DISHING IT OUT, CHAPTER FOUR

Disclaimer: there is a minor piece of dialogue from a Buffy episode. Just a disclaimer for safety that I don't own any part of Buffy TVS.

A/N: I will try to update this piece as much as I can; however, there are several WIP's which are commanding my attention, so I beg you to be patient. This chapter is slightly longer than some other ones. I wanted to give my readers something longer, though I have to say...this was a litle hard to write, since it sets things up and introduces some more characters.

Feel free to drop a kind word about this story, thanks. For the record, the words "pissed" and "plastered" (in Brit speak) mean drunk.

XXXXXXXXXX

Before going to the studio the next morning, Buffy put her hair in a ponytail even though she knew Bermuda's team would probably redo her simple style anyway. That, however, was the least of her problems. The biggest one was that she'd stayed up late with her younger sister trying to search for any dirt on Mr. William James only to come up empty.

Apparently, he had never even had so much as a parking ticket issued against him; in fact, it seemed as though there was very little information on the actor. Dawn had promised she'd continue to look into his background when she could, but she had her homework from several professors to do. Buffy had wanted ammunition she could use the next morning. She had always considered herself a great judge of character, and she just knew William James had to be hiding something.

When the ill fated next day rolled around, the soap opera diva sighed as she prepared to get into her car. Before she could start her motor, Buffy's cell phone rang. Arranging her Bluetooth in her ear, she said, "Yeah?"

"Buffy, it's Giles," her producer said. "May I have a word before you come in?"

"You can have a sentence, even," she said, her tone teasing.

"We have to shoot some scenes with Mr. James, so could you come in after lunch, perhaps at 1?" Giles wanted to know.

Buffy couldn't believe that! She had studied her lines practically all night! After talking with Dawn that morning, when she was ready to go through the day's reading his lines took center stage! Now, Buffy was more determined than ever to see to it that Spike James got his just desserts!

C,mon, you know it's just because it's him, not because of the lines! Her mind supplied.

Deep down, Buffy knew it was right; actors sometimes waited hours to read their lines during the day depending on the production schedule, but she was determined to put the blame on him.

Buffy ignored the small tremor of excitement that he had stirred inside her the day before. He was attractive, and despite his arrogance, she admired his passion greatly; but she didn't want to enter into a relationship with a guy like Spike. He probably had a woman in every port. That was so not of the good.

Her burgeoning attraction was something that she definitely did not welcome. What, she asked herself, was wrong with her? She had Parker! But it seemed that her thoughts, both good and bad, were consumed with William James! When she thought about him, even for a moment, she forgot her boyfriend and every other man!

Remembering that Giles was on her phone, Buffy hoped she sounded normal as she told him, "Sure, no prob. Just one thing, though...why didn't you want us both there? I mean, my character is supposed to be dating him, right?"

"Yes," the producer responded, "but the cameraman and director want to test the lighting on Mr. James' make up and other inconsequential things. We thought it would be easier if he read some of his lines from some scenes where he is by himself first. You understand. Besides, now you can sleep in, maybe grab some tea and scones or something."

Buffy didn't respond with her usual exuberance. Giles took that as a bad sign. He could feel the coldness leaking out from the other end of the line.

"Buffy...?" Giles asked when he didn't hear her reply immediately.

"OK," she said. "You're right. There's no reason I need to be there first thing. I have something I have to do anyway."

XXXXXXXXXX

Retrieving the script that William and the other actors had to rehearse that morning, Giles crossed out several lines. "Fine, fine!" He told her. "I will see you later on today." He hung up the cell.

I sure hope that she isn't taking this wrongfully, Giles thought. A word from Anya cut off his musings. The producer went to see what his assistant wanted and then went to work viewing the staff while they attended to various duties.

XXXXXXXXXX

As soon as she hung up the phone, Buffy paced back and forth on the pink rug in her bedroom. Her eyes fell on her stuffed pig, Mr. Gordo, who rested innocently on her bed.

"One word of advice, Mr. Gordo," she told her toy, "if you ever come alive don't go into show business!"

She placed a call to her sister, who she guessed would be at the university by now, but she got Dawn's messaging center. Texting her to "Call me! URGENT!" into the mobile phone, Buffy hung up, dejected.

She figured she might as well do some domestic things before she headed out for the day. She grabbed her kitchen garbage and, sealing the trash bag, went to the chute. When she got there, Buffy saw her neighbor, Harmony Kendall, emptying hers, her newly washed hair down around her waist, her mud mask in place.

