Part One

        Buffy Summers slouched in her seat, absently doodling in her notebook, and attempting to remain unseen by the professor lecturing at the front of the class. The European History teacher droned on and on about boring ancient history that no one really cared about anymore. Who gave a crap about some stuffy, dead old Austrian monarch anyway?

        A smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she glanced towards the redhead seated next to her, raptly listening to the lecture and scribbling detailed notes. Okay, so, some people care about some stuffy, dead old Austrian monarch…or at least their grade-point average.

        Willow glanced up, feeling Buffy's gaze, and she looked down at her friend's notebook, noting the lack of notes and the excess of detailed doodles on the page open before her. Buffy grinned sheepishly as the lecture that wouldn't end finally came to a close, "Mind if I borrow your notes?" She asked hopefully and Willow sighed, shaking her head in defeat.

        "Buffy, you're not even trying," Willow accused her as they collected their things and followed the stream of students out the door, "I mean, I know you aren't going to major in history, but still…the credit is pretty important."

        "I know," Buffy replied, pouting a bit as she hugged her history book to her chest, the tome yet opened by her, "I get that it's important and all…it's just...boring. I can't even drum up a minimal interest in this stuff. It's all dead and gone, anyway. How is knowing that Queen Annie was married to King Luis of France really going to matter in real life?"

        "King Louis," Willow automatically corrected, and then smiled, "Okay, so, maybe it won't matter in real life…but hey! You could at least kick ass at Jeopardy."

        Buffy gave Willow a look, "Oh, wow. That's real incentive to take notes."

        Willow sighed again, threading her arm through Buffy's, "You know, you're smarter then you give yourself credit for."

        "Yeah, but I'm just not college gal material," Buffy replied forlornly, "My mom and step dad are coming down on me about my grades."

        "Yeah, but you're doing great in your art and creative writing classes," Willow pointed out optimistically, "That counts for something, right?"

        "Yeah, Buffy replied with a small smile, "Mom and Giles are being way supportive about my art classes. He thinks I should try for an art scholarship at Cal-Art."

        "He's been married to your mom for how long, and you still call him by his last name?" Willow rolled her eyes, but was grinning, "Aw…but depressed Buffy needs some fun. You want to hit the club tonight? Xander's tending bar tonight, so you know what that means!"

        "Free strawberry margaritas!" Both girls squealed in unison, earning them looks from the students around them, which they ignored.

        "I'm so there," Buffy told Willow, "I wouldn't miss free strawberry margaritas for anything."

        The Labyrinth, a club that rested on the outskirts of Sunnydale, was already crowded by the time she arrived there, and the blonde girl grinned as she went inside, looking forward to a night of free margaritas, dancing, music…and about a hundred people clad head to toe in black?

        "Okay…I'm game," Buffy said as she plopped down on a stool at the bar that Willow had saved her, feeling completely out of place in her pink wrap-around skirt and white blouse with little flowers on it as she glanced around the club, "Who died?"

        "Poetry night," Willow replied, glancing at Buffy's outfit, and then at the mass of black-clad figures seated at the tables and on chairs in the middle of the dance floor. She was glad that she had gone for the somewhat subdued burgundy top and long, black skirt. She didn't stick out like a sore thumb…if sore thumbs stuck out in actuality. That was a question she had never been able to answer. "Lucky us, it's the first one."

        "But…but…you promised me dancing…and strawberry margaritas!" Buffy complained.

        "Sorry…I didn't know about it either and Xander didn't warn me."

        "Speak of the oh-so-dead devil," Buffy muttered as Xander came towards them, a wide grin on his face, dressed mostly in black, except for his shirt, which was shiny silver that reflected the colored lights from above.

        "Hey, ladies…really surprised to see you guys here. You're not usually into the poetry thing," He said, slinging his bar towel over one shoulder, doing his best impression of a professional bartender.

        "We didn't know," Willow replied, giving him a pointed look, "Someone forgot to warn us. Xander."

        "Sorry, I thought you guys knew," Xander replied, "The guys posted flyers up all over the campus," Xander glanced around and then leaned towards the girls, whispering conspiratorially, "I'm hoping there's not too many more of these things. I can't understand half the things these people are saying, and the poetry hasn't even started yet. And they're not even ordering liquor," Xander sighed, "They're all ordering coffee," Xander gestured at the second bar across the club, where there was a mini-coffee shop set up, and a huge line forming. "I thought poets were supposed to be all depressed and would want to drown their sorrows in a class of Dom Perignon."

        "I think you mean chardonnay, Xander," Willow replied, "Dom Perignon is champagne."

        "Whatever. They're not drinking it. I'm a liquor-less bartender."

        "You could make us strawberry margaritas," Willow suggested sweetly, batting her eyes at him, "Please?"

        "Since you asked so nicely, it's on the house," Xander told her, disappearing to make up their drinks.

        Buffy grinned at Willow and they both glanced over towards the stage as the first brave soul ventured up there to read in the spotlight, and began to read something about darkness, dead hearts and dying flowers. "Geez…morbid much?" Buffy muttered beneath her breath, and Willow shook her head.

        "Goth poetry. And here I was hoping for Jack Kerouac or something. Maybe even Dylan Thomas."

        "Do not go gentle into that good night, old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light," Buffy quoted from memory, and Willow glanced at her sharply, raising an eyebrow, "My dad had that framed on the wall in his office," Buffy explained with a shrug.

        "And here I thought you weren't as blonde as I thought," Willow teased, hopping to her feet to avoid Buffy's swat, "Oh! Table just opened up! Come on!" Willow grabbed her hand and dragged her across the club and practically threw herself into a chair. "I thought we were going to have to sit at the bar all night."

        "Are we running from Xander…and free drinks?" Buffy asked curiously, but Willow shook her head and wrinkled her nose.

        "Alcohol fumes. They make me headachy if I have to sniff them for too long."

         "Oh, right," Buffy glanced towards the bar, and smiled when she saw Xander trying to pull some Cocktail-like moves whenever a girl looked towards him, and failing miserably at it. It would probably be a while before they got their drinks. She looked towards the end of the bar, and her mouth very nearly dropped open. "Oh my God, Will…hottie alert."

        "What? Where?" Willow followed her gaze, eyebrow rising when she saw the guy that had caught Buffy's eye. He stood out among most of the patrons of the blond with his spiked, platinum blond hair, even though he was dressed all in black like everyone else, as well as wearing a long, black leather jacket. His face was almost severe in its angles, with sharply edged cheekbones. He was talking animatedly with a small group of people, hands gesturing, his face intense looking as he spoke. "Oh…definite ten."

        "Yeah, isn't he, though?" Willow giggled when Buffy let out a sigh, "You should go talk to him."

        "Oh, right. Talk to him about what?" Buffy rolled her eyes, "I can't just walk up to a guy when he's having some kind of discussion."

        "Just…happen to stand beside him as you're grabbing our drinks from Xander, and listen to the conversation. If he says something that sounds important, just say…I don't know…'that's so right,' or something. At least get him to notice you," Willow urged, "It's not that hard."

        "I don't know…" Buffy hedged, looking over the guy critically, "He looks older then me…and they look like they're having a really important discussion…probably one with big words."

        "Just do it," Willow gave her a little shove, "He'll probably take one look at you and forget what he's talking about anyway. You're a complete hottie too. Go. Connect…spread the hottiness," Willow frowned, "That sounded dirtier then I meant it to be."

        Buffy giggled as she stood up, taking a deep breath, "All right…I can do this," She smoothed down her pink skirt and flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder before striding confidently towards the bar, where Xander was just finishing up their drinks. She made sure to stand as close to the hottie as she could without actually touching him, which wasn't hard to accomplish, considering how crowded the club was for poetry night.

        "…I think you're getting it all wrong. Kafka's work may come off as powerful and even hostile in its rebellious themes…but his works just reek of his true impotence and his inability to connect with his officious father…"

        Oh…God…what a sexy accent, okay…that sounded really important, Buffy thought before blurting out, "I totally agree…that's a major part of all of Kafka's works…" Buffy felt her face heat up when three pairs of eyes were turned on her. Buffy glanced at the Hottie's other companions, recognizing the dark-haired girl from one of her math classes, Cordelia or something like that, but didn't recognize hottie's male friend, a boy with dark blue, spiked hair. The boy smiled at her warmly, but Cordelia was eyeing her like something she had scraped off the bottom of her three hundred dollar shoes.

        Hottie raised an eyebrow as he looked over the blonde girl somewhat critically before asking in a somewhat condescending tone, "You agree with me about Kafka?"

        "Yeah, I mean…all his movies were kind of creepy and dark," Buffy replied, putting some confidence behind her tone, "But they were good…well, except for the one with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman…but A Clockwork Orange and 2001: A Space Odyssey…" Buffy trailed off when Hottie rolled his eyes and Cordelia or whatever her name was began to snicker.

        "Um…that's…Stanley Kubrick," Boy with blue hair told her with a sympathetic look, "Kafka…Franz Kafka's a writer."

        "Oh…right…" Buffy wished she would melt into a puddle and find the nearest crack in the floor to sink into and hide as Hottie snorted and turned away from her. Luckily, Xander, best friend, savior Xander, showed up with their drinks, grinning at her.

        "Here ya go, Buffy…"

        "Thank you!" Buffy grabbed it and started to retreat towards the table where Willow was waiting, but didn't move fast enough to avoid hearing Hottie's comment to his friends.

        "I hate girls like that…all bubble gum wrapping and no brains."

        Buffy squared her shoulders, trying not to let his words affect her, but she was hard put to keep from bursting out in tears.

        "Hey, man…that was kinda harsh…" Blue haired boy replied, but Cordelia threw in her two cents.

        "Serves her right…I mean, who is she kidding? She probably still reads Babysitter's Club and Nancy Drew novels."

        Buffy somehow reached the table, face flaming red as she took her seat, back to the bar, but she could still hear Cordelia and Hottie exchanging comments about her, and Willow was glaring over her friend's shoulder, hands clenched. "What an asshole!" She burst out, unable to contain her anger, practically shaking from it.

        Buffy didn't answer her as she gulped down her strawberry margarita, and Willow looked at her in concern. "Buffy?"

        "Forget it," Buffy muttered beneath her breath, putting her empty glass back down, "I'm…I'm going to head back to the dorm, all right? I don't feel like hanging around and listening to poetry that makes me even more depressed and wanting to fling myself from tall buildings."

        "I'll come with you," Willow told her, standing and taking Buffy's arm, her voice rising a bit as they hurried past the group at the bar, "This place is infested with pests."

        "Bye, Buffy," Cordelia sang out sarcastically as the girls passed, but neither of them looked up, Willow holding her chin high, Buffy simply wanting to die on the spot. Soon, they were out the door and away from the humiliation.

        Oz watched as they walked by, eyes on the irate redhead and the miserable look on Buffy's face before giving his sister and best friend a look, "That was really uncalled for."

