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*A.N: I am so happy with the reaction I’m getting with this story. Thank you for reviewing, and thanks to my betas. The more reviews the faster I update, so let me know what you think!*

Chapter Two: What’s My Line? Part 2

“Just like that?” The blonde questioned with uncertainty.

“Just like that.” Buffy replied. “What you just did now, standing up to him…it was just what I need to make this apartment right.”

“Who the bloody hell was he?” Spike questioned.

“It’s not important.” She answered, walking away from the door and signaling for him to follow. “This is the living room.”

Buffy gestured to the room, which contained a mahogany coffee table, and TV stand, a 52 inch television within the stand’s door, with various DVD’s. On the bottom of the stand was the Sony radio, complete with a vast CD collection. The couches were a plain dark green, matching the plaid white and green rug beneath the coffee table. Next, she led him to the bathroom. It was decorated in black and white, with a big old-fashioned tub.

Spike sorted through his head, wondering how someone so obviously young was doing so well all alone, and why she didn’t have the brooding man that had just left the apartment staying with her.

They walked down a short hall and turned left to the room that was destined to be his. She opened the door and flicked on the light to reveal a mid-sized, yet spacious room with paneled windows. The room was filled with boxes, labeled BUFFY’S ROOM.

“Was this your room?” He asked.

“No, it was just a spare, and I never really had the chance to sort through the things that were sent in from home, so I put them here.” She explained with a sad smile.

“Where was home?” He questioned.

“Sunnydale, California.” She replied.

“Miss it much?”

“Not so much the place, as I do the people. New York’s so fast paced.”

“You’ll get used to it pet…I’ve traveled all over with my mum…from London, to Paris, than LA, and when we got to New York, I had to stay.” He spoke with pride.

She turned off the light, and he followed her a bit farther down the hall. “How old are you?” She asked, turning on the light in her room, and allowing him to step in with her, as she looked through papers to find the lease. Her room was decorated with light pinks and lavenders, although it hadn’t been like that when Angel occupied it with her. The carpet was a plush white, the curtains a sheer white with small flowers decorating it. The oak sleigh-bed was unmade, but look appealing.

“Twenty-five, and yourself?” He probed, looking at her curves.

“I’ll be nineteen in January.” She answered.

“Daddy hooked you up with the digs?”

“No…it’s a really complicated story.” She said, and he gave her a look. “Well, okay it’s not, but I don’t feel like talking about it.” She presented him with the lease. “All you have to do is promise that you can pay me this amount the first of every month, and you stay.”

*

The terms of which Buffy was able to keep the apartment were simple. If Angel’s father, Ethan Rayne, discontinued the payments, she’d run to the man that helped bring her into the world but didn’t raise her: her father.

She’d met Angel at a small fundraiser that she had attended every year, as visitation to her father. Hank Summers was not a force to be reckoned with. He was a powerful businessman all over the United States, and was now spreading that power worldwide. She had no emotional relationship with her father, but when she was in a bind that power didn’t fail her.

Hank was in business with Ethan, and although it was evil, Buffy knew one word of Angel’s unfaithfulness would send Rayne Corps down hill.

*

It didn’t take long for Spike to move in. As soon as he presented Buffy with the first check, the next day the duo was painting his new room. It was perfect timing for the two to get to know each other a bit better, since Buffy rushed the moving process.

“What’s the point of painting one wall black?” Buffy questioned, her hair tied in a sloppy bun, as she rolled the roller in paint. She wore baggy jean overalls, and a white tank top.

“It will help my thinking process.” Spike replied, dressed just as bummed, in baggy black sweatpants and a black tank top.

“What do you do for a living?” She asked.

“I just started my own column on upcoming rock bands for Rolling Stones magazine.” He said, climbing the ladder to get the corners. “And yourself?”

“Well…nothing right now. I’m thinking about getting a job, so I have a few extra dollars to do my own thing. My bills go to a business associate, and my credit card bill goes to my absentee father.” She explained.

“What kind of business?” Spike raised his scarred eyebrow to her.

“I made the mistake of marrying his ever so unfaithful son.” She answered nonchalantly.

“So that’s who, Mister overhanging forehead was?” He smirked.

“Yes it was…” She took a moment to sit on the floor.

Spike climbed off of the ladder, and took a seat beside her. “So you got a divorce?” He questioned.

Buffy shrugged, taking a smaller brush in her hand. “Technically we’re separated, but there’s no way I’m taking him back. I’m trying for an annulment, but it’s a long process.” She wiped the back of her hand along her forehead, unknowing to the paint that had dripped, and was now smeared on her face.

Spike put his hand over his mouth and stifled a laugh. “That’s a good look for you, Rayne.”

“Don’t call me that!” Buffy said, irritated, as she pointed the tip of the brush at him, white paint fling onto his shirt and neck. She put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “Sorry…”

“Two can play this game…” With that, Spike took him brush and swiped it over her cheek, and in no time, there was a full-on paint fight between the blondes.

After fifteen minutes, they collapsed on the covered floor in laughter. “This has to be the greatest time I’ve had since I got here.” Buffy said, looking at the walls, which were splattered with black and white pain.

Spike looked over at his roommate, a smile in his eyes. “It’s going to get better, pet. Now that I’m here, everything will be better.” He looked into her hazel-green eyes, liberated by the melding of colors. “You’re beautiful.” He said before thinking.

Her eyes went wide, and for the first time, she REALLY looked at him. The way his top clung to his sculpted torso, the glint in his deep blue eyes, and the way the light shined off of his hair. She felt as though she’d just touched electricity.

“I mean, you won’t be alone forever…one day a guy will come along and show you what real love is.” He didn’t want her to think he was making a pass at her. They were roommates…it was like The Real World, no one should ever hook up because it just spells trouble.

“Of course…we should fix this.” Buffy stood, preparing to get back to work on the walls.

“Actually…I kinda like it.” He said, looking around at the splattered walls.

“It does look kinda cool, and when you bring a girl home to it, you can tell her we did it together.” She winked, and shoved him playfully, before heading for the bathroom to shower. The thought of another woman occupying that room, gave her a twinge of jealousy. This was going to be a longer process than her annulment.





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