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 decides you're a tasty lookin' treat?!"

        "I'll take my chances with the psycho," Buffy replied, staring him down defiantly, "He's better then you, anyway!"

        Spike growled in frustration, and then Buffy cried out in surprise when he gave her arm a jerk, and he bent, catching her on her downward stumble so that she fell over his shoulder. He hoisted her up, hand braced just beneath her buttocks, the rest of her body hanging over his back. "You're gettin' in the van whether you like it or NOT!"

        "SPIKE! Put me down, you Neanderthal!" Buffy pounded against his back with her fists, and Spike winced when she delivered a rather hard punch directly to his kidneys. "GOD! What the hell is your damage?!"

        "Oh, it's all you, baby," Spike smirked as he jostled her, and she wrapped her arms around his waist with a yelp, afraid he was going to drop her on her face. He tore open the passenger side of the van, and allowed her to slip from his shoulder as he glowered at her. "Now…we can do this the easy way…or I can make it extremely hard and difficult…for you. If it's all the same to you, I'd really rather you just got in the van and shut your pretty little mouth!"

        "Asshole," Buffy mumbled, and he smirked triumphantly as she climbed into the van, which disappeared when he got another peek up her skirt. He slammed the door as soon as she was sitting, and took a few seconds to catch his breath, and force his libido back under some sort of control before walking around the van and getting into the driver's seat.

        Buffy was sunk as far into her seat as she could get without actually slithering to the floor, sullen little pout on her face and arms crossed over her chest. She deliberately turned her head away from him and stared out the window as he re-started the van, and he glanced at her, eyes involuntarily falling down to her cleavage, which was more pronounced then before because of the way she had crossed her arms.

        He sighed as he pulled away from the curb. It was going to be one hell of a long ten-minute ride.

Part Seven

        Spike was losing his mind. He just knew it.

        It had been an hour since he had dropped Buffy off at the campus, and she had slammed the door without so much as a thank you and stormed into the doors of her dormitory.

        Yet, he was, still sitting in the idling van, forehead resting against the steering wheel as he muttered obscenities beneath his breath and wasting gas that was costing him nearly two dollars a bloody gallon.

        He was cursed. He had his suspicions before…but this was definitely the final confirmation.

        When he had stepped towards Buffy before, when she was pouting, he had been two seconds away from kissing her. His stepsister, for Chrissakes!

        He banged his forehead against the steering wheel, once, twice, and groaned when it failed to dispel the images from his head or alleviate the doubts in his minds. He tried to convince himself that he was just experiencing some sort of temporary insanity, that he was just lusting after her because it had been way too long since he last had a woman; none of it was working and all the banging served to do was give him a headache.

        "FUCK!" He screeched out before straightening, and sinking back into the driver's seat, his fingers forming a steeple as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

        All right…so…you tried to kiss her…no big deal…you went insane for just a moment…forgot who she was, that's all. Girl was parading around wearing practically nothing at all on her tight little body; enough to drive any man out of his mind.

        Spike dropped his head back against the steering wheel with a low moan. Who did he think he was kidding? It had been happening before tonight. Hell…it had been happening since the night of the dinner with his dad and stepmother.

        He was done for the second the spoiled little twit clocked him on in the nose, wide hazel eyes flashing with rage, pouty little mouth twisted up with displeasure, fiery little temper, directed all at him; she was all full of piss and vinegar.

        Spike groaned softly as he sat up and finally pulled away from the curb, deciding that a large van idling in front of the girl's dormitory was suspicious enough to bring the campus Rent-a-cops down on him. Not that the pudgy little security guards he saw hanging around were scary in themselves, but sitting in a drunk tank all night, with his shoes in serious danger of being puked on, while he waited for his dad to bail him out, was not something he wanted to experience…again.

        He cast one last look at the dormitory before groaning again and decided he really needed to talk to Oz about his apparent insanity.

        "Wait…wait…I really need to savor the imagery here…" Xander snickered, ignoring the glares both Willow and Buffy were shooting him, "So…your stepbrother slings you over his shoulder…and then…makes you get into the van because you're wearing a really short skirt? Ha! And I thought Will's family was overprotective!"

        "Shut up, Xander," Buffy glared down at her cup of iced coffee, seriously debating pouring it down her friend's back in retaliation for his inappropriate laughter. However, she decided against it, since she didn't want to barred from the Espresso Pump. It was the only place in town with decent coffee…at least, till the Starbucks trend reached Sunnydale.

        "What? I really can't fault the guy here, Buffers. I've seen that skirt before. If I was him, I would have wrapped you in a tarp before letting you out of my sight again."

        "God! You guys are so…so…misogynistic, it's not even funny!" Buffy groused, "I'm twenty one years old! I can walk around wearing nothing but Saran wrap if I want!"

        Xander digested that bit of imagery with a glazed look in his eye.

        "Uh…Buffy? I think that's considered public indecency," Willow pointed out, and then grinned sheepishly when Buffy gave her a look, "But that really wasn't the point, was it?"

        "No!" Buffy rolled her eyes, "God…he's such an asshole, it isn't even funny," She complained loudly, not catching the panicked look the crossed Willow's face.

        "Buffy…?"

        "I mean…I've met assholes…but he takes the cake!

        "Um…Buffster…?"

        "He's an idiotic, egotistical, obnoxious JERK!" Buffy finally noticed the looks on her friend's faces, "And…he's standing right behind me, isn't he?"

        Willow nodded, smiling sickly up at a point past Buffy's head, "Um…hey…Spike…"

        Buffy slowly turned in her seat to see Spike and Oz, both holding their own beverages. Spike's face seemed bleached of all color, except for two small red spots high on his cheeks. Buffy stifled her groan. Oh yeah…he was pissed off.

        "Hi, Spike, Oz!" She said, sounding overly cheerful, "How long have you been standing there?"

        "Long enough to think of a hundred and one ways to kill you slowly and painfully," Spike gritted out between clenched teeth.

        "Guys…please? No bloodshed?" Willow begged, "At least till I finish my bagel?" She put on a cheerful façade, "Why don't you guys join us?" Willow watched in some amusement as Buffy, Spike and Xander's heads all whipped towards her, the same suffocating fish look on their faces.

        "Sounds good," Oz immediately slid into the seat beside Willow, while Spike glared at him ineffectually for abandoning him in favor of a cute redhead. Oz sent him a mocking look, and Spike rolled his eyes as he dropped into the seat beside Buffy, deciding his friend was having way too much fun at his expense.

        "Bitch," He muttered, and Buffy glared in his direction before sulking in her seat, lower lip jutting out. Dear God…did the woman ever stop pouting!? How was he supposed to stay good and pissed when she flashed that lip at the slightest provocation?

        Buffy stared at Spike in confusion when he suddenly dropped his head onto the table with a loud `thud' and proceeded to utter every curse word in the book beneath his breath.

        "Stop that! People are starting to stare!" Buffy complained, "You've finally lost your mind, haven't you?"

        "Spike, man…come on," Oz hid his smile of amusement, knowing exactly what was bothering his friend, "Seriously…you're starting to freak me out."

        Spike glared at his friend, but stopped trying to knock himself unconscious.

        "I know you don't like Buffy…but believe me, attempting to brain damage yourself won't help any," Xander said, a taunting smile touching his lips, "But hey…I hear a long walk off a short pier does wonders…"

        "Oh! PARTY!" Willow burst out suddenly, flushing brightly when everyone looked at her, "So…how's the planning coming?"

        "Uh…it's coming," Oz replied, and Willow eyed him warily.

        "You only figured out how much booze you need…didn't you?"

        "Um…yeah," Oz looked appropriately sheepish when Willow sighed, giving him a look. "Well…I've been busy…"

        "You know, for a party, you need something more then just drinks…"

        "Says who?" Xander asked, "Party…drinks…yep, all you need."

        Willow rolled her eyes while Oz smiled slightly, "I'll get right on the rest of it," He told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

        "Whipped! Whipped!" Spike fake coughed into his hand, earning a glare from his best friend. "What? Tickle in m'throat."

        "Yeah, right," Oz rolled his eyes, "Stop being juvenile."

        "This from the guy who's wearing Road Runner boxers as we speak?"

        Oz flushed when Willow, Buffy and Xander looked at him, "Laundry day," He mumbled, and then glared at Spike, "At least I wear `em."

        "Oh! MAN!" Xander covered his eyes, "WAY more then I needed to know!"

        "Real men go commando," Spike retorted, watching out of the corner of his eye as Buffy's cheeks turned a lovely rosy color, a smirk flashing over his face.

        "On that disturbing note, I'm out of here," Buffy stood up, grabbing her messenger bag.

        "Oh God…take me with you…" Xander pleaded with her

        "Sure…but I have to go to the gallery…mom and Giles conned me into helping them unpack crates…so, if you don't mind menial labor…"

        "Oh, look, my coffee's gone," Xander beat a hasty retreat towards the counter,

         "Dammit…" Buffy glared in Xander's direction as Willow snickered at her.

        "Should've waited till you were there before mentioning the menial labor," Willow pointed out and Buffy huffed in disappointment.

        Spike glanced towards Willow and Oz, who were starting to look a little too cuddly for his own comfort. "Oh…bloody hell…guess I should see the old man one more time before I leave," He stood up, ignoring the look of dread that crossed over Buffy's face, "'Sides, he won't shut up till I see the damn place…might as well tag along."

        Willow bit her lip a bit worriedly as Buffy rolled her eyes, snapping at Spike to follow her, and stalked off, with him close on her heels. "Oh…God…they're going to kill each other, aren't they?"

        "I don't think so," Oz assured her, "But she might bruise the poor boy. Again."

        Spike wondered if insanity was progressive. He scowled as he followed Buffy into the small art gallery that belonged to her mother and his father, contemplating the blonde bombshell in front of him. Every time he got anywhere near her, he'd lose a little bit more of his mind.

        "Aw…Buffy, you finally made it…" Giles came out of his and Joyce's, a surprised look on his face when he saw his son had tagged along with his stepdaughter, "William! I wasn't expecting you today."

        "He volunteered to help unpack crates," Buffy replied with an evil smirk in his direction, and Spike started, eyes widening.

        "What? I didn't…"

        "Wonderful!" Giles was already turning away, and Spike glared at Buffy, who merely stuck her tongue out at him, not noticing the slightly dazed look that flashed over his face at the sight of that particular organ. "We can always use a little extra help. I'll be with you in a moment, I just have to make a call…"

         Spike rolled his eyes as he glanced around curiously, frowning when he saw a sculpture of a cell phone on a pedestal in the middle of the room. He walked towards it, cocking his head slightly, trying to figure out the significance of that particular piece.

        Buffy came towards him, and he cleared his throat, deciding to impress her a bit with his knowledge of modern art. "So, what do you think the significance of this piece is? A mockery of modern conveniences?" He looked shocked as Buffy picked it up, "What are you doing?! You can't just pick that up! It's a piece of art!"

        Buffy rolled her eyes, "Giles!"

        He popped his head out of the office, a frown on his face, and Buffy shook the `sculpture' at him. "Bloody hell…"

        "Giles, you've got pockets, use them," Buffy scolded him good-naturedly but smirked at Spike as soon as Giles disappeared into the office again, "'A mockery of modern conveniences?'" She tossed her hair and started off into the gallery to find her mother, "I can't believe you can't tell the difference between a cell phone and art," She shot over her shoulder at him, a somewhat cruel smile touching her lips, "How lame is that?"

        "Bloody…stupid…bitch…" Spike grunted as he stabbed the flat end of his crow bar into the top of a large wooden crate, wrenching a few of the nails loose.

        He sneezed as a musty, mildew scent hit his nose, and he shoved his glasses back up his nose when they slipped down his face. He ran a hand across his sweaty forehead, dust mingling in with the salty droplets standing out on his skin. He really was out of his damned mind; there was no longer any doubt. He should have took off the second Buffy's back was turned; but noooooo!

        Instead, he stuck around, obviously desperate for even more humiliation. This came in short order, in the form of he and his father getting in an argument over his neglect to wear his glasses.

        Bad enough he had made a fool of himself in front of Buffy, but now he also looked like an incredible dork, if the look on her face was any indication. Now, he was slaving in a dark back room, covered in dirt and sweat and for what? The amusement and disdain of a slip of a blonde girl who hated his guts; Lord, was he ever pathetic.

