Chapter 1:
I gotta tell you. I hate this game.
I mean, how the hell are you supposed to not drop the friggin ball?!
I threw down the controller, and grumbled angrily as the screen flashed 'GAME
OVER'.
"Damn Spongebob Bubble Bounce. Stupid frickin thing won't let you get past level
40."
Just then, my irritating little sister Dawn waltzed into the room, changed the
channel to MTV, and sat down.
Glaring at her, I snatched the remote back. "Excuse you?"
She looked at me confused. "What?"
"You can't just walk in here and change the channel when someone's already
watching something."
"So, your form of entertainment is watching Spongebob stare at you because you
couldn't get past level 40?"
"Uh...yeah."
"Riiiiiiiiiiight."
Unable to think of any other argument, we went back to watching MTV. The new
music video by 'Dingoes Ate My Baby' came on, and I immediately sat straight up.
Pointing the remote at the TV, I turned up the volume, and sang along to the
song.
Do you have the time
to listen to me whine
About NOTHING and EVERYTHING
all at once
I am one of those
Melodramatic fools
Neurotic to the bone
No doubt about it
Dawn rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms over her chest. She hates to admit
it, but she told me once that I have a pretty good singing voice.
That and a major crush on Spike Giles, lead singer of 'Dingoes'.
Sometimes I give myself the CREEPS
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me
It all keeps adding up
I think I'm CRACKING UP
Am I just PARANOID?
Or am I just STONED
I went to a shrink
To analyze my dreams
SHE says it's lack of sex
that's bringing me down
I went to a whore
HE said my life's a bore
So quit my whining cause
it's bringing HER down
Dawn turned to me and said, "Have you ever noticed how he goes to a male-whore?
Does that mean he's gay?"
That stopped me dead in the middle of my song.. Turning to Dawn, I said, "Dawn.
He's not gay. First of all, he broke up with his fiancee, Drusilla Rayne like, 2
months ago. I highly doubt he's gay."
"Really? Cuz the hair-"
"No. He doesn't have gay hair. The drummer has gay hair."
"Andrew? That's because he is, Buffy."
"....oh."
Sometimes I give myself the CREEPS
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me
It all keeps adding up
I think I'm CRACKING UP
Am I just PARANOID?
Uh,yuh,yuh,ya
Grasping to CONTROL
So I BETTER hold on
Sometimes I give myself the CREEPS
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me
It all keeps adding up
I think I'm CRACKING UP
Am I just PARANOID?
Or am I just STONED
I clapped when the song was over. I mean, I know they can't hear me, but
it's a nervous habit thing. I think Willow rubbed off on me. She does it
whenever she's excited. Curses.
I picked up the remote to turn the TV off, but stopped when I saw the words
'WIN A DATE WITH SPIKE GILES' flash across the screen.
Inside, I screamed. 'Oh my god! OH MY GOD! Win a date with Spike Giles! Write
down the number! WRITE DOWN THE ADDRESS!'
After I had copied down the number in a frenzied panic, I turned to Dawn, who
was backed up against the couch, looking at me with a frightened expression.
"What?!"
"You are so obssessed."
"Am not."
"Spike Giles."
"Where!?"
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Chapter 2:
Buffy crossed the kitchen as the phone rang. Picking it
up, she held it to her ear with her shoulder. “Hello?”
“Hello, this is Lilah Morgan. I’m calling for a.....Buffy Summers?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“Ms. Summers, I’m calling to let you know that you have been selected as the
winner for the ‘Win A Date With Spike Giles contest’. You have won the grand
prize of spending the day with Mr. Giles and getting to know him better. The
‘date’ will take place on the 17th of July. We hope you have a nice day.”
There was a click and a dial tone as the woman hung up.
“Oh my god!” Buffy screeched. “OH MY GOD!”
***
Spike groaned as his PR told him that they had selected a contest winner.
“Lilah, why the fuck do I have to do this? And what kind of name is ‘Buffy’?”
“Because it’ll help your image some! You need to get rid of the whole ‘bad boy,
bad ass’ thing. It’s not good!”
“Sodding hell, woman! That image took forever to get and now you want me to
bloody throw it away?”
“Yep.”
"I hate you.”
***
July 17th rolled around too quickly for Spike’s liking, and too slow for
Buffy’s. Spike sighed and slicked back his hair and knocked on the door. A
small, teenaged brunette answered, and she eyed him up and down.
“Buffy!” she called up the stairs, never taking her eyes off of Spike. “Your
lover-boy’s here!” She smiled at Spike’s raised eyebrow, and held out her hand.
"I’m Dawn, Buffy’s little sister.”
He took her hand in his strong one, shook it as he said, “Spike Giles.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Spike’s eyes drifted to the stairs as Buffy descended them. His breath hitched
slightly in his throat as he got a good look at her. Her hair was piled up, with
a few stray tendrils brushing against her neck. She wore a black dress that cut
off at her knees, and had a low neckline.
She smiled at him, and said in a soft voice, “Hi. I-I’m Buffy.”
He nodded, and held out his arm for her to take. She accepted and as they walked
to his car, they heard Dawn yell out, “Don’t do anything crazy, you two!”
Buffy smiled, and Spike’s attitude changed immediately. Gone was the poet, and
back was the bad boy he had come to be known as. “Crazy? I can think of a few
crazy things I’d like to do.” His eyes roamed over her body, and his tongue
curled behind his teeth.
He watched as a confused look crossed over Buffy’s features. ‘He’s so
different,’ she thought. ‘He’s so different than I would have thought.’
“Wh-what?” she asked in a small voice.
“Well, it’s just that you go out dressed like that and expect to not look
slutty?” Spike didn’t know why the words were coming out of his mouth, and he
knew he didn’t mean them. He looked on as hurt settled over her features,
quickly masked by anger.
“You know what?” she said in a hard voice. “Can we just get this over with and
tomorrow we can pretend it never happened?”
“Gladly,” he replied and shut the door hard after she had climbed into his car.
***
The trip to the restaurant was made in silence, and Buffy mused over her
feelings for the bleached man sitting next to her. ‘He’s so mean....when did
he get mean? I mean, I’ve always read about how sweet and kind he is to his
fans....were those just lies? Why am I here? Oh yeah. Dumb ass contest. Ugh,
with the way he’s talked to me so far, I can’t wait for this night to be over.’
