Spike sat at his desk staring at the computer screen. He had music calls to make, logs to schedule and lunch with the rep from Interscope at noon. Instead of getting a jump on work, he was staring at a picture of Buffy Summers.

"I'm not supposed to like you," he said quietly. "You're not supposed to get under my skin."

But you are, he thought.

She was just under two hours away from him. He thought about doing a pop-in at Traffic Central in Sunnydale. Surely, he could come up with some excuse for being there that wouldn't make him look like he was specifically seeking out Buffy Summers.

His eyes darted to his phone and back to the computer screen. He could just call Giles. Tell him that he was going to be on Sunnydale on business and that he wanted a tour. He could do that. It would be easy.

Or he could just show up. He could show up and say, "Hey, I was in Sunnydale on business..."

He sighed and shook his head. Buffy Summers was getting to him and he had no right to let it happen. She was married. She was an employee for the most part. His phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Spike," he answered. "What's up?"

"Spike, so glad I was able to get a hold of you!"

It was Giles. He felt the skin on his arms tingle as it turned to gooseflesh.

"Hey, what's up, mate?"

This was the golden opportunity. All he had to say was that he was coming to Sunnydale and wanted a tour.

"I wanted to invite you to tour our new studio," Giles told him. "We're having an open-house a week from Tuesday."

Spike froze in place. Giles was still talking, but he'd already tuned him out.

"Will you be there?"

"Uh, yeah," he stammered. "I'll be there."

He hung up the phone and stared at the computer screen again. How the Hell was he going to get through an in-person meeting with Buffy Summers without pushing her up against the nearest wall and kissing her senseless?

You need to go out and get laid, he told himself. When was the last time he'd played naked Twister with a woman? He couldn't even remember. He'd buried himself in work since moving from New York. Haven't I been with anyone since Cecily? he asked himself. The suprising answer was no.

He had met Cecily at NYU during his sophomore year. She was beautiful and sweet, but had never been very big in the brains department. After four years of togetherness, he realized that they had little in common beyond the bedroom. It was an amicible break-up. She told him she understood and he said they could still be friends. That was a load of shit. The last thing he wanted was to be friends with someone he could hardly stand to be in the same room with. The sight of her made him hard. And he knew that being friends with her would just lead him back into temptation. He needed a clean break.

When the programming gig opened up in Los Angeles, he jumped at it. He'd sent Anya Jenkins a very honest letter along with his resume that said, "I have absolutely no experience as a program director. However, I just broke-up with my girlfriend of four years, I'm moving to California with or without a job and I don't know a single soul there. I like to bury myself in work, I have a low tolerance for stupid people and I am a glutton for ratings. Pretty much, I'd sell my left testicle for a number one book." Anya flew him down the day after she received the letter and had practically hired him on the spot.

A wicked grin crossed his lips and he pulled up Buffy's e-mail address. He hen-pecked out a short e-mail telling her that he'd be at the open house a week from Tuesday and to "wear something naked." He hit send before he could change his mind.

Buffy stared at her screen with just a little more than amusement dancing in her eyes. Wear something naked, she read and then read again. She shook her head and debated sending back an equally randy e-mail but decided against it.

Spike had confused her from day one. He ran hot and cold. No degrees in between. He was short with her off the air and acted like they were best friends when she was on the air. Until this morning, she reminded herself. His instant message had caught her off guard, but she had found herself smiling at his comments. Now he was sending her an e-mail about being naked.

Another e-mail arrived while she was still staring at the first. This one was an amendment that told her not to feel she needed to wait until the open house to try on the emperor's new clothes. She could begin immediately.

She decided to respond.

Probably I should report you to HR for sexual harrassment, but I won't unless you stop. At the risk of sounding like a total slut (not that I care nor deny), wearing underwear is against my religion. Hope you've appreciated the panty-free reports you've been receiving.

Love and other indoor sports,

Buffy

She smiled, knowing that only Spike could appreciate her unique blend of humor and sexuality the way that it was intended.

Buffy shut off her computer and grabbed the stack of mail sitting on her desk. Bill, bill... letter from her mother... coupons... something from the Fulton County Clerk's office. She set the rest of the mail back down and tore into the thick envelope. She pulled out the papers and unfolded them. She froze when she realized what she was holding in her hands.

You knew it was over when you told Giles yes, she chastised herself.

Still, she couldn't believe that Angel had actually gone down and filed the papers. She thumbed through the stack in her hands, shaking her head at every word. She set them back down on her desk and went back to the pile of envelopes she'd been leafing through when this particular one caught her eye. She found another envelope, the same size and color, addressed to her in Angel's narrow hand. With trembling fingers, she tore it open.

Buffy,

Probably I should have done this in person, or at least on the phone. I'm fairly certain you've already opened the envelope from the court's office. I wanted you to be the one to do this Buffy, not me. I didn't want to be the shit. Not this time. Not any more than I already am. It's like that insult to injury thing you always accuse me of... and I guess you're right. I didn't fight when you said you wanted to go. I didn't make any promises that I'd follow you in a few months. I couldn't. And I still can't.

I know this is going to sound really lame, but I like you, Buffy. I really, really like you. You're gorgeous, you're smart, you're kind-hearted. You're going to make some lucky man a wonderful wife and some child an incredible mother. But it's not me... it's not us, Buffy. It's nothing you did or didn't do. It's all me. And we both know it's true. We knew it when we said "I do" as much as we do now... I can't be faithful. There. I said it. Wow... it's staring back at me in black and white and I still can't believe I admitted it. I can't be faithful. It's not that I don't want to or that I don't know how... I do. Know how, that is. And I was for a very long time with you. And then there was the first indiscretion. She wasn't particularly pretty or bright. She wasn't even that interesting. But something in me chided me to go after her just to prove to myself that I still could. And it became an addiction. I couldn't stop. And that part of me that wanted to be the one for you, to be faithful to you, just couldn't compare to the part that wanted to bed every semi-attractive woman I saw.

God. That sounds cold and... There are things that I need to say to you, questions I know you want to ask. I know you well enough to know what they are. Yes, I knew it would never be til death do us part. No, I was never in love with you. Yes, I loved and still love you. That's what makes this so difficult. No, I never thought of a future with babies for us. It was never your job, it was never how you looked or how you acted. You're incredible, Buffy. And I'm not just saying this to be comforting or consoling.

I've been with Fred for 9 months now. I don't know where this is going. And I don't pretend to try. Have I been faithful to her? As much as I can. But there was you the whole time. And there was Harmony and Nina. Fred knows about you. If she broke up with me tomorrow, I'd miss her but I'd easily move on. I don't know if that's a blessing or a bane.

Do I miss you? Yeah. I miss you, Buffy. I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss the way your body would melt into mine when we made love. I miss the smell of your perfume on the sheets.

The kindest thing I could do for us both was to let you go, Buffy. You deserve so much more than I can offer you.

Happiness, Buffy.

Angel