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As a rule Spike Giles did not like many things.

After being abandoned by his father to a distant uncle, Spike had found that he did not have much sympathy for anyone. Particularly after his own da’ told him never to return home to jolly old England. The tosser.

From then on, William had become Spike, changing tweed outfits to black leather and bleached hair. The once quiet disposition had been replaced for a casual indifference to everyone around him, sarcastic comments becoming Spike’s most common form of conversation.

Perhaps he would have grown out of it.

Would of most definitely gotten over the whole ‘rebellious phase’ if not for bloody Dru and the wanker Abrams thought Spike viciously.

Parker had taken the one thing that gave his life any form of meaning, flipping him the bird as he’d driven off.

Spike had wanted to kill the bloody fool.

It was Dru’s betrayal and growing tension between him and Rupes which had finally forced Spike to turn to Peaches and his lot, making himself a pivotal figure in the Aurelius gang. There wasn’t much that Spike hadn’t learned from the poofter in his time with them, often driving to LA with Angel for various missions. Though their relationship was strained and odd, the git had never really crossed any lines with Spike.

At least not until he went cavorting after Summers.

Cobalt blue eyes narrowed as the sliding hulk of Angel practically ran from the girl’s bathroom; more than likely from the disheveled form of Buffy.

Not paying any attention to the small group which watched him Spike wrenched open the bathroom door and strode in.

What greeted his sight made the blond do a double take.

There in a small cubicle, sat Buffy Summers, knees drawn up around her so that she appeared angelic like. Her hands were clasped around her legs, the petite girl hugging herself as sobs wracked her body.

All Spike could think as he stared at her shaking frame was the poof’s face and the ways he was going to redecorate it.

Now was not the time though.

Cautious to not scare her, Spike crept forward, tentatively reaching one hand out to touch her shoulder. “Pet?” His voice, normally loud and biting whispered in the quiet cubicle. When he received no reply, Spike placed one hand on her shoulder, crouching in front of Buffy with his duster draped on the floor like a cloak.

“I can’t help you sweetheart if you don’t talk to me.”

“What?” Buffy was inwardly groaning at the disturbance. Just when she thought her day couldn’t get worse, someone had to come in and notice the flood. She wearily tried to wipe her blurring eyes as she felt a heavy hand pat her shoulder. Far too heavy to be anyone but a male… but then again only the Aurelius boys bothered to come into the bathroom and Angel had already taken his leave which left only… Buffy shook her head in laughter, her vision still blurry. It couldn’t be Gasping out loud, Buffy raised her eyes only to be locked in the lightest blue she had ever seen.

Spike

Ashamed of her appearance, Buffy batted away his hand, curling in more on herself. She couldn’t believe that Spike of all people had chosen to walk in here, let alone comfort her.

The adoration she originally felt for Spike only blossomed more.

Deciding that the silly bint was far too shy, Spike placed his arms around her gently, lifting the girl into his arms before sitting back down. Moving his mouth to her ear Spike blew across it, smiling inwardly as he heard a gasp.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Buffy shivered as his husky baritone sounded right behind her ear. She had no clue why Spike wanted to be near her but she wasn’t going to question it… at least not right now.

Unbidden her common response poured from her lips. “Nothing... I’m just upset about a test.”

Spike chuckled gently, drawing Buffy’s small frame tighter against him. The act went unnoticed by either.

“That’s bollocks and we both know it. You should know better than to lie to someone like me Buffy. Angel doesn’t choose a second in command solely on their looks. Though I think he agrees that I’m devilishly handsome.”

The small laugh which flew from Buffy only made Spike redouble his efforts. At least she’s not shaking anymore.

Taking one tiny hand in his own, Spike marveled at the way it still managed to fit against his. He had no classes in the afternoon and had considered ditching until this episode with peaches and the girl.

Should have known the blighter wouldn’t keep away from her.

Angel had started watching her about a month after Spike did, not wanting the Brit to forget his place. In the poofter’s mind whatever Spike wanted, he deserved. Both had tried to investigate her background, all sources turning up dry as to why her and a drunkard of mum had moved to Sunnyhell in the first place. The only thing that did come out was that daddy Summers had ended their relationship rather messily causing the two to flee LA. Neither could find out the exact reason though.

Spike would of thought (if not knowing Angel better) that the bloke was busy enough with the amount of girls he saw. Many in the gang had started calling the poofter ‘the scourge of women’, what with him collecting so bloody many. Cordelia and Darla were just two of seven birds which were scattered all the way from Sunnyhell to up the coast. There was even one that still regularly rang from New York. Spike sighed as he thought of his leader’s pathetic choice in women, all were hell cats to deal with yet when it came down to the crunch… they couldn’t even fight beyond a scrap over a piece of clothing in a Barney’s sale. Spike didn’t understand it, but Angel had a preference for women who at the heart of it were weak. A trait that would more than likely end in trouble on the day that Angel did meet his match. Spike swore that it wouldn’t be Buffy though.