They pulled into Caritas, and Spike opened his arms in a grand gesture,
grumbling, “We’re here.”
Buffy climbed out, and headed into the restaurant/dance club, ignoring the arm
that was offered to her by Spike.
He sighed, and followed her into the building, each thinking the same thing.
‘This is going to be a loooooooooooooooooooooong night.’
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Chapter 3:
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Buffy opened her eyes blearily, and looked at her surroundings as she stretched
languidly, the satin sheets caressing her naked bod---
Wait.
Naked?
Buffy sat straight up in bed, clutching the sheets to her chest. She appeared to
be in a hotel room, and there was an indent the shape of a body next to her on
the bed.
Yet she was completely alone.
There wasn’t any trace that she had shared this room last night, only her
clothes remained.
Buffy pressed the heels of her hands against her eyelids, desperately trying to
remember last night.
***
The night before.....
Buffy sat down at the table, and Spike asked her what she wanted to drink.
“What do they have?”
“They have some JD, they have wine.....” At her worried expression, he assured,
“They don’t have an age restriction here. Although, most kids can’t afford this
place.”
Buffy flushed with anger. ‘Kid?’ she thought. ‘Did he just call me a kid?’
“Wine. White,” she spat.
Spike raised an eyebrow at her, and said to the waiter, “Whatever the lady
wants.”
1 hour and 2 wine bottles later.....
“An-And then,” Buffy slurred. “He said, “You’re a bitch! Y-You should put out
for me, you prude!” Can you believe that? I mean, just ‘cuz I’m a
ver-veeeer-virgin, doesn’t me-mean that-that I’m stuck up!”
“Of course not!” agreed Spike drunkenly. "I mean, I’d do ya!”
“Reaaaaaaally?” Buffy scrunched up her nose at him.
“Hell yeah!”
“Ya know,” she giggled, "I dreeeeeeamed of-of-of having...” her voice dropped
conspiratorially. “....sex with you.”
“Didja now!”
“Yep!” Buffy said, popping the ‘p’.
“Well, do you wanna live out that fantasy?”
“SURE!” Buffy agreed.
The two stumbled out of the restaurant drunkenly, hand in hand, neither thinking
of the consequences.
***
Buffy felt tears pricking her eyes, and she whispered, “No....”
She stood up, and walked to the desk in the corner of the room, hoping to find a
note.
Nothing.
Spike Giles had taken her heart, her happiness and her virginity and walked away
with them, leaving her with something shattered.
***
4 weeks later......
Buffy rested her cheek against the cool toilet seat. She breathed in and out
shakily.
That was the 8th day in a row that she had thrown up in the morning, and she had
a sneaking suspicion what that meant.
Buffy groped on the counter, looking for the small plastic stick that she had
used earlier and stared at it, eyes wide at it’s results.
Positive.
She was pregnant.
With Spike Giles’ child.
TBC.........
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
Chapter 4:
*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*~::~*
Four years later…
Buffy flicked through the pages of the file, then sighed and tossed it onto her
desk as she walked towards it. Sitting in the rolling chair, she sighed, and
looked down at her desk, wondering where she would start.
She fidgeted for a moment, then straightened the picture on her desk. Smiling
back at her from the frame was her baby boy, blue eyes twinkling as she held
him. He was reaching out, supposedly for his Aunt Dawn, who had taken the photo.
He had a party hat propped sideways on his head, and he was smiling, showing his
baby teeth. The picture had been taken on his third birthday, three months ago.
She sighed, bringing her hands away from the picture and onto the file, opening
it once more.
“Lets see, lets see…hmm, new Sandra Bullock movie, I’ll look into that… The
Grudge...oh god…oh, no…” She let the file fall from her hands and hit the
desk, the information staring up at her.
SPIKE GILES, DANA HALLIWELLL, CHRISTINA LYONS ---NEW MOVIE --SCHIZOPHRENIA.
John Thornton (Giles) is a doctor in the mental ward and a widower left alone
with a six year old daughter (Lyons). One of the patients named Drusilla (Halliwell),
a schizophrenic, becomes obsessed with John; breaks out of prison a stalks him.
She gets jealous of the attention he pays to his daughter and kidnaps her. John
goes on a frantic search for his daughter, receiving clues only in the form of
notes attached to dolls
Buffy dropped her head into her hands, threading her hair through her fingers.
“This…is NOT what I need right now.”
She felt someone rap her on her head, and she looked up. “Wills!” she said,
depressed feelings dissipating as she greeted her best friend. “What’s up?”
“Got a new assignment…” She waved the file under Buffy’s nose. “Guess where?”
Buffy frowned, and took the file away from the red head. She opened it up, and
her eyes widened. Her head snapped up and she stood. “Fresche?” she
asked. “Oz’s restaurant?”
Willow nodded, a light appearing in her eyes at the thought of her fiancé. “Yep.
On the 24th. Wanna come with?”
Buffy nodded. “Hell yeah!”
*~::~*
Spike sighed, leaning his head against the window. He looked out the window as
they drove past a sign, marking how far they were from their destination.
He pulled his head away from the glass, and rested it on the seat. He restlessly
stared out the other window for a moment, before sitting up straight and
reaching up towards the sun roof button. Pressing it, he amused himself for a
few minutes with the sliding of the glass. Bored once more, he let his arm drop
down, and reached for the mini-fridge. Opening it, he pulled out a Pepsi, and
noticed with a grimace that it had his face on it.
He still couldn’t believe that Cecily, his agent, had sold him out like that! He
wanted to be a respected actor, not some kind of moron who does everything he
can for publicity.
After finished the soda, he managed to sit still for about ten minutes, before
reaching up to play with the sun roof, barely registering the sign he passed
that read:
SUNNYDALE 3 MILES
Chapter 5:
___________________________________________________________________
“Buffy?” Willow called from the front door, and Buffy looked in its direction
from her position in front of the
highchair. “It’s almost 6:45, we should leave soon.”
“Okay, Will!” She turned back to William, who was sitting in his baby seat,
playing with his bananas. “William, baby, mommy’s going out for a while, and…no,
don’t throw that, put it in your mouth. Grandma’s coming…” She stopped as she
heard Willow go, “Hey, Mrs. Summers!”
“Hello, Willow.” Her mother greeted. “Buffy! Where’s my grand-baby?”
