A/N : Seems like this is going to be another popular fic, and that makes me happy. You reviewer types are very cool for taking the time to leave nice comments. I decided I wanted to do a hate to love kind of thing with this story, and I think it'll work, I mean, look at what a bitch Buffy was in Season 6, and Spike still loved her. This story is kind of BtVS and AtS, proven by the introducton of Doyle in this chapter. If you never watched 'Angel', I hope my using one of the main characters from that show will not make you want to stop reading, I just love that guy and need him for another plotline later. Enough rambling now, hope you all enjoy the second chapter...
(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)

Chapter 2

"C'mon, man" Doyle sighed, swigging from his bottle of beer, "The lady cannot be that bad"

"First off, she is not a bleedin' lady" Spike told his friend from the other fake-leather recliner, "Second, she's completely off her bird and so stuck up her own ass that us lower beings are nothing but dirt under her feet"

The Irishman stared at him a smirk playing on his lips.

"She's a stunner, ain't she?" he realised.

Spike did not get this wound up about a woman unless she was a major-league hottie and/or she refused to sleep with him even if he spent a lot of time and effort on her.

"Didn't notice" Spike shrugged his answer, concentrating on the drink in his hand and the re-run soccer match on the TV that was getting very little attention on the whole. Doyle nearly spat beer everywhere at his friends blatant lie.

"William Blackstone, you are a class A liar and no mistake" he declared, "The day you don't automatically rate a woman out of ten on first sight is the day I give up the black stuff" he swore, tipping the bottle in his hand at him before taking a long drink.

Spike smirked in spite of himself.

"Okay, eight, maybe eight and a half if she wore somethin' decently sexy" he admitted, "Might even clock nine if she lost the damn attitude"

"Any advance on nine?" Doyle joked, laughing as his friend threw an empty chips bag at him.

"You can decide for yourself when you meet her" Spike reminded the Irishman, "Ripper promised we'd all keep our jobs for a minimum of three months, excluding proper sackable offences" he explained, "That was part of the deal when he sold the club. Don't know that I wanna hang around working for Little Miss Priss though"

"You know you could never leave the Bronze behind, besides she'll be alright" Doyle decided, despite the fact he'd yet to meet the girl in question, "She's probably just lashing out cos she's nervous, or maybe just cos she's not used to bein' in charge and it's all gone to her head"

"Maybe" Spike grudgingly admitted, though he was yet to be truly convinced.

"So this is it" Angel looked a little underwhelmed as he glanced around the Bronze. Buffy watched him as he walked around the area, taking in every aspect as she had done just an hour before.

"Yeah, this is it" she replied, "Club Buffy" she smiled as he turned to look at her.

"It's... great" he said unconvincingly and his fiancée sighed.

"I know it's not the kind of place we would choose to go to socially" she admitted as she walked over to his side, "but it's a business, something I own and that I can run, that I could make a success of"

"You don't really know anything about the club scene, baby" he reminded her.

"I can learn" she was quick to tell him, "Angel, I know I can do this" she said determinedly as he put his arms around her, "I just need to know that you're right behind me"

He smiled as he leaned down to kiss her gently.

"Whatever you wanna do, Buffy, I'll be right here supporting you, you know that" he promised her. She smiled, before they kissed again, only breaking apart when they couldn't bear to be without oxygen any longer.

"So, Miss Summers, Woman of Business" said Angel as he ran his fingers through her hair, "When's the grand re-launch of this fine establishment?"

"Next Saturday" Buffy told him almost sounding like an excited child, "There's really not much that needs changing, the layout is good though I might think about getting some new tables and stuff, oh and I need some new bar staff, Ripper said one of the girls was leaving to have a kid and another one was getting married and moving away, but I got hold of an agency who are sending some people over tomorrow"

"Sounds good" Angel nodded, "You want me to help with the interviewing" he asked, and Buffy looked awkwardly at him.

"Do you mind if I go it alone?" she asked him, "Well, not alone actually but... I kinda thought it might be better if it was me and maybe the head barman cos y'know he'll have the experience to know what to ask and stuff..." she rambled on and Angel jumped in as she paused for breath, knowing that if he waited for her to stop talking they could be there all day!

"Buffy, it's fine" he assured her, "You do whatever you think is right for your club" he smiled.

"My club" she said with a grin, as if she'd just reapplied the impact of what she was saying "This is my club"

Buffy checked the piece of paper in her hand and then glanced back up at the apartment block in front of her. She's found that half a block from the good side of town was the bad side of town, since there wasn't exactly a lot of town in Sunnydale. She was trying to locate the head barman of her club, and the name she'd been given was Allen Francis Doyle and he apparently lived on the fourth floor of this apartment block.

Buffy was only slightly surprised to find that the elevator had a badly written 'Out of Order' sign on it and the staircase looked in semi-disrepair. Taking a deep breath she hurried up the flights of steps, hoping to make it without breaking her neck, or almost as importantly either of her shoes!

She eventually located apartment twenty and looked distastefully at the decidedly grubby looking door before she knocked.