        "She's a big girl, she can handle it," Cordelia waved off her younger brother's chastisement, smirking as she watched Spike's eyes follow the pair out, "I can't believe she can't even tell Kubrick from Kafka. How lame is that? Don't you think so, Will?"

        "Cordy, cool it!" Oz snapped, losing patience with his snobby sister as Spike turned back towards them, "Guys, cut it out now. The bartender already spat in your drinks."

        Cordelia blinked, and then glanced down at the drink she had been sipping before letting out a shrill, "Eeeeewwwww!"

Part Two

        "God, what a jerk," Willow groused as she sprawled across her bed, watching as Buffy copied her notes, "If I was a guy, I would've thought it was cute, you mistaking Kafka for Kubrick."

        "It wasn't cute, it was idiotic," Buffy scowled down at her notebook, "It was completely stupid."

        "Well, screw him," Willow sniffed, "He's totally not worth it if he didn't succumb to the cuteness that is Buffy."

        "Yeah, right," Buffy muttered beneath her breath before snapping her notebook closed and hopping onto her own bed, changing the subject, "You going home this weekend?"

        "My mom and dad are going to be out of town again. I think I'm just going to stick around here and study," Willow replied, shrugging, "I'll probably head to the Labyrinth on Saturday, though. What about you?"

        "Mom quality time," Buffy replied, hugging her stuffed pig, Mr. Gordo to her chest, "She said she and Giles have a surprise for me. I'm hoping it's car-shaped," Buffy grinned, "My birthday's coming up soon and everything."

         Willow shuddered inwardly. Buffy and driving were two words that were never meant to be together in the same sentence. She still had Driver's Ed nightmares. She hadn't thought it actually possible to make a car go up on two wheels, but Buffy had proved her wrong; and apparently, the sidewalk wasn't just for pedestrians anymore. "Yay," Willow said half-heartedly, "Mobile Buffy."

        "Yep," Buffy pouted, "But my luck, it's probably an encyclopedia set."

        "Oh! We could use one of those!" Willow said excitedly.

        Buffy stared at Willow, eyebrow raised, "I fear you sometimes, Wills. I really do."

        "Mom!" Buffy called as she walked into her house, tugging a large black garbage sack of dirty laundry behind her, "I'm home!"

        "Oh, hey honey," Joyce came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a hand towel and looking with dismay at Buffy's laundry, "Sometimes, I think you only come home because you don't want to spend money at the Laundromat."

        "You know it," Buffy grinned at her mother, going over to give her a hug, "Plus, no one makes my clothes smell nicer then my mommy."

        "Keep dreaming, baby," Joyce kissed Buffy on the temple before returning to the kitchen, Buffy in tow. Buffy glanced around at the makings of what appeared to be a large dinner, inhaling the scent of real, home-cooking with a happy sigh.

        "Someone coming over?" Buffy asked, swiping a carrot off the counter and hopping on a stool at the island, "That's a lot of dinner for three people. It's not some stuffy old guy from the gallery, is it?"

        Joyce gave Buffy a disapproving look as she finished chopping vegetables. "No, it's not some stuffy old guy from the gallery, Elizabeth Anne, but that's all I'm telling you."

        Buffy eyed her mother warily, "This won't be like the time in 11th grade when you tried to fix me up with Marvin Wells, is it?"

        "Marvin Wells was a nice boy," Joyce defended herself, and Buffy rolled her eyes.

        "The guy didn't understand what showers were used for, mom. Please, please, please tell me this isn't a fix-up thing."

        "It's not," Joyce replied, shaking her head, "I promise it's not a fix-up thing. Now, go get changed into something nice for dinner," Joyce swatted Buffy's backside as she walked by, "And be quick. Rupert will be home in about half an hour."

        Buffy went to her room and changed, and by the time had come home, her stepfather had arrived, and was in the kitchen with Joyce. Buffy leaned against the doorway, watching the pair's playful teasing with a small smile.  Giles was attempting to get past her mom to grab something off a plate of appetizers, but she was swatting and scolding him, telling him he was going to ruin dinner.

        She had to admit, when her mother had first started going out with the Englishman, she hadn't been too thrilled. Especially when he had moved in with them; she had given him a hard time at first, but as time passed, he proved to genuinely care about her mother and her, doing his best to provide any fatherly support her absentee dad in LA didn't. He had sat up with her late at night, helping her with her homework, beyond patient even when she was frustrated, and had pretty much pulled her butt out of the fire, grade-wise. He and Joyce had only been married for about six months, but he had been a vital part of the family for almost two years now. She still couldn't quite bring herself to call him dad, though. He was…and probably always be Giles…but she loved him just the same.

        "They're appetizers…we're going to be eating them before dinner," Giles pointed out, to no avail, and he glanced towards Buffy, "Will you talk some sense into your mother?"

        "I've been trying for years," Buffy teased, "Mom and sense are unmixy things."

        "Ha ha, young lady," Joyce shook her head, chasing Giles off with a spatula, "Just like you two to team up against me."

        Giles chuckled, glancing towards Buffy, "How was school this week?"

        "Mostly boring," Buffy replied truthfully, shrugging, "But I think I pulled up my grade in Euro-history." Well, that was sort of the truth. If she passed the test on Wednesday with Willow's notes, she was home-free. "How's the gallery?"

        Giles raised an eyebrow at her, but decided to let the grade talk slide, for now, "It's doing lovely. Joyce and I are arranging a Classical Greek exhibition for next month. Hopefully, we'll draw some new buyers with the website," Giles grimaced, his stance on technology well-known to Buffy, "That Willow was kind enough to design for us, we might draw a crowd. We could use some assistance if you're interested in making some extra spending money. Or you could design flyers and distribute them on campus for us…"

        "I'll think about it," Buffy replied, "So, is anyone going to tell me yet whose coming to dinner?"

        Giles beamed brightly, and Joyce glanced at him, smiling gently, "Oh…fine, you can tell her if you can't wait."

        "William!" Giles practically burst out, and Buffy frowned slightly.

        "I thought he wasn't talking to you," Buffy said, feeling a tinge of sadness for her stepfather. Neither of his children spoke much to him since he had divorced his wife, Claire, and had moved to California to work at Joyce's gallery. All communication had stopped when he had tried to invite them to his and Joyce's wedding.

        "He wasn't," Giles replied, practically glowing, "A friend of his just moved down here, and he's staying with him for the next couple of weeks. Claire managed to convince him to at least give us a chance."

        "I'm really happy for you, Giles," Buffy said sincerely, "I think it's great that you guys are going to try and work things out. Maybe then Drusilla will come around too."

        "I hope so," Giles' bright mood was dampened a bit as he thought of his estranged daughter, and Joyce nudged Buffy.

        "Honey, why don't you go set the table for me?"

        "Sure," Buffy started to leave, but then she turned and gave Giles a tight hug, "I am really happy for you, Giles."

        "Thank you, Buffy," Giles kissed her temple, and smiled after her as she went to do her mother's bidding. Joyce moved up to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her chin on his shoulder.

        "Everything's going to be perfect, Rupert, I promise…"

        "You're already perfect," Giles turned his head to kiss her, "Both of you are…" Giles rolled his eyes when he heard Buffy gagging in the dining room.

        "Ew! Old people kissing! Gross! Ick!"

        "Ignore her," Joyce muttered, going in for another kiss, unable to help giggling when Buffy grabbed her throat and pretended to stagger.

        "Oh! God! Major squicky over here, guys!"

        "God knows I try," Giles chuckled, parting with Joyce as the doorbell rang, "Don't give me that look, she's your daughter."

        "Oh, sure. She's your precious Buffy when she's good…but the second she starts acting out of her mind, she's my daughter. Buffy, get the door."

        "Oh, fine, I see how it is," Buffy said as she headed towards the door, calling over her shoulder as she opened it, "I'm just your personal chore-wench, aren't I?"

        "Buffy, get the door," Joyce called in reply, and Buffy rolled her eyes as she turned to greet the newcomer, only to immediately slam the door in his face and lean against the door.

        "Oh…shit…"

        "Buffy?" Giles came out into the foyer, frowning when he saw how pale Buffy had gone, "Buffy, dear? Are you all right? Was that him at the door?"

        "Nope!" Buffy squeaked, "No one there!" She winced when the doorbell started to ring incessantly, "Jehovah's Witnesses…very persistent…"

        Giles eyed Buffy worriedly before urging her away from the door, "You're acting rather strangely all of a sudden," Giles observed as he opened the door, and Buffy retreated towards the dining room at a fast pace.

        "Mom! I forgot! I have…I have some homework to do…" Buffy said as Joyce came in with her tray of appetizers, "I have to go."

        "What are you talking about?" Joyce noted Buffy's pallor, "Honey, are you feeling well?"

        "No!" Buffy blurted out, "So…I should…go. Now. I don't want to ruin your dinner…"

        "Could you at least stay to meet Rupert's son?"

        "I don't think so…I really think I'm going to vomit," She closed her eyes with a swear when Giles came in, talking animatedly to his son, "I'm really going to be sick."

        Joyce immediately smiled warmly, grasping Buffy's arm and dragging her towards the pair, "You must be William. Rupert's told us so much about you," She greeted, nudging Buffy, "This is my daughter, Buffy."

        "Yeah, we met."

        "Really? Where?" Giles asked curiously, and with a pleased tone in his voice.

        Buffy opened her eyes, eyeing coolly the rude-as-all-hell hottie from Labyrinth, "Well, we didn't exactly exchanged names," Buffy replied, "We just kind of ran into each other at the club on Thursday." To her satisfaction, William looked a little ill himself. She really hoped he choked on her mother's pot roast.

        Joyce looked between the two young adults, exchanging a look with Giles before clearing her throat and handing Buffy the tray she had been carrying, "Why don't you all get settled in the living room? I have to check dinner, and I'll join you three in a moment."

        Buffy's eyes went wide, shooting a desperate look at her mother, which was countered with her mother's most potent resolve face. She rolled her eyes, huffed and headed into the living room with a muttered `follow me;' She barely avoiding the urge to stomp her feet.

        Spike followed after her at his father's urging, scowling as he took a seat on the couch, as far away from Buffy as he possibly could get. Giles took a seat next to him, smiling at him affectionately, "William…"

        "Spike," He interrupted, stiffening his stance when he caught Giles' surprised look, "It's a nickname, dad. I've had it for over a year now."

        And Giles would know that how? Buffy thought, noting his somewhat bitter tone. He was the one that wouldn't talk to Giles, not the other way around. What a jerk…even to his own dad.

        "Spike…" Giles ran the name over his tongue, a small frown marring his broad forehead before he cleared his throat, "How have you been? And Drusilla?"

        "I'm fine, Dru's fine," Spike answered shortly, not looking at either Giles or Buffy, instead opting to look around the tastefully decorated living room, filled with art from Joyce and Giles' gallery, a sour look on his face, "Nice place."