“In here, Mom!” She turned to William, who was blowing spit bubbles. “Sweetie,
no, don’t do that. Eat your mashed bananas…DON’T throw them! William! Oh,
no…Mom? I need you to clean up the refrigerator for me, Will decided to have a
food fight with it.”
Her mother appeared in the kitchen, and smiled. She crossed over to her messy
grandson and hauled him out of his chair. She rubbed noses with him, despite the
spittle that still glistened on it. When she was done, she looked over William’s
head and said to her daughter, “Go! Eat food!”
Buffy nodded, and began to walk out, before pausing and turning back. “Mom?” she
asked, hand resting one the doorway. “You know what to do, right? I mean, bath,
story time, and then in bed-”
“By 8:30, I know! And no milk before bed. And,” she added, seeing her daughter
getting ready to open her mouth. “No TV. Only movies.”
Buffy nodded, and began to walk out the door. She stopped again, and said, “One
more thing…” She crossed over to her sun and kissed his forehead. Then she
smiled and walked out the door.
Joyce waited until her daughter’s foot steps faded away and the car’s sound
faded into the distance before turning to William and said, “C’mon. Time for
‘Pooh Bear’.”
___
Spike sighed as they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. He glanced
up through the tinted windows at the neon sign that glared at him in neon blue.
He looked over at the empty seat next to him and sighed, wishing that someone
was sitting next to him.
He never, EVER, had wished for someone, some glorious, beautiful woman to sit
next to him, guide him along the way.
All that had changed a few years ago, during one of his many one night stands.
He didn’t remember her all that well; just a turned up nose and sparkling green
eyes. But after that, he had found himself miraculously unable to commit to ANY
woman for a long period of time.
Soon, when he had had his numerous one night deals, he imagined that the woman
beneath him, no matter how dark their skin or hair, had a turned up noise and a
set of twinkling green eyes that lit up the room, and warmed the creases of his
heart.
The same green eyed girl whose heart he had broken.
The same green eyed girl that he had, unknowingly, left with a child.
The same green eyed woman that he was about to see again.
But since he didn’t know ANY of this, he merely glanced once more at the sign
that read ‘Fresche’
___
Buffy had to set down her glass as she laughed, Willow’s face bright red from
the reading the message on her plate. ‘If you were anymore gorgeous, I’d have
to eat you up.’
“Oh…my god,” gasped Buffy, tears forming in her eyes. “D-Do you think that OZ
actually wrote that? I…I mean, it’s just so not…Oz-ish.” She giggled, “Eat
you up…”
Willow laughed, cheeks still burning in embarrassment. “I know! I think that he
got someone else from the kitchen to write this…” She turned the plate back into
her direction and flushed even more. “Oh, god…” Then, she looked up, and her
face blanched, and this time when she said, “Oh, God…” it was for a different
reason.
Buffy frowned and turned around in her seat, and her face went white as she
caught the eye of a man that she had grown to despise with all her being in the
past 4 years.
Him…
___
Spike’s blue eyes widened as the little blonde who had been laughing so freely a
minute ago, turned around and caught his eye, exposing her green ones and her
upturned nose.
Her…
Chapter 6:
Buffy kept her eyes trained on Willow, refusing to turn her head around and see
the man behind her. Refused to admit that he was real, that he was there. She
smiled warmly at something Willow said about William.
“I mean, he’s just so cute! With his big blue eyes, and little fingers…” Willow
gushed, turning her attention back to her blonde haired friend. She was pretty
sure that Buffy was fully aware that the peroxided movie star was staring holes
into her back. He would occasionally glance at the two men at the table, say a
few words, nod, and then turn to look at Buffy again.
She remembered the shock she had felt when her friend had showed up on her
doorstep on the morning of July 18th, shirt inside out, and tears running down
her face. She had sat on the couch, head in her hands, and told Willow the whole
sordid tale.
Willow, who had also been an avid fan of Spike Giles, became one of his most
loyal haters. Every time that she saw him on a movie poster, she would make a
face at it.
Every time she heard one of his songs on the radio, she would change the
channel.
Every time she heard teenaged girls talking about how sweet they heard he was,
she would turn around in and uncharacteristic rage and inform them that her
friend had met him, and he had ‘wham-bam-thank you ma’am-ed’ her. Since the town
was so goddamned small, every man, every woman, and even every child, teenager
and their cousins in different cities knew what had happened to the happy, peppy
blonde, and knew who was responsible for it.
And every time that she saw her godson…she would thank that stupid, bleached
Brit that he had allowed this child to come into the world.
And then she would internally curse him for the circumstances of which the child
came about.
This child was so pure…so happy and bright, that it astounded her that he was
the product of a drunken one night stand. This child should have been created
with love and tenderness, not drunken stupidity. This child’s mother shouldn’t
have had to raise him by herself.
This child’s father should have stayed around.
This child’s father shouldn’t be glaring holes at her friend.
This child’s father…would never, EVER, hurt her best friend again.
She would make damn sure of that.
---
Spike was trying his hardest to listen to Ethan Rayne as he drawled on and on
about his new film idea, really, he was! It’s just…it was as if the blonde kept
on drawing him back in.
After locking eyes with her, her green orbs had grown cold, and a frown took
over her pretty features. She had turned away from him and back to the red head,
picking at her napkin.
He had taken a small step towards her, but the hand on his arm, and the
disapproving glare of Angel had him sighing and turning towards the table.
So here he was, trying to listen as the elderly man explained his idea, while an
irritated looking red-head sent glares in his direction every once in a while.
But SHE wasn’t the one he wanted to be turning around to look at him. No, he
wanted the petite blonde to be the one to turn around and pay him some
attention, dammit!
But she was ignoring him, talking to her friend. They talked for a bit, before
pushing their chairs out and standing up, getting ready to go. The blonde slung
her purse over her shoulder and placed her jacket over her arms before pushing
her chair back in. She turned around, and her eyes flickered towards him, before
settling on the exit. She began to walk towards it, chin high in the air, her
red haired friend following her. She left the building about 30 feet ahead of
the other one, and Spike stood up, ignoring the protests from his dining mates,
and began to walk towards the exit, trying to stop her.
But the person he came face to face with, was her cutie pie friend.
“Listen up, bub,” she said, eyeing him with evident dislike. “She knows you’ve
been looking. And she didn’t look back because she wants nothing to do with you.
