If not, I think I have hotel paper in the desk.”
“Uh, yeah, hotel paper would be good,” Angel agreed.
Buffy went to grab the paper and Spike and Angel squared off. They stared at each other, sizing each other up. For Spike’s part it was taking a closer gander at the man that he believed was after Buffy’s affections – which somehow, made him his competitor. Was he good enough for Buffy? Did he measure up or was he . . . his shoulders sagged, or was he him?
For Angel, it was taking a gander at the celebrity that his niece loved, and checking for signs of the good Buffy saw in him. So far, aside from the apparent protectiveness he felt for Buffy, he wasn’t impressed. Anyone that had to resort to the ‘Do you know who I am?’ to get so-called respect, was apparently insecure.
Watching Angel as he took the paper from Buffy, he asked, “Your niece’s name?”
“Alicia.”
Buffy watched Spike closely over lunch, who had readily agreed to lunch with Angel and was now on the case of actually trying to convince Angel to have his niece take down the pictures she had of him ‘all over her room’.
Angel was looking at him as if he were crazy and didn’t seem to be buying – or was trying to reconcile the ‘confident’ Spike to the present uncomfortable Spike. She, herself, was trying to reconcile herself to it.
She wasn’t stupid; she knew the impact that was going to have as soon as Angel said his niece’s name. Spike had froze; in complete shock.
“Really?” she asked lightly, “That’s your niece’s name?” Buffy asked, thinking – he could just possibly looked up on any fan site what Spike’s daughter’s name was. It was crazy—probably not something Angel would do – but when your life becomes entangled with a celebrity you think of these things. So, Buffy’s first thought was if Angel had done just that to somehow get back at Spike for being so rude to him the night before, and for all that she had said at breakfast – or rather not said, but implied.
Angel had nodded slowly, the look on his face saying he thought that was a bizarre question. “Yeah, that’s her name, why? Is there something wrong with that name?”
“Not at all!” Buffy chirped, “It’s a pretty name. Maybe you want to spell it out for him?”
Spike had quietly snapped into action, adopting his ‘actor’ hat and signing the paper with a simple: To: Alicia Love: William “Spike” Giles.
Now, he was immersed in trying to win Angel over. “You don’t want your niece to have pictures up of me, not after I was so rude to you, do you?”
Angel sighed heavily, “Look, Spike or William, or whatever it is you go by—I’m not going to tell her anything about you except that you were a nice guy that signed a paper for her. That’s it. She has an image of you that I don’t want to burst for her. Kids these days don’t always have the best role models and she admires you.”
“She doesn’t admire me – not the way she should admire her mum or a Nobel Peace Prize winner—“ Spike balked.
“She does. She’s into acting, does a lot of plays and she thinks you’re a great actor. She admires your work and yeah, she thinks you’re ‘cute’ or ‘hot’, but she’s a teenage girl. She knows it’ll never happen, but it doesn’t stop her from wanting it to. We all need our fantasies to cling to. Reality can be a let down and I’m not going to let her down.”
Spike looked down at his plate, at the food he’d barely touched. “I’m sorry I was such a prick to you,” he said quietly.
Angel shrugged, “I’m over it. No skin off my back. Not anymore anyway. I like Buffy, and she seems to like you, so there’s got to be something decent in you.”
Spike smiled wryly, “Yeah, you’d think, wouldn’t you?”