        He looked up as Buffy came in, and scowled, getting back to work before she could accuse him of being lazy or some such nonsense. She leaned against a crate they had already emptied, groaning softly as she rubbed the back of her neck.

        "How's it coming?" She asked, and Spike shook his head slightly as he stepped back from the crate, deciding that if she was going to take a break, he deserved one himself.

        "Don't know how I let you bloody well talk me into this," Spike muttered, hopping up on the crate he had been trying to open, "What is all this junk for, anyway?"

        "Mom and Giles are having a show next week," Buffy pulled a face, "Fertility art…heavy Fertility art."

        "Yeah," Spike snickered a bit, relieving the image of watching Buffy lug a four-foot penis through the storeroom, a disgusted look on her face. "What's wrong? I thought you loved art."

        "I love to look at it…but carrying pieces of genitalia bigger then me, not so much with the loving. What about you? Was that art appreciation when you stared at the painting of the woman with the huge breasts for like…five minutes straight?"

        "Uh…yeah…" Spike removed his glasses and Buffy raised an eyebrow as she watched him rub the lenses with the hem of his shirt.

        "Oh God…you are so Giles' son…" He shot her a confused look as he replaced his glasses on his face.

        "Come again?"

        "You got all embarrassed and started cleaning your glasses!" She pointed out, "That is such a Giles thing to do."

        "They were dirty," Spike protested, "I wasn't embarrassed."

        "Then why are your ears getting all red?" She asked shrewdly, watching interestedly as they got even redder, "Giles' ears do that too. Is it just a Giles' thing…or is it an English thing?"

        Spike rolled his eyes as he hopped off the crate and went back to work on opening it, and Buffy cocked her head curiously, watching as he used a little too much ferocity into getting it open. "Ooh…did I hit a nerve or something?"

        "No, you didn't," Spike snapped, "Just want to get this done so I can go home."

        "I did hit a nerve," Buffy persisted to his annoyance, "I doubt it was the English thing…since you guys seem to take the whole `God Save the Queen' thing seriously…so it has to be the dad thing, right?"

        "Are you going to sit on your bony arse all day, or actually do some work?" Spike snarked at her.

        "You know…he really loves you…all I ever hear from him is Dru did this or Will did that," Buffy continued as if he hadn't even spoken, "It's really kills him when you two don't even bother to give him a call on his birthday or anything…I mean, he's a really sweet guy…that's a pretty shitty thing to do to him…"

        Spike inhaled sharply, and then whirled on her angrily, "Why don't you bloody well shut up?! You don't know what you're bloody well talking about!"

        "Yeah, I actually do," Buffy snapped at him, "You think I didn't get pissed off when my parents go divorced?! I freaked out when my mom started dating Giles, but I got over that. And you know what? I'm glad I did. Giles makes my mom happy; he loves the both of us, and he's there when my father pretends he doesn't have a daughter…and Giles is a good father to me, and he must be an even better one to you and Drusilla, but you two pretend he doesn't exist! How shitty is that?"

        Spike took several deep breaths, trying not to let the way her eyes were flashing with amber fire affect his anger. "You don't know anything about me, you little twit…"

        "Yeah, I do, I know you're pissed off and bitter," Buffy shot back at him, "Get over it! Your parents aren't going to get back together, and instead of acting like a spoiled little shit, accept it! And stop acting like the entire thing is Giles' fault!"

        Buffy yelped, stumbling back when Spike suddenly lunged at her, his hands slamming on either side of her, and her back was pressed against the crate behind her as Spike got right in her face, biting out angrily, "That is NONE of your concern! Keep out of my goddamned business, Buffy!"

        Buffy straightened her spine, narrowing her eyes at him, "Giles is my business!" She informed him furiously, "I care about him, unlike some people I know!"

        "How dare you?!" He demanded, "If I'm pissed at him that's MY business and NOT yours! GOT THAT?!"

        Buffy, as a rule, was anything but a timid woman, but even so, she flinched a bit at the fury in his eyes, the way dark blue melted into black and his Adam's apple bobbed as he fought to keep a slight rein on his temper. It didn't take a genius to figure out she had crossed some sort of invisible line that he held sacred.

        "Jerk," She spat back into his face, shoving him away from her and then slid to the side, freeing up her back in case he moved in again.

        "And you're a GODDAMN PAIN IN THE ARSE!" Spike roared at her, and Buffy tensed as he took a step towards her, but stood her ground, fists clenching in case she had to defend herself. Spike caught the motion out of the corner of his eyes, and noticed that Buffy's eyes had widened a fraction in alarm.

        "Fuck…" He backed off, turning away from her and raked his hand through his hair. When he was sure he had control of himself, he turned back towards Buffy, "Fuck…sorry, pet…didn't mean to lose my temper like that…"

        "You're…you're crazy, you know that, right?" Buffy said in disgust, "You know what? From now on…just stay the hell away from me!"

        Spike felt pain lance through his jaw as he clenched his teeth together; probably from the constant grinding his teeth; a habit lately picked up, mainly because of Buffy, of course. "Not a fuckin' problem!" Spike snapped at her, and she drew herself to her full height before turning and stomping out, all the force in her tiny little body hitting the ground and echoing loudly in the large storeroom.

        "BITCH!" Spike snarled, whirling and flinging his crowbar at the wall, and yelped when it bounced back and struck him in the kneecap. "OW!"

Part Eight

        "I'm going to kill him!"

        Willow watched worriedly as Buffy rampaged about their dorm room, angrily picking things up just to slam them down again. Thus far, she hadn't touched any of Willow's belongings, but Willow nudged her crystal unicorn Xander had given her for her last birthday out of Buffy's danger zone.

        The redhead waited for an opening to ask her best friend what specifically had happened, but as of yet, Buffy hadn't stopped her ranting and raving. She had swept into their room, a miasma of rage and fury, yelling and shouting about `that stupid idiot.' Willow didn't have to guess about whom this particular idiot was, but she would really like to know what great crime he had committed now.

        "It's not like I asked him to come, right?! He followed me to the damn gallery! I would have done JUST fine without his stupid help! And like it was really my fault he thought Giles' cell phone was part of the modern art collection! Which, hello, dork much?! He couldn't even tell the difference between a cell phone and art!"

        "Buffy…?"

        "And then getting all up in my face in the storeroom?! What was that all about, anyway?"

        "I have no idea," Willow sighed, "Wish I did…but I really have no idea…"

        "I swear…I half-hoped that he had hit me! Then I could ram my fist down his throat, completely guilt-free…"

        "He tried…?"

        "And the way he's treating Giles!? COMPLETELY uncalled for! I have half a mind to march down to where he's staying…and KICK his skinny, anemic ass!" Buffy frowned, "If I knew where he was staying…hey! He's staying with Oz, right?"

        The phone rang just then and Willow dived onto it before she was recruited into Buffy's nefarious plan. She didn't know if there was such a thing as `accessory to major ass-beating,' but she really didn't want to find out.

        "HELLO! BUFFY AND WILLOW'S ROOM!"

        "That's nice…" The unfamiliar voice said on the other end of the line, "Uh…I'm deaf now…when I get my hearing back, I'd like to talk to Buffy."

        "Oh…sorry…didn't mean to shout…uh…can I ask who's calling?"

        "Angel…"

        "Oh, okay, Angel…I'll see if…OW!" Willow stared at Buffy with wide eyes when the girl nearly ripped her hand off to get the phone, and was now standing in the middle of the room, affecting a casual pose, as if Angel could see her.

        `Sorry,' Buffy mouthed to her best friend, smiling sheepishly as she turned her back on Willow, "Uh…hey, Angel…how are you?"

        "Good…except for the fact that my eardrums are bleeding…what about you?"

        "Well…I'm good…really good…definitely of the good here…" Buffy turned back towards Willow, covering the mouthpiece, "Oh God…I'm babbling…he thinks I'm an idiot…"

        "I think it's cute…and you're not an idiot…" Angel's smooth chuckle flowed over the phone, and Buffy groaned loudly.

        "You heard that?" She asked in mortification. "Oh God…" She thumped her forehead with the phone, hard, "Well…okay…I wanna die now…"

        "Well…if you do that, I won't be able to go out with you this Saturday…which would really be disappointing. I was sort of looking forward to seeing you again."

        "Saturday? Oh that sounds…" Willow waved her hands to get Buffy's attention, mouthing `party' at her and shaking her head. "Just a second, Angel…I'm having a scheduling conflict." Buffy lowered the phone, making sure that the mouthpiece was completely covered this time. "No."

        "What? Buffy…you promised!"

        "Dickweed is going to be at that party! You can't seriously expect me to pass up Angel quality-time for him."

        "No…I was hoping you'd pass it up because you promised me you would go, and it'll be quality time with me."

        "Oh…okay…that was a low blow, Wills…" Buffy sighed, bringing the phone back up, "Um…conflict resolved…but in a sucky way…" Buffy grinned, dodging the pillow that Willow lobbed at her, "I have to do party time with my best friend this Saturday…"

        "Well…if it's not a problem with you, I could crash…"

        "That would be great…but in the not-so-great way…The Devil's hosting it."

        "The…Prince of Darkness is having a kegger? Huh. Interesting."

        "I meant Spike," Buffy replied with a giggle, and then sighed, "So, guaranteed to not be fun."

        "I don't know…" Angel's voice flowed smoothly over her, "Sounds like it could still be fun. I don't see why I should have to run around town, avoiding him at all costs, when I've obviously done nothing wrong…and crashing his own party? Ought to piss him off real good."

        "Uh…" Buffy frowned, not really sure how she felt about that. It was one thing for her and Spike to have it out verbally every chance they got…but it was another thing to throw Angel into the mix…and on his home turf, no less. That was crossing a line even she was leery of even touching with her baby toe. "I'm not sure that's really…a good idea…"

        "Well…I understand completely that you don't want him to see you with me…"

        "Oh, Angel…it isn't…"

        "No, Buffy, it's all right…you don't have to explain…"

        "No…it's…yeah, okay…I'll see you Saturday?"

        "Are you sure? Do you want me to meet your at your dorm?"

        "Yeah, that sounds good," Buffy gave him directions and she hung up, wincing as she turned to face a wide-eyed Willow.

        "Is that such a good idea?" Willow asked, looking alarmed, "I mean…you said that Angel and Spike have a not so good history…and you're bringing Angel to that party?!"

        "It's more then a not-so-good history, Wills…" Buffy sighed heavily and then proceeded to lay out the sordid history of Spike and Angel, leaving the redhead looking stunned at the end of it.

        "Oh my God…that's…that's horrible!" Willow exclaimed, "I can't…I just can't believe someone would do that to another human being!"

        "I hardly think Spike qualifies as one," Buffy snorted, throwing herself onto her bed.

        "You really can't bring Angel now, Buffy! I mean…there's going to be a fight and everything! Someone could get really hurt!"

        "Angel's not going to start anything," Buffy assured her, "And Spike's just going to have to control himself…"

        Willow shook her head worriedly, "I don't like this, Buff. I mean…I'm sure Angel is okay and all…but how can Oz be friends with a guy like Spike? It doesn't make sense…"

        "Well…Oz's family is obviously wealthy, right? I mean, whenever I see Cordelia, she's wearing a different designer outfit all the time. I haven't seen her wear one more then once…"

        "Yeah? Okay. What does that have to do with anything?"

        "Well, obviously, Spike thinks money's important, so he won't have a complete melt-down in front of his `rich' friends. He wouldn't want Cordelia or Oz to see what a complete and utter prick he is…and if the story got out about what he did to Angel, they would think that, right? So, I really doubt he's going to say or do anything to Angel in front of them…"

        "I wish I could be sure of that, Buffy," Willow sighed, running a hand through her russet hair, "Fine…but if it looks like Angel and Spike are going to start a fight…you have to make sure you get him out of there before anything happens. I don't want to jeopardize my relationship with Oz over something that happened between Spike and Angel. Please?"

        "Oh…shit…" Buffy groaned, "Wills, I'm sooo sorry! I didn't even think about that! I can call it off…" Buffy sighed, "Except I don't know Angel's phone number…dammit…"

        "No…it's…" Willow shook her head, torn between her best friend's happiness and her own, "Just…watch them both closely, all right? I guess everything will turn out all right in the end. I mean…they're both adults. What's the worse that can happen?"

