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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to all you darlings who read and reviewed the first chapter! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well :-)
Chapter Two


He knew he was living his dream; knew this was everything he had ever wanted. Yet at the same time…

He felt so empty sometimes. Felt as if a huge part of him were missing.

And he knew right where that part was: a preschool in Sunnydale, California.

There were so many things he had never told Buffy—like how he had wanted that first dance of theirs, the one back in the eighth grade, to have been a date but had been to scared to correct her when she had assumed it was an ‘as friends’ thing. He had never told her what made him ask her out that day or how she was the first girl he had ever liked ‘in that way’.

He didn’t think he had ever told her either that she was always going to be ‘it’ for him no matter who he ended up involved with in the future.



There were plenty of women who wanted him—always had been if he were honest about it—and in the last few years he had actually taken some of them up on their offers. He thought that it might help him miss Buffy a little less, might make it so that he could better bear to be apart from her—but it had not.

Spike knew that the ‘worldly’ women sharing his bed these nights were supposed to make the memory of his first night with his first love, faded and distant but they did not. The memory of his first night with Buffy was still as fresh and vivid and…intoxicating as it had been that first morning after.

It had been the first time for both of them, a fact he was not at all ashamed to admit even when some suggested he should be. It didn’t happen until the month before they started their senior year, but in many ways he was glad they had waited—of course he wasn’t sure he would exactly have complained if they hadn’t, but he liked the way things had transpired.

The date was July twenty ninth and his parents were in England for some old family friend’s daughter’s wedding. Buffy’s parents allowed her to spend the nights at his house that week because, like the wonderful parents that they were, Joyce and Hank believed that Buffy had been sexually active since, well, about the eighth grade. Where exactly it was that they got such a low opinion of her—and that’s what Spike saw it as, a ‘low opinion’—he would never know. His Buffy was a good girl. She hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol until her twenty first birthday—or so he assumed, he had left by her twentieth—and had never once done any drugs or smoked.

She was sweet and wholesome, but only in the best ways. She still knew how to drive him wild and be sure that they had the absolute best times together; she just did it without doing anything illegal—or that she didn’t want to do.

And that was why—or at least partially why—he was so sorry things had fallen apart between them. He didn’t like the way they had just drifted, for lack of a better word, apart from each other. At least if he had been there, been near her, he could be sure to tell her all of the things he wanted to someday tell her, before she was done with him.

Instead, though, he was half way across the world and she was back there in Sunnydale—back there not knowing everything he wanted her to know.

She was in Sunnydale and he, for the moment, was in Copenhagen.

Spike was living his dream.

Except, he was seeing now, that he wasn’t.



***|***


It had just taken a talk with his manger, but he had done it.

Okay, so it was more like ten talks with his manger, five with different bigwigs at the record company and watching another summer, winter, and then another summer pass by in waiting, but he had done it.

At twenty-seven, he was giving up the dream he had had for twenty years, the one he had lived for seven, to go after what he knew he would truly want for the rest of his life.

Singing and being a star made him happy as best it could, but he knew that he would be happier teaching six year olds piano if he had Buffy with him.

It was probably a stupid thing to do, give everything up before even talking to her, before even finding out if she ha found someone knew, if she’d gotten married or moved…but he had to do it.

He had done all of this while leaving her behind because she had been sure that they would be able to make it—she was so sure and he believed her so, in turn, he was just as sure. But then time zones and schedules and just plain life had gotten in their way until they went from talking nearly every day, down to once a week, to once every few weeks, to being lucky if they checked in with each other once or twice a year. Now it was hardly even that.

Neither of them had wanted things to be this way, neither wanted it to have happened like it did. Yet, it was one of those things that because it happened so gradually, over such a long period of time, that you did not realize it was happening until it had already happened.

It had happened, yes, but it was something that could be changed; and change it he would.

Tomorrow in fact, he would change it. That’s what his plane ticket said at least: Flight 352, Copenhagen to Los Angeles, 9:22 am.

He was going to have to get some sleep to make it to the airport that early. Now, if only his mind would allow him the rest.



***|***


Buffy tried her best to keep up with where Spike was and what he was doing, but some times were harder than others were. Like now, for instance, she knew that he had put out another album just four months before, done a quick European tour and was now taking ‘an extended break’, but she didn’t know why.

She had scoured the entertainment papers looking for even a hint of why he was taking this ‘break’ but so far none of them knew. MTV, VH1, Fuse, and MuchMusic didn’t know either—they all speculated, sure, but none of them actually knew.

Apparently Spike and his ‘people’ were doing a very good job of keeping this ‘why’ a secret. God, Buffy hoped it wasn’t anything bad…hoped it wasn’t anything bad and hoped it wasn’t anything of a romantic nature because, well, if he was getting married or something like that…

She didn’t know what she would do.

If she didn’t have at least a semblance of an answer by next week, she was going to dig up that number of his publicist and she was going to get answers. Maybe she hadn’t talked to Spike much lately, if at all, but she still loved him, still counted him as her best friend; she couldn’t not know about something so major in his life.



***|***



TBC........pretty please review :-D





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