Summary: ALL HUMAN/ AU FIC. Buffy Summers is a soap star on a show that has steadily declining ratings; Spike is a soap star on a rival show, but he ends up working with Buffy. What happens when they meet each other, and when a murder occurs?

Disclaimer: Joss, Twentieth Century Fox, and any other studios or subsidiaries own all publicly known material and characters, including Spike (darn it!) I will return them when I'm done, and I'm making absolutely NO money from this!

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CHAPTER ONE

"So now, I'm taking this town back, Jeff. You and I are history," Buffy Anne Summers said to a sandy brown haired man with a heart shaped face who was her co star. Riley Finn's hazel orbs glittered in the low light, his chocolate brown leather jacket and Army fatigues torn and covered with fake blood.

"Over my dead body, Kath," he said to Buffy, his Midwestern accent showing in his speech. She looked at the ground, then looked back up at the man with limpid pools of green.

"If that's the way it has to be," Buffy breathed. "But, I want to make it clear that I always loved you." "Jeff" snarled in her ear, his voice a caress.

"I will always prove my devotion to you," Riley responded, his line perfectly timed. In the studio, looking at the actors, an older man yawned.

Rupert Anthony Giles, producer, supporter of his cast, and overall surrogate father to Buffy and the man she worked with, wondered how much more of the shooting day there was. Other members of the crew bore the same, tired looks with one or two not so notable exceptions: a red headed girl, who beamed with adoration at Buffy, and a dark haired beauty with an oval face and a Blackberry in one hand and a note pad in another.

Giles went toward the woman with the pad and queried sotto vocce, "How long has this shooting day got, Anya?"

His assistant, Anya Jenkins, punched the buttons on the device, calling up the schedule for the day. "Once Riley and Buffy finish their takes, there are only two more minor scenes with the cops and then we're done for today."

When Giles nodded his thanks for her usual professionalism, Anya stole a glance at him after he turned back to Buffy and Riley. She could hardly wait for the day to be over so that they could go to dinner and engage in orgasmic time together.

Anya sighed softly, looking at the way the older man 's pinstriped, neatly pressed black suit defined a still desirable chest. His slightly graying hair which was slightly curled at its ends gave him a lilting quality in a face which might have appeared harsh on another man. The gold rimmed glasses he sported an aristocratic air; they were the finishing touch on an intelligent, scholarly looking face. The lines by the Englishman's blue eyes only added character to him and made him look approachable to members of the opposite sex. Of course, if any other woman even looked at the man she considered hers, Anya's vengeful stares sent women in the opposite direction. She looked at the two actors as they finished some more key lines.

The daytime dramatic score was heard just then as "Jeff" saw "Kath" walk away. He reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Nobody walks away from me! You'll see that soon enough!" Finn said.

Buffy said in a pleading gesture, "Okay…okay. Calm down, Jeff. No one's leaving anyone." When "Jeff" released her, "Kath" got out a knife and stabbed him in the shoulder.

"All right! Cut!" She heard a voice say. "That's a wrap and thirty minutes for lunch, people!"

Robert Woods, the show's handsome looking African American director, looked at his crew with a smile fixed in place on his expansive profile. His dark eyes however were anything but happy. Both actors caught his expression.

"Bob!" She shrieked. "What the hell was wrong with that take?!" Her stiletto heels thundered under her casual clothes on the wooden floor as she went toward her director.

"Buffy, hon," Robert said patiently, "you're supposed to stab him in his heart, not in the shoulder. At least, try to be dramatic! No one will buy a shoulder wound!"

"Realism, schmealism!" Buffy countered as, behind her, a red headed girl fussed with her golden hair. Another girl applied some make up to her round face.

"This show is a soap opera, not 60 minutes!" Buffy said, as another person, a man this time, fussed with her jacket.

"Well, if somebody would actually do it right, and deliver better lines with greater umph, we could actually wrap up this take before noon tomorrow!" her co star bounced back. Buffy glared at her current leading man, wondering for the umpteenth time where they dug him up. She knew that it was a mistake, putting her with him in the ratings war that "True Love" had with their number one rival show, "From Dusk Till Dawn".

Buffy looked over her shoulder at Riley but took his criticism with a grain of salt. "Are you talking about yourself, 'cause I know you couldn't possibly be mentioning me!" she shouted as she walked away. Riley made no move to follow but turned to the director instead.