"Oh! Buffy, I didn't see you!" Harmony told her neighbor.

"Hi, Harm," Buffy greeted, saying her nickname, "how're things?"

Harmony frowned, her attractive, round face animated as she regarded her neighbor. She threw her long, lighter blonde tresses over her shoulder.

"Terrible!" Harmony wailed with her higher voice. "See, my boyfriend Stefan promised me he'd take me on a whirlwind trip to Vegas, but then he chickened out at the last minute! I'll bet he's going there with his assistant, Melody!"

"What makes you say that?" Buffy asked, feeling a little sorry for Harmony.

Harm gave Buffy a "duh" look as she said, "Because he told me! He wants a brainy girl, one who knows how to gamble and stuff!"

It was all Buffy could do not to roll her eyes as Harmony went on to describe her love life in great detail. The actress could be sympathetic, but Buffy had her own problem to worry about that morning. Plus, Harmony was unfortunately a very vacuous, dim witted person. Many things she said didn't make sense to most people in the outside world. The lighter blonde lived inside her own zone and she followed her own code, which dictated that she be well meaning, but entirely clueless about everything.

Clueless…Buffy thought. An evil grin crossed her lips as she formulated a plan for getting even with William. Maybe she didn't need her sister, after all. If he expected an airhead, well, then, she would give him one!

Putting her hand around her neighbor's shoulder, the soap opera star said, "Harmony, I want to help you."

Harmony looked perplexed. Buffy seemed nice enough, but she had never helped Harmony in the past. "Huh?" She said.

When Buffy repeated herself, Harmony squealed. "Oohhh!" Harm shouted. "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course," Buffy told her. "But I'll need something from you, too."

"But…I don't make lots of money, and the hair styling business doesn't pay much," Harmony protested. Buffy shook her head.

"I don't need money. Call this a mutual exchange of information," she said. "I just need you to teach me something!"

"What?" Harmony asked. They started walking toward the lighter blonde's apartment. Buffy's last words sounded in Harm's ear.

"Teach me to be you," Buffy said.

They disappeared behind Harm's front door.

XXXXXXXXXX

At the studio excitement was in the air. Giles was ecstatic over the latest production schedule since it assured that Spike would be in every scene that day, with or without Buffy.

He had met with the top brass upstairs and, for once, he'd walked out of Roy Snyder's office without any battle scars from the Head of Daytime Programming's sometimes despicable comments. Giles had also promptly shut the door to his office and, after inviting Anya Jenkins inside, had proceeded to teach her about the only equipment in his office that was not provided by the studio.

In her cubby hole of an office, Faith was in her element. She had not only written some great scenes for the hot actor she called "W. J.", she had also scored with a new man she'd met in a bar the night before. He'd given her some of the greatest loving she'd ever had without emotional strings. That alone was worth the price of admission, in her book. She could hardly wait to view the day's footage and run over scenes with Giles and the other writers who worked for her.

Willow hummed as she went about fetching coffee, donuts and fruit from the commissary for all of her coworkers. After handing out the food and drinks to everyone, the gofer knocked on William James's trailer door.

"Mmmm..." William mumbled.

Everyone else had seemed as cheerful as larks when he'd pulled up to the television studio that morning. But the brown haired newcomer wasn't a morning person, not by any means. To add insult to injury, he'd gotten plastered at a bar the night before and was greeting the mother of all hangovers. It seemed that his dozing off, even for a moment, had not helped William "Spike" James's head.

Outside of his trailer, Willow Rosenberg paid him no mind. "Mr. James?" Willow asked timidly. A second later, after some British swearing, William opened the door. His sable curls were tussled; his eyes were tired.

Yawning, he said, "Oh, it's you, Red. Sorry 'bout the 'sod off' reference. 'M not a morning person. Tend to read my lines in the afternoon. Come in."

Willow smiled, saying, "No, that's okay." She held up a tray of food, inviting, "I brought goodies, including scones!" Spike looked at the tray and nodded his approval.

"Jus' give me a moment, pet," he told the titian haired young woman as he helped himself to strong coffee and a blueberry scone. He closed the door and Willow heard sounds of him grunting.

"You okay in there?" He heard her ask. She knocked on the door loudly.

"Sure," his voice assured her. "Just getting ready, is all."