        "Jesus, man…" Oz frowned over the top of his Rolling Stone magazine, watching as Spike limped into the room they were sharing, ice pack clamped to his knee. "What did you say this time?"

        Spike let out a growl at his friend before collapsing down on his bed, groaning when he stretched his knee a little too much, "Wasn't her," He muttered, "Crowbar…"

        "Crowbar?! She beat you up with a crowbar?" Oz's eyes widened a fraction, "Remind me to never piss her off."

        "No, bloody hell…I got mad and threw the bloody thing at the wall, and it boomeranged back," Spike informed him, scowling, "But it's her fault."

        "You completely forgetting everything you learned in Physics is her fault?" Oz arched an eyebrow, "Interesting."

        "You laugh," Spike pointed at him accusingly, "That woman is the Anti-Christ!"

        Oz sighed heavily, "This is the Cecily incident all over again…only a thousand times worse…and with your sister…"

        "Step-sister!"

        "Whatever. Dude…what is with you and falling for these girls that absolutely hate you? Seriously! I'm thinking you need to look into therapy."

        "You think I don't know that?" Spike grumbled, and then his eyes narrowed, "I never said I fell for her…"

        "Yeah…not buying the whole lust thing, Spike. It's not you."

        "Let's humor me, shall we? Let's pretend I'm me…and you're you…and in this pretend game, let's assume that I'm feeling what I'm feeling, and therefore, know what I'm feeling! And I say it's lust!"

        Oz eyed Spike contemplatively, "Are you on drugs?"

        "If only," Spike rolled his eyes, "And stop calling it the Cecily incident. Makes it sound like a conflict in the Middle East, for Chrissakes."

        "I just worry about you, man…you always fall for these girls that are absolutely no good for you…and they don't like you anyway. And the girls you do go out with that like you, you don't like all that much. It's kinda sick."

        "I know that!" Spike snapped, "Christ…a bloke can't help who he falls for, you know. And like you can talk? Remember Veruca? The psycho tried to run over your sister…and that was before you broke up with her!"

        Oz shuddered slightly at the reminder, "Yeah…well…at least she liked me."

        "Right…nothing says lovin' like runnin' your boyfriend's sister over with your van."

        "Veruca's a bad example," Oz grumbed, "But what about Willow?"

        Spike snorted, "She hangs out with Buffy of her own free will. Something's gotta be damaged in that girl's brain."

        "Buffy's actually pretty cool if you get to know her, Spike…I think she's sweet, anyway. You just seem to rub her the wrong way. Or was it your mouth?"

        Hmmm…mouth rubbing her the wrong way…

        Oz watched in amusement as Spike's eyes seemed to glaze over and then fill with horror in the total time span of ten seconds. "Imagery?"

        "Imagery," Spike sighed, "Bloody hell…I'm in trouble…aren't I?"

        "Probably," Oz shook his head, "Listen…on Saturday, Buffy's coming to the party with Willow…maybe, just maybe…if you play your cards right, she won't hate you as much at the end of the night."

        "Right…what do you suggest I do?" Spike asked sarcastically, "Bring her flowers? Chocolates? Hope she doesn't punch me in the face again if I ask her to dance?"

        "Exactly," Oz replied, ignoring the skeptical look Spike sent towards him, "I mean it. Girls go for that sort of thing…just be prepared for some serious groveling."

        "I don't grovel!"

        "Saturday, you do," Oz told him firmly. "If you want Buffy to look at you without envisioning ways to emasculate you, you're going to have to WORK!"

        Spike groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes, "This girl better be bloody well worth the humiliation I'm enduring."

Part Nine

        Buffy pulled a face at her reflection in the mirror as she expertly applied her make-up. Behind her, Willow was bemoaning the fact that her wardrobe seemed to be bereft of `sexy party' clothing.

        "Why did I buy all these stupid overalls?" Willow muttered, pulling one out, and Buffy giggled when she saw the embroidered teddy-bear on the breast pocket. "I should just tattoo `Nerd' on my forehead and be done with it."

        "You're not a nerd," Buffy defended her best friend, and Willow rolled her eyes.

        "Yes, I am…can I raid your closet?"

        "Sure…but there's nothing to wear in there either," Buffy replied.

        Willow rolled her eyes, "'Nothing to wear,' she says. Every time you open it, I keep expecting to see you taken out in an avalanche of leather pants."

        "Ha ha…" Buffy tossed her perfectly curled hair as she went to her closet herself, and pulling out a backless, emerald green satin dress. The front scooped down low, and there was a slit that traveled from knee-cap to mid-thigh. "What do you think?"

        "Way sexy," Willow replied, "It'll look great on you…"

        "Not me, for you, doofus," Buffy tossed her the dress, and Willow's eyes went wide.

        "Oh! No! Not for me! I can't wear this, Buffy!" Willow shook her head adamantly, "It's way too revealing…"

        "Wills, suck it up, and display what the Good Lord gave you in spades," Buffy replied with a grin, "You'll look beautiful in it. And it's not orange or fuzzy, so, BONUS!"

        Willow chewed on her bottom lip as she started to change. Buffy cocked her head as Willow pulled on the dress, grinning when she saw the way it hugged her small curves and showcased her slender legs. "Oh…tres sexy, Wills."

        "I can't wear this," Willow protested, yanking down on the hem, trying to close the evil slit, blushing furiously, "It's…"

        "Going to give Oz a heart-attack," Buffy teased, smacking Willow's hands away, "And don't yank at it; you'll stretch it out."

        "That's the point," Willow muttered, "I think I'll go with the overalls…"

        "Not a chance, Willow." Buffy gave her a playful shove towards their shared vanity, "Go put on makeup while I find the matching shoes and something for me to wear."

        Willow grumbled, watching out of the corner of her eye as Buffy dug through her closet with muffled swears, and she yelped as a green pump nearly took her out. "Buffy!"

        "Sorry," Buffy emerged from her closet, holding up two dresses, "Which one? Black and classy, or red and sexy?"

        Willow looked back and forth between the two dresses critically, noting the red showed off a lot more skin then the black would. "Red," Willow replied, deciding that anything that took the attention off of her and put it on her blond friend was a good thing. Of course…Buffy's date would probably take all of the attention away from her. She could show up naked, wearing one of those hats overly laden with fruit…and she had a hunch none of the attention would be focused on her. Oh God…this was SUCH a bad idea.

        "How do I look?" Willow shook away her musings to glance at Buffy, eyes widening slightly.

        The red silk caressed rather then clung to her curves, the bodice-like top encasing her breasts firmly. The hem stopped mid-thigh, a two inch slit traveling up farther. A pair of red pumps completed the ensemble, as well as a tear-drop faux ruby on a delicate silver chain. "Wow…that's…really nice for a frat party."

        "Mom bought it for me for a gallery show," Buffy replied, smiling a bit as she smoothed down the fabric of the dress, her fingers gliding over the fabric. "I only wore it once, and for what she paid for it, I might as well get as much use out of it as I can."

        "And it really has nothing to do with your suitor this evening?" Willow asked perceptively, grinning when Buffy blushed. "God, Buff…and you accuse me of being hard up for Oz?"

        "You're funny. Not."  Buffy scowled at her before digging through her closet, trying to find the cute, strappy little pumps that went with her dress. Willow watched as the back of Buffy's dress rode up a tiny bit.

        "Maybe you should go for black and classy," Willow said, and Buffy looked up at her in confusion.

        "What?"

        "Last time you walked around in a short little skirt, Spike slung you over his shoulder and took you home…he sees you walk in wearing that, there's no telling what he'll do…but I'm thinking ropes and garbage bags could come into play…"

        "And do what? Dump my body in the woods?" Buffy shook her head as she strapped her shoes on, "Nah…I doubt he'll even notice what I'm wearing…helllooo…bringing mortal enemy as date, remember?"

        "How could I forget," Willow mumbled, looking towards the door in a bit of a terror when there was a knock on it. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, for it tolls for thee…door, bell…same thing…

        Buffy quickly checked her hair in the mirror before going to answer the door, and Willow got her first look at Angel, Buffy's new beau. "Buffy," He greeted the petite blond, whom he towered over, with a half-smile upon his face, and Willow narrowed her eyes slightly when she saw the way he dragged his eyes over her best friend, her protective instincts rising up.

        However, she tried to force those feelings aside, offering Angel a smile when Buffy introduced them. He was a guy…he was going to look at the hot blond in the short, red dress, which was the whole point of wearing the short, red dress.

        "You girls ready?" Angel smiled charmingly at Willow, offering his arms to the both of them, and Willow took it reluctantly.

        "Party mode Willow…that's me," The redhead muttered beneath her breath, once again thinking that this was a very bad idea.

        "I can't believe I allowed you to talk me into this," Spike growled at a slightly distracted Oz as he watched yet another group of uninvited Frat boys invaded them for the free beer and chips. Where had they heard about their party in the first place?

        Spike flinched as the band they had hired for the party, hundred dollars out of his pocket, starting playing yet another pop song that made him want to shove nails through his eardrums. "And who hired these arses?"

        "Cordelia said they were good…she heard them at a club in LA," Oz replied, not moving his perch from beside the window.

        "You let your sister, the girl who had pinups of New Kids on the Block up in her room till she was eighteen, choose the band? Are you daft, man?!"

        "Bad decision, I know," Oz gave Spike a pointed look, "But someone pusses out every time we get half a chance to perform in front of living, breathing people."

        "Yeah, well, I still think my Slash impression is better left to air guitar then a public forum," Spike stuck his tongue out at Oz, "Least I can sing…"

        "Shut up," Oz brightened suddenly, "There's Willow and Buffy!" He frowned suddenly, "One of them brought a date…no offense, man…but I hope it was Buffy…"

        "She brought a date?!" Spike scowled, "Bloody hell…that makes things a tad difficult, doesn't it?"

        "Are you two losers going to make me answer the door all night?" Cordy asked, coming up to them with a scowl on her face, "Oz, it's your stupid party that mom's going to kill you if she finds out about, you answer the stupid door. The natives are drooling on my shoes."

        Oz rolled his eyes, but since Willow was there, window duty seemed a bit moot anyway, and went to answer the door without an argument, weaving around the assembly of already tipsy party guests.

        Spike pressed his lips together as Cordelia fluffed her hair, giving a sway to her hips as she stepped up to him, throwing a disdainful look around the room, "I swear to God, everyone around here is an idiot," Cordelia announced to him…and oh my God…I can't believe Oz invited that airhead! I can't believe she would show her face around here!"

        Spike looked up at the obvious referral to Buffy, a small smile playing across his lips as he watched her sweep into the room, golden hair shimmering, and little red dress clinging to her luscious curves. Good Christ…the girl specializes in indecent clothing…he thought, but mentally, he was howling like a wolf, tongue hanging out of his mouth like some sort of Mel Blanc cartoon character.

        He started moving towards her, a slow smirk growing as she caught sight of him, her hazel eyes widening a fraction and her red-painted lips parting most invitingly.

        Then, the world fell out from beneath his feet as he watched a most hated person he had never wished to see ever again step to Buffy's side and thread his arm through hers.

Part Ten

        Angel's lips were turned up in a half-smile as he took Buffy's arm, looking about the room till his eyes settled on the platinum blond, standing stock-still in a mass of partying college students. His sharply featured face was tight with shock and bleached of nearly all color, and Angel gave him a little, sarcastic wave before tugging Buffy towards the table where the drinks were set-up.

        "Did you see the look on his face?" Angel said, letting out a harsh bark of laughter, brown eyes twinkling as he looked towards Buffy.

        "Willow was right, this was a bad idea," Buffy replied, looking back over her shoulder towards Spike, who had been joined by Cordelia, the two of them sending hateful glares in their direction. If looks could kill, Buffy and Angel would be about six feet down and covered with dirt. "We should go…like…now."

        "Don't be silly," Angel scoffed, not relinquishing his hold on Buffy's arm as he grabbed two beers by their necks and popped the tops before pressing one into Buffy's hand. "We just got here…"

        Buffy, who normally didn't drink, guzzled half the bottle in one breath, grimacing with disgust at the taste. It had the opposite effect of what she intended; instead of taking the edge of her guilt about Spike, she was now compounded with the guilt of not listening to her mother about drinking at parties.

        Buffy watched as Spike said something to Cordelia, and strode out towards a pair of sliding glass doors that led out to the pool area, practically ripping his pack of smokes out of his pocket and jamming a cigarette filter between his lips.