        Buffy bristled at his tone, which indicated that it didn't reach up to his oh-so-high standards. Buffy remembered Giles' mentioning that his ex-wife had come from some major money, so, the small house with it's homey touches and non-expensive art were probably not to his taste. However, he didn't have to be so rude about it.

        "Thank you," Giles replied warmly, obviously taking it as a compliment, "Joyce and I have recently redecorated. With Buffy living in her dorm, we found we had to fill up a great deal of space…"

        "Right…" Spike finally deigned to look towards Buffy, a condescending smile on his face, "You're going to the community college?"

        "Yes, she is," Giles answered before Buffy could, looking towards Buffy with something akin to pride on his face, and she smiled back at him, "I'm trying to talk her into looking into scholarship opportunities to attend an art school. She has a great deal of talent," Giles gestured at a painting on the wall, of he and Joyce dressed in their wedding clothes, smiling onto the room with kindness and love in their expressions, "She painted that for our anniversary. I believe she could very likely make a good career for herself if she wanted too."

        Spike barely spared a glance at the portrait, "It's nice."

        Giles frowned slightly, but then stood as Joyce entered the room, offering his wife a large smile, and she kissed his cheek before taking a seat next to him, clasping one of his hands in hers, "So, William, what do you think of our little town so far?" She asked in a friendly tone.

        "There's not much to do here," He answered truthfully, and Joyce nodded.

        "Buffy's always complaining of the same, but she seems to do all right. Perhaps she could show you and your friend around, so you can see the few hotspots we do have," She looked at Buffy expectantly, "You wouldn't mind, would you, dear?"

        I'd rather yank all my teeth out and rub salt on my gums, Buffy thought, but instead smiled wanly and said, "Sounds like a lot of fun." She caught her mother's sharp look, and nearly winced. She could never put an attitude, no matter how small or well-hidden, past her mother. She straightened a bit, trying to put a friendly smile on her face, not wanting to have to explain to her mom what a stupid jerk her stepson was. She'd just put it down to one of her `divorce phases' that those self-help books kept insisting Buffy was going through.

        Spike, for his part, was making no effort to be friendly to anyone, including his father, but Joyce just persevered on, trying to break the block of ice between them, and Giles remained a bit oblivious to his son's stuck-up attitude.

        "How long are you planning to stay in Sunnydale, William?" Joyce asked, "We would love if you could come by the gallery. Your father tells me you enjoy art as much as he does…"

        "I'm not really into that anymore," Spike replied, slouching a bit in his seat.

        "Yeah, you're more into the poetry thing, aren't you, Willy?" Buffy asked innocently, and Spike shot her a look, his eyes narrowing slightly.

        "See any good films lately, Betty?" He asked her with a snide smirk.

        "It's Buffy," She scowled at him, "I thought you'd be able to remember that with the big brain that has to be in that gigantic head of yours."

        Spike lifted a hand to his head automatically, and he dropped it swiftly when he realized what he had done, and he glared at Buffy as she snickered. He stood up, shoving his hands in his pocket, "I'm going outside for a smoke," He grumbled before stalking towards the door.

        "Elizabeth Anne Summers! What in the world was that? That's no way to treat a guest in our house!"

        "He was being an ass, mom," Buffy said in her defense.

        "I don't care, young lady, you know better then that," Joyce shook her head, glancing towards Giles, who was looking a bit conflicted, torn between defending his child by blood or his child by marriage. "You both were acting childish. Now, you march right outside and apologize!"

        "But…mom…"

        "NOW, Buffy," Joyce stood up, "Dinner's in ten minutes. I expect you both to be back in here by then."

Part Three

        Spike scowled as he leaned against the railing of the front porch, lit cigarette dangling from his lips. Stupid, silly girl…he thought ill-naturedly. Of course, his rotten luck, the airhead he had insulted at the Bronze would turn out to be his damned stepsister. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning slightly, and then snorted, deciding he was being ridiculous. His head was not that big. Okay, it was a little on the large side, but it was hardly gigantic.

        This has to be hell…only explanation, he thought somewhat bitterly, glancing around the small, suburban neighborhood. It was quiet, he had to admit, but that seemed to be the end of its charms. He really had no idea why his father would want to leave behind everything he had made for himself back home. What could possibly appeal to him in this place? Certainly not Joyce Summers and her bratty daughter. The woman was nice…but she seemed a bit dim, not as brainless as the daughter, but still, it was a bit pathetic, on his father's part.

        He took a drag of his fag, flicking some ash into a flowerpot, surreptitiously glancing over his shoulder when the front door opened, barely controlling his grimace when Buffy came out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. She leaned against it, wrapping her arms around herself, a petulant look on her face. She finally seemed to screw up some courage, or at least reign in her temper, and she dropped her arms to her side before addressing him.

        "Listen…we got off to a really bad, horrible start. And it's not completely your fault…" She paused, frowning a bit, "Actually, yeah, it was pretty much all your fault, but I'm willing to overlook it, for Giles' sake. So…" She took a deep breath, holding out her hand, "So, fresh start. Hey, I'm Buffy."

        Spike took a slow drag of his smoke, considering her with a disdainful look on his face. When he said nothing and didn't take her hand, her hazel eyes seemed to flash in anger. "Were you born this big a dick, or do you practice real hard?" Buffy snapped at him, "I'm trying to make an effort here."

        "Sod your efforts," Spike replied coldly, "Listen, Barbie…I really don't want to have anything to do with you. I wouldn't even bloody well be here tonight if my mum didn't beg me to come," He leaned towards her so that their noses were almost touching, and he smirked when her eyes widened a fraction, "So, why don't you run inside to mommy and daddy, and let them know I don't want anything to do with them either."

        Buffy reared back, a look of disgust on her face, and Spike started to turn to leave, but was surprised when Buffy grabbed the back of his duster and jerked him back towards her, her eyes narrowed to thin slits as she shoved him against the railing, "Listen, you arrogant little prick…my mom busted her ass making a nice dinner, and your father deserves better then this bullshit you're trying to pull. So, you're going to turn your bleached, British ass around and go inside!"

        "Bloody hell!" Spike broke her grip on him, glaring at her, "Mind the leathers, precious."

        "Get. Inside," She bit out, "Eat pot roast, drink wine, mingle…try being a little bit nice, unless you're worried that you just can't handle the stress of actually not being an asshole for five minutes straight."

        "Don't think so."

        "I think so," Buffy glared at him, "Get inside now!"

        "You gonna make me?" Spike rolled his eyes, "Why don't you just run along now, little gir-" His words were cut off sharply as Buffy lost all that remained of her temper, and punched him square in the face. "OW!" He clutched his nose, blood running between his fingers, his voice sounding nasal, "Fuck!"

        "See?" She said in a chipper voice, "You're bleeding; you have to go inside now." She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the house.

        "Good Lord…" Giles stood up when he saw Buffy and Spike come back inside, eyes going wide when he saw his son swiping at his bleeding nose in disgust, "What happened?"

        "He tripped on the step," Buffy replied, all wide-eyed innocence, leaving him to the mercies of his father and stepmother as she practically bounced into the kitchen. As soon as she was out of sight, she clutched her fist, face twisting in pain, "Ooooowwwww!"

        "How's your nose, William?" Joyce asked in concern.

        Spike sent Buffy a withering look from across the table, which Joyce missed as she filled his wine glass. Buffy simply rose an eyebrow in his direction as he removed a bit of blood soaked toilet paper from his left nostril, "It stopped bleeding, I think," He replied grudgingly.

        "I'll have a peek at that stoop tomorrow," Giles said, "It's not like you to just trip over things…"

        "It's not the stoop," Spike tried to glare at Buffy again, but she had shifted her gaze up to her mother, saying something softly to the woman as she took her seat beside her, "I just…tripped."

        "All right…" Giles looked unconvinced, but he brightened in a moment, "Are you doing anything tomorrow afternoon, Wil-uh…Spike? I would love if the two of us could have lunch together…"

        "Think I'm busy," He mumbled, pushing around the food on his plate, and he jerked when he felt Buffy kick him in the shin. He lifted his head, but she was still talking to Joyce, and he clenched his jaw angrily. Spoiled Brat.

        "Oh…" Giles' face fell, "Well, can't be helped then, I suppose. How…about Sunday, for dinner, at least?"

        "I'm…" He jerked when Buffy kicked him again, this time upsetting the table a bit and Giles and Joyce looked towards him in surprise.

        "What's wrong?" Joyce looked genuinely worried, while Buffy narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head in Giles' direction. This was accompanied by another blow to his shin, which was already starting to throb painfully. She'd probably keep it up all through dinner if he didn't agree. And as he'd like to be able to walk out the door without a pronounced limp, he gave up.

        "Nothing…" Spike slouched a bit in his seat, "Sunday sounds good, dad."

         "Wonderful!" Giles flashed a warm smile at his son, and Buffy glanced towards her stepfather, her own smile playing across her face. It disappeared when she glanced at Spike out of the corner of her eye and noticed he was still staring at her. "The Ristorante on Main Street makes the best lasagna I've tasted in a long while…" He cleared his throat, and then looked towards Joyce, grinning sheepishly, "Except for yours, darling."

        "He's lying," Buffy glanced at her mother, "Mom, I love you…but vegetarian lasagna with eggplant and cauliflower? Gross much?"

        Joyce smiled at her daughter beatifically, "Remember the `Easy-Bake Oven Incident,' dear? Let's not bring kitchen mistakes into this."

        "Hey! I was seven! And those curtains were way flammable," Buffy defended herself, "I'm lucky to be alive."

        "I'm surprised you ever made it out of childhood," Giles teased lovingly, "If half the things your mother tells me are true, you are very lucky to be alive. I mean…whatever made you think that holding on to the bumper of a moving vehicle in roller skates was a good idea?"

        "Oh, goodness," Joyce smiled towards William, "I nearly had a heart attack when I look out the window to see my daughter coasting down the street holding on to the back of her father's car. I ran out of the house, screaming my head off…"

        "Mooom!" Buffy covered her eyes with a groan as Spike smirked at her, "Please, stop, I'm begging you."

        "She lets go, but the problem with Buffy was that she never learned how to stop on her little Barbie skates…except by running into things. So, she must've been going thirty miles an hour and she used the neighbor's garbage cans for brakes."

        "Oh God…"

        "By the time I get to her, she's absolutely covered in trash and screaming at the top of her lungs because she has coffee grounds down the back of her shirt."

        "I hate you," Buffy dropped her head on the table as Spike snickered at her, and Giles chuckled.