"You have to go to wardrobe soon," Willow cried. "It's near Studio B!"

"Got it," Spike's muffled reply came.

Having smelled the kind of night the actor had earlier, the titian haired helper also said with amusement, "You might also want to hose yourself down. Washroom's near the studio you're due in. But you'll have to hurry; you've only got 20 minutes!"

She heard him murmur, "Thanks, Red. See you later."

While Spike got ready, Wesley came in search of him. When he saw Willow, he waved to her.

"Making himself presentable, is he?" Wesley asked Willow.

"Yes," Willow joked, "though for the role he's playing he should look and smell like Night of the Living Dead."

Wesley groaned. William always had pissed himself the night before he read for a new role. As usual, he didn't listen to his agent and best friend. Used to this, Wesley knocked on the door.

"Do you require my assistance?" his voice asked.

Moments later, Spike emerged from his trailer with his blue denims, a white undershirt pulled out from them and his trademark sunglasses. He wore a fashionable brown leather jacket over the whole ensemble. A cigarette dangled from his lips.

"Jus' point me toward the shower," he said, his voice curt as usual. Wesley extended his long arm.

"Over there, but it is getting late," the agent told Spike.

"Yeh, I know, they always want to start yesterday," the actor said. He went toward the shower as Wesley grabbed a t shirt that matched William's hair color from the trailer and hurried to follow him.

While William showered, Rupert Giles checked the list of cast members in his hand as he peered at the dark haired man with the intense eyes standing before him. The man studied the studio crew. Coming up beside the man, Giles asked him, "Have we met?"

"No, actually," the younger man told the producer. "I'm your new cameraman, Thomas Davis. People call me 'Angel'. Mr. Barrows took in sick this morning, and he appointed me to fill in."

Giles raised his brow and said, "Strange that he didn't clear it with me. The workers usually do."

"Perhaps there was a mix up," Angel told him. "If you check your list, you'll find that I'm scheduled for today."

Giles looked up his name; then, satisfied, he said, "A pleasure to meet you." Without speaking another word, the producer turned away abruptly.

Angel looked at his retreat with broody eyes. To anyone looking at him, it was as though he was trying to divine all of Giles's secrets. But Giles gave nothing away as he talked with an African American man. Angel looked at them talking with the lens of his camera. Before he could zoom in on their lips moving, he heard his cell phone. Angel groaned. He recognized Cordelia's ring. It had a shrillness to it that other rings didn't.

Cordy, he thought, we need to work on your timing!

Angel picked up on the third chord of the cell. "'lo?" he asked, his baritone coming through.

"Angel?" a feminine voice asked over the line. "What's going on? Have you found out anything?"

"Gee, Cordy," he said, using her nickname with a mocking tone, "it's kind of hard to spot anything when I've only been here for five minutes."

"Screw you," Cordy's voice said teasingly.

"Wish I had time," Angel responded, not missing a beat. His voice becoming a purr, he teased, "If you want me to come back and not work this case but work on you instead, I have no objections."

At the office, Cordelia Chase rolled her chair up to the massive, light brown, oak desk set that Angel and she shared. The dark haired beauty with the heart shaped face loved baiting her friend; playing hard to get. She wanted to play with his very short hair and whisper into his ear; then, as always, she would say something snooty that would rile him.

"That's a very sweet offer," she said in a soft, lilting voice. "Unfortunately, I'm on a diet. I gave up on snacking on sugar daddies last month."

"I'm not surprised," Angel murmured. After a moment, he reported in a business like tone, "I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary yet. There seems to be a lot of activity though." As if on cue, cameramen and other personnel rapidly set up the equipment for the day's shooting.

"I didn't get a handle on a conversation between Rupert Giles and another guy, but put them on the suspects' list for now. They might be hiding something. Find out anything you can on Rupert Giles and the man he is talking to in the pic I'm transmitting," he instructed.

"Got it," Cordelia said. She downloaded the image Angel sent and entered it into the electronic file they had on the people at the studio.

"His name's Robert Woods, nickname 'Robin'. He's a famous director: only twenty seven years of age, yet he's done several TV shows and movies, including Leave 'Em and Love Em and The House that God Built, among other things," Cordy reported.

"I saw the second movie," Angel said, his voice thoughtful. "Woods won an Emmy for that one."

"And…?" She prompted.