        "I know we just got here," Buffy finally responded. "But he's really upset…"

        "Which is the point," Angel replied, raising an eyebrow at Buffy, "You're worried about him. Should I be jealous?"

        "No…it's not that…it's just…just…" Buffy was at a loss to explain, and Angel nodded his head firmly.

        "Then it's settled. We stay," He told her, "Even if the music sucks…but I'm always there if there's free beer."

        "Yeah, yay for free beer," Buffy said weakly, taking a more controlled sip of her beverage this time, looking down at her shoes with a sigh.

        She was nearly jerked off her feet when Angel suddenly dragged her towards the space cleared out for a dance floor, "Let's dance," He said, wrapping his arms around her, the cold bottle of his beer pressing against her skin and making her shudder.

        Buffy tried to peer over Angel's shoulder with limited success due to the height difference, and she started shifting her feet to the side so that their swaying went about in a slow turn to allow her to find Willow.

        She found the redhead, standing in a corner with Oz, quickly speaking with him, but she could see the boy's attention wasn't entirely with her, since he kept darting glances at either her and Angel, or towards the glass doors through which Spike had disappeared.

        She followed Oz's gaze, catching a glimpse of Spike's face before he turned away to lean back against the class, cigarette smoking in a hand held limply at his side; his shoulders were slumped with a decidedly dejected air. She could only guess at what the look on his face was.

        On the next turn about the room, Buffy watched as Spike savagely flicked his smoke away into the darkness and straightened abruptly, his shoulders now a tense line.  He slid open the door then and stepped back inside, his blue, smoldering gaze meeting her wide-eyed one, his lips set in a hard line.

        Oh God…and here comes trouble…Buffy pulled away from Angel with some difficulty as Spike came towards them, and Angel glanced over his shoulder, rolling his eyes as he turned to face the irate blond.

        "Spike," Angel greeted lazily, as if they were great, old acquaintances without a sordid history behind them, "Good to see you again…it's been awhile…"

        "Not long enough," Spike replied, eyes narrowing, "What game are you playing at here, Peaches?" He asked, gesturing towards Buffy, whose eyes widened even more, "Whatever it is, we are not amused…"

        "I don't know what you're talking about, William," Angel replied, overly jovial, one of his arms wrapping about Buffy's waist and tugging her closer to him, "I just came to dance with my lady…nothing wrong with that."

        "The lady in question here is my step-sister, mate," Spike hissed out between clenched teeth, aware that some people had started to gather around them, apparently sensing that some sort of fight was to take place. "I'll give you once chance to leave, Angel…without her."

        "Well, you see…that's where we might have a problem," Angel replied, "See, the lady here is with me…because she wants to be here with me…and since she's a consenting adult, I really think you have no say in whether or not we stay or go together."

        "Let's just go, Angel," Buffy tugged on his arm, "Please?"

        "Why? This isn't his home, Buffy…you were invited, and they never said you couldn't bring a date," Angel pointed out, smirking at Spike, knowing full-well that the blond was seconds from getting physical, "We're not all out of line here…I think Spike, you're the one out of line…"

        "Buffy!" Willow came to her friend's side, smiling at Spike sickly, "They were just going, weren't you guys?"

        "Yes, we were…Angel…"

        "No," Angel ripped his arm away from Buffy, glaring at her, "I'm staying and I'm not letting this punked-out little upstart drive me off either!"

        "Buffy," Willow whispered to her worriedly, "You have to get him out of here…Cordelia said she's going to call the police…"

        "We're not going," Angel repeated, stepping towards Spike, drawing himself to his full height, which forced Spike to have to crane his neck a bit to continue to glare daggers at him. He dropped his voice to a low whisper, "So, Spike…how's your sister?"

        Buffy whirled around when she heard the crack of bone against flesh and saw Angel staggering back, clutching a bleeding nose between his hand, "The little bastard broke my nose!"

        "That's not all I'm going to break," Spike snarled as he stepped towards Angel, and Angel recovered himself in time to block Spike's next punch and to drive his fist into Spike's solar plexus, the smaller man nearly falling to the ground with the force behind it.

        "Get back up here, Spike," Angel sneered at him, "Gotta say…not quite up to par with the big boys yet, are you?"

        "BASTARD!" Spike swept one of his legs out, catching Angel behind the knees, and the dark-haired man hit the ground hard. In a second, Spike was springing on top of him, straddling him about the stomach and raining hard, savage blows into Angel's face.

        "Stop it!" Buffy grabbed one of Spike's arms on a downswing, and he reared back, his eyes flashing angrily as he glared up at her, "Stop it! You're killing him," She pleaded, and Spike sneered as he looked back down into Angel's bruised and battered face.

        He easily swung back to his feet, his gaze once more meeting Buffy's but it was blank and devoid of emotion, "Get him the fuck out of here," He spat at her in disgust, before whirling and making his way towards the front door, deciding to get real scarce before the cops came.

        Buffy glared at his back before kneeling down to help a moaning Angel to his feet, "Angel? Are you okay?" She asked, wincing when he flinched when she touched his face, "Oh, God…sorry…"

        "It's all right," Angel told her, waving off her concerns with a `brave' smile, "I guess we better get gone ourselves…"

        "Yeah, I guess," Buffy said half-heartedly, looking towards Willow, who was standing next to a stunned looking Oz, shaking her head sadly, "Yeah….we better get gone…"

        Buffy groaned softly as the phone rang, and she lifted her head from her pillow, grabbing the offending object off it's cradle. "Hello?" She mumbled half-heartedly, "If you're looking for Willow, she's not here, and if you're looking for Buffy, she's trying to find a hole to crawl into and die."

        "Told you it was a bad idea," Willow's voice came over the line.

        "Wills, hey…how's the party?" Buffy asked, rolling over onto her back, and throwing her arm over her eyes, "Having a blast with Oz?"

        "Um…not really…he's kinda worried about Spike," Willow replied, "Are you there alone?"

        "Yeah, I sent Angel home…told him I have a headache," Buffy sighed heavily, "Did Cordelia call the police?"

        "No, thank God," Buffy smiled wanly, almost able to see Willow shaking her head disapprovingly on the other side of the line, "Spike hasn't come back yet, so Oz is doing a little freaking…and Cordelia's in a really bitchy mood because of that too…"

        "Yeah well…excuse me if I'm not so worried," Buffy said harsher then she intended, "You saw Spike! He jumped Angel for no reason at all…"

        "Buffy…I think there's more to this story then just what Angel told you," Willow said, "I mean…we can't assume that Spike is the only one at fault here…I mean…someone just doesn't attack someone like that without a reason…"

        "I'm sure Spike didn't need much of a reason," Buffy snorted, "The boy is completely out of his damned mind, if you ask me. He's got some problems with aggression…"

        "Maybe…" Buffy could still hear the doubt in Willow's voice and she shook her head.

        "You're way too nice, Wills, you know that?" Buffy asked, "You always want to think the best of people when you can…it's cute…"

        "Do you want me to come home?" Willow changed the subject to more pleasant venues, "We can eat ice cream and bash boys…"

        "Naw…it only works when we're both hating boys," Buffy teased, "You're way too happy with Oz for a bash session. Besides, it's your party…enjoy it…be the last person to leave so that you have plenty of Oz-quality time."

        "Are you sure…?"

        "I'm sure, Wills," Buffy assured her, "Have fun…eat, drink, be merry and all that crap. I'll be fine…just don't count on there being any of the coffee ice cream left over tomorrow."

        "Gotcha," Willow replied, "Tell you what…me, you, brunch tomorrow to make up for tonight?"

        "Sounds good…wait…you paying?"

        Willow laughed, "Yeah, yeah, I'll pay, you big moocher...I'll try to be quiet when I come in later, all right?"

        "Okay, Wills…see you later," Buffy hung up after Willow's goodbyes and rubbed her eyes wearily, and then slid off her bed with a sigh. She was still wearing her party dress, haven't bothering to change out of it when she had got home, opting instead to just collapse on her bed and try to smother herself with her pillow.

        Buffy pulled a face, running a hand through her hair as she opened the freezer, grabbing out the carton of coffee ice cream that she had warned Willow would soon be disappearing, and grabbed a can of whip cream out of the fridge. She popped open the top and sprayed a liberal amount of the fluffy, white, sugary goodness all over the ice cream before replacing it in the fridge. She collapsed on her bed again, crossing her legs beneath her as she dug into the ice cream carton. She grabbed the remote for the small television she and Willow shared, and immediately turned to the Lifetime Channel.

        Television for women, about women…Buffy snorted as a commercial played for yet another movie about a rape victim. For a channel for women, certainly a lot of them were getting raped, beaten or murdered. She shook her head, flipping through the channels, and finally deciding on Die Hard, which was playing for probably the eighth hundredth time that year.  Alan Rickman, young Bruce Willis, guys with guns shooting each other…not too bad for her mood, even if there was an awful lot of Christmas music.

        She stabbed her spoon into her ice cream, getting into the movie when there was a knock at her door, and she sighed as she climbed out of bed again and went towards the door. "There better be an Angel on the other side of the door with a dozen red roses," She muttered beneath her breath, and then smiled brightly. That would just be too awesome.

        She opened the door a crack, peeking out into the hallway, her face falling immediately, "Oh…it's you," She said half-heartedly, opening the door a little more, "What do you want?"

        Spike scowled at her tone of voice, pressing against the door with one hand and she was forced to step aside, "Gee, why don't you come in?" She said sarcastically as he swept into her room, barely glancing at her.

        She closed the door again, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched Spike, watching as he paced the room, looking agitated. When it became clear he wasn't going to state his reasons for being there, she rolled her eyes, and shoved past him to sit back on her bed with her carton of ice cream.

        She proceeded to ignore him, instead, focusing all of her attention on the movie; however, she couldn't help but wonder at why he would come all this way to apparently just make clear that he was giving her the cold shoulder.

        She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as she took a bite of her ice cream, raising an eyebrow when she saw him raking both hands through his hair, mumbling something beneath his breath.

        "All right," Buffy slammed the carton down on her bedside table, giving Spike a dirty look, "If you're going to scream at me, do it and get it over with, okay? You're killing me with the suspense."

        Spike seemed startled by her voice, as if suddenly remember she was there, "Huh?"

        "Yell, scream, swear…throw a goddamn hissy fit or something!" Buffy threw her arms up in the air, "Just…say something instead of pacing around the place and driving me up the wall, all right?!"

        "Fine," Spike glanced around and then pulled up the desk chair, dropping down into it heavily; he then proceeded to stare at her intently without another word, and Buffy shifted beneath his gaze, her eyes straying away from him to glance at the television

        She sighed in exasperation when he abruptly got to his feet again and began to pace once more. He suddenly stopped and turned to face her, "Whatever you think Angel's feelings for you are, I can assure you, they're not what you believe them to be…"

        "What?" Buffy blinked in surprise, looking back up at him, "What…?

        "You see, he likes to play games with a person's emotions," Spike scowled, "Obviously, he found out who you are in relation to me, and saw an opportunity to hurt my family and I once more…"

        "Wait a…"

        "I now you must be upset at the revelation of his true nature, Buffy, but the fact of the matter is, he's not what you want to believe he is. His very nature is that to hurt people and to hurt them severely. He cares nothing for you, or for anyone, besides himself…"

        "Ego much?" Buffy asked, rolling her eyes, and Spike paused in his tirade, cocking his head in puzzlement.

        "Pardon me?"

        "You're sooo not excused," Buffy shook her head, looking disgusted, "I gotta admit, you got balls of steel, buddy, to come here and insult Angel! After what you did to him!"

        "What I did to him," Spike repeated tightly, "And, pray tell, what great crime did I commit against your precious Angel?"

        "Only ruined his entire life," Buffy spat out, getting to her feet, "You're completely out of your mind if you think I'm just going to stand here and listen to you make up more stories about him!"

        "Make up more stories about him," Spike chuckled, his eyes narrowing slightly, "Of course…I believe he must have told you what transpired between us?"

        "Yeah, he did!" Buffy placed her hands on her hips, "He told me everything…"

        "Everything?" Spike snorted, "Yes, of course, I'm sure…he just up and told a complete and utter stranger his life story?"

        "He needed to get it off his chest, and no wonder! After what you did to him, I'm surprised he can trust anybody! You ruined his life! What do you say to that? Do you even care?"