So, leave her the hell alone, and get out of Sunnydale. You aren’t welcomed
here.” She turned her head away, as if the sight of him disturbed her.
“Sunnydale hates you.”
And with that, she left the mega-movie star standing in the restaurant, a
confused look on his face.
“‘Sunnydale’?” he echoed.
---
“Oh, god, Will,” Buffy sighed, letting her head hit the head rest behind her.
“I know, Buffy,” Willow said as she buckled herself in. “That was hard, wasn’t
it? Seeing him there?”
She nodded, burying her head in her hands and letting a few tears trickle
through her splayed fingers. Willow rubbed her back comfortingly, and after a
few minutes, started up the car.
Buffy sniffed and sat up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Okay,” she
said, gaining her composure. “Just get me home to Will.”
Willow nodded and put her foot on the gas, setting off towards 1630 Revello
Drive.
---
Spike opened the door to his hotel room, sighing.
Everywhere that he had gone tonight, he had gotten dirty looks or glares.
Several people had turned away in disgust at the sight of him, and several had
given him the finger.
He was un-used to this kind of treatment; more used to the kind where teenaged
girls wanted to HAVE him, and men wanted to BE him. He was used to being stopped
on the street by a fan who wanted an autograph. He was used to being stalked by
the paparazzi and having his picture being splayed on billboards, magazines and
posters.
But now…he couldn’t find a single magazine with his picture on it. He was used
to going into a 7-11 and finding every magazine imaginable with his face printed
on it, but in this town…
…there seemed to be no. such. Thing…
…as Spike Giles.
Guess the red-head hadn’t been lying.
This town hated him, and wanted him gone.
_________________________________________________________________
Chapter 7:
His fingers threaded through his hair, disarranging the bleached strands. He
looked out the window of his hotel room, and took in the beautiful scenery. He
had managed to find a decent hotel by the beach, one that would take him in.
Three weeks had passed since Spike had had the run-in with the two women at the
restaurant. He had tried desperately to remember what the blonde looked like,
but found that the harder he tried to picture her, the more she faded away. Now,
all he had was the memory of bright green eyes, round and bright.
He had spent most of his time walking around this one Starbucks town, trying to
find somewhere that would let him stay there for more than a few days. Where
ever he went, people would serve him with reluctance and distaste, or refused to
serve him at all. Truth be told, the isolation and lack of craze over him
was…rather welcomed.
But the lack of remembrance over that blonde? That was slowly driving him
insane.
He sighed, standing up and grabbing his duster. He needed to get out of this
room. He grabbed his keys to the rental car and walked out the door, heading to
Sunnydale Mall.
---
Buffy tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing in the rearview mirror. Her son
was bobbing his head along to the music blasting from her car speakers. Her son
had an unbelievable obsession with the cartoon ‘Spongebob Squarepants’, and she
had bought him the soundtrack, which he listened to constantly.
“William,” she said, catching her baby’s attention. “Sweetie, what AREN’T we
going to do at the mall this time?”
“Play wif shoos.”
“Good. We don’t want a stack of high heels falling on you today, now do we?”
“No.”
“Good,” she said, turning the steering wheel and pulling into a space. She
unbuckled her seat belt, and climbed out of her car. She opened up the side door
and reached in, pulled the seat belt out of the buckle and lifted her son out of
the car seat. She balanced him on her hip as she closed the door, opened the
trunk and got out the stroller. Setting him down on the trunk, she opened the
carriage and placed his favorite blanket in it. Then, she picked up her son,
placed him in the stroller and walked inside the mall.
---
Spike pulled the rental car into the space and cut off the engine. He sat in
front of the wheel for a few minutes before climbing out. His eye caught on the
license plate on a dark blue Honda CR-V which read ‘Slayer’. He scoffed, and
headed inside.
Passing through the double doors, he was greeted with the buzz of the mall and
the unnaturally cold air that resulted from the high air conditioning levels.
He glanced around the overly crowded place and muttered, “Where to start.”
---
“Where to start,” Buffy sighed to Faith. The two had been friends since ‘The
Incident’ after a guy had accused Buffy of being a slut and selling her body to
Spike Giles. Faith, who had been on the receiving end of this comment and knew
how much it hurt, had promptly become pissed off. She had decked the obnoxious
teen and earned Buffy’s tentative friendship which grew into them becoming best
friends.
Faith had been on a trip to San Juan for the past four weeks; just getting home
the day before. She had gone to the mall where she had run into Buffy, who was
now filling her in on what had happened.
“Well, Willow and I are sitting in Fresche, right? Well, I’m teasing her
about her and Oz and she gets really pale and goes, “Oh, my god”. So I turn
around and who do I see?”
“I dunno, B. That’s why YOU are telling ME.”
“Quiet. Anyway, I turn around and there, standing in all his glory, is HIM.”
Faith’s eyes widened. “Damn, B! I’m gone for four weeks and Blue blows back into
town?” She whistled. “Maybe I should go on va-kay more often.”
“Faith, be serious. The father of my baby is here!”
The brunette looked around the food court. “Where?”
“No, not ‘here’ here. Just...in California. Sunnydale, maybe. I don’t know.” She
shruged. “He could have left the coun...Faith, what are you looking at?”
“Uh, B? I don’t think he left the country.”
“Why not?”
“Because he kind of just walked into the food court.”
---
Spike glanced around the crowded place with mild amusement. People were gathered
everywhere; lines meshed into each other, babies cries mixed together, and he
was almost going deaf from the dull roar of the room.
Sighing, he decided that he’d come back when the whole of Sunnyhell WASN’T here,
and walked right by a blonde and a brunette with a stroller, not paying them one
more glance.
---
Buffy heard the light rustling of leather by her right ear and refused to turn.
Faith twisted in her seat and watched the movie star as he crossed to the
escalators on the other side of the room.
When his bleached head disappeared from sight, she turned around. “B, he’s gone.
You can move now.”
Buffy opened her eyes and glanced around then sighed. “Too close...”
She jumped slightly when a hand clamped down on her shoulder, and a familiar
British voice said, “Hello, Buffy.”
---
Spike sat on the edge of the fountain, playing with a pen that he had found in
his pocket. He distractedly clicked the pen, looking down at the flor with
disinterest.
