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Author's Chapter Notes:
First let me apologize for neglecting the fic, alot of things have occured in the last couple of months namely the death of a family member and my friend's pregnancy.

Next time I'll try not to get side tracked!
Through out the story there will be continued flash backs, so be prepared! Bear in mind that Spike and Buffy were together for two years, so flash backs will help describe their individual selfs as well as help explain the foundation for their break up. I promise that I will cover more on the Vampire gang as well as Spike's and Buffy's different persepective on their relationship. There will be an entire chapter dedicated to the reason for Buffy leaving, but remember that it isn't just one reason; it was many reasons! I won't leave you guys in the dark, promise!

Thanks to all my reviewers! You guys keep me going! Keep it up!

PS I could always use a beta any volunteers?
Previously

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A knock on the door sounded, startling Spike out of his musings. He was determined not to answer the door until he heard a familiar voice. " Spike, are you in there? I've got some news- I think we've may have found Buffy!"

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Spike pulled open the door so fast that Wesley practically fell inside the penthouse. "You found BUFFY? Well out with it man!" Spike had been waiting for over a year for this day, soon he could hold his girl in his arms again, well as soon as Wesley would quit actin' like a right ponce and tell him!




"Spike, slow down. I said that we may have found her, no promises!" Wesley said carefully, while watching his agitated friend pace restlessly about.




" Then why the bloody hell did you come here, if you aren't sure?!" Spike bellowed. Wesley sighed and rolled his eyes. Seating himself on the couch, he opened his trusty briefcase and removed several folders. Opening them carefully, he extracted several photos that looked as if they had been taken near a beach of some sort. Wesley cleared his throat and handed the pictures to Spike. " When you gave me a list of Buffy's favorite places, restaurants, shopping centers, ice skating rinks, etc, I automatically set up surveillance on all of them in a two hour radius-"




"Then why pray tell, has it taken you a blood year to even think you found her?!" Spike glowered angrily.




"Spike, please just allow me to finish my sentence? Thank you. When we set up surveillance, I hadn't counted on the fact that new resorts or restaurants might be built. A beach cottage resort was just recently built a few months ago. I wasn't aware of it because it was finished in February, but when I did find out about it, I sent my men to check it out and they found a blonde woman matching Buffy's description. The problem is that when I did some discrete checking, no Buffy Summers was registered at the cottages. A young woman named Anne Thomason and her baby daughter were registered as sharing a cottage with two other occupants; Anya Romavis and Willow Rosenburg. Both apparently were acquaintances of Ms. Thomason, who came down with her for a week."




Wesley paused in his story to hand Spike the photos and continued his story, while Spike examined them. "However, I did check the vehicle that Ms. Thomason drove and it appears to be registered to a Joyce Summers, who resides in Sunnydale. I checked Buffy's birth certificate and it appears her middle name is Anne, but I wasn't quite sure that this was her, so I had my men take photos of Anne Thomason and brought them for you to look at."

Spike flipped through the photos casually at first; in almost all the pictures, the young woman was too far away to see properly. "Your men take some bloody awful photos, mate. Don't let them send their shots into life magazine anytime soon-" He shut up abruptly as he flipped to the last photo. He remained frozen for a full moment, staring at the photo.

"Spike? Are you quite alright?"


"Wes, I want the address of this Joyce Summers...NOW!"


Knowing better than to question his employer and friend, Wesley picked up his cell phone and started calling to get the information.
Spike grabbed the photo and strolled into his bedroom and began to pack. He tossed his clothes, underwear, and a few of his favorite CDs into the suitcase as well, as Buffy's favorite Sex Pistols shirt that he slept with.

As soon as the suitcase was full, he lit a cigarette and stared at the image of ‘Anne Thomason' and her baby. The photo had apparently been taken outside of some beachside restaurant. She was holding her baby in her arms, cooing with the happiness of a woman who had her greatest treasure.

Spike had memorized each and every one of Buffy's smiles, he'd spent hours dreaming of her, hell he knew it as well as his own reflection. He knew her emerald eyes better than anyone; he'd waken up to them every morning, stared at them during sex, watched them glitter with anger, sparkle with tears, and glow with happiness. It had been those gems that had captured his soul, stolen his heart, and changed his world; he'd taken one look and was a drowning man, content to be lost in the green jewels of his tempting siren.

