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Author's Chapter Notes:
Italics=internal monologue

Super special thanks to mabel for the input on what direction our dear Spike/Bill Gates should head...:D
Holding a piece of paper in his hand, Clem stared at Spike.

“How could anyone spend $80,000 on a chair? Spike, really,” Clem tried to reason with him as he sat at his office computer.

“Clem, come on! Bill Gates sits on no less.”

“Maybe they should make the wheels out of orphan’s knees and upholster it in Thylacine leather.”

Spike perked up in mock excitement.

“Do you think they could find that?”

Clem didn’t immediately pick up on Spike’s sarcasm and rolled his eyes.

“It’s been extinct for 70 years, Spike! I don’t think,” he trailed off as Spike’s deep chuckle reached his floppy ears. “Very funny. Try and pull one over on old Clem. I’m just trying to help.”

Spike nodded and patted Clem on the back.

“Well, I’m just trying to keep up appearances, mate. Who else in the world would buy an $80,000 chair besides Bill Gates?”

“The Prince of Siam?”

“Siam? Clem, please. You know better than that.”

Clem sighed.

“Sorry. Thailand.”

“Right. Well, mate, I think the board members should be waiting for us in the conference room, don’t you?”

“Probably,” Clem said with a slight nod.

Walking briskly past Julie, Spike merely nodding to her and smiling as they passed, he and Clem entered the already full conference room. Holding back a sigh as he had to shake hands and greet everyone with a plastered on smile, Spike noticed out of the corner of his eye that Clem was in the corner, discreetly pouring a vat of blood into a coffee mug for him. The board members consisted of various stogy old men, nerdy brainiacs, and a few voluptuous women who were no doubt hired more for their beauty than their brains. As everyone found his or her seats, Spike began the meeting, his nerdy American accent taking over.

“I’m so glad to see everyone has made it in today, Lydia, I hope that new car of yours isn’t giving you any more trouble,” he said to a tall redhead with an enormous bust, “Julie did mention that you were having problems and may not make it in today.”

Lydia smiled becomingly and fluttered her eyelashes at Spike.

“No, Mr. Gates, everything worked out. Thank you so much for worrying about me.”

Spike chuckled.

“Of course, dear. I always worry about my board members, especially the breathtaking ones. There are so many big bads out there, I always worry for your safety.”

Lydia blushed and stifled a giggle.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Yes, well, Michael, I believe you wanted to start the meeting off? New news and what-not?”

When a burly older man stood up and nodded, Spike sat down in his plush seat. He could feel his mind wander as he leaned back against the wall in his unbelievably overpriced executive’s chair. Thinking of Buffy and all of their recent history helped the normally dreadful meeting to pass fairly quickly. Spike smiled when all attention was focused back on him.

“Well, I’d like to thank you all for coming today, and I for one vote that this meeting be adjourned.”

“Second,” Lydia said with a provocative glance at Spike.

“Good. Well, I will see you all again in a month.”

The goodbyes were decidedly quicker than the greetings had been, and Spike was thankful for it. He desperately wanted to get back to Sunnydale to ransack his obstinate Slayer.

If she only knew what dear old Spikey does in the daytime…huh! She’d bust a sodding gasket I’d wager.

As promised, Frank was waiting for Spike and Clem on the rooftop, helicopter ready to go. Spike climbed into the helicopter after receiving the brunt of an almost painfully thankful pilot. Clem had smiled knowingly at him and motioned to the pilot’s seat. Frank was not one to miss a hint when he saw one, and climbed in without another word. The flight back to Sunnydale seemed to last forever to Spike, who was itching to get back to Buffy. Finally landing at the edge of Restfield cemetery, Spike cleared his throat.

“Frank, would you mind turning the copter off for a bit? Sun’s almost down and I don’t want Melinda to nag me later…do you mind waiting a few minutes?”

Frank shook his head rapidly.

“No, no, of course not, Mr. Gates! Do you need me to call you a car or a limo? I don’t see one waiting….”

Spike smiled at the obviously nervous pilot.

“No, that’s quite alright, Frank…is it alright that I call you Frank?”

“Of course, sir!”

“Good. Have you ever been in Sunnydale, Frank?”

“No, sir, I can’t say that I have.”

“Well, I don’t bother with a car because it’s so very small and quaint, and I try to keep the lowest profile I can…impossible, I know, but I’ve found that many of the Sunnydale dwellers seem to be blissfully unawares of anything other than their superstitions.”

“Superstitions?”

“About vampires and demons and all that nonsense.”

Frank smiled.

“Seriously?”

“I’m afraid so. The whole town is rampant with terrorized people that refuse to go out at night.”

“Is there any…truth to the superstition? I mean, I’ve heard of a few accounts of vampires…demons too…mostly in LA, but still….”

“Frank, do you really buy into those Old Wives’ Tales?”

Frank cocked his head in thought for a moment, and then laughed.

“No, I guess not.”

“Neither do I,” Spike said as he glanced out of the window at the now darkened landscape, “Well, Frank, it has been a pleasure. I’ll have Julie call you when I need your services again, but until then, take a vacation or something…you have a family, right?”

Nodding, Frank opened his mouth to speak, but Spike cut him off.

“Here,” he said, thrusting yet another fistful of hundreds to the pilot, “Disney World is on me.”

Frank sat, dumbfounded as Spike and Clem exited the helicopter and walked off into the night. He picked up his cell phone and dialed his wife, frantically.

“Honey? It’s me…you’re never going to believe this…he…he gave me another,” Frank paused to count the bills in his hands, “Another $7,000! Susie, baby, I think things are finally looking up for us!”

Spike stared at the helicopter as it took off in the sky, and smiled to himself in satisfaction.

--

Buffy knocked lightly on the door of Spike’s crypt, and attempted to brush the tears away from her eyes before he answered. She was a millisecond too late, and Spike quickly ushered her in, grasping at her elbow, lovingly.

“Buffy? Pet, what’s wrong? Somebody hurt you? Hurt Dawn? Pet?”

Buffy simply stared ahead of herself, unable to form words. Spike scooped her up in his arms and put her down, gently, on the sarcophagus.

“You can tell me, pet. ‘s what I’m here for, yeah?”

Buffy nodded, sniffling, and finally looked him in the eye, but still was unable to form a full sentence. Spike’s brain went into overdrive as he tried to understand what she was trying to say.

“Everything is wrong with me…I can’t…my house…I…I can’t…Willow…my mom’s savings…I don’t know how…the bank…and I can’t pay…no job…supposed to be…if slaying paid, I’d…I just…I can’t….”

Large tears rolled down Buffy’s cheeks and Spike wrapped an arm around her. She sniffled and took a deep breath before she continued.

“I love you.”

--





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