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The music blared from every eighteen-inch speaker in the joint. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very good music. Bloody Spice Girls.

Spike pulled a bottle of Grand Mariner from the shelf and poured the liquid into a silver shaker. He continued to add ingredients, Patron Silver, sour mix, lime juice, and then ice to the shaker. Capping the lid, he started shaking, spinning the shaker against his palm until the metal was frosted over. The liquor was poured into a blue margarita glass and set gently in front of the customer.

She was a looker too. Flame red hair that was pulled loosely into a ponytail, her bangs fringing over green eyes. She had on this tight little red number that hugged her curves in all the right places with heels that made her legs look like they went all the way up.

“There ya go, sweets. It’ll be $12.50,” Spike told her as he turned his attention to cleaning up his mess, waiting for her to dig out her money.

“What? You mean, you aren’t going to buy the lady’s first round?” She batted her eye lashes at him and pouted.

Well, there goes my tip, he thought as he leaned into the bar. “Sorry. Can’t do that. House rules.”

It was true. There was nothing he’d like more than to buy her a drink and maybe take her for a spin later, but there was a strict ‘no freebie’ rule in The Blue Temple. If they wanted a free drink they could go plunk a few dollars into the machines at one of the casinos instead of paying the ten dollar cover to get into the club.

“Yeah, right. If you weren’t interested, why didn’t you just say so?” Slamming down exactly twelve-fifty on the bar, she snatched her drink and stomped off to find another sucker.

It was a shitty night. There was never any money on Mondays and to top off the crappy business, all of the patrons tonight seemed to have something stuck right where the sun didn’t shine. Well, mostly where the sun didn’t shine. It was Las Vegas, after all.

He rinsed the shaker out and set it on a rubber pad to dry. Glancing at his watch, he surmised that the boss lady would be letting him go soon. It was almost two and the crowd was dying down. He had seniority over the other seven bartenders that worked there, so she usually gave him first choice.

“You’re gonna leave early, aren’t you?” Charles Gunn asked him as he came to stand next to Spike.

Spike nodded. “Y’ know I bloody well am, so why even ask?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I thought Hell would freeze over and you might give me a break so I can try and finish my paper that’s due tomorrow.” Gunn was studying at UNLV. Had some crazy notion about being a lawyer, too.

“Well, mate, I guess you should’ve thought ‘bout that before you decided to switch shifts with Captain Forehead. You know he only wanted the night off to get laid, right?” Spike smirked at the younger man.

Gunn grimaced, and then turned his pleading eyes on the Brit. “Please, Spike. I really need to do well on this paper. I’m already close to failing.”

As much as he liked the reputation of being the biggest badass in the whole club, he did have a soft side. Not that he’d let anyone else know that. Truth be told, he liked Gunn. He was a good guy and he’d done his fair share of favors for everyone including Spike.

“Fine. Take it. But you owe me, Charlie-boy.”

“Thanks! Really, thanks!” Gunn squeezed Spike’s shoulder before running off, no doubt to tell Cordelia.

Seeing a group of barely-legal girls bounce up to the bar, he quickly turned his back and started polishing martini glasses. Let the other bartenders handle it; he was done with the inane chitter-chatter of giggly little girls for the night.

He couldn’t help but thinking they shouldn’t be so bubbly. But what did they know about life at their age? Most of them wouldn’t know the real world if it turned and spit into their Appletini. He'd never had that. The real world was all he had seemed to know even as a small boy.

It was rough having to grow up so fast, but it wasn’t as if he was given a choice in the matter.

“So, what’s this I hear about giving up your precious early out?” A voice said from behind him.

Cordelia Chase was not only the owner of The Blue Temple; she was the heart and soul of the entire operation. Most people that met Cordelia made the quick assumption that she was a hard-assed bitch of gigantic proportions and they would be right if they didn’t bother to get to know the real woman behind the snarky comments and cold glares.

Four years ago when he had first started working for her, he would have believed the worst of her. Truth was she treated him like dirt in the beginning. She treated them all like dirt in the beginning. Now that he was a little older and a little wiser, he recognized it was nothing but a brilliant plan to weed out the guys who couldn’t take the pressure. And it worked.

He and Angel had been there the longest out of the remaining personnel. They had seen people come and go over the several years they had worked there. It was a wonder that Cordelia got anybody to work for her since her standards seemed Everest-high. But they had a good crew thanks to her unwillingness to keep anybody who worked at anything less that 100%.

“Yeah, what can I say,” he grinned, his hand sliding down the front of his black shirt, “I’m just nice like that.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Mr. Nice. I don’t buy it.”

Ah, yes, he was still the Big Bad.

Shrugging, he moved to wipe the bar down. “Let ‘im have it.”

“Fine.” Cordelia didn’t press for any more explanation. ‘Cause honestly, she didn’t care.

She turned to walk away, but stopped and turned on her heel. “Do me a favor and tell Luke we’ll shut it at three. Its dead and I’m burning cash. We’re not pulling the hourly counts like we should be.”

“What’s wrong with the walkies?”

She smirked. “Nothing, but if I’m paying you to be here, you’ll do more than just wipe down glasses all night.”

He mock-saluted her as she sauntered off.

