“I’m so glad we came out to lunch so you could ignore me.”
Buffy absently picked at her salad, “Yeah, me too.”
“Buffy,” Doyle said, reaching across the table and tapping her hand.
She looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Doyle. What did you say?”
He frowned, “I said I’m glad we came out to lunch so you could just ignore me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said on a sigh, sitting back and glancing down at Brandon who was gurgling softly in his car seat propped up the booth.
“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” Doyle asked dryly.
“What?”
“Spike. You’ve seen him. You get like this when you see him.”
“Get like what?”
“Pensive, almost sad.”
She shrugged and picked up her fork, pushing some lettuce around. “I’m fine.”
“What did Wonder Boy have to say now to make you feel like shit?”
”He didn’t do anything—“
“Defending him now, too.”
“Doyle, knock it off!” Buffy exclaimed more forcefully than she’d intended. And you don’t need to say ‘him’ like that. Like it’s dirty.”
Doyle shook her head. “Fine. So, what happened?”
“He left his wife.”
Doyle’s expression did not change, it remained blank as he sat back and regarded her. “Oh, really?”
“Yes. He’s got a new place and everything.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“Yes. I went there the other night.”
He continued to stare at her.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said indignantly. “We just talked. And you know what? I shouldn’t have to defend myself to you anyway or justify anything I’ve done or haven’t done.”
“Did I say anything?”
Buffy scowled at him. “You don’t have to. I can tell.”
Doyle sighed heavily and sat up; leaning across the table he looked at her imploringly. “I’m sorry.”
“I know everyone hates that I talk to him and that he’s…there, somewhere, somehow in my life, but everyone is just going to have to get used to it for the time-being. You think I like having him around?”
“Yes.”
“Shut up.”
Doyle chuckled, “Well, don’t you?”
Buffy looked at her best friend, regarding him thoughtfully with a slight frown. “I don’t know. Yes and no.”
“Tell me about the yes.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Come on,” he waved his hand at her, encouraging her to speak. “Unload on me.”
“No, I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Cause it’s all I think about it and I’m tired of it.”
“Can I wager a guess?”
“I’d prefer you didn’t.”
“Do you love him?”
“I don’t even know him, how can I love someone I don’t know and who lied to me?”
“You didn’t answer the question. I didn’t ask why you shouldn’t love him, I asked if you did. Or, rather, do.”
”No,” she said adamantly, and it was just a little too adamant.
“I almost believe you,” Doyle said smirking.
“What do I have to do to prove it to you?” she asked, a challenge in her voice.
“Let me take you out.”
Not surprisingly, Cecily had called Spike immediately upon finding his “Dear John” letter, screeching into the phone about how much ‘trouble’ he was in. He refrained from telling her she sounded like a child that was going to ‘tell on him’. And, well, that’s exactly what she was going to do.
“Who is it? Hmm? Who have you left me for? One of your whore’s no doubt,” Cecily had railed at him. “You just wait, you son-of-a-bitch. I will find out and I will destroy you and her.” Spike tried his best not to let her words frighten him. He was a grown man, and yet he felt more like a child when it came to his soon-to-be ex-wife and her family.
She hung up then, Spike really not having had the chance to get a word in edgewise. He shivered at her words. Not for him, but for Buffy and Brandon. The last thing he wanted was for his son to be exposed as a bastard. All those things Buffy wanted for him, he could see slipping away once Cecily and her family got her hands on him. Figuratively speaking of course.
That was enough to almost send him running back to her, just to keep the peace and not rock the boat. But how would cowering do anyone any good? What kind of example would that set for Brandon? And how hard would he have to fight to see him if he did that? Even if he did go back to her, Cecily would still seek to find out about Buffy and Brandon and ruin them out of vengeance. Out of pride. Not because she loved Spike, but because he dared make her look bad by leaving her.
He hated the weakness he felt. How she’d “trained” him to cower. No one understood it, and hell, he was having a hard time understanding it himself. This was not the kind of man he had envisioned himself to be. This was not “Spike”.
So, come Monday, after a cryptic message from his father-in-law that he should really think about “what he’s done and fix it”, Spike started calling attorney’s.
Talk about hitting a brick wall.
A few just downright refused once they heard whom he was planning to divorce. And, it didn’t matter their personal opinion of the family – surprisingly as well – liked the Adams thought they were, they were really just feared and secretly hated – they couldn’t do it for fear of the backlash. They of course had their own careers to think of. It also seemed a few more had already been given the heads up and flat out refused, citing strict allegiance to the family and suggesting that perhaps he “work it out”.
It was simply amazing to Spike the amount of power one family could hold, and not all of it good. If only they used their powers for good, he’d mused after hanging up with another rejection.
He was quite simply drained. For the two hours he’d been on the phone, Spike felt all his options deflate and fly out the window. He felt as though he had possibly really sold his soul to the devil.
Feeling dejected, Spike called the one person he could always count on in a jam.
“Hello?”
“Dad, it’s me.”
“William, my boy!” Rupert Giles’ voice bellowed across the phone happily from across the pond. “Your mother and I were just saying how we haven’t heard from you in quite some time. What’s new then, huh?”
“Dad, I… “Spike took a deep breath for courage, leaning forward on his couch. “I left Cecily.”
Silence. So silent in fact, Spike could hear the TV in the background at his parent’s home in London.
“Dad?” he prompted his old man.
“You left her?” Giles whispered.
“I left her. Are you…disappointed in me?”
“No, son, I’m not. I think it’s about bloody time, honestly.”
“You never said anything before!” Spike exclaimed, jumping up.
“What could I say, William? That your wife is a bitch and you’d put yourself in for a world of pain if you married her?”
“Yes!”
“Well, I didn’t And I couldn’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because no one could tell you anything then, William.”
“What’s happening?” Spike could hear his Mum asking in the background.
“He’s left Cecily,” Giles whispered.
“Halleluiah!” Anne Giles exclaimed.
Spike couldn’t help but laugh, his spirits lifting. Seemed there more for this divorce than against, and it gave him hope.
“Dad, there’s one problem…”
“Yes?”
“I can’t find a lawyer. They’ve all turned me down.”
“Buggers,” Giles muttered. “Well then. Seems its time to call in some favors, hmmm?”
“Could you?”
“I not only can, but I will. I knew of a fantastic group of lawyers just outside Boston back in the day when I was practicing there. They were fairly young and just starting out, but they showed great promise. I’m willing to bet they’re just where they need to be now to help you out.”
“Are you sure? They could have been influenced by the great and mighty Adams’ by now,” Spike muttered bitterly.
“I’ll talk to them, son. We’ll get this figured out, trust me.”
Like a true ponce, Spike wanted to cry at his father’s words, at the relief he felt in having people well and truly on his side. There really was nothing like family in times of need.
“Dad, there’s one more thing I need to tell you…. How do you feel about being a grandfather?”