TITLE: Falling Into Yesterday

AUTHOR: Kim

SPOILERS: Completely AU fic. B/A. B/S & A/D

RATING: R

SUMMARY: Infidelity. Deceit. Revenge. Is anyone really innocent? B/A. B/S. A/D. Spike had no illusions, his eyes were clear. This wasn't a case where he and the woman of his dreams lived happily ever after. This was revenge. Pure....... Simple....... Unadulterated.... Revenge

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

The idea for this story came from a challenge by Caitlyn at the BB. I'm only using about 25% of the challenge, so she might not even recognise it. LOL. The challenge starts with B/A being ripped apart, so expect lots of anguish in the first few chapters.

This is also a Spike heavy story. I love Spike. I love B/A and B/S. put them together and this is what you get. Anguish

This is NOT a B/A/S Fic

DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, I don't want them, they make me cry too much. Joss and his people do the owning thing

Falling Into Yesterday

Prologue

Welcome to Sunnydale

Population 34.500

We hope you enjoy your stay

Without so much as a backward glance, the black Desoto flashed past the dilapidated welcome sign that had stood on the border for the last fifty years and, with a wisp of burning rubber, it left the structure wobbling precariously in its' wake.

Once over the Sunnydale border, the vehicle steered clear of the heart of the small community, slipping silently into the suburbs, virtually unnoticed. Not that anybody who happened to be in the vicinity that night would have taken notice of the speeding blur. Any resident with any modicum of sense or fortune usually found somewhere slightly more exciting to spend their long warm summers.

Hidden behind the tinted windows of the ebony vehicle, Spike Pennington threw a quick glance in his rear view mirror and swung a sharp right turn at the first junction off Wilkins Street. Once cleared of the street recently re-named after the late Sunnydale mayor, the driver headed directly for the more prestigious part of town.

He'd purposely avoided the old haunts on Main Street, taking the slightly longer, more scenic route, but even as he drove along the old familiar road, he knew there were some places that couldn't be bypassed. When the DeSoto passed the old high school Spike turned his head slightly, taking just enough time to watch the aging campus vanish from view.

That old saying really was true. He silently reflected, *No matter how much time passes some things really never change*.

Even in the dim evening light, Spike could see well enough to know that although the old town had received the odd lick of paint over the last twenty years, the buildings themselves had remained the same. Every detail he had spent half of his life trying to forget was still exactly the bloody same.

To say that Spike Pennington hated Sunnydale with a passion would have been an understatement. The three years he was forced to live there, as a teenager with his uncle Giles, had been the most painful of his life. If it weren't for the fact that he was now being paid a shit load of money for this assignment, nothing on God's green earth would have enticed him back to the hell of his misspent youth. Maybe it was fate. The chance to kill two birds with one stone kind of fate. Exorcise his ghosts with one hand and pick up the largest pay cheque of his career with the other.

Spike already knew that the assignment part would be easy; he could do it in his sleep. But the ghosts? Exorcising his ghosts would be a whole lot harder.

Holding the steering wheel lazily in his left hand, he ran his right hand through his slick bleached hair, unsettling the heavy layer of gel beneath his fingertips. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Even the air smelled the same.

*The scent of flowers, a taste of seasalt, the slight hint of ... vanilla."*

"Sod off!" Spike silently cursed the intruding memories that drifted into his mind. They made him weak and he couldn't allow that. Not ever again.

Turning his thoughts back to the task ahead, his mind quickly banished the ghosts from his past. Spike's foot pressed down harder on the accelerator. The quicker he was out of this godforsaken place, the happier he would be.

On reaching his destination, Crawford Street, or to be more precise, the large sprawling mansion that occupied most of Crawford Street, he turned his car into the willowy shadows and quickly killed the engine. Like the rest of Sunnydale, this area was also extra quiet during the long summer months.

*Quiet was good. Deserted was better. But at a push, quiet would do. *

From the information he had been supplied with, Spike already knew that the mansion was up for sale and had been for almost ten years. A quick glance at the unkempt grounds confirmed that the building was empty, and on closer inspection, it appeared as if the few neighbouring houses had gone the same way. For some unknown reason property didn't sell very fast in Sunny-D

Being hardly inhabited, Crawford Street was dimly lit and the security on offer seemed to be almost non-existent. Perfect conditions for his line of work. Get in, get out. No questions asked.

Spike smiled for the first time since passing the Sunnydale welcome sign. A small chuckle slipped from his lips.



"Like taking bleedin' candy from a baby"

The happy thought was quick to remind him that even thought it was easy, he still had the job to finish. Spike leaned slightly towards the passenger side, reached into the glove compartment, and pulled out the Adam's file. The interior light was just bright enough to double-check the address, not that it was necessary. He never took chances. He glanced at his wristwatch one last time before pulling on his black leather gloves and hiding his shock of platinum hair beneath a black woollen hat.

10: 39 p.m. From experience, Spike knew that in a situation as delicate as this one, timing was everything. Arriving too early would almost be as disastrous as arriving too late. He patiently counted the minutes down to 10.45pm and then grabbed his bag.

Exiting the car as quietly as possible, he took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the essence of decay. There was rain in the air; he could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue. If Lady Luck was on his side tonight, the downpour would hold off until he was back on the road to L.A. Working in bad weather wasn't the best condition for his line of work. If he needed to move, he usually needed to move fast. Breaking his neck sliding down a slippery wet drainpipe simply wasn't on the agenda that evening.

Spike looked up at the heavens and then shook the negative thought away *Sod it. If it rained it rained. He'd deal. *

Not giving the growing cloud cover another thought, the dark figure slung his equipment bag over his shoulder and made his way across the street. He paused for a moment, running his gaze over the impressive looking structure standing out in the darkness and at the sight before him, a low whistle of approval slipped through his lips. Even after being deserted for ten years, the house was still impressive, certainly not a building you would normally associate with such a small unimportant town.