        "If I was implemental in ruining his life, Buffy, I'd rejoice in the fact. But as he is the one person that ruined his own life, unfortunately, I can't take credit for it, as much as I would like to be able to claim that." Spike retorted, "I thought you were naïve and childish before, Buffy…but you believing even for a second that Angel is some sort of tortured hero…it's…it's just appalling."

        "I really don't care what you think about me, Spike," Buffy gritted her teeth together, "I really could care less about you in general…you disgust me..."

        "Disgust you?!" Spike's blue eyes were fairly glowing with anger, "I disgust you…"

        "Yeah!" Buffy tossed her mane of thick golden hair, "You've done nothing since you came here but act like a complete and utter asshole! You treat me, my  mother and Giles all like shit, and don't care that Giles is hurting because you act like you hate him! You make fun of me and instigate fights every single chance you get! For that alone, I'd have thought you were disgusting and would want nothing to do with you, but then throw Angel in the mix…"

        "Once again, with Angel," Spike shook his head in disgust, "Of course, I forgot…compared to the Saintly bastard, all of us plain, normal men pale in comparison to the poor, tortured soul."

        "God! Just shut up!" Buffy snapped at him, "Why don't you just leave?! I think you insulted me and Angel enough tonight!"

        "No, I really don't bloody well think I will leave!" Spike replied, attempting to glare her down, somewhat successful since she huffed in annoyance and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, "Not till you see some GODDAMN REASON!"

        During the course of their argument, the two clashing blonds drew closer to each other, and Buffy's cheeks were high with the color of anger as she clenched and unclenched her fists, barely resisting the urge to lay him out flat. "You're such a fucking jerk, it isn't even funny!" She shouted, "Why don't you just drop dead and make everybody happy?!"

        "Why, you high and mighty, stuck-up, stubborn BITCH! I'm trying to protect you from getting hurt, but you won't bloody well LISTEN!" Spike growled at her, "If you'd shut that pretty little mouth for FIVE SECONDS straight, maybe you wouldn't be so goddamned DENSE!"

        Buffy's eyes narrowed, and Spike barely caught her fist before it impacted with his face, and she let out a mewl of anger before trying to hit him with the other hand, but he only caught that as well, "Let me go, you asshole!" She snapped at him, struggling to get him to let go of her, but he was having none of that. "ARGH!" She brought her knee up to try and hit him in the crotch, but he anticipated her move, snapping his thighs shut and trapping her leg.

        "Jesus Christ, woman! Calm down!" Spike said futile to the flailing hell-cat he had imprisoned in his arms. He jerked his head back when she attempted to head-butt him, and he was finding it difficult to keep a grip on her.

        He stumbled backwards, trying to keep a grip on the leg between his, and he looked over his shoulder before turning his body and shoving Buffy backwards. Buffy hit the edge of her bed, and nearly rolled off, but Spike grabbed her arms and pinned them beside her head, and he rested his weight on her legs to prevent her from kicking him, "Will you just calm the hell down?!"

        She glared up at him, hazel eyes dark with anger as she struggled to catch her breath so that she could scream at him some more. "You're such an ass."

        "Yeah, and you're a soddin' bitch," Spike grumbled, loosening his grip on one of her hands; he immediately regretted it when she pulled it loose and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking on it. "OOOWWWW! BLOODY HELL! LEGGO!"

        "You get off me first!"

        "Not a chance! You'll hit me!"

        "I promise I won't hit you," She said, yanking harder.

        "Right! I believe that…OOOWWWW!" Spike grabbed her wrist and squeezed it tightly till she was forced to let go of him, and he slammed it against the mattress again, wincing when he saw a few bits of white hair sticking out from between her fingers, "Oh great! You probably left a bloody bald spot, you bitch!"

        "Stop calling me bitch, asshole!"

        "Stop calling me asshole, bitch!" Spike snarked back at her, the side of his head throbbing from Buffy's impromptu attempt at hair-cutting without scissors. He was now in a bit of a jam; he couldn't let go of Buffy without worrying about the girl coming at him swinging and kicking, and he couldn't exactly stay on top of her all night, as much as he'd fantasized about it. Well, actually, he was fantasying about her shutting the hell up, but that wasn't likely to happen either.

        "When you let me up, you're in for a world of pain!" Buffy said as threateningly as she could, despite the threat sounding like something a WWF wrestler would say before slamming an opponent in the back of the head with a chair. Something to keep in mind, actually.

        "Do I have to gag you before you'll shut up?!"

        "You're a stupid, fatheaded, egotistical JERK!" Buffy snapped at him, and then her eyes went wide with shock when Spike glared at her before smashing his lips against hers.

        That shut her up, Spike thought, his fingers tightening their grip on her wrists; however, he felt her lips part beneath his, and he groaned softly as his tongue dipped into her mouth. He slid his hands along her arms, feeling the tense play of muscles beneath her soft skin. She tasted better then he imagined…the taste of the coffee ice cream and whip cream still clung to her tongue and inside of her mouth, offering a highly palatable combination of sugar and bitterness as their tongues tangled together in a erotic dance.

        Buffy tore her lips from his, breathing heavily as she looked up at him, obviously startled, and Spike smiled seductively at her before leaning towards her again, his weight shifting slightly off her legs.

        "Spike…" Buffy whispered as he started to press his lips back against hers, and then he rolled off of her and then the bed with a howl of pain, clutching his crotch, his eyes crossed in pain.

        "Holy…fucking…hell…" He wheezed out, curled in a fetal ball, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears of pain, "Fuck…you stupid cow…you broke me!"

        "What in the hell is wrong with you?!" Buffy was on her feet, and Spike yelped as she kicked him in the side; she then dragged him to his feet and shoved him towards the door. She then pulled it open and pushed him out into the hallway, where he hit the wall, and slid to the ground, one hand clutched to his side, the other over his bruised and possibly snapped off package.  

        He looked up as Buffy slammed her door, and then glanced to the side when he heard loud snickers and saw a group of students milling about in the hall, laughing at him.  He groaned, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the wall, "Fuckin' A…"

Part Eleven

        "Hey buddy, what can I get you?"

        Spike winced as he gingerly took a barstool, looking up at the tender, who was polishing a glass and looking bored, "Bag of ice and double scotch on the rocks," Spike said and then rested his head against the cool, slightly damp wood counter of the bar, closing his eyes with a small curse. His knuckles were throbbing from his fight with Angel, his side was throbbing from the kick in the ribs he had gotten from Buffy…and he was pretty sure that he would be pissing sideways for the next few days.

        "Here…"

        Spike looked up, and took the Ziploc baggie full of ice and glanced around before slipping it past the waistband of his jeans, letting out a groan of relief. He ignored the look he got from the bartender as he took a healthy swig of the scotch and then pressed the glass against his forehead. Liquor…liquor good…liquor doesn't kiss you then attempt to make your testicles shoot out of your nose…

        He was going about this whole thing the entirely wrong thing. He should become an alcoholic instead of pursuing women. It seemed to be safer at any rate; the only bruising he had to worry about when he was drinking was to his liver.

        "Hey, barkeep," Spike waved his glass in the air, "Another, please…"

        "You look worse off then me, man," A man with short, red hair took the seat next to Spike, gesturing at the bartender to get him the same as Spike, "Women troubles?"

        "Could say that," Spike mumbled, closing his eyes as he finished the last of his first glass and dropped it on the counter.

        "My girl…she just left me for my best friend," The man proceeded to prattle on, "Which wouldn't suck so bad if she hadn't taken my goldfish Stan with her…I mean…why would she take my goldfish!?"

        "Got me there," Spike took the fresh drink from the bartender, wishing the man would go away and leave him in the peace of his misery and swollen balls.

        However, it was not to be.

        "I should have seen it coming," The man shook his head, "Poker night, she was always hanging around, instead of going off somewhere with her girlfriends' or something…but it was because that bastard was there. I should have definitely seen it coming, right? Especially when my best friend was there every time I came home from work…but I just figured that he was waiting for me to hang out…" The man shook his head in some disgust, "How gullible am I?" He didn't bother to wait for Spike's answer, which was just as well, considering Spike wouldn't have bothered anyway. He clapped Spike on the back, "What about you, man? Girl got you down? What's your story?"

        Spike narrowed his eyes, setting down his scotch in annoyance and turning to face the man, "I'm in love with my sister…I bloody well kissed her tonight, and she kneed me in the crotch, which is why I have a bag of bloody ice shoved down my trousers."

        The man stared at Spike, with his mouth hanging open slightly, and even the bartender had turned his head, eyes wide as he stared at over at the pair. The beer he was pouring into a glass from the tap ran over the brim and soaked his hand.

        "Dude…" The redhead finally said after he got his voice back, "I don't know how they do things in Ireland…or England or wherever the hell, backwoods, sheep-screwing country you come from…but we don't do shit like that in America…"

        "Don't know about that, mate…heard things about Alabama…"

        Oz frowned sleepily as Spike returned home, and he sat up, and then smiled slowly when he saw the slumbering redhead in the bed beside him. She was sleeping with her hands tucked beneath her chin. They were both fully dressed, having crashed together for a quick nap after cleaning up from the party.  He pulled his sheets up over her so that she would stay warm, and he looked up as Spike opened the door to their shared bedroom.

        Spike paused in the doorway when he saw the girl in his best friend's bed and was about to make the decision to crash on the couch when Oz shook his head and gestured him in.

        Oz frowned as he watched Spike limp towards his bed, looking more beat-up then he had at the party, "What happened to you?"

        Spike scowled as he kicked off his boots and flopped into bed, shoving his face into the pillow, "Didn't know the bartender was from Alabama," He said by way of explanation for the black eye he was sure to have in the morning. He covered his head with the pillow, grumbling out an ill-natured good-night.

        "Um…night…" Oz shook his head in confusion, and lay back down next to Willow.

        "You're in so much trouble."

        Willow winced when Buffy's voice rang out from inside the room, and she slipped inside, looking sheepish, "Hey, Buff…up early…"

        "Yeah, right…that's assuming I slept," Buffy muttered from her bed, where she had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep, "But…oh my GOD! Wills…"

        "I know, I know," Willow held up her hands, "Before you say anything, nothing happened…okay, we smooched a little bit…but other then that…nothing. He was a perfect gentleman…and we just kinda dozed off while talking…that's all…"

        "Yeah, okay, great," Buffy shook her head as she sat on the edge of her bed, "But that's not what I was going to say…Spike came here last night right after I got off the phone with you…"

        "Oh, God…were you the one that beat him up?! Buffy! He had a split lip and a black eye this morning!"

        "I beat him up…but I didn't hit him in the face," Buffy replied, frowning, "He must have gotten beaten up by someone else…anyway…he came over, and we started fighting and I tried to hit him in the face, and he caught my hand…and then he pinned me to the bed and KISSED me!"

        Willow stared at Buffy with wide eyes, her mouth opening, but nothing came out for several seconds and even then she could only stammer, "H-h-he kissed you? S-Spike? Your stepbrother, Spike?"

        "No, Spike of the Hells Angels! Of course my stepbrother!" Buffy shuddered, "Which, by the way, just makes it WAY more freaky-deaky."

        "Are…are you sure it wasn't accident…like…oops, our mouths touched?" Willow asked, collapsing into her desk chair, still wide-eyed.

        "No…this was full lip-contact, his tongue in my mouth kissing," Buffy told her, "There was no way this was accidental kissage…and it wasn't even heat of the moment kissing! We were fighting! I hate him! And he hates me! But he tried to kiss me again!"

        "All right…calm down…" Willow shook her head, "Okay…let's look at this logically…you guys were fighting…and then…then the kissing…you know, for guys, fighting…can…can be kind of a turn-on. Maybe it was heat of the moment for him…"

        "Even if it was, it should be `EW! GROSS! SISTER! LIPS OF SISTER!' two seconds after we stopped kissing…not `ooohhh, lips of sister, must go back for more!'"

        "Well, not really sister…you're only step-siblings…" Willow grimaced, "Just don't say sister…it gives me the wiggins. It makes me think of banjos and squealing pigs."

        "Huh? Pigs?" Buffy looked bewildered by that, "What about pigs?"

        "Never mind, not important," Willow shook her head, "Wait, you said `we' stopped kissing…you kissed back!"

        "What? No, I didn't!" Buffy bit her lip when Willow raised an eyebrow, and admitted in a low, sheepish voice, "Well…only a little…"

        "Well?!" Willow bounced in her seat.