He stopped his noisemaking, sighed, and put the pen next to him on the cool
stone wall. He ran his hands over his face and then through his hair and dropped
his right hand so that he could rub the back of his neck with his left. Dropping
that hand, too, he sighed, impatiently tapping his foot. He glanced down at the
offending limb and rolled his eyes before muttering “Sod it,” and walking out of
the building.
---
Buffy let a grin steal over her features and turned in her seat. “Well if it
isn’t Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.” She stood up and grabbed him into a hug. “How are
you?”
The scraggly looking Brit hugged her and said, “Never better. And,” he added,
pulling away from her. “how’s my favorite little boy?”
“Wezey!” cried the child, holding his arms up. “Up! Up!”
He laughed and swung the boy out of the stroller and into his arms. Buffy
watched, amused, as Wes played with her son. “How’s Winniefred?”
The man rolled his eyes, bouncing William uup and down on his hip. “She’s fine,
Buffy. And she wishes you would call her Fred, you’ve known her for two years.”
“Um, B?” Faith interrupted. “Who’s this?”
“Faith, you’ve never met Wesley?”
“No.”
“Wow...might have something to do with the boarding school...”
Wesley shrugged. “Maybe.”
“B?”
“Right, sorry. Faith, this is Wesley. Wesley, Faith. Wes is my step-brother, and
‘Fred’ is his sisters.” She leaned forward and whispered in Faith’s ear, “And
he’s engaged. Don’t. Even. Think. About it. So,” she said, pulling back. “Who
wants to go to Build-A-Bear?”
_______________________________________________________________________
Chapter 8:
Buffy wheeled William around to the front of the store, pushing him slowly past
all the deflated animals that were waiting to be stuffed. She glanced ahead of
her at Faith and Wesley, who were standing by the Fluff machine. She laughed
when she saw Faith run a finger down Wesley’s arm, causing her step-brother to
look flustered, turn to her and mouth ‘HELP ME!’
“’Top!” demanded William. “Doggy!”
Buffy looked at the choice William had made and smiled. “A Yellow Lab? Are you
sure?”
“Yes.”
“OK,” she said, taking the floppy thing out of her son’s arms and pushing him
towards where Faith and Wesley were.
“Buffy!” cried out Wesley, quickly walking away from Faith. “Oh, look, it’s
Buffy! Buffy, let me help you with William!” As he stood next to his
step-sister, he whispered in her ear, “And keep that woman away from me!”
She laughed, punching him on the shoulder. “Well, I tried to explain to her that
you’re engaged, but I don’t think it worked.”
“Damn it,” was the good naturedly muttered response.
Buffy handed the stuffed animal to the clerk, who asked William to pick up one
of the fabric hearts, rub it over his heart, and then kiss it. The child did so,
and watched in awe as the Fluff Machine started its magic.
---
Spike sat in his car, head leaned against the steering wheel. He had walked
through the double doors, found his car, laughed at the ‘Slayer’ license plate
once more, and climbed into his car. He hadn’t moved since.
“Damn it,” he muttered. “I’m going to put the sodding key inside the sodding
ignition and be on my bloody way. There. It’s a plan.”
Five minutes passed and he did nothing. Something in his gut was telling him not
to move; to not leave this place and to search it until he found someone.
“Oh, bugger,” he sighed, opening the car door and stepping out. “Bleeding
conscience got a hold of me.”
He didn’t even laugh slightly when he passed by the ‘Slayer’ license plate.
---
“Sweetie, I don’t think Marc needs a tutu.”
“Pweeze?”
“No, baby. You wanted to name it after Marc, and that means it’s a boy doggy.
Boy doggies don’t wear ballerina tutus. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”
---
Spike pushed his way through the double doors for the second time, and glanced
around. Not stopping, he walked towards the escalators and made his way towards
the third level.
Leaning against the moving rail, he looked out over the crowd of people and
whistled. “Good God, I never knew this town could fill up a house, let alone a
mall.”
His eyes lit up as he spotted the one shop that he had never gotten a chance to
visit, but had always wanted to. “Build-A-Bear Workshop. Sod adulthood, I’m
gonna make me a bear.”
---
Buffy laughed at Wesley, who had several bows tied into his hair, as they made
their way out of the toy shop. The Brit was trying to get the ribbons out and
only succeeding in pulling his hair.
“Oh, bloody…OW!” he yelled as she yanked on the hairs.
“Wes,” she laughed, “stop being such a baby.”
“I’m not being a baby!”
“Please. William’s acting more mature than you.”
“He is not! He’s sodding asleep!”
“My point exactly. He’s not talking or saying anything, therefore being more
mature than you.”
“He’s ASLEEP!” he yelled , running his hands desperately through his hair. “And
get these bloody ribbons off of me!”
She picked up the last few ribbons and smiled up at her step-brother. As she
pulled the last one free, she teased, “Poor wittle Wes. Can’t keep up with the
three year old.”
“William’s not the one who did this.”
She raised her eyebrow. “Who was then?”
“Your friend. Hope or whatever. I explained to her that I couldn’t be with her,
never mind not want to be, because I’m engaged. She got slightly angry and tied
all my hair up. Keep her away from me until the wedding, understand?”
“Gotcha,” she nodded. “No more Faith until two weeks from now.” She hugged her
step-brother and whispered, “Congratulations to you and Alyson.”
He smiled and hugged her back, neither noticing the bleached movie star watching
them from about ten feet away.
---
Spike had just glanced up when he saw her. Same golden hair, sparkling green
eyes, upturned nose, babystroller…
Wait.
Babystroller?
He watched as the girl of his dreams played with the hair of the man next to
her. He moved closer, and heard the worst thing he could imagine.
“William’s not the one who did this.”
“Who was then?”
“Your friend. Hope or whatever. I explained to her that I couldn’t be with her,
never mind not want to be, because I’m engaged. She got slightly angry and tied
all my hair up. Keep her away from me until the wedding, understand?”
“Gotcha. No more Faith until two weeks from now.”
And he watched, sadness etched in his eyes, as they hugged.
______________________________________________________________________________
Chapter 9:
==============================================================
“Oh, Spikey boy,” called Angel as he entered the hotel room. “Get up.”
The mass of comforters on the bed groaned, and said, “Go away, Angel.”
“Whoa there,” said the older man, raising his hands. “Must be bad for you to not
show up for three days AND to call me ‘Angel’.”