The girl was still cradled against his chest, but remained silent, perhaps not wanting to speak to the likes of him. He couldn’t blame her for being scared of his appearance. It was very rarely that Spike ever went out of his way to help anyone and rather evident to all around. Even though Angel was a wanker of a boyfriend he still didn’t pity any bint that was stupid enough to get involved with him of their own free will. There just wasn’t anything that warranted the risk.

And now here he was comforting a girl that in all reality he shouldn’t be touching. If Abrams found out anything about Buffy then the girl’s life would become a soap opera filled with the all too real sounds of gunfire. Feeling Buffy nuzzle against him, Spike knew that he couldn’t expose her to that. At least not without warning her of all the dangers.

But really wasn’t he moving a bit fast? The chit might not even like me for all I know… though wouldn’t it be grand if she did. A grin crossed his face like a flying bird, changing to concern as Buffy’s mumbles reached his ears.

“What was that pet?”

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be.” Buffy’s face was downcast as she spoke, fearing that he would take her advice and run.

“And why would I do that? Seems that this is the best bloody place to be, what with all the harsh lighting and oh so perfect washroom facilities.” One hand reached up, absently curling her golden hair around his finger. “Besides I can’t leave without you telling what all the sobbing’s about.”

“I was just thinking about my father.”

“Was he a nasty piece of work?” asked Spike.

“I guess you could say that. Angel just reminds me of him in some ways.” Buffy spoke Angel’s name quietly hoping inanely that Spike would ignore it. The tightening of his grip around her proved otherwise.

Deadly calm Spike turned Buffy so that she was facing him, admiring her composure even after being caged in with the sodding poofter.

“What exactly was Angel doing in here luv?”

Hazel eyes glimmered briefly before Buffy shrugged, trying to play off her emotions as though they didn’t exist. “Just wanted to talk.”

I bet he bloody well did.

“He didn’t push you for anything?”

Spike watched her carefully, knowing full well that something had occurred. Wanker couldn’t keep his hands off a woman if they were cut off. As if he bloody well didn’t touch Buffy. But then she wouldn’t tell would she?

The abrupt shake of her head only confirmed Spike’s suspicions. Far too quick of a denial Part of him wanted for her to tell him the truth and not hide it away as so many of his other conquests had. It had taken months before Cordelia would even mention the great poof as anything other than perfect. It was because of this that he was able to reason that if she didn’t want to talk about it he wouldn’t force her. Angel’s broken nose would more than compensate.

Hugging her to him for a moment, Spike resisted the urge to kiss her on lips, instead opting for her forehead. His lips barely brushed her skin, the heady scent of vanilla making Spike want to groan and kiss her senseless. Just being alone with her for what seemed a short period of time had already caused him to feel far more than Dru ever could.

As though realising that he wanted to leave, Buffy leapt out of his arms, smoothing down her skirt in hasty movements. In her mind Spike was only being friendly and considerate, what any guy would have done if not an utter prick like Angel.

And here you go lying to yourself again Summers The little voice in the background sounded almost like her mother sober. Probably would echo her, if Buffy could ever get the woman to stop drinking.

Sighing Buffy unconsciously pulled her hair back from her face, meeting Spike’s eyes unbidden.

Good gods he’s gorgeous

Spike’s duster was still on the floor, leaving the Brit in a tight black shirt and pants which should have been made illegal. Every inch of him was compact and muscular, Buffy being able to make out his abs with only a cursory glance. If she had been daring enough she would have looked lower.

Her eyes started to make their way down that path before realising the mistakes which could occur. If Angel told Spike what everyone else must by now believe then this could all come back to bite her in the ass.

Hard.

It’s a good thing I didn’t tell him she thought decidedly. Only trouble could come of it.

“Thank you Spike.”

The Brit merely grinned, awarding her with a sheepish smile that very few ever saw. “It was nothing pet. Just next time you go in here, lock the bloody door. I don’t think you want me escorting you every time you need to fix your makeup or whatever it is you birds do.”

Buffy smiled warmly at him, her voice wanting to scream ‘please follow me, take me everywhere with you!’ It took everything inside of her to beat that voice into submission, instead grinning goofily as Spike tucked a stray lock behind one ear.

“I’ll see you around Goldilocks.”





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