        "Well, what?" Buffy grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

        "What was it like? I mean…he is hot…"

        "Willow!" Buffy cried in dismay, "This is not boy talk! It's a totally ICKY experience that you're supposed to commiserate with me with!"

        "I'm commiserating," Willow protested, "But I can't properly commiserate if I don't have all the ooey-gooey details, can I?"

        "Ew…God…" Buffy shuddered, "You're demented, you know that right?! This is gross…this is something that has to be repressed, not broke down play by play!"

        "Buffy, you're overreacting," Willow shook her head, and then she stared at Buffy, her eyes widening, "Oh…My…GOD! Spike has a thing for you!"

        "What?! No! He doesn't! I thought you said it was heat of the moment! I like heat of the moment better!"

        "No! It's true…oh my God…I wouldn't have thought about it before, since it looked like you guys hated each other…but it's UST!"

        "US what?!"

        "Unresolved Sexual Tension!" Willow exclaimed, "I mean…it all makes sense now! Him slinging you over his shoulder because you were dressed all indecent…"

        "I wasn't indecent!"

        Willow ignored her, "And…and the volunteering at the gallery even though he's supposed to want to avoid you, Giles and your mom! Oh, and he was totally trying to impress you with the cell phone thing…Spike has a total thing for you!"

        "God, no way!" Buffy let out a little shriek, "There is no UFO and there is NO THING for me!"

        "UST…" Willow corrected.

        "UFO…UST…neither one exist, so what's the difference?!"

        "No, it totally makes sense! The thing with Angel…he got all riled up at the party because he was jealous! He was trying to protect your honor or something," Willow clapped her hands together, "That's so cute…"

        "NO! Not cute! Gross! Icky! UNNATURAL!"

        "Oh my God…you're so in denial," Willow accused, watching as her best friend squealed.

        "Ew! Now I have a thing for Spike?! Willow! Did you eat anything mushroom shaped at that party or something?"

        "See? First stage of someone in denial…claims everyone else is crazy or on drugs…"

        "That's not a stage of denial!"

        "No…but it really should be..."

        "Argh," Buffy covered her face with her hands, "I don't know why I tell you anything anymore…"

        "Because I'm your best friend, and I'll tell you the filthy truth even though probably just about everyone else would lie to you to avoid physical injury…and about that Buff…you really should talk to someone about that violence thing…I mean, you've beaten up Spike twice already…"

        "Because he deserved it," Buffy retorted, "God…I can't believe you think he likes me…"

        "I don't think he likes you…I know he likes you," Willow replied, her tone insinuating that she was more then sure of herself, "And I think you like him…"

        "I don't like him. I may have kissed him back…for like…FIVE seconds, but that doesn't mean anything! Oh!" Buffy brightened, "It was a distraction ploy, so I could knee him in the balls! That's all…"

        "Uh-uh…not buying it, Buff…" Willow shook her head, "I have to diagnose this case as some serious USTs in the making…"

        "Right…" Buffy rolled her eyes, "And Dr. Rosenberg's prescription? I hope it's Lysol for my mouth?"

        "Nope…you have to jump his bones," Willow giggled at the look on Buffy's face, "Oh, come on…Spike's cute…"

        "Cute has nothing to do with it!" Buffy snapped, "He's a jerk! He's rude, arrogant, and what he did to Angel is completely unforgivable!" Buffy set her face resolutely, "I'd sooner throw myself off a bridge then ever fall for William "Stupid Head" Giles…"

        "Stupid head? Did you just call him a stupid head?"

        "Oh…shut up…"

Part Twelve

        Spike slammed around Oz's kitchen, growling obscenities beneath his breath as he did so, glad that Mrs. Osborne wasn't there to smack him upside the head for his language.

        Oz watched from his perch on top of the counter, watching his irritable friend as he munched on a bowl of Coco-Puffs. Spike opened a cabinet and glared into it, well aware of Oz's scrutiny. "Where's the bloody Pop Tarts? I brought S'more Pop Tarts…"

        "You ate them, man…remember? Hmmm…marshmallowy, chocolate goodness without all the work?" Oz reminded him.

        "Bloody hell…then where are the wild watermelon ones?"

        "Hmmm…watermelony goodness without all the work…"

        "Soddin' hell…do I have any food left?"

        "What about Coco-Puffs?"

        Spike grimaced, "No…the milk goin' all brown and sludgy makes me think of sewage."

        Oz looked down at his cereal bowl, and rolled his eyes as he dropped it in the sink, "Thanks…now I can never eat Coco-Puffs or Cocoa Pebbles again," He grumbled, rolling his eyes as he watched Spike dig through the freezer. "Hmmm…waffley goodness without all the work…"

        "Dammit!" Spike slammed the freezer door, and Oz shook his head.

        "Are you done abusing my mom's kitchen?" Oz asked, raising an eyebrow at Spike, who glared at him before rolling his eyes and leaning against the fridge.

        "Sorry, mate…rough night," Spike said, gesturing at his black eye in annoyance, "Really rough night…"

        "Yeah, I noticed," Oz replied, "What happened, exactly, with your face? Buffy get a piece of you again?"

        "Yes and no…she's the reason my balls are swollen to the size of grapefruits, and the goddamn pain in my side…my face is because…apparently, you don't fuck with people from Alabama…especially when the guy has four hundred pounds on you…"

        Oz was still confused, but he pushed that aside for the moment, "When did Buffy have a chance to crack your nuts?"

        "Cute," Spike pulled a face at him, "Went to her dorm room…got in a fight…"

        "And she used your little soldiers for a punching bag?"

        "No…she tried to tenderize my face again, but I pinned her down…and then kissed her…"

        "You kissed her?" Oz raised an eyebrow, "And her response was to hit you in the groin…interesting…"

        "She kissed back at first…but went in for the second kiss…and then came the blow to the Queen's personal guard…"

        "God…you guys have WAY too many euphemisms for testicles," Cordelia complained as she swept into the kitchen. She opened a cabinet and peered into it, "Oh! Pop Tarts!" She exclaimed and Spike perked up as she pulled out a package of blueberry Pop Tarts and left them to their discussion.  

        "Why did you even go over there in the first place?" Oz asked as Spike picked up the now empty box with a scowl, "Were you looking for trouble?"

        "No, I was trying to warn her about that stupid nonce, Angel," Spike informed him, tossing the box in the trash with a heavy sigh, resigned to the fact he was now completely without Pop Tarts.

        "So, you told her about what happened with Drusilla?"

        "Uh…no…just basically told her that he was using her to get back at me…"

        "Spike!" Oz shook his head, "No wonder she hit you in the balls…man, you gotta tell her about him…"

        "I did!" Spike snapped, not angry with Oz, but at his situation, "But I'm not dragging my bloody sister into it…she asked me to not tell anybody, and I bloody well haven't…"

        "Yeah…but this…what if something happened to Buffy?"

        "I tried to warn her, all right?" Spike scowled, "And even if I did tell her, she'd just accuse me of lying…screw her…let her find out what her precious Angel is really made of…"

        "Spike," Oz shook his head, "You've gotta to tell her. I know you want to protect Dru…but what if Buffy gets hurt because you're protecting her? Can you live with that?"

        "Oz…the chit nearly made me a permanent soprano. I really doubt she has a problem with protecting herself."

        Oz shook his head in frustration, "You got to have least warn her of what to expect from him…not just tell her he's using her. Tell a girl that, and she'll think you're acting all jealous and protective, or something."

        Spike sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I know…I know…I don't know…I have another week before I leave…I'll think of something to tell her then…in the meantime…"

        "Gonna ice the `nads?" Oz suggested, and Spike grinned at him wanly.

        "Remind me to buy a jock before I go talk to her again," Spike said, shifting uncomfortably, "And maybe some of that Kevlar body armor…"

        "I think something's bothering Buffy, darling," Giles observed to Joyce, watching from the windows of the gallery as his stepdaughter ducked into an alley across the street, wearing a babushka over her hair and a pair of large, dark glasses, "What on Earth could she be doing?"

        Joyce joined him at the window, raising an eyebrow, "It appears that way," Joyce said, amusement heavy in her voice, "Is she hiding from us? I wonder what she's done now…"

        Giles shook his head slightly as Buffy looked up and down the street before hurrying towards Willow, who was waiting farther down, looking irritated as she waited for her friend to catch up with her. "I married into a strange, strange family…"

        "Hey!" Joyce slapped his arm, "I resemble that remark."

        "Buffy…you look like a fruit cake," Willow sighed as Buffy pushed her dark glasses up on her nose, "Is that really necessary?"

        "Shhh…no names…I'm trying to go reconnaissance…"

        "Incognito, the word is incognito," Willow corrected, rolling her eyes, "And I really don't think that disguise is going to fool anybody…let alone Spike...and…really, you just look crazy."

         "I'm not taking any more chances of creepy sibling lip-locking," Buffy replied, shuddering for effect. "He's such a stalker…"

        "Buff…you haven't seen him for a few days…which probably means he's not stalking you. And I don't think the disguise has anything to do with him not being around either."

        "We don't know that," Buffy pointed out, glancing around and then ducking into the doorway of a store with a squeak.

        Willow slapped her forehead as she watched a girl with extremely short platinum blond hair walked by, "Buffy, you realize I'm five seconds from refusing to be seen with you in public, right?"

        "Is he gone? And no names!"

        "He was never here!" Willow cried in exasperation, "Will you cut it out?"

        "Sorry…I thought it was him," Buffy said sheepishly, coming back out onto the sidewalk.

        "Willow! Buffy!" Both girls turned when they heard Oz, and Buffy groaned as Oz waved at them from across the street, Spike standing sullenly next to him.

        "Great! Doesn't your boyfriend go anywhere without his shadow?!" Buffy complained, "And how'd he know it was me?"

        Willow rolled her eyes as Oz and Spike practically played dodge ball with traffic to get across to them, "I told you it was a crappy disguise, Inspector Clouseu..."

        "Who?"

        "You know…The Pink Panther…Peter Sellers…?" At Buffy's blank look, Willow sighed heavily, "Never mind…"

        "Well, have fun with your boyfriend," Buffy shoved her glasses back on her face, and Willow watched as Buffy sprinted away, sighing heavily.

        "I have a feeling the running away wasn't because of me," Oz said to Spike as they reached the other side of the street. Spike glared at him without reply as Willow shook her head and turned to face them.

        "Hey Oz…Spike," Willow greeted, "I think you just missed Buffy…"

        "Yeah, we noticed," Spike replied, looking off in the direction that Buffy had ran off in, "I think she broke the record for 100 meter dashes."

        "Um…would you believe me if I said she had a dentist appointment she had to rush off for?" Willow asked sheepishly, and Spike rolled his eyes in response, "Yeah…didn't think that would work."

        "Yeah…well…I have to talk to her," Spike told Willow, "It's very important…"

        "Well…she'll probably avoid you even more if I told her that," Willow replied, smiling slightly as Spike sent an irritated look in Oz's direction, "But…I could tell you that she's supposed to be at her mom's house tonight to do laundry and get a free dinner..."

        "You could tell me that…but you won't," Spike replied shrewdly, noting the twinkle to Willow's green eyes. "Right?"

        "Not a word that she'll be there probably around there by four-thirty," Willow continued to deny all knowledge of their conversation, "I couldn't tell you that at all…cause that would be a gross violation of her trust…"

        "Well, damn," Spike sighed in mock disappointment, "Guess there's nothing to do about it, but maybe see my dad one more time before I go…"

        "Sorry I couldn't help you," Willow said as Oz shook his head, taking her hand as Spike nodded at her and started towards the gallery down the street.

        "That was evil," Oz told Willow, who ducked her head, her face coloring slightly. "What if he gets beaten up again?"

        "Well…he doesn't seem really worried about it, does he?" Willow pointed out, "Besides…Giles will be there to protect him."

        Oz chuckled in amusement, leaning forward to kiss Willow's cheek, grinning when her face colored up even more.

        "Anyway," Willow continued, "Maybe they'll work things out between them…at the very least, Buffy can stop running around town looking like a refugee Jewish woman from Florida."

        "So need a car," Buffy muttered beneath her breath, grunting as she lugged a garbage sack of clothing up the front walk. Joyce was out in the front yard, watering the small garden that wrapped around the front porch, and she looked over her shoulder when she heard her daughter grumbling.