"And nothing," Angel said into the phone. His brooding voice came over the speaker as he queried, "Except…why would someone move from TV movies into soap operas? Isn't that kind of taking a step backwards?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Cordelia's voice responded. "Oh, before I forget, Fred said she didn't find anything else on the victim."

"Hence the reason for my being here…" Angel reminded his partner. "My intuition says that these people know more about the MacCalay girl than they're letting on."

"And maybe you're wrong this time," Cordy said. "Remember the Thompkins case?"

Angel inwardly winced at the reminder of the disaster that had been the George Thompkins case. He'd wrongfully concluded after a nine month investigation that Thompkins' brother had murdered the fabulously wealthy former B movie actor. After discovering that it had, in fact, been the twin sister who had been his killer, the detective formerly dubbed "the Golden Smog", "the Scourge of Celebrity Crooks" and Angel's personal favorite, "the Sleuth to the Stars" had been diced and dissected in the papers.

He could still see the scathing headlines, pronouncing, "Golden Smog Hits Fog in Thompkins Fiasco", and "Gelled Hair Detective Today, Gone Today". He had scrimped and saved the bulk of his family's estate to put it into his detective business, and he had determined he only needed to solve one big case correctly to put himself back on top again.

"Anyone can make a mistake, Cordy," his voice came softly over Cordelia's loud speaker.

Cordelia hated reminding the man she secretly loved about the one thorn in his side, but she didn't want him chasing shadows that weren't there. To add to that, if memory served, the victim hadn't even been working at the studio for a year when she'd bought it. She felt the sting of guilt by bringing up what was a sore subject for them both.

"I'm sorry I mentioned it," she said.

"It's okay," he responded. After a beat, Angel looked around and saw Bob Woods coming toward him. His expression was not a happy one.

"I gotta get to work. Can't risk blowing my cover on the first day," the detective told Cordy. "I'll let you know something soon."

"Hey, Mr. Hair Gel!" Bob called. "You wanna stop talking to your girl and let's get these shots in the can?"

Angel quickly hung up and took his position behind his SONI camera, saying, "Sure, Mr. Woods."

Woods barked out orders to the crew, finishing with Angel.

William came over to stand on his mark, his pale vampire makeup in place. He posed the way the director wanted for the camera. As Angel zoomed in on him and set up the shot, William's eyes briefly met his. Both thought the same thing when the actor turned slightly to the left.

He looks like trouble! Both mentally commented.

Willow stood behind the camera crew, sound technicians, and all of the make up people fussing with his hair and face. She hovered behind them just in case she was needed.

Thank God I took several hours of film school! Angel thought, following Bob's orders without a hitch.

After two shots, the makeup people came over and brushed William's hair. For the past hour, everyone tested William's sound level, appearance on video, and the lines he was reading from the teleprompter. Bob was about to put the shots in for post production to tighten up when he spotted the last person he wanted to see.

"Mr. Snyder!" Woods exclaimed.

The Head of Daytime Programming came in with the rest of the network executives. At age 50, Roy Eastwood Snyder had designed the small studio with one thing in mind: being in total charge of everyone and everything. If he wanted you, you would shoot all the way to the top, but if he hated you, you'd be cleaning garbage on Hollywood Boulevard for a good portion of your miserable life.

His small, brown eyes looked at everyone in the studio and rested on Bob Woods. He walked over to the director and his staff. Angel observed the man—who bore a striking resemblance to the Ferengi on Star Trek with his troll like features—who looked as though he wanted to dissect the director on sight. Giles went over to meet Snyder and his party.

"Mr. Snyder, what a...pleasant surprise," the British producer said dubiously. Snyder sneered.

"Don't lie to me, Giles," he said. "Tell me how you really feel about our little visit."

"It's always a pleasure to see you, sir," he said, knowing how the game of "Kiss the Bum" was played.

Snyder looked next at Bob and William. "I see you're making due with the help," he said.

"Uh, sir," Giles reminded him, "this is Mr. William James. He is to be our vampire for the new shows."

Snyder raised a brow, but didn't otherwise comment. He stood back, waving off the crew dismissively. Before Bob Woods could issue another camera angle, however, Snyder walked up to William James.

"I don't like the way he looks," he said in a cold voice. "No one will buy a vampire looking like that. Sex sells. Let's see some sleeze."

Giles said, "Sir, we are a daytime show." Snyder rounded on the producer.