        "That's nothing compared to how William got the scar in his eyebrow…"

        Spike paled as Buffy lifted her head, an evil grin crossing over her face. "Dad…please don't…"

        "When he was twelve, William fancied himself a bit of a daredevil…he even got his mother to sew him the very same outfit that Evel Knievel wore, for Halloween. Of course, he was wearing it when he was doing his `daredevil stunts'. Claire and I were worried, but he wasn't doing anything really more dangerous then jumping off the pool shed and into the pool; it was close enough to not really be an issue. One day, I'm working in the library and I happen to glance out the window and down in the garden, Will and his friends had set up a bit of a ramp, with pieces of wood propped up against either side of a fountain, and another plank against the green house. I can't figure out what they're doing for the live of me, and then I see Will on top of the greenhouse, on his bicycle. Before I can do anything, he's riding down that ramp and shooting for the one on the fountain. He hits the fountain ramp…and then the plank slips and he goes flying off his bike…into the fountain."

        Joyce winced as Spike groaned, "Dad!"

        Giles grinned at his son affectionately, "I race down the stairs, thinking he has to be dead after that, but I find him coming inside, positively dripping with blood from the gash across his forehead; I've never seen that much blood in my life! I'm starting to panic, because I'm sure he must've sustained some sort of brain damage after the hit he took into the fountain. I ended up taking him to the hospital, but the entire time there, he was insisting he only needed a band-aid instead of the six stitches they had to give him. As soon as he was off grounding, he was of course showing off his neat new battle scar to all his friends. We had to confiscate his bike as well, since we caught him trying to do it again! As if nearly braining himself the first time wasn't a lesson in caution."

        Joyce and Buffy laughed as Spike rolled his eyes at his father, "I can't believe you're still telling that stupid story. It's not that funny."

        "Sure it is," Buffy gasped out between giggles, "Was he wearing his little Evel Knievel outfit?"

        "No!"

        "Yes."

        "Dad…leave me a little dignity here?" Spike asked in a tortured tone as Buffy burst into more giggles. He cast a weary look at Buffy, her cheeks tinged pink, eyes shining and pert little nose crinkling as she laughed at him. "Oh come on…it's no worse then Barbie skates."

        "Or her Easy Bake Oven pyromaniac tendencies," Joyce tossed in, and then smiled evilly, "Rupert, I don't believe I told you about what happened during Buffy's ballet recital…"

        Buffy let out a tiny whimper, "Oh…God…"

Part Four

         By the end of the night, both Spike and Buffy were feeling fully humiliated, their respective parents having decided that recalling any and every embarrassing story about their children was a good way to pass the evening. By the time his father started talking about how he and his sister bathed together as children, Spike was ready to put his head through a wall and knock himself unconscious to escape the torture, and Buffy was contemplating standing in the freeway till a sixteen-wheeler came and turned her into road pizza.

        As Joyce cleared away the dessert dishes and empty coffee cups, Spike eyed the door like it was the Pearly Gateway to Salvation. Buffy was trying to end her torment by holding a pillow over her face and groaning loudly, wishing her grandmother was still alive to dish the dirt on her mother in retaliation for the evening's entertainment.

        "Well, it's been fun," Spike stood up, glancing at his watch, "But it's gettin' late," He saw a look of relief cross over Buffy's face and felt a thread of annoyance run through him at it.

        "It's been lovely to meet you, Spike," Joyce said sincerely as she hesitated in front of him, as if contemplating whether to hug him or not.

        "Nice meeting you too," Spike replied by rote, and then offered Buffy a stiff nod and a firm handshake with his father. "See you Sunday then."

        "Do you need a ride?" Giles asked in concern, "It's rather late…"

        "I'm fine, dad," Spike assured him before glancing at Joyce and Buffy, "Ladies."

        "Bye, Spike," Joyce called, and then nudged Buffy with her foot when she didn't say anything, and Buffy rolled her eyes.

        "Night, Spike…" It had a bit of a sarcastic bite, and his lips pressed together, before he nodded again at them and headed out the front door.

        "Night guys! I gotta go call Wills!" Buffy announced, practically shooting up the stairs and into her room.

        "That…went rather well, considering," Giles said, frowning a bit, "Except for the intense dislike radiating off the two of them…"

        "I'm sure it's just a phase," Joyce assured him, "They're step-siblings; they're bound to not get along at first."

        "Really?"

        "That's what all the books say, anyway."

        Fuck…

        Spike grimaced as he leaned against the front door, digging in his pockets for his pack of smokes and lighter. After the night he had, he really needed the nicotine rush. He closed his eyes with an almost blissful sigh as the drug hit his system. That could've gone a lot better, he thought with a roll of his eyes. Well, it also could have gone worse as well, he had to admit. Buffy could have punched him again.

        He smiled wryly, touching his still tender nose. Had to admit…for such a tiny chit, she had quite an arm on her…and the way her eyes had flashed fire at him before she hauled off and cuffed him one in the face…

        His smile disappeared, and with a low curse, he pushed himself off the door, and stalked down off the porch, shaking his head at his ridiculousness. He glanced up as he walked across the front yard, nearly tripping over the flowerbed as he was suddenly very distracted.

        Buffy was standing in one of the windows on the top floor of the house, talking and laughing into the phone firmly pressed to her ear, a radiant smile on her face as she spoke to whoever was on the other end. However, that wasn't exactly what had him nearly tripping onto his face in the middle of a well-manicured lawn.

        She was apparently preparing for bed, since she was standing near the window, in what appeared to be just her bra, and possibly panties, but he couldn't see that low. Her golden skin seemed to glow in the warmly lit bedroom, fair hair tumbling over tanned shoulders. She disappeared from the window a few seconds later, providing him with only an unsatisfactory ten seconds of ogling time. She returned to the window a few seconds later, wearing a flannel night shirt, and she pulled the blinds, closing him off.

        He finally seemed to become aware of his predicament, realizing that he was standing in the middle of a yard, gawking up at a girl, like some sort of pervert…not only that, but the girl in question was his stepsister!

        "Oh…good one, mate…you know, they have talk shows for people like you," He lectured himself, shaking his head as he stalked down the street. "Bloody…bloody…bloody HELL!"

        "He's your stepbrother?! You have to be kidding me!"

        "I know, Wills," Buffy rolled her eyes as she dragged her fingers through her hair, pulling out some of the tangles, "I nearly had a heart attack when I opened the door, and saw him. I actually slammed the door in his face and told Giles it was a Jehovah's Witness, that's how freaked I was."

        "Well? What did you say? What did he say? Did he apologize?"

        "Nope," Buffy pulled her blouse over her head and returned the phone to her ear, shaking her head as she leaned against her dresser, "I punched him though, when he wouldn't stop being an asshole."

        "YES!" Buffy winced as she held the phone away from her ear, "Go, Buffy! Did you make him cry? Please tell me you made him cry!"

        "Nope, but his nose was bleeding all during dinner," Buffy grimaced, "That was actually pretty gross. Hard enough to eat mom's pot roast without staring at some guy bleeding all over the table."

        "That's great," Buffy giggled as Willow squealed on the other end of the phone, "Eeee! So, what happened after that?"

        "He was still being a jerk, but not as bad as before," Buffy replied, and sighed, "Then mom and Giles pulled out the big guns. `Buffy and Spike's most humiliating experiences ever.'"

        "Spike? His name is Spike?! Did Giles used to be a hippie or something?"

        "It's a nickname. Don't ask me how he got it," Buffy got up from the dresser and headed towards her closet to grab her nightshirt, "His name is actually William though," Buffy snickered, "Wait till I see you tomorrow, and I'll tell you all about Evel Knieval…I'll explain that later."

        "You so have too," Willow replied, "Are you going to Labyrinth tomorrow? Xander's off-duty, so we get to see him jiggle his butt on the dance floor!"

        "Count on it. Mom and Giles are working late anyway," Buffy snorted, "As if I don't know what's really going on with her and Giles when they `work late.'?"

        "Image I didn't need, Buff. Okay, I got to get going, I want to finish this paper tonight so I'm free for partying all weekend like a good college girl should."

        "See ya tomorrow, Wills." Buffy hung up the phone, pulling on her shirt and returning to the window to pull the blinds. She started back towards her bed before frowning and returning to the window, pulling the blinds back up again, peeking outside. She glanced down into the dark front yard, and then shook her head at her paranoia. She could've sworn she had seen someone out there.

        "I still can't believe that bubble-headed moron is your sister!" Cordelia sniffed, tossing her hair as she took a seat beside Spike at the bar in Labyrinth, and leaning towards him, trying to get as close as she possibly could, throwing glares at any girl that even glanced in their direction.

        "Yeah, neither can I," Oz replied, exchanging a wry look with his friend as Spike ordered them drinks, "But…after hearing you repeat it every twelve seconds, it's starting to sink in."

        Cordelia glared at her brother as Spike snorted, "Will both of you just shut up about it already?" He grumbled, "Bad enough that I had to spend all of last night with her, but now I have to listen to you two prattle on about it? Give it a rest."

        "It's just that we feel sorry for you," Cordelia told him, laying a hand on his shoulder, and giving him a sympathetic look.

        "I don't," Oz said, and Spike raised an eyebrow at him as Cordelia rolled her eyes, "I don't," He repeated firmly, "I think it's just a sign some people need to start thinking before they speak. Call it divine intervention."

        "Rather not, thank you," Spike shook his head, "Fine…all right, I admit I was a bit harsh…"

        "Bit? Spike, the girl beat the crap out of you. I think that means you were more then just a `bit harsh.'"

        "She deserved it," Cordelia lifted her chin, looking down her nose at her brother, "I mean…butting in on other people's conversations…"

        "Yeah, that's a crime of mammoth proportions, isn't it?" Oz shook his head, "That's something you have never done."

        Spike chuckled as Cordelia let out an indignant squawk, "He's got a point, pet…"

        Cordelia stood up, shooting them both a dirty look, "I'm going to the ladies," She snapped before stalking away, and Oz let an amused smile curl his lips as he watched his sister practically barrel through innocent bystanders in her quest for the bathroom…and undoubtedly the large mirror inside it.

        "You're going to catch it later, mate," Spike told Oz when he saw the smile, and Oz shrugged.

        "I can handle her. She'll feel better after touching up her make-up and telling everyone in the bathroom that their outfits are `So last year.' Anyway, my night wouldn't be complete until she's pissed at me for something." Oz took his drink from the bartender, grateful that the guy who had spat in their drinks last time seemed to have the night off, "And I really don't feel sorry for you. I was just surprised it took this long for someone to punch you in the face."

        "Nice, mate," Spike rolled his eyes, "You know…if you weren't my best friend, I'd kick your…" Spike frowned when he saw that Oz was no longer paying attention to him, instead, gazing across the room. Spike followed his line of vision, cocking his head when he saw that Oz was watching the redheaded girl that had been with Buffy before. She was dancing with the bartender that had spat in their drinks, and even though he was flailing about like a carp out of water, she seemed to be having a ball. "Jesus…I think he's having a seizure."

        "She's a friend of your stepsister's, right?" Oz asked, watching as Xander and Willow returned to their table.

        Spike shrugged, already having lost interest in the pair, "Yeah, I guess."

        "Good," Oz got to his feet, grinning, and Spike looked up at him warily.

        "Why good?"

