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Author's Chapter Notes:
To celebrate the 10th year aniversary of the very first eppisode of BtVS aired, I though I'd post a new chapter, just for you. R&R please! :P
William Pratt picked up his suit jacket from the back of the office chair it was draped over and slipped it on. He was running late for a lunch meeting with one of Wolfram & Hart's biggest clients.

He was about to step from behind his desk when his intercom buzzed and the cheery voice of his secretary filled the room.

"Mr. Pratt?"

He quickly hit the button, "yes, Anya?"

"There's a Buffy Summers here to see you." She said and his eyes widened in surprise. "She doesn't have an appointment, but she insisted that I--"

Anya was cut off as the door to William's office opened and her boss walked out.

"Buffy."

She was standing next to his secretary's desk, turned towards him, looking good.

Nervous. But good.

She was dressed much in the same way she had been when he had last seen her.

Flowy skirt.

Fitted blouse, showing off a hint of pert breasts.

Strappy sandals.

He knew he was staring but he couldn't look away. Couldn't think beyond, 'she's here.'

Buffy took a step towards him and gave him a nervous, shy smile.

"Hi, William... can we... talk?"

Her voice snapped him out of his trance and he blinked, as if waking up.

"Uh... yeah," he cleared his throat. "Yeah, yeah, come on in." He moved from the doorway and she walked towards him.

"Uh, William?" His secretary's voice stopped them from entering his office. "What about your lunch meeting?"

His gaze drifted to Buffy then back to Anya.

"If you're busy...?" Buffy's voice reached his ears.

"No!" He winced at the slight loudness of his voice. "No, it's okay," he smiled at Buffy ushering her into his office. "Anya? Could you ask Gunn or Angel to take my meeting?"

Anya nodded, eyebrow raised in question. "Tell them that something came up-- family emergency." He waited for her nod and then walked back into his office, shutting the door behind him.

Buffy was standing in the middle of his office, slightly fidgeting. He could tell she was nervous and the thought calmed him down a bit. At least he wasn't the only one feeling awkward.

"Um-uh..." he walked towards her, and she turned to look at him. "Why don't we sit?" He said and led her to the couch in one corner of the room.

Buffy took in her surrounding as she settled herself in the couch.

His office was decorated in wood and dark tones. Very masculine and professional, yet oddly intimate at the same time.

"Would you, uh... like something to drink?" Spike asked. At the shake of her head and her soft, 'no, thanks' he sat next to her and brought his leg up on the couch so he could turn to face her, comfortably.

She was starring at her hands, fingers fidgeting, and looking very much like she wanted to run.

"So uh, how've you been?" William asked, wanting to fill the awkward silence in the room.

"Good?" She smiled slightly, looking quickly at him before returning her gaze back to her hands.

"Good," he said, nodding. "So uh..." he laughed nervously before going silent. "Bloody hell, Buffy," he stood and faced her. "I don't know how to do this," he started pacing. She raised her eyes to his form. "Hell, I didn't even think I was ever gonna see you again."

"You didn't...?" She trailed off, unsure of what she wanted to ask.

"'Course I didn't. What else was I supposed to think? I woke up, in my hotel room, to a gold ring on my finger and a document stating that we were married. And my apparent wife was nowhere to be found. Only trace of you left was your scent on my pillow, the picture in my hand, and my missing shirt."

She blushed at the last one and he sat next to her again. Resting his forearms on his knees he ran his hands through his hair and looked at her face again. His voice softened as he asked, "what's going on, Buffy? Why now?"

"I'm..." she swallowed nervously, "I'm... moving back to L.A." At his questioning look she continued. "My friend's mom, you know, my foster mom? She passed away. I've been living with them, but now Tara, her daughter, she's moving to Chicago to uh... she's moving in with her boyfriend. So now, I don't have anywhere to go and Joyce was kind enough to leave me a bit of money, but it's not, you know, so much to take care of two people and with all the expenses that are sure to come... uh... I thought it'd be easier to find work in L.A. rather than, you know, in Sunnydale..." Buffy trailed off looking at him.

Spike's brow furrowed as he took in her words. "Two people?" He inquired.

'Does she have a boyfriend? Is she coming to ask me for a divorce now so she can live it up with her honey?'

"Um, yeah, I'm..." 'No second thoughts, Buffy. You've got nowhere to go and a small amount of money, you have to do this. No second thoughts.' "I'm, uh... pregnant."

Spike froze.

'Pregnant?!?'

"Pregnant?"

"Um, yeah. A little over a month." 'Not exactly a lie is it?' She thought. 'Not exactly true either.'

"That night in Vegas?" He asked.

She looked away from him, trying to hide the guilt in her eyes.

He took her silence and gesture for a yes.

Spike stood up and slowly made his way towards the small table next to his desk. He poured himself a glass of water, from the pitcher there, and drank it down in three gulps. Filling it up again, and the one next to it, he took them both in shaky hands and made his way back to the couch and Buffy.

He thrust the glass of water at her, sloshing a bit of the clear liquid over the side. "Water?"

She took the glass, the shaking of her hands matching his own, and took a sip as he drank his own glass in gulps again.

He sat back down on the couch, placing the glass in the floor by his feet and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

After a minute, which felt like an eternity, he looked back up at her. He could see the tears pooling in her eyes as she tried to blink them away.

"What are," he cleared his throat again. "What are you gonna do?"

Buffy stared at her glass of water, suppressing the feeling of guilt, and shrugged.

"Sell some of my stuff," she chuckled sadly. "The little that I have that's valuable, and get a job and a small apartment somewhere, I guess."

"Are you, uh..." He trailed off uncertain of how to ask such a question.

"Yeah," She murmured softly. "I'm keeping it."

Silence. Then...

"Where are you staying now?" He asked, inquisitively.

"At a hotel."

She looked so small and sad and lost at that moment that he spoke the words before he could really think them out.

"Why don't you stay with me?"





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