Spike stared at the headshot in his e-mail box slack-jawed. The photo was flawless. The girl was perfect. Her hair was cut in a shoulder-length shag and was highlighted artfully in glossy shades of caramel, gold and straw. Her eyes were moss green and sparkled mischievously. Herlips were shiny pink and parted to reveal a toothpaste-ad smile. Her skin was flawlessly tanned and glowed with a healthy blush. She was wearing a chocolate brown tank top with beads embellishing the straps and neckline. The only jewelry he could see was a tiny diamond stud in her left nostril.

His eyes dropped down to the text forwarded to him from Dawn. Buffy Summers. Age 32. Married. Married. What did he care? His eyes trailed back up to her photo. He couldn't keep his gaze from returning to her face. According to her bio, she liked the beach, chocolate, dogs and music. She listened to everything from jazz to hard rock, although she preferred late 90's alternative rock. She had a Cocker Spaniel named Sparticus and a Beta fish named Benny. She was born and raised in Los Angeles and had attended college at UCLA. She received a degree in Art History while reporting traffic full-time for the little AM station in the Valley she'd been working for since she graduated high school.

There was a picture of her standing beside a dark green AMC Pacer. Her hair was waist-length and flowed down her back like Tupelo honey. She was wearing a pair of denim cut-offs and a heather-grey tank-top that read UCLA in black across a black, grey and white seal. She had flip-flops on her feet and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head. She had hear arms spread out in front of the car and the caption below it read: Buffy Summers, live from the Mother Ship, on 980 WNBN.

He scrolled down to another picture. She was hugging a buff-colored puppy and wearing little more than a smile. The maroon bikini did little to cover her assets. Her hair was twisted up and secured with a clip. A few tawny tendrils had escaped and the puppy was chewing on one. She looked like she was laughing and Spike found himself wishing that he was on the receiving end of that beguiling smile.

"What the Hell am I doing?" he grumbled, closing his e-mail.

So what if she was just as gorgeous as he was afraid she'd be? So what if she had a voice laced with honey and sunshine when she spoke? So what if her sexy delivery and her incredible wit left him cursing silently for allowing himself to be so affected?

"Did you get Buffy's bio?"

Dawn's voice startled him. He wasn't sure how long she'd been standing in his doorway. He lifted his eyes to her and nodded numbly. Dawn took it as an invitation and flopped down into one of the chairs across from his desk.

"She's so awesome! I mean, she's worked for some of the best stations in the country!" Dawn began prattling, unaware of the storminess in Spike's dark blue eyes. "She gives a girl hope, you know? She's like a... a... founding foremother. She's paving the way for girls in this business."

She stopped and stared at Spike. He was doodling on his desk blotter and she couldn't be sure, but she could have sworn he was pouting.

"Dude," she said, waiting for him to acknowledge her. "Spike."

He looked up and forced a smile at the young woman who had taken the liberty of stretching her long leg over the arm of his office chair. Dawn was so unaffected. She hadn't been in the business long enough to become jaded. He wondered if Buffy Summers was jaded.

"Yeah, Love," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "She's a peach."

Dawn was watching him carefully, he was trying to busy himself to avoid her gaze. He was sullen, almost childishly pouty.

"Was something going on between you and Dru?" she found herself asking.

"What?" His head snapped up.

"I mean, was there a relationship of some sort outside of work?" she tried again, not caring that he was her boss and she was an intern-turned-producer.

"Where the Hell would you get that?" he almost laughed.

"I don't know, Spike. You're pouty and snippy. You were kind of rude to Buffy this morning when she called. You're, like, pissed at the world."

"No. There was nothing going on between me and Dru," he promised.

"Did you want there to be?"

Dru was an attractive woman, but she was not at all Spike's type. Buffy Summers was Spike's type.

"No," he told her with a small smile. "I, uh... I just really thought she was a great chit, you know? She'd been my traffic reporter for three years. I thought it was unfair to push her out for someone like Buffy Summers."

"Someone like Buffy Summers..."

Dawn turned that over in her head.

"Meaning...?"

Spike shrugged. He wasn't sure what he meant. She was pushy. Book bonus, my ass, he thought ruefully. That was pretty much obnoxious.

"She's just... she's..."

"She's fucking awesome," Glory Adonis gushed, bursting into Spike's office without invitation.

She had been walking past his door when she heard Buffy's name mentioned. She caught the tone in Spike's voice and couldn't help but put in her two-cents worth.

"You know, Spike," she began, her red-laquered fingernail pointed at him. "You're beginning to make me think that you're just as antiquated as some of the assholes you've complained about in this business. You're pissed off because she wanted what's been due to her for years when you know that if a man had made the same deal as she had, you'd be patting him on the back for being a go-getter, forward thinking... for taking care of himself. When Buffy Summers does it, she's a bitch."

He heard the accusations tumbling from Glory's lips and felt his cheeks flash heat for a moment. He knew she was right and it shamed him to think he was that petty. But he couldn't help himself. He wanted to hate this woman so much.

"You should have heard her this morning!" Glory continued gushing to Dawn. "She had my boys falling all over themselves. They asked for her to send a picture during their 8AM hour and they posted her on their website for Babe of the Day. She's the total package. She's brains and beauty. Sexy, sassy and smart. She's what we all aim to be in this business. And now you," she turned to Spike with a simpering glare. "Want to take us all back to the stone-age by keeping her barefoot, pregnant and quiet."

"I said nothing about barefoot and pregnant!" he defended himself.

"You know what I mean, Spike," Glory continued on her tirade. "You think a woman's best on her back or with a dick in her mouth!"

He stood up, his face flushed with anger.

"I do not!" he shouted.

"Then prove it," Glory said quietly and simply before leaving.

Dawn was staring at him from where she sat. He was still standing, his eyes shooting daggers at the empty doorway.

"Sounds like a challenge, Spike," she said with a devious smile.