        "Because you're my excuse for going over there," Oz replied, dragging Spike to his feet, but he paused to glare at Spike when he dug his heels in and refused to move. "Come on, man, you owe me."

        Spike shook his head, "No. No way in hell am I doing this…you wanna meet the girl, then go meet her! Leave me out of this." Oz just stared at him, eyebrow raised expectantly, not saying a single word. "And don't think the whole intimidating silence thing is going to affect me. I stopped falling for that a long time ago." Oz crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at Spike determinedly. "OH! Fine! Bloody hell!" Spike whirled and stomped towards the table.

        Oz smiled complacently as he followed closely after Spike, "Works every time."

        Willow and Xander looked up as they approached, and Willow immediately went on the defensive. Even though Buffy wasn't there yet didn't mean she wasn't allowed to go into `protective best friend' mode. "Oh...look…it's Evel Knieval."

        Spike's eyes went wide at that, and Oz snickered at his expense. "She told you?!"

        No…but I really can't wait to hear the story now, Willow thought as she smiled at him evilly, "Every single word."

        "Oh! Bloody great!" Spike threw his arms up in the air, and then glared at Oz, "You're on your own!" He stalked off towards the bar, leaving his friend behind to fend for himself.

        Willow raised an eyebrow at him, obviously expecting him to scurry after Spike; instead, he took a deep breath and bit the proverbial bullet, "Hey…uh…I'm Oz."

        This was officially going to have to go down as the most horrible week of Buffy's life.

        Besides abject humiliation at her favorite hang-out, gaining a complete asshole as a stepbrother, and then accidentally walking in on her mother and Giles doing things that she'd really live in denial about…she had been walking towards the club when God apparently decided California looked a little dry and needed a bit of rain.

        So, it was a miserable, sodden Buffy who walked into Labyrinth, hair plastered flat against her skull, and her white halter top showing off her assets far too well for her comfort. She crossed her arms over her chest as several guys leered at her, and she ducked her head, blushing furiously as she made her way through the club, spotting Xander sitting by himself at a table. "Not one word," She warned as she took a seat, grabbing his drink off the table and knocking it back with a slight grimace.

        "I wasn't going to say anything," Xander replied, staring a little too fixedly at her, and Buffy crossed her arms across her chest again, giving him a glare. "Well! I wasn't!"

        Buffy rolled her eyes, "Where's Willow?"

        "Dancing," Xander gestured at the crowded dance floor without looking over, and Buffy squinted, trying to pick out her friend's shock of red hair, and then raised an eyebrow when she saw who she was with, "Isn't that…?"

        "Spike's friend, Oz," Xander replied, "Surprisingly, he's pretty okay. Can't figure out why he's hanging out with those two," He waved towards Spike and Cordelia, who were over by the pool tables. Spike was playing with a couple other guys, while Cordelia apparently acted as his own personal fan club. So, you gonna explain the Evel Knieval thing or what? Willow and I are dying to hear it."

        "Maybe later," Buffy said as she stood, "I'm making tracks for the ladies. God, I hope my hair isn't beyond all help and I get there without Spike and Cordelia seeing me. That would just be the cherry-topping to the week I've had."

        "Want me to cover you?" Xander asked, but Buffy shook her head.

        "This mission is just too dangerous, Xand…and besides, I doubt the other girls will appreciate you watching my back in the ladies room," Buffy replied before making a dash, and Xander glanced towards the pool tables again, wincing when he saw Spike glance over, smirking as he watched Buffy practically throw herself into the bathroom door.

        "That's going to kill her evening," Xander sighed, looking up as Willow and Oz returned to the table.

        "Was that Buffy I just saw run by?" Willow asked, frowning in the direction the blonde had flown in, and Xander nodded.

        "She's kind of mess," He informed her, "She got caught in the rain…wearing a tight, white shirt…"

        Willow and Oz exchanged a look at the somewhat lustful expression that crossed over Xander's face. "Snap out of it," Willow cuffed him in the back of the head as she took a seat to await Buffy's return, "Was she spotted?"

        "Only by Billy Idol…the Prom Queen didn't see her."

        "Prom Queen?" Oz smiled, "Actually…that describes my sister pretty well…"

        Xander paled, "Your sister? You didn't say anything about her being your sister!"

        "Relax, I won't tell her you said that," Oz assured him, "I might actually use it myself."

        "Yeah, well, it's not like I'm afraid of her or anything. It's just she already tried to get me fired for spitting in her drink. I had to listen to an hour long lecture from my manager about health codes and crap." Xander muttered, and then he perked up as Buffy came out of the washroom, her hair still wet, but she had slicked it back away from her face. Her shirt was still damp as well, but she must've held it beneath the hand dryer, since her breasts weren't visible through it anymore. Okay, now he was disappointed.

        "Hey Buff," Willow greeted, smiling brightly, "Oh! This is Oz! Oz, this is Buffy!"

        "Hey, we sort of met…" Oz looked a little sheepish, "Listen, I'm really sorry about what Spike and Cordy said to you…they can be a little…"

        "Bitchy? Malicious? Vindictive?" Buffy suggested sweetly, and Oz chuckled.

        "I was going to say rude, but…those work too."

        "Oh, I like him already," Buffy said, smiling at Oz genially before standing, "I'm making a bar run; what does everyone want?"

        "Rum and coke," Xander said, Oz declined and Willow asked for a diet coke. Buffy raised an eyebrow at that, deciding she'd have to corner her friend later. The only time Willow turned down a real drink was when she was terrified about getting a little tipsy and saying something stupid.

        Willow and Oz…sitting in a tree…Buffy grinned as she gave the bartender her order and leaned back against the bar, facing their table, watching as Oz and Willow went off to floor for yet another dance. They're so cute together…but…eew…I hope this doesn't mean we'll have to start hanging out with Queen Bitch and Super Jerk.

        "They make a cute couple, don't they?"

        Buffy was startled out of her reverie, and she blinked in surprise as she glanced at the guy standing next to her. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and eyes, a smile flitting across his cherubic face. Say something stupid…don't just sit here and drool on his shoes. "Willow and Oz?"

        "Yeah," The man glanced towards the couple on the dance floor before turning his dark, intense eyes back on her, and then offered her his hand, "I'm Angel, by the way."

        "Buffy," Buffy went to shake his hand, blushing a bit when Angel turned it to kiss the top of it. "Do…uh…do you know Oz or something? I mean…I haven't seen you in here before…and I don't think I've seen you on campus either…"

        "I know him in passing," Angel replied, still smiling as he let go of her hand, and then scowled as he glanced over her shoulder, "He's friends with someone I thought was my friend."

        Buffy followed his dirty look, "You mean Spike? God…is everyone around here friends with him or something?"

        "Oh, believe me, he's no friend of mine anymore," Angel replied, looking at Buffy interestedly, "You know him?"

        "Wish I didn't," Buffy snorted, "He's my stepbrother."

        "Your stepbrother?" Angel looked uncomfortable for a moment, and Buffy bit her bottom lip, nearly cursing when he started to back away.

        "I can't stand him," She assured Angel, "At all. He's a complete jerk…"

        "I see he hasn't changed much, then," Angel was all smiles once more, "If I had known he was anywhere near this town, I would have stayed clear. I was just about to leave…"

        "Don't leave because of him. It's not like he owns the club or anything," Buffy replied, but Angel shook his head.

        "Yeah, but if he sees me, there's bound to be a scene. He's not well-known for his ability to keep his temper," Angel told her, "But…listen…I would like to see you again. Somewhere that I'm less likely to run into Spike over there…"

        "There's not a lot of places around here…but we could always try the Bronze. It's infested with teenagers; so, I doubt he'll show up there," Buffy told him, smiling a bit shyly up at him, "We can go there, if you want…"

        "Sounds great," Angel took her hand and kissed it once more, "Tuesday night, around six? Will you be free then?"

        "Yeah," Buffy breathed, feeling as though she was being drawn into his dark eyes, "Yeah, that sounds good…"

        Angel smiled before slipping away from her and making his way towards the door, and Buffy stared after him, a small smile on her face. She grabbed her drinks off the bar and started towards the table, feeling as though she was walking on cloud nine, unaware that Spike had been staring in their direction, a dark look on his face as he watched the dark-haired man exit the club.

Part Five

        Giles stifled a sigh as he removed his glasses and began to clean them with his handkerchief, trying to control the urge to glance at his watch for the hundredth time in about half an hour. The waitress refilled his water glass for the third time, an annoyed look on her face when he declined to give her his order, glancing pointedly towards the line that was forming at the head of the restaurant. He was taking up space that paying, tipping customers should be occupying, by all rights.

        He's only half an hour later…Giles thought, lips pressing in a thin line as he opened up his menu and stared unseeingly down at it, trying to appear as through he wasn't waiting for anyone. He really should have brought Joyce or Buffy with him…at least, if he had, he wouldn't be sitting there, looking like a fool that had been stood-up.

        Soon, his watch was telling him it was forty-five past seven, and he sighed, lying down his menu, ready to give up. Half an hour, he could live with…but forty-five minutes? Face it, Rupert, old son…your own child stood you up…

        Giles removed his wallet and tossed a ten dollar bill on the table, at least to make up to the waitress for wasted time, since he hadn't ordered anything and the breadsticks and water were free. He could afford to be generous, since he was saving a great deal of money by having lost his appetite.

        He started to shrug into his jacket, trying not to let the disappointment show on his face. He started to turn, only to see Spike weaving his way through several tables and ducking a waitress hell-bent for the kitchen. Giles allowed a grin to split his face, but then he squashed it, instead, giving his son a stern look as he joined him, "You're forty-five minutes late, William."

        "Yeah, sorry," Spike flopped down into a chair as Giles took his seat once more, removing a fresh pack of smokes from his duster pocket and beating it against his palm to pack it, "Bit of a line at the Circle K…and got lost near the warehouse district and couldn't find Main Street. Bloody town's got a layout like a soddin' movie set. All alleys and no real streets."

        "I've noticed that," Giles said, somewhat relieved that Spike apparently wasn't trying to avoid him, "It takes a bit of getting used too…"

        "Yeah," Spike started to open his pack of cigarettes.

        "Uh…Will-Spike? There's no smoking…"

        "What? Bloody hell…" Spike grimaced, "Any chance of us gettin' moved to the smoking section?"

        "That's just it. There is no smoking section. California law. No smoking in public places."

        "You have got to be kidding me," Spike grumbled as he stuffed his smokes back in his pocket, "Right…makes sense…we can all choke on smog, but God forbid someone lights up a goddamn fag…"

        "Spike, watch your mouth," Giles chastised, nearly wincing when Spike sent him a dirty look, "It's uncouth."

        Spike rolled his eyes and picked up his menu with a muttered curse.

        Insert awkward silence here. Giles thought wryly, and then nearly groaned. He was beginning to think about Buffy now…bad enough that he had actually used the word wiggins in a sentence the other day while talking to a potential customer on the phone. Pretty soon, he'd be twisting a strand of hair around his fingers and giggling as he talked to his girlfriends on the phone. Bloody grand.