He turned on the light and heard Spike groan again as he crawled out of the
blankets. “Light…bad. Must repel light…”
“Whoa!” said Angel, getting a good look at the actor for the first time. “Damn,
did you get hit by a truck?”
“No. But,” he added, pressing his palm against his eye. “Sure fucking feels like
it.”
His hair was disheveled and the roots showing through. His eyes were bloodshot
and tired, large dark bags under each of them. He looked thin, as though he
hadn’t eaten in days. He was wearing the same shirt and jeans that Angel had
last seen him in, telling the man that Spike hadn’t been out of the hotel in
days.
“Well, get your ass out of bed.”
“No,” Spike said, trying to smirk.
It had been three days since he had seen the girl at the mall with the man he
could only assume was her fiancé. The two had walked away, both having a hand on
the stroller. Tears had rolled down his face; he had found her, finally found
the girl he had been waiting for, and it turned out she was getting married and
had a child.
Life was fucking with his head at the worst times possible.
Like right now.
“You have to, Captain Peroxide. You’ve got a meeting with B. Summers in
forty-five minutes.”
---
“So, G-Man,” Buffy said, walking into her bosses office. “Whatcha got for me?”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that, Buffy. And you have an interview with Spike
in about an hour.” Buffy’s face hardened and her eyes darkened considerably.
Giles sighed, knowing what was going through her brain. “Buffy, I know that my
nephew is…well, an ass, but I’m sorry. I don’t choose who you interview.”
Buffy sat down on Giles’ desk. She had nothing against Spike’s Uncle, nothing at
all. He was a sweet, kind old man who had the misfortune to be related to Spike.
But she had met him after she had graduated college, and William was around two
years old, and she had come to him looking for a job.
---
1 year ago…
“Come in,” Giles called as someone knocked on his door. A young blonde woman
entered, looking around nervously.
“Uh, hi,” she said, giving him a small wave. “I-I’m Buffy Summers. I had a two o
clock appointment?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, smiling. “Do sit down.”
She did so, nervously. He glanced up from his paper work and smiled at her
again. “So you have a major in writing. What kind of writing would you like to
do?”
“Well…nothing political. I don’t understand, um, politics. Also, I don’t want to
be a gossip columnist person because I don’t want to get my information wrong.
But I would like anything that gets me to go to cool places! L-Like the travel
section…or the food critic. I don’t really mind.”
Giles smiled, and looked over at the chart of positions. “Well, both our Travel
and Food sections are taken up, but there seems to be an opening in the Movie
section.” He glanced up at her. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Yes, Mr. Giles.”
“Please, just Giles.”
“OK, Gi…” she stopped, her eyes growing wide. “W-wait. ‘Giles’?”
“Yes,” he said, beginning to frown. “Is something wrong.”
“As in, related to Spike Giles?”
The British man sighed. “Yes, he is my nephew.”
“Oh god,” she said, pushing her chair away from his desk and burying her face in
her small hands. “Oh, god, Ohgod, Ohgod, Ohgod…”
“Ms. Summers?” he asked, getting out of his chair and walking over to her. He
rested a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
She looked up at him, tears making their way down her face. “About three years
ago, Sp…your nephew had a contest. ‘Win a Date With Spike Giles’. Well,” she
laughed bitterly. “I won. And he…I…we…” She buried her face in her hands again.
“And he left…”
“Ms. Summers, what are you…” he trailed off, what was happening hitting him.
“No…did you two…”
“Yes…I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be sorry, dear girl. Don’t be sorry.”
---
“So, Buffy,” Giles said, breaking her away from Memory Lane. “Are you ready to
face him?”
She sighed, “Do I have a choice?”
---
“So?”
“Spike, I don’t think you’re hearing this. B. Summers is going to be
interviewing you. This person is the meanest, rudest, bluntest, hardest critic
in the whole goddamned USA. B. Summers’ thought is the one that counts. Not only
does this interview get posted in the Sunnydale Times, but also in the NEW YORK
TIMES. People everywhere base their opinions on this column, so you better get
your ass out of bed.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll go bloody wash up.” As he walked towards the
bathroom, he turned around and pointed at Angel. “I blame you if this interview
is shit.”
“Oh, trust me, Spikey. It’ll be one hell of an interview.”
Chapter 10:
_______________________________________________________________________
Buffy looked up from her papers as Harmony knocked on the door. “Boss? Wes is on
line 2 for you.”
Buffy nodded, and picked up the phone. “Buffy’s House Of Pancakes, how would you
like your flapjack flipped?”
“Oh, for the love of…do you HAVE to answer the phone like that?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I do.”
She heard him sigh on the other line and laughed, leaning back in her chair.
“So,” she said, pushing her feet lightly against the desk so that she could spin
slightly. “to what do I owe this WONDERFUL phone call, dear step-brother?”
“Well, Buffy, Alyson…what are you doing? Give that back! Don’t you--”
There was a rustling on the other end, and after a few minutes Buffy grew
worried. “Uh, Wes? What are you doing?”
The rustling stopped, and she heard the familiar voice go, “Hey, Buff!”
“Alyson! How are you?”
Alyson and Wes had met through Buffy about one year ago. She had just finished
interviewing the red haired movie star about one of her movies, when Wesley had
showed up to take Buffy to lunch. Noticing the almost immediate sparks between
the two, Buffy had asked Alyson to join them. Buffy had watched, amused, as the
two talked animatedly to each other for almost two hours, until Buffy had had to
remind Wes that she needed to get to work.
Her step-brother, completely flustered at the interruption, had asked Alyson for
her number, which he received with an eager smile. The two had grown serious
extremely fast, never leaving the other’s side. After their seven month
anniversary, Wes had proposed to her and she had accepted. When Wesley had
called Buffy, she hadn’t been able to conceal her excitement when she heard that
he was marrying Alyson Daniels on the twenty-first of November.
“I’m good,” came the response from the other end. “How’s my favorite little
almost-step-nephew?”
Buffy laughed, turning her chair so that she faced the window in her office that
out looked the town. “One: I don’t think that could sound anymore confusing.
Two: He’s good. A little temperamental since I make him sit in the stroller when
all he wants to do is walk around.”
“Has he picked up on that wonderful accent that his step-uncle has? Or his
step-grandpa?”
“Ugh, thank god, no! I have too many British people in my life. There’s my
step-dad, Roger, and Wes, and Fred, and then Giles and then…then…Him.”
