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*A.N: And I bet all of you thought I’d make Hank an asshole. In some cases he is, because he hasn’t really taken part in Buffy’s life until she married one of his business partners. Mild Spuffiness here, so enjoy…and more reviews will ass more chapters!!! Thanks to my betas, they’re the best!*

Chapter Six: Choices

“I can’t believe that just happened!” Buffy exclaimed, as she stepped out of the Plaza with Spike. “He just saved me from a tortured night of questions, and aggravation.”

“You act as though he’s never done it before.” Spike said, as they began walking without a destination in mind, not caring where they went.

“Are you kidding me? Ever since I was thirteen, I’d see him once a year at this benefit they throw in LA…I always begged him to take me ice-skating, or to the latest Freddie Prince Jr. movie, but he was all work.” She explained.

Spike reached out, and took her hand in his. “The rest of the night is ours, luv. What do you want to do?”

A shiver ran down her spine from his gesture, and her stomach tied in knots. “It’s your city, what is there to do?”

“How about a walk through Central Park?” He suggested.

The last time Buffy was in Central Park, was a week after her wedding. Angel had arranged a small picnic, for the two of them. “I’d love to.” It was time to rewrite those memories.

Although the temperature was close to zero, it was impossible to feel with the heat transferring between the two. They came upon a green bench, near the skate park, and took a seat. The entire place was lit up with white Christmas lights, and as the snow began falling, everything was perfect. It reminded them of a fairytale.

“God, it’s beautiful…” It almost took her breath away. She couldn’t believe that this was the first time she was seeing the beauty of New York City, after living there for seven months, although she had a feeling that Spike contributed to the beauty.

“Yes, you are.” Spike said, staring at her intently.

She turned to see his eyes on hers, and felt THAT feeling pass between the two of them. Before she had the chance to realize, the two were slowly inching closer, their lips meeting in a simple and tender kiss.

Buffy pulled away first, looking forward with red cheeks, not only from the cold, but also from embarrassment. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“And why is that, luv?” His voice was husky, full of lust. He couldn’t remember ever feeling that something was so meant to be with just a kiss.

“Because…this won’t work if we become physical. Our friendship won’t work, and our living arrangement.” She stood, putting her hands in her pockets.

Spike stood beside her, doing the same. “You’re right, let’s get home and forget that this ever happened.”

It would be impossible, not only for him. “Yeah, it’s getting a little chilly.” She felt his cold reaction toward her words and it hurt.

*

On Christmas morning, Buffy was awoken by Christmas music blasting from the living room. She looked at her clock, and saw that it was nearly ten. After the silent cab ride back to the apartment, she was reluctant to join her roommate for a little holiday cheer.

She wasn’t sure if he was angry, or offended by her reaction toward the kiss they shared. She was upset with herself at the fact that she didn’t allow it to go any further. It was nice, and for once in her life, Buffy felt as though she belonged. Then why did she stop? What was so bad about being close to someone she learned to trust and was comfortable with? Or was she afraid to lose that comfort? She needed him, his friendship, but she wasn’t sure if she could handle anything more.

A million questions ran through her mind as she made her way down the hall, in her Yummy Sushi pajamas, stopping at the kitchen. There in a pair of gray sweatpants, was Spike, making enough breakfast to feed ten people. There were sausages, weird shaped pancakes, and freshly squeezed orange juice, plus coffee.

“Planning a party without me?” She asked, startling the chef, causing him to drop the pancake he was flipping.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you, never interrupt a bloody man when he’s flipping pancakes shirtless…that would have been one ugly burn.” He said, bending to pick up the now dirty pancake and threw it in the trash.

Buffy couldn’t help but stare at his bottom as he bent, a sly smile coming over her features. “I wouldn’t have minded nursing the wound back to health.”

Spike cocked a scarred eyebrow at the short blonde, trying to keep a straight mind for his sweatpants’ sake.

“I was kidding…who are we feeding, anyway?” Buffy asked, sitting at the metal kitchen table.

“There’s us…and oh yeah, us.” Spike said with a smile.

“What are these supposed to be anyway?” She studied the blobby pancake, unable to see what it was supposed to be shaped as.

“My attempt at Christmas tree shaped pancakes failed, so now we have an assortment of different abstract shapes.” Spike sat across from her, after placing a plate before her. He began splitting the food between the plates.

“You’re quite the artists, Mr. Evans.” She couldn’t help, but feel good that the kiss hadn’t seemed to change things between them.

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” He poured a fair amount of Vanilla syrup on his pancakes, and handed it to her. “I just want to say, that even though we’re going to go about this day as though nothing’s changed since yesterday, it has. I like you, Buffy. I know you need time to sort through things with that pillock, but I’m willing to be here for you, and wait.”

Buffy choked on a piece of pancake, and Spike was quick to run behind her and pat her back.

“Didn’t mean to almost kill you, pet.” He apologized, sitting in his seat to finish his meal.

*

Spike couldn’t believe the gift before him: His own acoustic guitar.

“I figured you’ve been seeing all of these bands that are just garbage…maybe you can start one of your own.” She smiled at the genuine glee in his eyes.

Without much thought, Spike reached behind the tree, to get the most important gift he’d gotten for Buffy. “Speaking of music…” He said, handing it to her.

Buffy sat before the wrapped up, flat square shape, excited to open it. She ripped the paper open without much resistance, and read the framed words aloud.

“After countless bands, wasting my time, it took a night of Indian TV, for my roommate, Buffy Summers, to let me in on a little secret. They are called Dingoes Ate My Baby, and with songs titled “Pain,” and “Fate,” it’s no wonder that they’ve become Sunnydale, California’s greatest entertainers. With a soothing alternative sound, and a slight vibe that rages “punk,” the Dingoes have become a hit in the small one Starbucks town, trying to break free of the border…”

Buffy looked up at Spike with tears in her eyes. “You did this for my friends?”

“Mostly for you…besides for the fact that they deserve the recognition. They’re a great band, Buffy. They have to be discovered…that talent can’t go to waste.” Spike said with a small smile.

She quickly put down the article, jumping up to hug him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered in his ear. “Thank you…it’ll be worth the wait.”





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