        "So…uh…" Giles attempted to break the tense silence, "How long are you planning on staying in Sunnydale?"

        "Don't know," Spike shrugged one shoulder as he squinted at the menu, "When Oz gets settled in a dorm, I guess…"

        "Where's he living now?" Giles asked curiously, watching in amusement as Spike moved the menu even closer to his nose.

        "With his mum," Spike replied, still peering at the menu with narrowed eyes, "His dad stayed back in London..."

        "Aw…and what happened to your contacts?"

        Spike glanced up at that, looking slightly guilty, "Uh…lost one…and the one optometrist `round here doesn't take my insurance."

        "What about your glasses? I thought we told you to carry them with you in case something like this happened…"

        "I do," Spike looked defensive, "It's just…"

        "Just what?"

        "They're so damned lame!"

        Giles had to smile at that. As grown-up and sophisticated Spike tried to act…he was still a whiny teenager consumed with his big bad image at heart. "Yes, that may be so…but if you were wearing them, you'd know you've been trying to read the wine list for the last ten minutes."

         "Wot?" Spike blinked, and then he dug his hand into his duster pocket, taking out a pair of eye-glasses with thin black frames and slipped them onto his face, "Oh…hell…it is the bloody wine list."

        From there, dinner deteriorated.

         Spike had decided that monosyllabic responses was the preferred mode of communication, and Giles found himself nearly at the point of tearing out his already thinning hair just to elicit some sort of response out of his son. Queries to the health of his daughter and ex-wife were only answered with shrugs, and `They're fine,' and questions about his schooling were even less forthcoming, which was a bit of a problem.

        His ex-wife had asked him specifically to discuss when Spike's school career. He had already attended two years at Cambridge, without a clear major in line, and had decided to take a year off. It had been quite abrupt, the decision. It had come in the middle of the first semester of his third year; he had yet to return or express any wish to return. Now, frustratingly, Spike was either being purposely evasive or he was just being difficult for the sole purpose of driving him mad.

        I don't know how Claire does it, Giles sighed to himself, then decided it was probably a great deal easier for Claire to deal with their somewhat complex son. Spike had always adored his mother, while Dru had been his little girl. However, Drusilla hadn't spoken to him in a great deal of time, nor written, just as Spike hadn't; they broke his heart, the both of them.

        Finally, Giles had to give up that form of questioning, glad for the momentary reprieve of the waitress appearing with their food.

        "So…" Giles searched for a change of subject, "What did you think of Buffy and Joyce?"

        Spike didn't even look up from the food he was shoveling down his throat at a fantastic pace, but he did honor Giles with half a shrug. "They're ok."

        Right…Giles' lips pressed together in a tight line, but he pushed on, hoping something would draw him out. "Buffy's quite a clever girl, don't you think?" He blinked in surprise when Spike snorted rather loudly.

        Spike looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, "Clever? That's going a bit far, isn't it?"

        Giles felt a bit irritated by Spike's tone when speaking of his stepdaughter, but he stamped it down for the moment. "She may not be what you'd call an intellectual, Spike, but she is rather intelligent, nevertheless. Besides, her true talents lay in her hands and in her eyes. Her paintings, her pottery, even her photography from high school, they're all rather beautiful."

        "Great, I'm sure her art will be all the rage of bathroom walls everywhere," Spike replied sarcastically, and Giles eyed him curiously, wondering why Buffy was getting more a response then anything else had.

        "I'm serious. Before you belittle her work, you ought to see it first," Giles chastised, "I really do think she has a chance at a scholarship to Cal-Art, at the very least."

        "Good on her," Spike muttered, now only picking at his food, looking lost in thought, rather then bored, which he had been before. Giles noted the change in some interest, wondering what had brought it on.

        "Something wrong, Will?"

        "Huh?" Spike glanced up, and then shook his head, "No…uh…just thinking, is all."

        "Of what?"

        "Nothing…" Spike looked back down at his food, pushing the uneaten portion of his lasagna around on his plate, "Nothing at all."

        Buffy smiled as she watched Willow absently doodling in her notebook, not really paying attention to the professor at the head of the class, a dreamy look on her face.

        Since Saturday night at the Labyrinth and a date Sunday night, Willow had been in a daze of euphoria, talking near non-stop about Oz. They had barely known each other for two days, but it already like Willow knew everything about him…from his first childhood memory to the name of the girl he went to the junior prom with.

        In love Willow was a cute Willow. Okay, so Willow hadn't called it love just yet, but all the signs were there already. She had seen the way Oz had looked at Willow the night at the club, as if she was the only girl in the world, and he was the last boy, and they were made for each other…like Adam and Eve. Just without the fig leaves and creepy, talking snakes. Anyway, Willow really had it bad if she was forgetting to take her usual transcripts of the entire lecture, complete with footnotes and works cited page.

        Buffy grinned as she glanced down at her notebook, seeing her own doodles were starting to take the shape of Angel's handsome face, and she thought of their `date' on Tuesday with some anticipation. She then sighed heavily. Monday just couldn't pass by soon enough for her.

        "I don't know why you bothered to ask me to come on the campus tour with you, if you were planning on ditching it anyway," Spike complained as he followed Oz through department after department. In his hand, he clutched a class schedule he had made Spike flirt with the volunteer at the front desk to get. Willow's class schedule, to be specific.

        Spike knew when his friend fell for a girl, he often fell hard…but he hadn't resorted to stalker tactics before. This was somewhat new…and a bit irritating. Now he was running up and down the campus with his best friend, neither of them knowing where they were….because they skipped out on the damned tour that would have shown them around.

        "Will you just relax? We've only been looking for," Oz glanced at his watch, "Damn. Nearly an hour. She's going to be letting out soon."

        "Right…mind if I stay here and slam my head repeatedly into a wall?" Oz gave him one of his `serious' looks…which wasn't all that different from his amused, happy, angry or scathing look. However, years of friendship had schooled him in the intricacies of the Oz expression. "Fine. Shutting up. Know when my opinion isn't wanted."

        "That's a first," A wry smile tugged at the corner of Oz's mouth and then disappeared just as rapidly he stopped abruptly, Spike crashing into him from behind. "This is it."

        Spike rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall beside the door, wondering if he could get away with a smoke. Probably not, considering California and their border-line Nazi anti-smoking laws. "What is it about this girl that's got you all tied into knots?" Spike asked wearily, "She's just a girl."

        "She's not just a girl," Oz replied, smiling a tiny bit, "She's more then a girl…she's smart, funny, sweet…hot…" Another look directed at him, with a slight raise of the eyebrows, grim set to his lips, "Which you'd know if you'd didn't take off. That was rude."

        "Yeah, well, excuse me when I didn't want to stick around for the ridicule."

        "So…you can dish it out, but you can't take it?" Oz suppressed a grin when Spike gave him a dirty look, straightening as the door they were standing near opened, spilling out its students. Oz attempted to look over the heads of the students, hoping to catch a glimpse of fiery crimson, ignoring Spike's smirk as he attempted to stand on his tiptoes. Soon, the flood of students ebbed, and Oz was able to slip through the stragglers and into the lecture hall, a wide grin splitting his face when he saw Willow and Buffy still standing in the seating area, gathering up their books amidst playful shoves and giggles.

        Spike came to stand beside them, throwing a sullen look up towards the girls, and then glanced towards the blackboard, as if finding it intensely fascinating. Oz glanced at him curiously, noting that the tips of Spike's ears were flaming red, and drew the correct conclusion that his face was red as well. Strange. He didn't think he'd ever seen his friend flush up before. He was distracted from his scrutiny when Willow finally looked towards them and squeaked his name in surprise.

        "Oz?!" Willow looked at Buffy, her face flaring crimson, "Oh God…what is he doing here? My hair's all messy…and…and I didn't put on make-up this morning! I knew I shouldn't have hit the snooze button twice!"

        Buffy hid her amusement at her friend's plight, instead giving Willow a critically once over, "You look gorgeous," Buffy assured her, but winced as Willow took a deep breath and started down towards Oz and Spike. "Except for the orange sweater," She added beneath her breath when Willow was halfway down, and therefore, unable to hear her. She loved Willow more then life itself…but she had a dangerous addiction to orange, pink and red fuzzy things that Buffy seriously had to break her of.

        Buffy grabbed her purse from beside the stairs, smiling as she watched Oz and Willow talking together animatedly, Willow's face still touched with a faint blush, and ducking her head shyly, tucking a phantom strand of hair behind her ear several times nervously. She was too engrossed in watching Oz and Willow that she didn't see Spike watching her with an intense expression on his face.

        "Buffy, hey!" Willow waved her over, bright smile on her face, "Oz wants to know if we can come to a party he's throwing next weekend. Wanna go?" Buffy smiled as Willow's eyes fairly screamed, `YES! SAY YES! OR I WILL TORMENT YOU HORRIBLY FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS!'

        Spike, however, had swung his head around at that, "What party?"

        "You know," Oz sent Spike a pointed look, "The party?"

        "What are you…" Okay…dangerous glint to Oz's hazel eyes on that one, "Oh! Right! The party!" He eyed Oz warily, "Which…I'm…"

        "Attending…with us…and…um…other people, and hopefully you guys…you can bring Xander too…"

        "Sounds like fun," Willow elbowed Buffy sharply, causing the blond to flinch and rub her bruised ribs, "Doesn't it, Buffy?"

        "Yeah, it does," Buffy sent her best friend a glare as Oz looked towards Spike, "You are so dead," She threatened in a voice only Willow could hear.

        "My mom's going to LA for the weekend, so the house is free," Oz was looking at Spike for this, obviously waiting for support. "With live music, right?"

        "What?" Spike blinked at that, and then glanced sharply at Buffy, who raised an eyebrow at his look, "No, there's no live music."

        "Yes, there is…"

        "No, there bloody isn't!"

        "YES! There IS!" Oz's tone brooked no argument at this point, and Spike sulked, "Right?"

        Spike didn't answer, but in Oz's view, that was agreement, and he grinned sheepishly at Buffy and Willow, who were now staring at the two males with slightly wide eyes, "Um…so…you wanna come?"

        "Sure, we'd love too!" Willow assured him.

        "Is Cordelia going to be there?" Buffy asked rather bluntly, blushing when Spike and Oz both glanced at her, Spike, surprisingly, looking amused and Oz…well…she couldn't really tell what was looking. How Willow could, was beyond her.

        "Buffy!" Willow shot her a look, and Buffy's blush deepened.

        "What? It was…just a friendly inquiry into rather…a…um…mutual acquaintance would be attending the party…"

        Spike snorted and Oz shrugged apologetically, "Where Spike is, so goes Cordelia. It's her thing."

        "Oh, I didn't know you and Cordelia were going out," Willow said.

        "We're not," Spike, curiously enough, was looking at Buffy as he said this, but the girl in question was too engrossed in pulling loose the metal spiral on her notebook to notice. Probably embarrassed at her faux pas.