He fixed him with a glare that could melt even the toughest metal, then turned to the other board members, emphasizing, "Tasteful sleeze. Fix the hair."

When Giles looked confused, Snyder explained, "Platinum vampires are ratings winners. Blond will be much better on him."

"I agree," a lady wearing three inch high heels agreed. She walked up to William and, taking a few of his locks in her hands, commanded, "The 80's punk style should be good."

The members filed out, not wanting to hear any arguments. William gave Giles a look that said, "Those blokes are arseholes." He didn't make any comments as the hairstylist held up swatches of blond shades to see which would suit him.

"Come on," she said. William followed.

"All right, people, let's get two more shots of the others for this morning, then lunch," Bob said. Everyone set up for the next wave of camera angles, glad that the big bosses were gone.

XXXXXXXXXXX

That afternoon, Buffy thanked Harmony before getting behind the wheel again.

"No problem," the lighter blonde told the soap star. "What's this role again that you're cramming for?"

The lie Buffy had concocted immediately sprang to mind. "It's called, 'William's Downfall," she said. Harmony turned over the name in her head.

"Oh, I like that!" She shouted. Leaning over Buffy's car window, she looked longingly at the cream colored leather seats in the red sports car and asked, "Is there a role for me?"

When her neighbor looked as though she might protest, Harmony defended herself, saying, "I was an actress for awhile; well, actually a model in a big commercial...Well, it was a commercial, anyway."

When Buffy looked at Harmony curiously, she told her, "It was a shampoo commercial! They said I was a natural! I just had to fondle the car!"

"They have everyone they need," Buffy said lamely. Harmony shrugged.

"Oh, well..." she tossed her blonde mane over her right shoulder and said, "that's OK. Good luck with it!"

Buffy drove off, feeling terrible at deceiving Harmony like she had. She had never really thought about heavenly punishment for fibbing, but if the headache she was starting to get was any indication, the actress silently promised anyone who might be listening that she would never lie to Harm again.

She battled the hour long traffic and after parking at the studio, checked the makeup Harmony had loaned her. She applied the hot pink lipstick to her mouth, making her lips fuller. When Buffy exited the car, several men turned to stare. Remembering how to act, she smiled dumbly at them and sidled up to the guard.

"Miss Summers," the older man said, "love the look."

"Thanks," Buffy said, smiling. She pulled down her very short fuchsia skirt and swung her hips provocatively as she walked onto the soundstage.

The first sight that greeted her was the attractive man with the pronounced forehead, who had bumped into her.

"Oops!" he said. "Sorry."

"That's okay," she said in a silly sounding voice. When Buffy walked away, Angel stared after her, half attracted, half nervous that Cordelia might have spies lurking inside. He knew that if she found out the direction his thoughts currently took, his partner would have the skin off of his back. He forced his eyes forward, then walked out to grab a coffee before going back to work.

Buffy walked past Giles. Not recognizing her at first, he was about to tell her she was in the wrong studio when he finally saw who she was.

What is she up to? He wondered. When he saw where she gazed next, Giles guessed what game Buffy was playing.

I was right, he guessed about the young woman he thought of as his daughter. She's jealous of Spike. The Ripper part of Giles knew that sparks would fly between William and his younger co star, and that could be very good for their prospective roles.

William saw the blonde vixen in the mini skirt walking toward him and felt the blood in his veins pumping furiously. If this was Buffy Summers, he decided, he could give acting alongside Miss Airhead a definite go. Looking into her warm, green eyes, he knew he wanted her. He thought about how he would approach her later so they could get plastered together...drinking more than just liquor.

Buffy's lips curved into a superior grin when she realized William was hooked. The fish had responded to the bait. Soon, she would have him fighting to get away from her. This afternoon was going to be full of surprises for Mr. James...very profound surprises.

What she didn't know, or what she tried to ignore, was the small voice telling her how hot he looked with his totally black vampire's wardrobe, complete with duster, t shirt, Dockers, and jeans covering an oh-so-delectable butt and, as he turned, a large bulge. But the most enticing thing was the platinum blond hair which was now straight with only the slightest curling on his neck. It gave him a feral look, something she definitely wanted to see more of.

"Wow..." she whispered appreciatively as she prepared to read her lines with him. Buffy repeated to herself over and over that, like his character, he was the enemy and she would do well to remember that!

Let the games begin, they both promised each other as they stared into each other's eyes.