        "Once again, she descends upon us like a plague of locusts, bearing dirty socks as gifts," Joyce said, and Buffy gave her mother a look.

        "Ha ha…funny…you know, I don't come over just for the free washing machine…"

        "Yeah?"

        "Yep…there's also the free dryer and free food," Buffy teased, jumping back when Joyce held up her hose threateningly, "Hey! Don't! These are the only clean clothes I have!"

        "Don't tease your mother, dear," Joyce said, raising an eyebrow in Buffy's direction as she turned off the hose, "Speaking of daughters…I would like to know why mine was running around town, hiding her pretty face behind a pair of the ugliest glasses I have ever seen in my life."

        "You know…I got those out of the attic…in one of the boxes that have a bunch of your old, retro clothing…"

        "Retro? Those clothes are barely twenty years old…that hardly makes them retro." Joyce shook her head at Buffy's skeptical look, "Never mind…let's go back to you playing secret agent along Main Street."

        "I was…uh…" Buffy sought for a plausible excuse, "I was um…hung-over…" CRAP! That's not a good excuse! She thought, wondering if she made a run for it, if her mom could catch up to her.

        "You were what?!"

        "Um…yeah…party…wheee…" Buffy said weakly, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "It wasn't on a school night…"

        "Today's Wednesday, Buffy…unless today was a school holiday neither me nor your step-father know about, it was a school day," Joyce crossed her arms over her chest, watching as her daughter looked around in a panic. "If you try to run, young lady, I will catch you."

        Damn…"Um…sorry…won't happen again…"

        "I should say not," Joyce gave Buffy a severe look, "We'll discuss this later… right now, you'll be on your best behavior through dinner, and I might consider not taking you over my knee."

        "Mooomm…you can't spank me, I'm too old for that…"

        "I'm your mother, you cannot tell me what I can or cannot do," Joyce said, pointing towards the house, "Inside, now."

        "Yes, mom," Buffy sighed heavily, grabbing up her bag of laundry. She was in so much trouble, all because of her big, stupid mouth…and possibly Spike. She could probably find a way to blame this on him. It was all his fault she was going around in disguise and it was his fault that her mom had seen her and it was definitely his fault that she was unable to think of a good excuse for looking like a total freak.

        She was too consumed with wondering how bad her mom and Giles were going to lecture her that she hadn't noticed her mother's apparent worry that she should be good through dinner, and she didn't notice the lank form seated on the couch in the living room as she passed by, head hanging.

        Spike noticed her however, and he watched as Buffy passed by without apparently seeing him, and he smiled slightly before turning his attention back to his father, who was seated opposite from him, telling him about some silly gallery showing, the Fertility one for which Spike and Buffy had unpacked crates for.

        "I do hope you'll be able to attend," Giles told him, "We're hoping to generate a great amount of venue from it…"

        "I would, but I'll be gone home by then," Spike replied, "I was only staying long enough to get Oz settled…perhaps another time…"

        "I would like that very much…oh! Buffy, you're here!" Buffy froze in the doorway, where she had been trying to sneak past after finally seeing Spike.

        Spike tilted his head back against the couch, smirking when he saw the slightly guilty look on Buffy's face, and the way her cheeks turned a deep red when she caught his look.

        "Hey, Giles," Buffy greeted weakly, and then scowled at Spike, "Satan…"

        "Buffy!" Giles reprimanded sharply, and Buffy eyes widened slightly.

        "Sorry…kinda slipped out," She told Giles rather then Spike, attempting to disappear again, but her mother popped up beside her, laying a restraining hand on her shoulder.

        "Have a seat, stay awhile," Joyce told her, giving her a stern look, and Buffy groaned softly before flopping down gracelessly into an arm chair. Joyce crossed over to Giles, and whispered something in his ear, and Buffy covered her face when Giles sent a stricken look towards her.

        "On a school night!? Buffy!"

        "Oh Lord…" Buffy mumbled, and Giles calmed down a bit when Joyce shook her head slightly at him, and Spike glanced at Buffy curiously, wondering what she had done to get in trouble.

        "All right then," Giles said to Joyce before turning his gaze on Buffy, "Be assured, young lady, we will have a very long discussion about this."

        "Yes, sir," Buffy muttered, and then shot a dirty look at Spike, who blinked in surprise at her sudden ire. He expected her to still be pissed at him…but this seemed to be because of her current predicament, of which he could make little head of. He was certainly not at fault here, because he had done nothing that would get Buffy in trouble with her mother and his father.

        Buffy sank farther into her seat, pouting and sulky, which distracted Spike greatly, despite the looks she kept sending his way each time he glanced in her direction.

        Already, this was starting to look bad for him. He glanced down at his lap, briefly giving thanks that this time, he was definitely prepared and properly armored for the discussion he was to attempt when he got half a chance. Hope the little twit doesn't go for my kidneys this time…

Part Thirteen

        Well…I suppose this could be worse, Spike thought to himself as he listened with half an ear to the conversation going on between Joyce and his father; he decided that then even such a subject as the passing of stricter laws against imports from other countries and how it would affect the gallery was better then childhood stories.

        Buffy sat across from him, stabbing at her food, holding her fork and knife like a prison inmate; the girl simply had no manners…problem was, that was one of the many things he loved about her.

        He was a right poofter when it came to down to it, wasn't he?

        He shook his head slightly, dispelling those thoughts for a moment, and wondered how he was going to get Buffy alone. He was leaving in three days; if he didn't speak with her tonight, he didn't think he would get another chance, what with her avoiding him like a plague victim. He could always draw her into another fight and storm out for a cigarette, and hoped Joyce sent her after him again, like last time, but that wouldn't do. He needed them to be able to converse somewhat civilly, as impossible as that sounded.

        He really very much like to speak with her that night. Hopefully, if he made it clear it was going to be the last she saw of him, she'd agree to talk for at least few moments.

        His fork clattered onto his plate, dropped from a suddenly numb hand, and Buffy straightened, startled by the sudden noise. "Sorry," He mumbled, picking up the fork without bothering to look up, knowing that all eyes were probably on him.

        "Will? Are you all right, son? You seem preoccupied?" Giles asked in some concern, noting the lack of emotion on Spike's face, a common defense mechanism for him. He had seen the boy develop that mask over the years, using it only when he was upset about something and had no wish for anyone to know of it. Not that it fooled Giles for a moment when it came to his boy.

        Spike glanced up at Giles, offering him a simple nod before looking down at his plate again, lips tightening slightly.

        Giles glanced at Joyce with a troubled frown, and she bit her bottom lip, shrugging her shoulders; she was at much of a loss as he was.

        However, Joyce stood, sending a reassuring smile at Giles as she started to clear the table, "Who'd like some hot chocolate?" Joyce asked, raising an eyebrow when Spike lifted his head, "With little marshmallows?"

        "Uh…I'll have one, ma'am," Spike said, almost hesitantly, and she gave him a warm smile.

        "Joyce, please," She told him, looking towards Buffy, who shrugged one shoulder, "Rupert, tea, as usual?"

        "Yes, thank you, darling," Giles replied.

        "Coming right up," Joyce disappeared into the kitchen with a small smile playing across her lips. It was true twenty five years ago when she first started dating, and it was true now. The way to a man's heart was most definitely through his stomach.

        Spike was aware that Buffy was staring at him, and he smiled slightly as he sat back comfortably back in the couch, one hell of a good cup of cocoa clutched in his hand. He also knew the only reason Buffy was staring at him was because of the thin line of chocolate gracing his upper lip, but since it got her to stare at him, he was in no hurry to wipe it away, despite the `aw, isn't that just so adorable' look he was getting from Joyce.

        Hell…if he looked adorable to the mother, maybe he looked adorable to the daughter. Not exactly the image he had been hoping to achieve…but at this moment, he'd take it over complete and utter disdain.

        The heat of the cocoa settled well in his stomach, and he grinned like an idiot when Joyce disappeared to get him another cup, hopefully, piled high with all the little marshmallows. He glanced towards Buffy, biting back a smile when she turned her face away abruptly; okay, so, the adorable thing seemed to be working a little bit.

        "Spike, Rupert tells me you're already going to be leaving us," Joyce said, sounding genuinely disappointed as she handed him a new mug of cocoa, smiling as she watched his face brighten at the sight of it.

        "Yep, I leave early Sunday," Spike replied, "Going to stop in New York for a few days, first though…"

        He saw Buffy perk up at that, her interest obviously piqued, but she said nothing; most likely not wanting to appear as if she cared about anything he had to say, no matter how innocuous.  "I'll probably stop at the Metropolitan," He continued, hoping that she would speak up if he brought up something she enjoyed; however, to his frustration, she endured in her silence.

        "That sounds lovely," Joyce told him, "Buffy has wanted to see New York for the longest time. She really hasn't been out of California since she was three, but she was much too little to remember that, of course."

        "Yeah, and even then, it was the middle of nowhere in Arizona," Buffy mumbled, glancing at Spike from the corner of her, glaring a little bit when she saw he was still sporting that cute little chocolate milk moustache. I did not think of Spike and cute in the same sentence! Gross!

        "Dad ought to bring you to visit home," Spike said nonchalantly, glancing down into his mug before taking another sip, making sure to get all the marshmallows in one gulp. "Especially in the spring…beautiful then in the countryside. Gardens are magnificent."

        Buffy looked up, eyes going wide and fearful as she looked towards her stepfather, as if fearing he'd jump to his feet and shout, `By damn! He's right! Joyce! Pack our bags!' at that very moment. Giles, however, merely nodded thoughtfully.

        "I bet you're looking forward to going home, Spike," Joyce said, "Rupert says you're quite close with Drusilla."

        Spike shrugged, "She's my little sister…just as close with her just as any brother would be, I guess…"

        "He's being modest," Giles said, shaking his head slightly, "Dru worships the ground he walks on, literally."

        Spike laughed at that, the sound making Buffy start like a frightened deer, "God, no…not anymore, dad…that pretty much went out the window when she hit puberty. Now it's all slamming doors and telling me to go away…"

        "Bet you're the overprotective type," Buffy said, a slightly sarcastic smile touching her lips, and Spike looked at her sharply, a frown marring his features briefly before he shoved it away and cleared his throat.

        "Maybe so…but her best interests are always at heart," Spike replied as friendly as possible, despite his irritation. He was doing his best to be nice, and she was acting like a snotty brat. Not that it really surprised him…but still. "Suppose a big brother wants to protect his sister from the bad things…and people…out there, and all…suppose you wouldn't really know that, being an only child and all."

        His tone was congenial, small, teasing smile playing against his lips, despite his irritation. It was meant to soften his words, despite his obvious reference to Angel. Buffy immediately stiffened, then mumbled something about laundry needing to be changed over and she disappeared towards the back of the house, a door slamming.

        Giles and Joyce exchanged a puzzled look, and Spike stood, "Uh…excuse me…nature calls," He said before ducking down the hallway Buffy had disappeared down into. He glanced around at the doors lining it, frowning as he tried to figure out which one led to the laundry, when his question was answered by the sound of a metal lid being slammed.

        He went to the door he had heard the sound come from and opened it to see a set of stairs leading down into a dimly lit basement. He smiled slightly when he heard Buffy cursing his name below, and ventured down the stairs.

        He was treading on dangerous territory here, he knew. Each time he had been alone with her, he had ended up injured in some way. She was a serious threat to his physical, as well as emotional, well-being.

        He smiled as he reached the bottom of the stairs, watching in amusement as Buffy jumped up and down, trying to reach the dryer sheets on the top shelf above the dryer. He leaned against one the wooden balustrades that held up the ceiling above them, watching in appreciation as Buffy's unfettered tits jiggled in her blouse as she hopped, and the seam of her jeans was pulled tight against the cleft in her ass.

        He nearly groaned when he felt a certain something stir to life in his own jeans, and shook his head slightly, barely managing to control the urge to just grab her and pound into her tight little body till they both screamed. He couldn't believe that he was fantasizing about taking her against a dryer, of all things…then again, the accompaniment of the thumping, vibrating of the somewhat ancient machine might prove interesting as well.

        He smiled as he silently moved up behind her, reaching upwards to grab the sheets for her. Buffy whirled with a surprised gasp, shrinking back against the dryer, barely an inch of air-space left between his body and hers. Not good, she thought, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth as he raised an eyebrow at her, holding the dryer sheets in one hand. A slow sexy smirk spread across his face when he noted the flush that spread across her face, and the way her breath suddenly shortened.