"I wasn't bad, was I, Bob?" Riley asked. Robert just shook his head.

"It's not you, Riley…" he began saying, following the Midwesterner out toward the commissary.

"Darn straight it isn't!" Riley thundered toward the direction Buffy had taken.

"It's that Hellion from Sunnydale who's the problem! She's ruining the whole show!" he protested.

Rob just rolled his eyes. He had been through many a fight with the two temperamental actors and he thought sarcastically that if he were to abandon directing soaps and go into being a therapist, he could make a fortune.

As if on cue, Giles came toward him.

"It has more to do with the chemistry between you two, or lack thereof," the producer explained patiently to Riley. "Both of you are fine actors; however, the time has come to separate Damon from Pitheous and embrace a totally different approach. I believe your getting the new acting job in your home state of Iowa may be the blessing in disguise we first envisaged."

"Particularly since I don't have to work with—" Riley's next words were shouted—"Miss High and Mighty—" he lowered his voice again as he concluded with, "over there."

Giles cleaned his gold framed glasses, saying, "Yes, well…Faith and the other writers have come up with an idea to take the show in a new direction, and Mr. Snyder and the upper echelons are very happy with that."

Robert put a companionable hand on Riley's shoulder, saying, "Yeah, well, maybe you should cool down, have lunch, and then complete your final scenes, okay?" Riley nodded, leaving for the cafeteria. When he was gone and producer and director were alone, Bob gave Rupert a withering look.

"You sure this replacement is gonna work?" Bob asked. "I mean, it's my ass on the line and yours if it doesn't."

"William James comes highly recommended," Giles pointed out. "In fact that's how he earned his nickname, 'Spike'." At the director's questioning frown, the older man continued.

"He causes ratings to spike positively on any soap opera he's involved with. The press has called him the 'Saviour of Doomed Soap Operas,'" Giles explained. "Women can't get enough of Spike James, and from what I understand, he wishes to depart his current soap to do new things. The writers crafted a script that was tiller made for him, and if he is as good as the casting agents say he is, we will be looking at several Emmys next season as the number one daytime program."

Bob made a face saying, "I'd settle for number three, four or even ten." He walked off to go to lunch, leaving Rupert to his own thoughts. Giles stared back at the makeup room Buffy had gone to.

I certainly hope it works for all of us, he thought, or it's back to B-movie producing. Certainly don't fancy that! Giles went toward the cafeteria.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Buffy flounced herself in her chair which bore her name in gold letters on it. Behind her, a red headed girl handed her a diet soda. The soap opera diva glanced appreciatively at Willow Rosenberg, her gofer and sounding board. Buffy was so happy to have Willow in her corner since it didn't look as if anyone else was.

It was quiet, mousy Willow who had brought over Buffy's favorite ice cream when the actress had sunk into a deep depression following Xander's breakup from her. When the previous show Buffy had been on was cancelled due to low ratings, Willow brought her trusty box of tissues and a few funny DVDs to watch. Within moments, Buffy had felt tremendously better. Willow had also been there when Buffy and her younger sister Dawn's mother had died during Dawn's first year in college.

It was not for nothing that Willow Marie Rosenberg was her best friend despite Buffy's father's insistence that she cultivate more "upscale relationships." Buffy drained the diet Coke as though it were a lifeline.

"Can't you retards give me some space!?" Buffy snapped to her crew.

"We've gotta get you ready for the next scene, and there won't be enough time to put all of your makeup on, Miss Summers," Bermuda Davis, the make-up woman told Buffy. Willow came over to where Buffy drummed her perfectly trimmed nails on the chair bearing her name.

"Okay ladies and guys, just give her five minutes," Willow said. "She is on her lunch break. There'll be time to fix her up later." The make-up and other people filed out until the two women were alone.

"Thanks, Will," Buffy said gratefully. "You're always looking out for me."

"It's no prob, Buffy," she said. Willow then brightened and exclaimed, "Hey! You wanna join me for lunch? We can talk about anything you want."

"No, you go ahead," Buffy said, waving Willow off. "I'm going to take advantage of the peace and quiet and just read in my trailer for a change."

"Well, you want me to grab anything from the lunch room?" Willow inquired. Buffy shook her head.

