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Chapter 31:

Spike knocked on the door of Hank Summers' house.

When the Summers' patriarch answered the door, Spike introduced himself, "Hello, sir. I'm William. We met earlier tonight at the ice show. I wanted to talk to you about my intentions toward Buffy. May I come in?"

Spike had reverted back to the more distinguished accent of his human days. He knew how to charm and seem respectable when he had to. Hank Summers might be uncomfortable with his eldest's beau on his doorstep, but he invited the smiling young gentleman in.

As the magical barrier vanished, and Spike stepped over the threshold, his smile broadened. Mr. Summers was too old for Spike's tastes - he'd always been a veal man - but you could never underestimate the fun that could be had with common household appliances.

Spike vamped and dragged the screaming man into the kitchen and towards the garbage disposal.

Buffy's sobbing brought him out of his fantasy. He reached down to stroke her hair.

"There, there, pet. S'okay," he murmured.

He moved his hand forward and carefully down shifted as he approached a stoplight. Buffy was stretched across the front seat of his DeSoto, her head in his lap. She gripped his leg as she sobbed, seeking comfort from him.

The run in with her father had been brief. There were awkward, introductions. Turned out the woman Hank Summers had with him was his secretary whom Buffy had met years before. Mr. Summers lied about taking his secretaries kid out, pretending it was just a favor for a friend. Pretending she wasn't his lover. Then he politely asked about Joyce and Dawn.

Through the whole encounter Buffy smiled, but the smile was a lie. The moment they parted ways with her father, she collapsed into Spike. With no desire to stay at the ice show anymore, they had left.

Spike parked the car.

"Buffy? Luv?"

She looked up at him, her face streaked with mascara and tears.

"Here now," he said gently. He licked his thumb and tried to clean up her face.

"I look awful," she sniffled.

"Nah, you look pretty as always, just a little smudged."

"Liar." She gave him a little smile, then pulled out her compact and some tissues and set about trying to fix up her face.

He got out of the DeSoto and walked around the car to open her door. She looked at him with a bit of surprise when he offered her his hand.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

"Emergency stop," he told her. "Come on."

Curious, she took his hand and followed him. He led her down an alley.

"Spike, I'm not up for slaying. Not dressed for it either."

"Too bad. Killing something might do you some good. But that's not what we're here for."

He opened a door under a small sign that read, 'Cafe Mars' and led her down the stairs into the dimly lit room.

Old posters from the twenties were the only remnant of the speakeasy that the place had been the first time Spike had come to L.A. Since then the place had changed hands a couple of times. The decor hadn't changed much since the 50's though, when it had been a beatnik coffee shop.

"Chocolate here isn't as good as your mum's, but still should fix you up," he told her as he led her to the bar.

She smiled gratefully at him. Then her eyes alighted on a chocolate cake displayed in a glass case on top of the bar.

"Two cups of hot chocolate," he ordered. "You want anything else?"

She nodded and bit her lower lip. Childlike she pointed at the cake.

"A slice of cake, too."

Once they had their drinks and cake, Spike led her upstairs. The place had a few regular tables and chairs, but mostly the walls were lined with beat up couches. No two matched, nor did any of the other tables and chairs. A couple of the tables had small chessboards set up on them, abandoned at various stages in the game. Some of them had coins in the place of pieces. It was beat up, run down, and that gave it a special class. Made you feel like you were part of the in crowd for having found it.

They sat down on one of the couches. Buffy curled up against him, tucking her legs under herself, and resting her cake on the side of her leg. She blew on her coffee and for a while they sat in comfortable silence.

"It was our thing. You know?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah, I know." He gently stroked her arm.

"It's like. . . I haven't seen him in more than a year and now. . . it's like he has a whole new family. Like we weren't good enough."

"Maybe it's just the opposite."

"Huh?"