        "They went out before, but it didn't work out."

        "Oh, but it's good you guys can be friends still," Willow said, smiling at Spike warmly. She had made the decision before, that if she wanted to have a relationship with Oz, she'd have to try and at least be a little friendly to his friends…even if they were rude jerks who needed to be kicked in the shins. However, she wouldn't have to put up with him for long. He'd probably be going home soon, but he would be leaving Oz behind…with her. Yay!

        Spike snorted again, and Oz sighed as he translated for his sullen friend once more, "They're not, really…Cordelia's currently employing something called `stealth dating.' They're not dating, but she figures if she hangs around him enough, everyone will think they are. And if everyone thinks it, it'll become reality."

        "Sounds like `delusional dating,' to me," Buffy muttered beneath her breath, but unfortunately, it carried in the empty room, and she slammed her notebook against her forehead, swearing loudly.

        Spike chuckled, to everyone else's surprise, and they all looked at him like he had grown a second head, "What? It's bloody true, innit? Oh…right…forgot, not allowed to have a sense of humor, am I?"

        "No…it's just a complete shocker that you do," Buffy replied, earning a glare from both Willow and Spike. Wait a second…why was Willow glaring at her? Oh yeah…have to get along with the boyfriend's best friend. Too bad it seemed a bit of a double standard.

        "Can…I…uh…walk you to your next class?" Oz asked almost shyly, and Willow beamed brightly.

        "Yeah, sure…I'd love that…" Her face suddenly fell, "Oh, wait…no…"

        "Um…okay?"

        "Sorry…it's just…last class of the day," Willow brightened immediately, "We could…go to the Espresso Pump though…for…coffee?"

        "Sounds great…" Oz answered, smiling as Willow ducked her head, face flushing a bit, and he followed her as she started towards the door. He looked over his shoulder at Spike and Buffy, who were standing there somewhat awkwardly, apparently both unsure of what they were supposed to be doing. "You guys coming?"

        "Oh, um…I'd love too, but unlike Willow, some of us have to study their butts off to maintain a C-average," Buffy replied, "But you guys have fun."

        "Guess I'm going then," Spike mumbled, starting to move around Buffy, but she shifted to turn to leave as well, and he knocked her books out of her hands, "Shit…sorry…" He knelt down to pick them up automatically, and his hand paused over her spiral notebook, eyes narrowing slightly when he saw the face she had doodled during class.

        Dammit…Buffy tried to grab it up, but he already had it in his hand and was straightening, still staring down at Angel's face, an unreadable look on his face. He finally glanced up at her, noting the high spots of color that had appeared in her cheeks as she looked everywhere but at him, and he handed her the books she had dropped, but held onto the notebook for a few more seconds, inspecting the doodle longer then was really necessary.

        "Dad was right," He handed her the notebook back as she finally looked up at him, evidently in some surprise, and his lips turned up in a slight sneer, "You do have some talent…"

        "Thanks," Buffy mumbled, at a loss for what else to say as he moved around her and towards the door.

        "Too bad you're wasting it on that prick," He added as he disappeared from the room, and Buffy let out a hiss of a breath between her teeth.

        "Asshole," She mumbled beneath her breath before whirling and stalking out into the hallway. However, she did look in either direction, trying to catch a glimpse of him before she rolled her eyes at herself, and started for the nearest exit.

Part Six

        "You know…no matter how long you stand in front of the closet and stare in it like that, the perfect outfit's still not going to fly out and smack you in the face," Willow teased in amusement, watching as her friend agonized over what to wear on her `date.'

        "You're really no help, you know that?" Buffy complained, reaching in and pulling out an orange skirt.

        Willow immediately grimaced, "Too fuzzy," She judged, and Buffy sighed, tossing it onto her bed, "So…are you going to get this guy to dish the dirt on Spike, or what?"

        "No," Buffy grimaced as she reached into her closet, pulling out a frilly, violet blouse, wondering what she had been thinking when she bought it, "Why would I want to spend my time with a complete hottie talking about my evil stepbrother?" Willow shrugged, grinning as Buffy pulled a leather mini-skirt out of her closet and Buffy held it up against her, "What do you think? Too slutty?"

        "No way…you got way nice legs. Doesn't hurt to advertise the fact," Willow replied, "With the red silk blouse? He'll pass out when he sees you. Go for it."

        Buffy grinned as she shouldered out of her robe and started to dress in the outfit Willow suggested, "So…dish. Are you seeing Oz tonight?"

        "No," Willow sighed heavily, "He has to get some things ready for the party on Saturday. I guess it's better that way. I have to actually study some this week."

        "You've definitely gotten it bad, girl," Buffy observed, eyeing her friend critically, "Eyes all bright and shiny, like a manic squirrel…face getting all red when Oz is mentioned near you…you're sooo in love!"

        "I'm not!" Willow protested, "I barely know him!"

        "What's his favorite color? The name of his childhood dog?"

        "Blue and Chichi…" Willow groaned, "Shut up."

        Buffy grinned at her friend, "Just admit it. You love him."

        "I don't…" Willow replied hesitantly, "But I like him…a lot…really a lot…"

        "You like him really a lot…but it could turn into love…right?"

        "Yeah," Willow covered her eyes, "God…I'm such a dork, though! I never had a real boyfriend…"

        "What about Jesse?" Buffy asked, "You guys were pretty hot and heavy before he got accepted to Julliard."

        "Yeah…but…it took us months to get where Oz and I are right now. I mean, how bad is that? I'm not supposed to get this way about a guy! Not till I'm out of school and four years into my new career!"

        "I think it's a good thing, Wills! He's obviously already really into you. He's throwing a party for you!"

        "It's not for me…"

        "Suuurreeee it isn't," Buffy rolled her eyes, "Spike had no idea what he was talking about when he told you about it. You were too busy making moon-eyes at Oz to notice. He's so throwing the party to impress you and have a chance to spend time with you. He's sweet, nice, funny…and he's already really devoted to my Willow, so he's pretty much the perfect guy."

        "I don't think he's all that into me," Willow replied doubtfully, and Buffy sighed.

        "Wills, you never think the guy who likes you, likes you. Get some self-confidence, girl! No wonder it took Jesse twelve years to finally tell you he liked you!"

        "Don't you have a date to be on?" Willow grumbled, and Buffy looked towards the clock on their bedside table, eyes widening.

        "Oh God! I have to meet him in fifteen minutes! How do I look?"

        "You're a knock-out," Willow assured Buffy as she hurriedly threw on her boots, nearly tripping when she tried to grab her purse and zip her boots at the same time. Buffy called out a rushed goodbye and flew out the door, and Willow sighed, settling down at her desk for a long night of studying and Oz-missage.

        Buffy was panting heavily by the time she had reached the Bronze, and she took a few moments to lean against the wall, and catch her breath. She really needed to get a car. This hoofing it around town all the time was starting to really cramp her style. When she had sufficiently composed herself, and groaned about being thirty minutes late, she finally went inside the Bronze, looking around with a disappointed sigh. She didn't see Angel anywhere in the mass of teenagers, and she swore as she went towards the bar to order a drink; he had probably taken off when she hadn't shown at six.

        She took her drink and found a table that was somewhat out in the open, and nursed it while hoping that maybe he had been running a little late himself. She was thoroughly sick of the bubble-gum pop that the band was playing onstage, and had decided to call it a night when she saw Angel coming through the crowd, towards her. She felt her heart stick in her chest a bit as he smiled slowly,

        God…he is just too sexy…she thought, looking down at the tabletop with a small smile, missing the way his dark eyes raked down her body, his smile turning into a leer, which immediately disappeared from his face when she looked back up at him.

        "Buffy," He greeted in a soft voice, "Thought you weren't going to show."

        "Sorry I was late," She said sheepishly, "Lost track of time."

        "Not a problem…you're definitely worth the wait," Angel grinned at the blush that crept over her face as he took a seat next to her, "I'm glad you came, at any rate."

        "Me too," Buffy winced inwardly, great, Buffy...try to talk more like a sixteen-year-old with a crush? Ugh…

        "Do you want to dance?" Angel asked, holding out his hand, and pulled Buffy to her feet when she took it, leading her out to the dance floor. A slow song started, and he enveloped her in his arms, laying his hands on her slim waist. He towered over her, moving somewhat clumsily to the music, but Buffy tilted her head to smile up at him.

        "You look beautiful tonight," Angel told her, pulling her even closer.

        Buffy blushed again, looking away, "Thanks," She muttered, horrified at finding that she didn't know what quite to say to him. "So…uh…you know Spike, huh?" She mentally slapped herself in the face, wondering what was wrong with her. She really didn't want to talk about her stupid stepbrother, but to her relieve, Angel chuckled, not seeming fazed by the question.

        "Figured you'd be really curious about that," Angel replied at her look of puzzlement, "However, if that's the only reason you've come, I think I'll be really disappointed and be forced to hold out."

        "It isn't," Buffy replied hurriedly, "I…was looking for something we have in common so that we could talk about it…really. I mean it."

        "Come on," Angel led her towards one of the couches the Bronze boasted; he waited till she was seated before he took his, sitting close enough to her that their knees brushed together. His eyes were drawn to the length of golden thigh that was exposed as she crossed her legs, her leather skirt riding up.

        "We don't have to talk about him," Buffy said very sincerely, "We could talk about a million other things…"

        "No, it's really okay…it'll be good to get things off my chest," Angel told her, "I haven't told anyone what happened before, and it'd be nice to have a sympathetic ear."

        "Believe me, it's way sympathetic," Buffy assured him, and Angel smiled as he leaned back, draping his arm across the back of the couch.

        "That's good to know," He murmured, leaning closer to her, and brushing a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I guess…before we start, you should know that Will and I go way back…back when we were kids. Pretty much grew up together…but we were always competing with each other, so, it wasn't the best friendship in the world. Basically, a `whatever you do, I can do better' type of deal…he often didn't like that I was the one doing things better. He was always spoiled, especially as a child. His mother…well…you ever meet her?"

        Buffy shook her head, "I haven't met any of his family…well, except for my step-dad."

        "He's a good man…a bit absentee when Will and Dru were growing up, but nice enough whenever I did see him," Angel told her. "I don't wonder at why he divorced his wife, though. She's a cold, condescending woman; looks down on everybody around her, except for her own precious children, of course. They could never do any wrong in her eyes. You know her family came from old money, right? She married `below her station,' when she married Rupert, and she didn't hesitate to make that fact well known to him; but she spoiled her children rotten. Dru's as bad, if not worse, then Will."

        "How's that even possible?" Buffy joked, and Angel chuckled.

        "She's one of those girls who have to have everything her way, or she throws a tantrum; that didn't change much as she got older," Angel sighed heavily then, "I knew I got in way over my head when I started dating her…but she was always a beautiful girl too." Angel scowled, "Will's fiercely overprotective of her, though…and he didn't like us dating. To him, it was still the competition thing. He thought I was only dating her to try and one-up him."