Inside Doyle was still relaxing in his recliner with another bottle of beer, whilst Spike took a shower. Despite the fact he knew his friend couldn't do it, the Irishman made no move to answer the door when he heard someone knock. When the second rap for attention came, Spike yelled on his way from the bathroom to his bedroom.

"Doyle, man, will you answer that" he urged him, "Bloody banging's givin' me a headache"

"Yes, master" he called back sarcastically as he got to his feet, keeping one eye on the TV as he moved towards the door.

"Er, hi" said Buffy trying to get the young man's attention. He turned when he heard her voice, his eyes starting at her face moving all the way down her body and all the way back up again, much to Buffy's discomfort.

"Hello there, princess" he grinned, "And what might I be able to do for a pretty lady like yourself?" he asked.

Despite her better judgement, the blonde coloured slightly at the compliment.

"I was looking for Allen Francis Doyle?" she told him, and the smile fell from his face.

"Who's askin?" he checked warily.

"Yo, Doyle!" Spike yelled as he appeared from the bedroom before Buffy had a chance to answer, "You seen my other jeans?"

Buffy glanced behind the man in front of her, startled by the sight of the bleached blond she'd met earlier, especially since he was wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips and most of his visible skin glistened with water from the shower.

"What the soddin' hell are you doin' here?" he narrowed his eyes when he spotted the blonde at the door, although he liked the fact she couldn't take her eyes of his body.

"I could ask you the same thing" she said when she finally managed to tear her gaze off his semi-naked form, "I came here to see my head barman"

"Well, must be your lucky day, luv" Spike smirked, leaning against the wall by the door, seemingly not caring that the towel covering what shouldn't be seen almost fell off in the process, "You just got a two for one deal"

She looked confused and Doyle decide it was time to wade in before the sexual tension in the room hit dangerous levels.

"Oh, I see, you must be Buffy Summers, new Queen of the Bronze" he smiled, "I'm Doyle, your Prince of the bar staff" he told her, taking hold of her hand and kissing it swiftly, "This here's Spikey, sort of my second-in-command"

"Yeah, you'd like to think so" Spike snorted, slapping his friend across the shoulder, "Truth is me and him pretty much ran the whole place for Ripper. Don't s'pose you'd take kindly to suggestions on how to run your new endeavour though, would you, pet?"

"Er, what he meant to say was, we're at your service, Miss Summers" Doyle told her, shooting a look at his room-mate.

"Meant what I said" Spike assured them in a mumble voice as he headed back to the bedroom to get dressed. Doyle sighed.

"I'm sorry about him, Miss Summers" he apologised, "I dunno where his manners are at these days"

"Please, call me Buffy" she told him with a smile. At least he seemed like a decent human being and eager to impress, "I was actually wondering if you could help me out. Ripper told me we're a couple of bar staff down and I wondered if you'd help me interview the candidates"

"Sure" Doyle responded quickly, always eager to be present if potential barmaids were to be seen. Pretty girls were his speciality, actually he and Spike were both well versed in the topic of beautiful women, and proud to be so, "Give me a time and place, Buffy, and we'll be there, with bells on" he smiled.

"The Bronze, Wednesday morning at nine sharp, that okay?" she asked him.

The Irishman nodded.

"Not a problem" he mock saluted and she turned to go.

Doyle watched her backside disappear around the corner before closing the door and turning to find Spike was right behind him.

"Jeez, man, what're you tryin' to do? Give me a heart attack?" he complained.

"Little Miss Holier-Than-Thou pissed off, has she?" he checked and his room-mate smirked.

"No I stashed her in me room when you weren't looking" he grinned at Spike's expression "Of course she's bloody gone!" he admitted his joke, sitting himself back down in his seat and finishing off his beer, "She wants us to help her interview new barmaids" he explained as Spike disappeared into the kitchen. He got up and followed.

"Sounds like a good time to me" Doyle admitted, "A whole line of pretty girls all handin' in their names and phone numbers on demand" he grinned. Spike shook his head.

"That's bordering on pathetic, Doyle" he smirked "when you need some silly bint to arrange bar staff interviews just so you can pick up girls"

"Hey, I didn't say I needed it" the Irishman complained, leaning in the doorway, "Just said I planned on enjoying it. Come on it'll be fun"

"You expect me to be there?" Spike asked incredulously as he hunted for a clean glass to drink from amongst the ever growing pile of dirty dishes, "No thanks"

"C'mon Spikey, you know you wanna" Doyle teased him, "Besides she wants the head-barman there and half the time that's you as well as me"

Spike leaned against the counter and sighed. The bloke had a point, as he'd told Buffy, between them he and Doyle had pretty much run the Bronze on Ripper's behalf, but could they really stand to work for that silly bint with the attitude problem?

"Go on then, s'pose I'll turn up" Spike rolled his eyes as he downed his glass of water, "but if she starts with me, Doyle, I swear the bitch'll get what she deserves, and make no mistake" he snapped, slamming the glass down and striding from the room.

The Irishman smirked to himself.

"Oh, I've got no doubts about that, Spikey boy"

To Be Continued...