"You're mum. She's an amazing woman. Don't know how any fellow could leave her. So maybe. . . maybe it's hard for him to look at you and Dawn. You're so like her. So beautiful, so strong. Maybe he can't take looking at what he lost."

She took a bite of her cake, and made a yummy sound.

"That's sweat. But it's total crap, you know?" she told him.

"Best I could come up with on short notice. You know I'm the wrong bloke to talk to about infidelity? Never strayed from Dru once. Hell, I didn't even cheat on Harmony, and I could barely stand her."

"So you think he cheated. That they were together before the divorce."

Spike shifted uncomfortably. He didn't think; he knew. He and Joyce had often commiserated about their wayward exes, and she had told him about Hank's affair with his secretary. But that had been told to him in confidence. He knew Joyce wouldn't want him divulging that to her daughter. At the same time, he didn't want to lie to Buffy.

"Maybe. . ." he said noncommittally.

"No, what do you think? Tell me please."

He sighed. A lie by omission was one thing, but he couldn't lie outright to her.

"Yeah."

She nodded, and put her cocoa down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Oh my god, that boy. You don't think he's my. . ."

That stunned Spike. It hadn't occurred to him. Children and pregnancies were not a part of a vampire's life. They hadn't really been part of his mortal life either. As a naive member of Victorian society he'd certainly had many misconceptions about the subject.

"I don't know. Do you really think he'd keep a kid secret?"

"Maybe. . . I, the older I get, the more I feel I don't know who my dad is. When they first got the divorce, I thought. . . I just thought they didn't get along anymore. They fought a lot, but it was always about stupid, little stuff."

"You're mum, she wanted to spare you and Dawn. Would it have been better if you knew?"

"No, I guess not. I just. . ." she drifted off into her thoughts and munched on more of her cake.

He wished he could think of something to distract her. Someway to make her hurt less. To make her not care about what some bleeding wanker thought or felt. Buffy's infinite curiosity, however, provided a new topic of conversation.

"Wait a minute," she said putting down her chocolate and turning to look at him. "If you were completely faithful to both Drusilla and Harmony, how many women have you slept with?"

"None of your business."

"Oh come on, you know how many guys I've been with."

He looked into her face. Being nosey seemed to cheer her up. Although he was somewhat afraid of what she might think of his answer, he also wanted to keep her mind from more unpleasant subjects.

"Including you?" he asked.

"Uh-huh."

He closed his eyes. There was no way he could look at her and answer. "Three," he whispered.

"What?!" she squeaked. "No way!" He nodded. "Oh my god! I'm such a slut. You're like a hundred and fifty, and I'm not even twenty and I've been with more people than you."

"Don't be silly, pet. You're not a slut. You're just easy," he teased.

She wrinkled her nose at him, and hit him playfully on the chest. Then her eyes went wide.

"Does that mean you were a virgin when you died?"

Spike shifted uncomfortably. He was starting to wonder if distracting her from being upset was really worth it.

"Look, things were different back then. No respectable woman had sex before she was married and-"

"So I'm not respectable?"

"I didn't say that. Back then. . . Look, it was an awful time." He was getting defensive. "I wasn't married, never been to a whore, and didn't force the maids to fuck me. So yeah, I was a virgin, all right?"

She scooted up onto his lap and rested her head against his chest.

"It's okay, you know. I think it's kind of sweet."

"'M not sweet."

She kissed his neck, her tongue emerging from between her red lips, to lick him.

"I think you are," she murmured, tickling him with her breath. "I think you're lickable."

He started to position her over his growing erection when she pulled back a little.

"I'll be right back," she told him as she grabbed her purse and headed toward the bathroom.

He watched as she swished away toward the bathroom. He took a swallow of his chocolate and reflected that things were beginning to look up again, when a familiar scent drifted by.

"My, isn't she a sweat little thing?" said a woman's voice.

"Maria," Spike noted. "You really shouldn't be here," he told the vampiress as she sat down next to him.





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