Exiting the bar area, he made his way through the throng of sweaty, alcohol-soaked people dancing to some song about riding ponies or someone’s pony, rather. He felt someone pinch his ass and he glanced back to see the redhead from earlier giving him a saucy smile. That margarita he had made her must have been good if she didn’t remember that he was the bartender that had ‘dissed’ her earlier.

The corridor to the front entrance was like a maze with blue neon lights running on the ceiling and along the floors. He followed it until he found the door.

Luke had only been working at The Blue Temple for two weeks and in that time he had managed to piss of everyone he had come into contact with. The problem with the guy was that he just had no social skills, not that that was really important when escorting people out or denying their entrance, but something other than grunting might be helpful when trying to communicate with others.

“Cordelia says to shut it at three,” Spike told him.

His brow furrowed like he was confused. “But, there are still people waiting to get in.”

“Yeah,” Spike replied slowly, “what’s your point?”

“Well…”

Squinting his eyes, he looked over at the wall, trying to make out the figure that was slumped over against the bricks. “Who’s that?”

Luke threw up his hands excitedly. “Some chick. I told her she couldn’t come in. She said she was looking for someone. Uh, Walter? No, William. And I tried to tell her I’d never heard of the guy, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so she just kinda settled herself in.”

“I’m William, you berk!” Spike jumped over the rope and stepped over to her.

Bloody hell! He thought she looked familiar. She was older now, but time hadn’t changed her unique features only matured them.

“Buffy,” he whispered, kneeling down so he was face to face with her.

He hadn’t seen her in three years, not since the funeral. Part of him berated himself for not keeping in touch with her, but after he had heard her father had gained custody of her, he figured she was in good hands. That still didn’t make it right, though. He should have been there for her and he hadn’t.

Brushing a strand of long golden brown hair out of her face, he called her name again hoping to wake her.

God, what was she doing here? By his calculations, she was what? Sixteen? What on Earth was she doing here alone in Las Vegas and obviously looking for him?

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he shook her softly. “Come on, pet. Wake up.”

All of the sudden she jerked away from him, her eyes wide. She moved to shove him away from her, but she was still slow from sleep and he quickly dodged her.

“Hey, its okay. Calm down,” he told her.

Her body tensed, her shoulders straightening as she blinked, trying to clear the fuzziness from her eyes. As soon as she seemed to focus, she smiled slightly.

“Hey, William.”

“Hey there, luv.” He flashed his pearly whites before getting down to the nitty-gritty. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?”

She frowned, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. “Well, I was just passing through and I thought I could visit you for a day or two before I had to leave.”

Yeeaaah, right. He believed that about as much as he believed in the Single Bullet Theory. She was lying and not very convincingly. Question was would he be able to get the truth out of her?

Standing up, he offered her his hand. She took it and let him pull her to her feet.

“C’mon, “ he said as he led her to the entrance of the club. “Just let me tell my boss that I have to leave and we can get outta here, okay?”

“Hey, she can’t go in!” Luke tried blocking the door. “She’s underage, Spike.”

Letting go of Buffy’s hand, he stepped up to Luke so they were standing nose to nose, their chests bumping. “You wanna try and stop me.”

Spike was only about 5 foot 9 with a slim build, but with the way Luke suddenly backed down, you would have thought him the biggest S.O.B. on the block. His big bad persona was not all contrived and Spike would have dared anyone get in his way.

“But-”

“But nothing’. She’s with me and you need t’ get the bleeding hell out of my way before I run your ass over.”

Grabbing Buffy’s hand again, he pushed Luke out of the way and started off to find Cordelia.

Her hand was cold and he wondered how long she had been sitting outside waiting for him. Tomorrow he would tell Cordelia to fire the wanker. Who leaves a sixteen year old girl sleeping in front of a night club? Luke, apparently. But that would never happen again, not if he had any say in the matter.

Cordelia was in her office doing paperwork when he found her. She looked up her eyebrows rose in silent question when she saw Buffy standing next to him.

“Cordelia, I can’t stay. Something’s come up and I have to go.”

Setting down her pen, she replied, “okay. Is everything alright, Spike?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just can’t stay.” He motioned to Buffy with a nod of his head, hoping Cordelia would get the hint.

“Sure, Spike. I guess I’ll see you on Thursday then.” Oh, she wanted answers, he could tell. Cordelia wasn’t the type to be left in the dark even when the information was none of her business. The tone of her voice said that she was concerned, but her eyes held more than just worry.

“Thanks,” he said before pulling Buffy out of the office and towards the back entrance to the building where his motorcycle was parked.

“Is this your bike?” Buffy’s eyes were wide with uncertainty.

“Yeah.” He pulled a black half shell style helmet out of the small compartment on the rear of the bike and handed it to her. “Here, pet, put this on.”

She took the helmet and examined it for a moment before fitting it onto her small head. After fiddling with the chin strap for a second, she fastened it and hopped on the bike behind Spike. He started the bike up, then reached around behind him to grab her arms.

“Hold on tight, luv. It might be a little bumpy.”




A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed this latest chapter. I’ll admit I had the hardest time with Chapter 3, so this one was a breeze compared to that one. I appreciate everyone taking the time to review, it really is great to get the feedback.

The drink Spike makes in this is called a Cadillac Margarita- very good. ; -)





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