There was a silence on the other line and then, “You still never told him, have
you?”
Buffy laughed through her closed mouth. “Well, I couldn’t really call up a movie
star and go “Hey, guess what? You’re the father of my child!” Now could I?”
“Well, you could…um, maybe…uh…no, I guess you couldn’t.”
---
Spike groaned as he stepped out of the car, the light burning his tender irises
through his Oakley sunglasses. “God, someone turn off the bloody sun.”
He placed his hand over his eyes, palm down, blocking the sun as he looked up at
the grey building. “Well, if that isn’t the happiest block of concrete in the
world.” He sighed, then walked into the building.
He looked around the surprisingly large lobby and whistled. “Bloody hell.”
“William?”
Spike turned, ready to give hell to whoever had called him by his real name,
when he saw who it was. “Uncle Rupes?”
“William, dear boy, how are you?”
Spike took a step back as Giles tried to hug him. “’ll be a lot better when I’m
out of the land of the overly cheery relatives.” He winced, bringing his palm up
to his eye. “And the land of the intensely painful hangovers.”
Giles turned, and began walking with his nephew towards Buffy’s office. “Yes,
well, good luck with that.” He came to a stop in front of Harmony’s desk, and
said to her, “Spike Giles, 11:00 am appointment?”
Harmony sifted through her papers and said, “Um…oh, here it is! Go on in.”
Giles turned to say something to his nephew, and found he wasn’t there.
“William?” He looked down the hall at Spike who was standing in a dark corner.
“William, get the bloody hell over here. You’ve got an interview right now
with-”
“B. Summers, yeah, I know,” was the grumbled response as Spike staggered towards
him. The two Brits headed towards the office once more, and Spike said, “How
long am I going to have to talk to this bloke, because I really don’t want-”
His words were cut short when Giles opened the door, and the sweetest voice
drifted out to him.
---
“Oh crap,” Buffy said, glancing down at her watch. “Listen, Aly, I gotta go. My
eleven’s almost here. Can you put Wes on the line for me?”
“Sure.” There was the familiar rustling for a few minutes, and then Wesley’s
voice came over the line. “Yes, Buffy?”
“Listen, Wes,” Buffy said, sitting up straight as the door to her office opened.
“I need you to pick William up from daycare today.”
“Why?”
“Because, I’ve got an interview with Matthew Lillard at 1, and I can’t be done
in time with my other things in time to pick him up. Please, Wes?”
She heard a sigh on the other line, a sure sign that she had won the argument.
“Fine. You KNOW I’m only doing this because you’re my step-sister, right?”
“Yeah,” she teased, wrinkling her nose although he couldn’t see it. “But you
love me, don’t you Wes?”
There was a small laugh on the other line, and then, “Yes, you bloody bint. I
love you.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear. Love you, too, Wes.”
She spun around in her chair and tried to place the phone back in the holding
when she realized that all of her spinning had caused it to get tangled around
her chair. “Dammit!”
She picked up the phone and spun around in the chair, trying to untangle it.
“Now if I just…to the left…No! To the right and…damn. Maybe if I…”
She stopped talking to herself when she heard a throat being cleared and looked
up at her doorway sheepishly. “Uh…hey, Giles!” Her smiled faded as soon as she
noticed the man standing next to her boss. “And…um…hi.”
---
As had happened three days before, Spike walked in on what could only be
described as the worst part of the conversation for him to hear.
“Listen, Wes. I need you to pick William up from daycare today.”
“…”
“Because, I’ve got an interview with Matthew Lillard at 1, and I can’t be done
in time with my other things in time to pick him up. Please, Wes?”
“…”
“Yeah. But you love me, don’t you Wes?”
“…”
“That’s all I wanted to hear. Love you, too, Wes.”
She turned around, and the breath caught in Spike’s throat.
It was her…
She struggled with the phone line that she had managed to tangle around her
chair until his uncle cleared his throat. She looked up shyly at them, and went,
“Uh…hey, Giles!” Her smiled seemed to falter as soon as she registered his
presence. “And…um…hi.”
Speechless, Spike merely raised his hand and gave a small wave. THIS was
B. Summers? Who, according to Angel, was “the meanest, rudest, bluntest, hardest
critic in the whole goddamned USA”? No.
NO.
He refused to believe that.
Unfortunately for him…he had to.
Because as much as he wanted to avoid this harsh truth, it was a bit hard,
considering the even harsher reality that seemed to be repetitively smacking him
in the face this month.
Because this woman, this bright eyed, apparently ruthless reporter, was the girl
of his dreams.
And if all of these crappy reality checks kept up…
…he was pretty sure that soon, she would be the thing of his nightmares, too.
---
He was staring.
She wondered if he knew that he was staring at her.
Normally, she would be blushing and flustered when a huge celebrity such as
himself, blatantly stared at her.
But that would be NORMALLY. Her life was anything but normal. Just ask the big
guy in the sky who apparently decided that messing with her life would make for
an amusing past time.
“Mr. Giles,” she said, internally wincing at how tight her throat was. “I mean,
Spike…please. Sit.”
He did so, not taking his eyes off of her face.
“So, uh,” she said, turning her eyes down towards her desk. “I’m just going to
ask you a few questions about your new movie, Schizophrenia. What
was it like working with Dana Halliwell and Christina Lyons?”
He seemed to snap out of his stupor, and shook his head, “Right, well, Dana and
I had worked on a movie together before, so we got along fine. She’s always been
a breath of fresh air. And Christina? God, she’s adorable.”
Buffy’s head snapped up from her tape recording. “So…you LIKE children?”
“Like ‘em?” he said, laughing. “I love ‘em. Nothin better than a little kid
thinking you’re the best thing in the world.” He paused, frowning. “That wasn’t
supposed to make me sound like an ego-maniac. I meant that…it’s nice. Being the
most important thing in someone’s life.” He smiled, looking past her head and
out the window. “Makes me feel all manly.”
She smiled slightly, and opened her mouth to ask another question when her
office door was opened, revealing Harmony. “Buffy?” she asked, looking slightly
panicked.
Buffy immediately set her recorder down on her desk and said, “Harmony? What’s
wrong?”
“Tara MacLay just called, from William’s school?”
“Oh, god.”
“William’s been throwing up. They took him to the nurse so he could lie down,
and she took his temperature. It’s 102.7. He’s really sick, Buffy.”