        "That sounds about right," Buffy muttered, and Angel smiled at her sadly.

        "But Dru and I…things were going good. I thought she was actually getting better…we were in love…" Buffy laid a hand on his knees when he looked away, apparently overcome with emotion, "Will did all he could to break us up…even offered me money to keep away from her…but I refused to give in. I loved her, and she loved me. Things were going perfect."

        "Angel…?" He turned to face her, a despairing smile on his face.

        "Sorry…it's a bit hard to talk about…"

        "I'm sorry…you…can stop if you'd like…"

        Angel dropped his arm around her shoulders, and she allowed him to give her a little squeeze, "No…it's good to finally talk about," He told her, "It helps, I think…"

        "Okay," Buffy smiled at him reassuringly, leaning against his side as he tightened his grip on her.

        "Anyway…one day, I come home from work, and the police are standing at my door," A dark look crossed over his face, "He told them that I had tried to rape Dru, so, I was arrested. I told them to call Dru, thinking she'd back me up…but he got to her first. She backed up his story; I was crushed, you know? I thought she loved me, but in the end, she let her brother influence her. She didn't press charges though, so I didn't go to jail…but there was a restraining order issued against me. All of my `friends' turned their backs on me after that, not wanting anything to do with me. He ruined my reputation in town, ruined my life, and he took away the woman I loved, all out of spite. Whole reason I came here. I wanted to get away from the recriminations and accusations for a while. Believe me when I say I was completely surprised to find he was here."

        "Oh my God, Angel," Buffy breathed, looking horrified, "That's…just…terrible…I can't believe he'd do something like that…it's just…completely…"

        "Insane?" Angel sighed, "He's got a big ego, and he wants to be able to control the people around him. He was pissed because he couldn't control me, and he lost control over Dru…for a while, anyway. He's got that back in full-force. She refused to even speak to me after what happened, even though I deserved an explanation for why she did that to me."

        "She's so not worth it, Angel," Buffy clenched her fists together, looking angry beyond belief, "God…that is just…so…grrrr…how anyone can do that to someone she loved…or even someone that was supposed to be your friend! It's unbelievable!"

        "I try not to dwell on it," Angel replied, sighing heavily, "I'm just trying to move on with my life and forgot about what happened…"

        "Oh God…and here I am making you dredge it all up again…I am sooo sorry…"

        "Shh…" Angel pressed a fingertip against her lips, smiling at her warmly, "It's all right. It did help. And it's good that you know what really happened, in case he does try to tell you otherwise. I would hate to think…" His mouth twisted up in a disgusted grimace, "To think that you could ever think I'd do something like that…"

        Buffy's lips turned up in small smile beneath his finger, and he dropped his hand, replacing the finger with his lips. Buffy jerked unexpectedly, but then she was leaning into him again, allowing him to deepen the kiss, his tongue delving past her lips and raking over hers. His hands moved to her hips, fingertips massaging her supple flesh hidden beneath her shirt. When he broke off the kiss, they were both panting slightly, and Angel smiled as he tucked another strand of hair behind her ear. "You're so very beautiful, Buffy…"

        She blushed once more, her face glowing rosily, and he brushed a kiss against each of her cheeks. Buffy was in a bit of a daze when he led her back out to the dance floor, but it was a good daze.

        Son of a fuckin' bitch…I knew it…

        Spike let out a low growl as his hands tightened around the railing, his knuckles turning bone white from the pressure he was putting them under. Below him, he watched as Angel led his bimbo of a stepsister out onto the dance floor again. He really had no idea what had possessed him to follow Buffy when he had seen her practically sprinting past him when he had been stopped at a red light. It was probably the way she had been dressed, and the remembrance of the doodle in her notebook. The girl had been dressed…and apparently, late, for a date. It didn't take a genius to guess who with.

        He watched in disgust as Angel practically plastered himself all over Buffy's body, the great lummox lurching around on his feet; his scowl deepened as Buffy turned in his arms, moving sensually, definitely the better dancing of the two. His hands were grasping her waist, eyes practically popping out of his head as he stared down at Buffy's backside. What was she wearing anyway? That tiny little scrap of leather? If she even bent a little bit, every bloke in the place would get a damned peep.

        He was busy fantasizing about roaring down there, ripping Angel off of Buffy, and then slicing his hands up to shove up his arse for even considering touching her, and almost missed it when Angel finally backed his horny self away from Buffy. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the pair talk together for several moments before Angel started for the door of the Bronze. Up and running off, leaving the lady high and dry, fending for herself for a way to get home, no doubt. He was an inconsiderate prick, that was for sure.

        Spike considered confronting Angel outside the club and having a `discussion' with him…one hopefully that would include Angel losing a few teeth and a great deal of spilt blood, but shook that off for the time being. The last thing he needed was Buffy seeing it and asking questions. Instead, he pushed off the railings and started down the stairs, heading for the back exit, being careful so that Buffy wouldn't see him as she went to grab her purse and settle her tab at the bar.

        Buffy sighed as she started off on the road home, grimacing at the time. She should have arranged for a ride, but had assumed that Angel had one, or at least, would walk her back to her dorm. However, he had to get back to his aunt, so she couldn't really blame him for having to leave her to walk home. So, here she was, way past any decent hour, walking to the campus. Great.

        She considered going to her house, which was much closer, and just having her mom drive her to school tomorrow when a large van pulled up to the curb next to her, the window rolling down.

        She nearly screamed in frustration when she saw who was driving it. "Great. It's you," She said half-heartedly, peering in at Spike, and then grimaced as she looked at the dented, rusted van, "Nice wheels."

        "It's Oz's," Spike replied, his eyes narrowing slightly, "He's going to fix it up. You getting in or what?"

        Buffy glanced farther down the road, as if waiting for another car to miraculously appear and offer her escape from this sticky situation, and she let out a frustrated grunt as she opened the door and climbed inside. God must be laughing at her hysterically right now. She buckled her seatbelt as Spike pulled away the curb, the silence stretching between them as he drove, apparently all attention focused on the road.

        That was fine with her, however. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to him. Especially after what Angel told her. She leaned against the door, closing her eyes as she let the wind blow through her hair. Spike glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, gaze shooting downwards when she shifted slightly in her seat, her skirt riding high up her thigh with the movement. Like every other red-blooded, straight male on the planet, his body reacted to the sight of a killer pair of legs, despite his mind's protest. He immediately dragged his eyes back to the road, disturbed by how hard it was too do. His mind, however, decided to play traitor with him as well, easily calling to mind the way she had looked, standing in her window, with nothing but her bra on, now superimposing her legs on the image. He really needed to look into therapy…seriously.

        "Why were you walking home so late?" Spike broke the silence, finding he needed something to keep his mind occupied.

        Buffy stifled a sigh, her hopes of him being completely silent the entire trip shattered. "Just visiting a friend," She replied half-heartedly.

        "Dressed like that?" The sneer was evident in his tone, if not his face, and she bristled.

        "Yeah, what of it?"

        "Those aren't `visiting a friend' clothes," He replied, shooting a pointed look at where her cleavage was peeping out of her top, and Buffy gave a disgusted cry as she buttoned her blouse all the way.

        "Fine. I had a date, what's it to you?" She asked in irritation, "It's none of your business."

        "I don't know…any bloke with an ounce of respect for you would've at least walked you home…"

        "Yeah, you'd know a lot about respecting people, wouldn't you, William?" She snapped at him, "Stop the van. I'll walk the rest of the way!"

        Spike gritted his teeth together, and then looked up in alarm when Buffy started to open the door, despite the vehicle still moving. "Hey! Stop that! Buffy! Bloody hell!" He reached across her and slammed the door back shut, "Are you out of your GODDAMN mind?!  You could've been killed, you silly twit!"

        "Stop. The. Damned. Car." She gritted out, and he slammed on the brakes, and she pitched forward in her seatbelt with a pained cry. She then unbuckled it and slammed out of the van, and began stalking down the street.

        Spike watched her go, flexing his hands on the wheel, his jaw clenched so tightly it made his teeth ache. He had never been more infuriated with any woman in his life! She was absolutely impossible! She'd drive any man she was involved with to the brink of insanity!

        He groaned, banging his head on the steering wheel before tapping the gas and coming up beside Buffy, "Buffy…get in the goddamned van."

        She only tossed her hair, her face set in a determined mask, not even deigning to answer him.

        "Buffy…please…just get in the van."

        She still ignored him, and started to walk faster, her boots making angry little clips against the pavement.

        "GET IN THE FUCKIN' VAN!" He finally roared, losing patience, and she stopped, whirling around to stare at him in surprise. Well…that got her attention.

        "Fuck you, asshole," She spat out at him, and then resumed her pissed little jog, ass swaying prissily in her short, little nothing of a skirt.

        He groaned in defeat as he pulled the van back up to the curb and turning off the ignition. As if anyone would steal the piece of crap, but better safe then sorry…and having to owe Oz five hundred American dollars. He slammed out of the van and stalked after Buffy. He grabbed her arm, and spun her around to face him, glaring at her.

        "Will you stop being such a spoiled little brat and get in the damned van?!" He practically snarled in her face. She jerked away from him, but it upset her balance, and he had to force himself to keep from grinning as she sprawled on the ground in an indelicate mess.

        "Spike! You JERK!" Buffy shouted as she pushed herself onto her hands and knees; all thoughts of grinning at her predicament faded from Spike's mind when he got a quick flash of lacy, light purple underwear as she got back to her feet, and she straightened her skirt. She didn't notice the way he had gone slightly slack-jawed, and she swore when she saw a dirt streak on her blouse.

        Oh…Christ…she's pouting…Spike now stared, transfixed, by the way her lower lip jutted out, the little bit of flesh simply begging to be caught and lightly nibbled on…

        She looked up as he took a step towards her, and she braced her hands on his chest before shoving him backwards forcefully.

        "GOD! You're such a dick, Spike!" She snapped at him, affectedly breaking Spike's little moment of insanity and he turned wide, startled eyes up to hers. "Look at what you did to my shirt! You've ruined it!"

        She continued to bitch, apparently unaware of what he had been about to do. Christ…he really was out of his damned mind! He should just turn around, get back in the van, and leave her to walk her arse home. It was the sane thing to do.

        "I'll get you a new one," He replied flippantly, "Where'd you get it? Street-walkers-R-Us?" Her eyes widened, and she lifted her hand to smack him, but he caught her before she could it him this time. "Now, now, luv…didn't your mum tell you it's not nice to hit the other kiddies? They might not want to play with you anymore."

        "Let me go, you ass!" Buffy stumbled as Spike turned and started pulling her after him, "God! What are you?! My father!? LET ME GO!"

        Spike took a deep breath and turned to face her, still keeping his grip on her hand as he glared at her, "Listen. Just…get in the van and let me drive you home, all right?! Or would you rather prance up and down the street till some psycho d