No nosy neighbours, no security cameras, and best of all, no yapping dogs to rain on his parade. Again experience had taught him the hard way that being bitten on the arse by an angry canine was not the best way to spend the evening. But his arse was safe. There were no visible signs of guard dogs that night.

As he let his icy blue eyes flicker once more around the perimeter, mentally taking in all the possible escape routes, a small smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. *This was almost going to be too easy*

Spike ran a gloved fingertip over the elaborate wrought-iron gate, and before he could prevent it, his traitorous memories had once again slipped back through the pages of time. Cordelia Chase and her family had once lived at this address, he recalled. Her father was a politician. A senator, or a governor, or something important like that. For a few seconds his mind fought to put a face to the name, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't place it. The dark-haired prom queen had not mixed in his circle of friends so it was hardly surprising that he couldn't remember her or the large fancy house she and her family had once occupied.

Not that he needed to remember Crawford Street mansion. Before leaving L.A., Spike had thoroughly memorised the blueprints of the building and the area that surrounded it. If that wasn't enough information, he also had his clients' inside knowledge of the property. There was no way he could go wrong with trusting that information. Lilah's attention to detail was always beyond reproach.

It was no secret that Lilah Morgan was a cold hearted, calculating bitch, but he couldn't fault her on her homework. Her research was always perfect and she never, ever made mistakes. As a human being, the woman was a total waste of space, but when it came to providing information, the brunette never disappointed him. In return, Spike never disappointed her. Lilah was the only person on the planet who could have persuaded him to return to Sunnydale. Their working relationship and the fact that she was paying him a small fortune for this assignment were the only reasons he was now standing in a place he truly despised.

*So let's stop tripping down memory lane and get this bloody show on the road. * Spike berated himself, angrily. With a silent slam, deep inside his mind, the door to his past was once again firmly closed.

The first obstacle to block his path was the wrought iron gate. Reaching his arms through the ornate framework, Spike scaled the antique structure with ease. With feline grace, he landed silently on both feet and after checking out all directions; he took off in a sprint through the unkempt grounds.

On reaching the main building, Spike's first intention had been to climb the rickety ivy trellis that covered most of the far wall, but on closer inspection the aged foliage looked far too unstable. Without hesitation, he turned his attention to the second option. The lock on the ground floor window broke with a small click. He carefully lowered his black leather bag through then, as silent as a shadow, the dark clad intruder slipped his slender frame through the tight opening and lowered himself inside.

*Get in, get out and get away*

The room he found himself in was pitch-black. Once his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he reached into his bag and withdrew the few items of equipment he needed.

With the help of a small flashlight, Spike moved quickly through the dark house, stealthily checking each room. He stopped on the top of the staircase, giving a quick sideways glance before proceeding along the upper landing. When he spotted a tiny flicker of light, emerging from beneath the door of the last room on the left, Spike clicked off the flash light and grinned to himself

*Jackpot. *

Without a sound, he slipped through the unlocked door and pressed his black clad body deep into the shadows. Cloaked in the darkness of the large room, Spike knew immediately he would not have to wait long.

Soft sighs and low moans floated across the air.

From his well-hidden position, Spike could see that the large master bedroom was only lit with a few scented candles, each casting a soft glow around the antique four poster bed. Completely unaware that their lives were about to be irreversibly ruined, the two occupants on the bed continued in ignorant bliss.

"Come on. Come on. At least put your hands on her tits, you useless wanker." Spike silently ran the impatient plea through his head, wanting to get this part of his job over as soon as possible. A few more minutes and he could wave a final good riddance to Sunny-D once and for all.

Almost as if they could read his thoughts, the couple entwined on the bed, changed direction and the dim candlelight now highlighted both of their profiles.

*What the fuck? *

Unable to believe his eyes, Spike froze. For the length of a single heartbeat he swore his mind was playing tricks on him; this couldn't possibly be happening. But then reality sank in.

It was real.

In that one second Spike Pennington truly felt as if Christmas, The Fourth of July and every one of his birthdays had come all at once.

*Looks like God loves me after all. * The corner of Spike's mouth twisted up into maliciously smirk. * God and a smart ass bitch called Lilah Morgan*

Spike's heart raced with possibilities. He would definitely have to find a way to thank the cold-hearted lawyer for gifting him with this unexpected opportunity.

*What could he give a woman who has just answered eighteen years of prayers? * Spike bit so deeply into his bottom lip that he tasted blood.

Flowers, chocolates, maybe the odd orgasm or three. No, strike the last part. His mind was fast slipping into overdrive. The answer came to him in a flash. He would give the bitch something far better than a box of candy. She could keep his whole sodding fee for this. After what he had just witnessed, this job was well and truly on the house.

Spike flicked his tongue across his lower lip and sucked the small trickle of blood he found there into his mouth. No wonder Lilah had been so excited about getting this photograph. If this little scandal ever saw the cold light of day, lives would be ruined.

At the thought of how high profile this scandal could go, and the damage that could be inflicted, Spike's fingers itched in glee. Every tabloid in the land would queue up to run the story. And for him that wasn't even the best part.

*What a wanker*

Darla Adams was hardly your everyday bit on the side. The award-winning soap actress was definitely a class above your normal piece of skirt

*Reputations would be ruined, not to mention a marriage. *

Feeling truly alive for the first time in almost twenty years, Spike silently lifted his camera and took aim. With a second smirk and a heart filled with jubilation, he clicked down the shutter.

Revenge had never tasted so sweet.

TBC...