Buffy paled, and stood up from her desk, gathering all of her stuff. “This is
NOT my morning! First, my car runs out of gas and now…” She trailed off,
glancing up at Spike. “I’m really, really sorry. My son…”
He nodded, and said, “Listen, do you need a ride there?”
She lifted her wide eyes to him, and said, “Really? I mean, I would love it, but
are you sure that-”
“It won’t be a problem.”
---
20 minutes later…
Buffy rushed inside the nurses office, trying desperately to get to William as
quickly as possible, Spike hot on her heels. The nurse, a pretty blonde named
Darla Aurelius, looked up and said, “Oh, good, you’re here. Right this way, Ms.
Summers.” She led Buffy over to one of the small beds, where a small form was
huddled. “He stopped vomiting about ten minutes ago, but he’s been coughing and
sniffling up a storm, not to mention his high temperature.”
Buffy sat down on the bed, rubbing the spot where her son’s back was. “Thanks,
Darla.”
“No problem.” With one last glance to Buffy and then to Spike, she left to take
care of the other children.
“Hey,” Buffy whispered. “Will, baby. It’s mommy.”
A small, honey blond head peeked out from under the blanket and a small,
congested voice said, “Mommy?”
“Yeah, sweetie.” She leaned forward, kissing his head, forgetting that Spike was
still there. “How are you feeling?”
A small wheezing cough was her answer.
“Oh, baby…” she whispered, gathering him into her arms. “Shh…it’s ok.” She
pushed the blanket down his small form and picked him up, and he immediately
curled into her body. “C’mon, sweets. Lets go home.”
---
On the car ride to Buffy’s house, Spike glanced over at the sight next to him.
Buffy was staring out her window, her chin resting on William’s soft hair. The
boy’s eyes were closed, face flushed and his breathing ragged.
Spike winced; he had been sick with the same thing about a month ago, and it
seemed to be spreading around. An uncomfortable combination of what seemed to be
strep and a migraine, it was definitely one of the least pleasant experiences of
his life.
He broke out of his reverie when Buffy said softly, “We live here.”
The car came to a stop, and she gathered her bag up in her arms and opened the
car door. Before closing it, she looked up and locked eyes with him. “Thanks…for
helping us.”
She closed the door, and made her way up the walk to her door, adjusting William
on her hip.
And as she closed the door, he whispered, all alone in the confines of his car,
“You’re welcome.”
_______________________________________________________________________________
Chapter 11:
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and Alyson Catherine Daniels wish to invite you to their wedding on the 21st of November…
He glanced up at her. “Your uh, step-brother?”
She nodded, beginning to walk into the kitchen. “Yeah. The person I was on the
phone with yesterday when you walked in. He’s kind of like you.” Turning around,
she saw his raised eyebrow and said, “He’s British.”
He frowned, the memory of three days before flashing before his eyes.
“William’s not the one who did this.”
“Who was then?”
“Your friend. Hope or whatever. I explained to her that I couldn’t be with her,
never mind not want to be, because I’m engaged. She got slightly angry and tied
all my hair up. Keep her away from me until the wedding, understand?”
“Gotcha. No more Faith until two weeks from now.”
He started laughing, full blown laughter that was ripped from his throat.
Looking up, he stopped his laughter when he realized that she was staring at him
as if he was quite insane. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just…was he at the mall
with you three days ago?”
She raised an eyebrow, slightly on edge from his crazy behavior. “Yeah…Why…?”
“No reason,” he said, feeling slightly better than he had three days ago. “So
uh,” he gestured to the kitchen again. “How’s your boy?”
She shrugged, heading into the kitchen, Spike trailing behind her. “The same he
was two hours ago.”
“Right,” he said, glancing around her kitchen. His eyes stopped on the picture
that was mounted on the wall. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Where did you get
that?”
“Get what?”
“That picture.”
She glanced up at the picture in question and paled slightly. “You really don’t
remember, do you?”
He shook his head, eyes still fixed on the picture of him with the girl he had
gone on a fixed date with. He was wearing a tuxedo, and she was wearing a black
dress that cut off at her knees, and had a low neckline. Her hair was piled up,
with a few stray tendrils brushing against her neck. “I don’t. But how did you
get this?”
She walked over to the picture, her index finger resting on the girl. “That’s
me.”
He turned to her and said, “THAT is YOU?”
She nodded, and opened her mouth to speak when they were interrupted by the
small, “Mommy?”
They turned, and Spike found himself lost in the bright blue eyes that matched
his own.
And he knew.
---
Buffy knew that she was in trouble when his eyes went wide, his face pale, and
his irises dark and dangerous. “William, honey, eat your soup. Mommy has to talk
to her friend.” When he nodded, she grabbed Spike by the hand and took him up
the stairs and into her bedroom.
As soon as the door was closed, she turned and inhaled sharply to find Spike
standing dangerously close to her, nostrils flaring slightly. “Were you going to
tell me?” he asked.
“Tell you…tell you what?” she asked, turning her head away from him.
“Tell me that…look at me, dammit, look at me!” He grabbed her chin and forced
her to stare him in the eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me about him?”
Her features hardened and she retaliated with, “Were you ever planning on NOT
abandoning a 19 year old after you slept with her? Were you ever going to even
call her to apologize?”
“This isn’t about me, dammit!”
“That’s where you’re wrong!” She wrenched her chin out of his grip and crossed
over to the other side of the room. “This is ALL about you, Spike! You slept
with me, left me there without so much as a ‘good-bye’, or a note or ANYTHING!
You slept with me, left me in the morning and I found out that I was pregnant!”
“Well you should have called me or something!”
“What makes you think I didn’t TRY?!” she struck back. “I did, several times in
fact. But some she-bitch named Cecelia or Cecil or something told me NOT to call
back ever again! My friends all tried to get me to try again, my step-brother’s
fiancée tried to get me to do it yesterday, but you know what? I did. So many
times, but apparently agents don’t like it when teenaged girls call up and say
that their client got them pregnant.” During her rant, she had taken slow steps
towards him, and was currently staring him down. “So don’t even TRY to pin this
on me, you self centered son of a bitch.”
His nostrils flared even more, and he looked as though he was going to say
something but stopped. She was startled when his eyes began to tear up, and he
sat on her bed, head buried in his hands.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “Oh, God, you’re right…”