His friends had never understood what he'd seen in Buffy; he'd been a notorious womanizer for years, the moment he and Buffy had been dating his friends had begun running a bet, estimating how long they'd last.
Buffy's friends had refused to see him as anything other than a monster and were similar to a Greek chorus, singing a prediction of doom. Both his and Buffy's friends had said the same thing: ‘You're from different worlds', ‘You can't fall in love!', ‘Listen to reason!'
Spike thought that was one of the greatest ironies about the whole relationship; it was without reason or cause. He'd never planned on falling in love, nor had he planned on meeting Buffy Summers.

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LA, California
3 Years Earlier

Spike had been bored that night. Dressed in his usual attire of a black dress shirt and black pants that contrasted with his Doc Martins he'd looked nothing like the owner of one of the most notorious clubs in LA. He did how ever look every bit the ideal vampire, as a mythical creature and a member of the notorious gang.


With his preference for dressing in black and his love of punk music, many often dismissed the club owner and underestimated his prowess. They'd often lived to regret it. The blue eyed Brit may have looked like a street fighter from London, but beneath the façade lay a brilliant lawyer and scholar. Born William Aurelis, Spike had been raised by his mother after his father's death. After graduating from Oxford with a degree in law, he'd been sworn into the London Bar and planned to be a judge. Unfortunately that plan had ended when his mother was tragically murdered barely six months into his career. William had died with her and from the ashes ‘Spike' was born.

Jaded, cynical, and some might say, suicidal, Spike had abandoned any attempts to continue his career and went to America. Soon after that he'd ended up in LA, haunting the streets late at night like a ghost, searching for some meaning, some motivation.

It had been fate that had led him to the Vampire gang and soon after he'd completed his initiation, Spike rose quickly through the ranks of the gang. It had been his ideas to build the club Shadows, as well as several other legitimate businesses that would provide a front for the gang's dealings. Spike's ideas had helped expand the Vampires' prestige and take control of LA. Spike snorted at the irony; the ‘city of angels' owned by demons incarnate.

Leaning over the railing of the catwalk, Spike exhaled a puffy of smoke from his cigarette as he examined the dance floor, below. He smirked as he surveyed the many lovely young women, dancing to the music. One plus side of the club was that his bed was always warm; his lurking in the shadows meant that few ever recognized the club owner, except his staff, and he often could approach some young thing for a lil' bit o' rough and tumble.

Suddenly , Spike founded his attention drawn to a flash of gold. A young woman, no older than nineteen, was drawing a large amount of attention as she danced. Spike studied her; she was a regular, her clothes were a good deal more tasteful than the majority of the women in the club.

Spike found himself hypnotized as he watched her dance solo, shaking off any male that tried to claim her. She had golden brown hair, and a smooth tan body. As she tossed her head back, her hair seemed to frame her face like a halo. And what a face she had! High cheekbones, flawless skin, were emphasized by her smooth red lips and glowing emerald eyes. While others would say the girl was dancing erotically on purpose,

Spike knew with one look at her that she wasn't; she danced with uninhibited and unexplored innocence, instead of the predatory look of an experienced hooker. She was rare; pure passion, throbbing sexuality, a truly magnificent creature.

Spike's may have been memorized by this stunning creature, but the massive hard on he was now sporting, told him that he had to meet this creature. This vestal virgin might have been unmarked, but he would help her divest her robe of innocence and show her how to explore her passionate nature. He gave a predatory smile, as he melted into the shadows to stalk his prey; tonight she would be his.


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LA California
Present Day

Wesley's voice jolted Spike out of his recollections. "Spike the address is 1630 Revello Drive. Do you need anything else?"


Without turning around to face his friend, who was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, Spike said " Good mate, find me a flight and write down that address for me. I want to leave as soon as possible, make the arrangements."


Wesley nodded and departed back to the living room, while Spike looked at the photo that he'd been holding for the last hour.

‘Anne Thomason' could call herself whatever she bloody well wanted, but he knew she really was, Spike thought.


He stared into the green eyes of the woman in the photograph and then he stared at the baby.

‘Ms. Anne you and I will be having a chat very soon, luv. Count on it.'





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