"I'm not hungry," she told her red headed friend. Willow frowned, but realized she shouldn't play Mother Hen just now. Buffy wouldn't appreciate it, and Willow could always bring her a banana or something later.

"Okay," Willow acquiesced. "See you later." She left the make-up room a second later and Buffy alone.

Lost in thought for a moment, Buffy wondered what plans the soap had for her character after Riley left. She was more than a little frightened of the unknown, and if the soap was cancelled or she was also replaced like Roy Snyder, the Head of Daytime Programming, had threatened, she didn't know what she'd do.

The once famous childhood actor and current soap opera diva told herself that she'd survive. She had gotten this far on her talent, and she would go further. Buffy wasn't a quitter, and if she couldn't stay on in her current role, by hook or by crook, she would find something to do with her life.

She left the studio and went out into the sun for a short walk to clear her mind of gloomy thoughts. Maybe my next role will be with the perfect leading man, she told herself, smiling, and both of us will turn the show around. Going past some trailers, she let her last thought dominate her mind, not realizing how prophetic it would be.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Across the street, in Archmont Studios, Spike James was finishing up his lines for the last time on his show. His co star, Amy Madison, tried not to cry as she delivered her lines. She struggled to remember that her character, Steph Mason, was supposed to be happy since her boyfriend had decided to go with her to a new position out of Raventown, the fictitious location on the show.

Spike looked into Amy's eyes, his hand massaging her cheek as he delivered his lines. "I love you, Steph," he said, his fake American accent showing, "I always have, and I know we'll make a new life together."

"I'm so happy you're going with me, Cain," Amy told him. They kissed passionately, and Spike's hand flew to her back. They walked out of the restaurant set, his head resting on her shoulder. The stock music played a happy tune.

"Okay, people, that's a wrap!" the director shouted. Spike and Amy came back onto the set.

"Thank God!" Spike shouted, his Cockney accent more pronounced with his anger. "If I had to deliver that sodding line one more time, I think I would've been in the bloomin' nut house!"

The director came over to the man who had turned the soap opera genre on its ear. He wished he had Spike's luck when it came to acting. It seemed that whatever the man did, it turned to gold—ratings gold, that was. He clasped the curly brown haired man's hands and pulled him close in a manly hug. Spike returned it eagerly. He had liked working for Charles Nathaniel Gunn, and the British actor would miss the African American director very much.

"All the best, and I really mean that, man!" Gunn said.

"To you, too," Spike returned Gunn's heartfelt farewell. The prop master was directing his people, and within seconds, what had housed all four sets of "From Dusk Until Dawn" were just four blank walls.

"It's been so cool working with you," Amy told her now-former co-star. She picked up her gear and headed toward the back door of the studio.

"Yeh, it's been a blast, all told," Spike said, grabbing his items. Both stars didn't spare a backward glance as they exited together for the last time. The English actor's cell phone rang just then.

Cell phones! He thought. Always such a bloody nuisance! Always ringin' when a person thinks. 'Distrub life, they do!

Aloud, the medium brown haired man said, "Yeh?" He heard the typical greeting of the voice on the other line.

"Wes!" Spike said warmly.

"William," Wesley greeted his friend. He could imagine Spike grimacing, although he didn't hear his client and friend cursing at the use of the name the actor hated. The darker haired British man took it as a good sign: Spike only trusted his best friends with the use of his true name.

"I am in your new work place. It's quite posh in comparison to your present work environment," Wesley's voice reported.

"What about that job you've lined up for me? Is it on the QT?" Spike wanted to know.

On the other end of the cell phone, in the "True Love" studio, Wesley Windham-Price looked affronted. "Really, Spike!" the British man cried. "I am highly insulted! Of course the part is legitimate. It will be a whole new world for you! You would also be doing another dying soap opera a huge favor!"

Spike slung his leather jacket over his clothes and walked across the street to the other lot. "What part is it again?" he said. "An' who am I acting with?" He sidled up to the gate, which was opened for him upon arrival, the guard knowing him by the picture the studio magnates had given him.

He went into the corridor leading to Studio A and tugged on his jacket against the air conditioned meat locker he entered. The mega star put on his sunglasses from RAEborn and zipped up the black leather he favored.

Wesley's voice went on. "I'll tell you all about it when you get here," he said. "I am in Room Six." Spike hung up the cell and walked toward the rival studio and his new destiny.