        He would have to just lean forward a few, mere centimeters, blocked by nothing but thin air, and his lips would be pressed against hers, the scent of her hair in his nostrils and her soft, supple breasts pressed against his chest… he was really regretting wearing that damned cup. It was starting to pinch.

        Buffy glared at him, ticked off by the way butterflies were careening madly about her stomach, and she tried to grab the dryer sheets out of his hand, but he held it above his head, smirking at her evilly. "Oh…grabby…that's not so nice, is it? Didn't your mother teach you to say `please'?"

        "Please give me the dryer sheets and back off before I'm forced to kill you," Buffy said sweetly, all the time attempting to see if looks, indeed, could kill. Spike merely raised an eyebrow as he handed her the box and took a few steps back, as so nicely requested. Buffy turned to toss a sheet into the dryer and she slammed the lid shut.

        When she turned, Spike was once again right in her face and she barely had time to register that fact before his mouth was pressed against hers. Buffy was pretty sure she had opened her mouth to attempt to scream at him, not allow his tongue access into her mouth, and her tongue was definitely trying to fight him off, not kiss him back; the arms going around his neck was an aborted attempt to strangle him as well. Yeah…denial was just a river in Egypt.

        Spike stumbled forward when Buffy broke the kiss to inhale a deep breath of air and she yanked him back against her, practically choking him as she shoved her tongue as deep down his throat as humanly possible. However, he wasn't complaining as the pair bumped against the dryer, and Spike groaned as his hands slipped down to her slender waist.

        Spike lifted her up and settled her on top of the dryer, breaking his lips from hers. grinning when he saw she was panting, her heavily lidded eyes darkened with desire…desire for him. Oz was wrong…he definitely had a chance in hell with the fiery blond that had captured his heart despite his best efforts.

        As her legs locked around his waist and pulled him closer, Spike ran his lips along her throat, nipping at the soft, fragrant skin there. Buffy's head rolled to the side, a soft moan escaping her lips as he attacked the sensitive lobe of her ear, pulling at it with gentle tugs of his teeth. Her scent was intoxicating him, driving him nearly mad with need, and it took all of his composure to simply keep from ravaging her.

        Buffy was aware, somewhere in the back of her mind, that what she was doing was very, very wrong. She was once again kissing her stepbrother, and this time, she probably wouldn't be able to blame it on temporary insanity. Temporary insanity probably didn't apply to make-out sessions on top of a dryer, although, described that way, she may have a good case. With that decided, she tried to drag his lips back to hers, but then froze when she heard him whisper those three little words every woman longs to hear.

        "WHAT?!" Buffy reared back and shoved forcefully on Spike's chest. Unfortunately, her legs were still wrapped around his waist, and he fell over them, dragging her down with him. Spike winced as the back of his head smacked against the cement floor of the basement, fuzzily making the mental note that it was time to purchase a full set of football padding as well as helmet. He may love the girl more then life itself, but at this rate, he was facing a seriously shortened lifespan.

        However, as Buffy was mounted atop him, he was willing to make that sacrifice. He was really hoping that the massive head wound and probable internal bleeding wouldn't hinder his performance.

        He tried to reach up to Buffy, but she shoved his hands away and scrambled off of him, "What did you say?!"

        "What?" Spike looked up at her in confusion, trying to think around the concussion, which was hard, since the room was already kind of spinning and Buffy was now pacing and making him even more dizzy. "Aw…God…I think I'm going to vomit…"

        "You're…you're nuts, you know that, right?!" Buffy accused Spike, who was valiantly fighting his gag reflex at the moment. "What in the hell would make you think I even like you like that?!"

        "Off the top of my head?" Spike squinted up at her before rolling onto his hands and knees, groaning quietly, "Making out in the basement does spring immediately to mind, strangely enough…"

        She glared at him, "Sarcasm isn't helping here!"

        "So sorry," Spike winced as he shakily gained his feet, "Don't let my gaping head wound worry you at all…I'm sure I'll be fine as soon as I cough up some blood…ought to compliment the blood I've been pissing lately nicely." He jumped out of the way when Buffy tried to kick him, "Not the liver! Not the liver!"

        "God! You're…just…such a jerk!" Buffy vented angrily, "What in the hell were you thinking?"

        "Okay…just…wait a second," Spike held up his hands in a surrender position. If he wore underwear, he'd be waving his little white briefs as a flag at this point. "You lost me. Which…I've noticed…isn't very hard for you to do…you're a frustratingly confusing woman and sadly, the blow to my head hasn't helped as much as I thought it would. Now…be a dear and tell me what the BLOODY hell is your problem NOW?!"

        "You! You're my problem!" Buffy shouted at him, "Why won't you just leave me the hell alone?!"

        "Well…excuse me, oh Mighty Queen of the Cock-teases!" Spike snapped back at her, "I swear to `effin God…you have to have knobs labeled hot and cold fixed in your arse! One second, we're kissing, the next, I'm bleeding! Again! You keep beating me up! And you think I'm the one with the problem?"

         "Well…gee…when you put it like that.." Buffy said sarcastically.

        "All right, I'm fuckin' crazy…figured that out when I fell in love with your skinny arse…"

        "Stop that!"

        "Stop what?!" Spike rubbed the back of his head, looking annoyed. Between her attitude, his confusion and the bump on his skull, he was started to develop one hell of a migraine. He was seconds from fleeing the room, screaming his head off and very prepared to fling himself in front of a bus first chance he got.

        "Stop it! With the L-word!"

        "What? Love?" Buffy nearly screamed at the dreaded word, and Spike rolled his eyes, "You're such a bloody child…"

        "I am not a child!"

        "Yeah?" Spike glared at her, "Love you…"

        "Stop it!"

        "Love you, love you, love you," Spike taunted as Buffy covered her ears and started to hum loudly. She looked alarmed as he approached her and started to back away, but Spike could move fast when he wanted too, and she yelped as he grabbed her around the waist, fingers plunging for the sensitive parts of her body. She screeched out with giggles as he tickled her, still chanting `love you' now that she was busy defending herself against his evil fingers and not plugging her ears.

        He was grinning as she collapsed against him in helpless giggles, and he stopped tickling her, staring down into her wide, luminous eyes, her own smile on her lips. "I love you," He told her in an all-serious tone, all signs of teasing gone from his face.

        Buffy's smile abruptly disappeared, and she shoved away from him. "Stop it…"

        "Buffy…I…"

        "No! Just…don't!" She held up a shaky hand, "I don't love you…I don't even like you! Not even a tiny little bit! You're rude, you're mean and you…you're my BROTHER for Godsakes!"

        "Step brother!"

        "It doesn't matter," Buffy huffed in irritation, "The kissing thing…was just that! A thing! Some disgusting, gross thing that should have NEVER happened! And it won't! Ever again!" She gave Spike a hateful look when he attempted to interrupt her. "I don't want anything to do with you, Spike…ever. You've never given me even a single reason to like you…"

        "Name one bloody time that you've even giving me a single chance!" Spike spat out angrily, "I was bloody well trying but you never even gave me the benefit of the doubt!"

        "Why in the hell do you think you deserve one?" Buffy asked, "You insulted me and my family, showed NO regard at all for Giles' feelings, not to mention what you did to Angel…"

        "I am really sick of hearing that bastard's name coming out of your mouth," Spike growled angrily, "You know NOTHING of what he truly is and you very obviously know nothing about me!"

        "And I will NEVER want to know anything about you," Buffy retorted, "And this whole thinking you're in love with me? Forget it. You're the last person I would EVER have those kind of feelings for. And if I ever did, I'd rather beat my head against a wall till they went away then EVER submit to them!"

        Spike's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing at her furiously. "Fine then," He let out tightly, "Sorry I brought it up, then." He laughed bitterly when Buffy took a step back from him, eyeing him warily as she walked around her and towards the stairs. "I'm leaving in a few days…don't bother running about town in your little `disguise.' You won't see me again."

        Buffy watched as he stalked up the stairs, and she winced, despite herself, when she heard the backdoor slam. She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh, leaning against the washing machine, not quite wanting to move and face her parents and their questions at the moment.

        She sniffled back tears as she sank down to the ground before the washer, swiping at her watery eyes. She sat there and cried, not really knowing the reason why, for about half an hour.

Part Fourteen

        Spike made good on his promise. For his last remaining days in Sunnydale, Buffy didn't see him once. She thought she had glimpsed him at the Labyrinth, and Xander had confirmed the sighting, having sold him a drink, but other then that, he never again approached her or even came in her direct line of sight.

         The day before Oz drove him to LA, Buffy did come back from class to find a letter addressed to her from him that had been slipped beneath the door, and despite Willow's insistence that she should at least read it, she instead tossed it into the trash, unopened. She didn't care about what he had to say to her, whether it was apologies, insults or even love letters. She had told him twice already that she didn't give a crap about anything that he said and there was no way in hell she'd expose herself to anything he had to say if she didn't have too.

        Unfortunately, Buffy hadn't seen Angel either, since the night of the party at Oz's house. Not that she could fault him for that. He'd probably never want to see her again because of Spike's totally out of line behavior towards him. Never mind that Angel had insisted on coming, even though he had to have known what would happen. All she could see was that Spike was at fault.

        Willow listened patiently to Buffy's ranting about Spike, being the best friend that she was, but she couldn't help but feel that perhaps Buffy wasn't seeing the entire picture. She had questioned Oz about it, but her boyfriend seemed a little reluctant to discuss his best friend's personal matters if Spike himself hadn't seen fit to make Buffy aware of them. Willow couldn't fault him for that.

        "Don't you think…you're taking Angel's side a wee tiny bit zealously?" Willow asked worriedly after Buffy's rant over the letter she hadn't read but was ticked off that he had even had the gall to send her. "You've barely seen him, outside of those two dates…" Willow bit her lip at the look Buffy gave her and glanced towards Xander for help; he was too busy playing with her crystal unicorn and having it attack Buffy's stuffed pig to be much help in this argument. "To be fair…I mean…you haven't even heard Spike's side of the story…"

        "I'm not interested in Spike's side of the story. Like I wanna listen to his lies?"

        "Will's gotta point, Buffers," Xander finally spoke up. He may look like he was screwing around, but he was paying attention to what was going on around him. "This Angel guy could be snow-balling you, big time. I mean, yeah, Spike's kind of a dick…but a guy is weird about his sister…I don't see a big brother running around, yelling his sister was raped just to get a some guy he hated in trouble…I mean, that's a screwy set of priorities right there…"

        "Yeah, well, it's something I can totally see him doing…he's so manipulative…"

        "Manipulative?" Willow frowned at that, "Spike doesn't come across as manipulative to me. Argumentative, yeah, maybe a little jerky…but I think manipulative is a little far-fetched."

        "Yeah, but what Angel told me…"

        "Let's forgot what Angel told you," Xander interrupted, "Will's is right…I don't think Spike is really all that manipulative. I mean, you met Oz, right? Manipulative people surround themselves with people easy to mold to their own viewpoints, and Oz is definitely not one of those people…" He scowled at the surprised looks he got from both Buffy and Willow, "Hey, I do pay attention in class…" He amended his statement at the skeptical expressions turned at him, "Sometimes."

        "Why are you all taking his side?" Buffy asked in irritation, "Angel was the one who had his life ruined because of Spike…"

        "Buffy, you only have Angel's word on that. Did you talk to Giles? I'm pretty sure he would know what really happened." Willow reminded her with a sigh.

        "I doubt it…he had just moved here around the time that happened," Buffy reminded them, "All he'd have is Spike's word on what happened…"

        "Yeah, but if he hears something like that happened to his little girl, he had to have talked to her…"

        "Yeah, Wills…but once again, she'd be telling Giles what Spike wanted to her to tell him…"

        Willow let out a huff of air, looking irritated at her friend's obtuseness. She loved Buffy like a sister, she really did…but she was letting her prejudice against Spike keep her from finding out the truth about someone that could potentially be a danger to her. "Buffy…maybe the best thing to do in this instance…is to have nothing to do with either one of them. Don't see Spike anymore…and don't see Angel anymore. Forget they exist, put them out of your mind and all that…"

        "I'm not going to stop seeing Angel," Buffy asserted angrily, "I like Angel…he's nice, sweet and charming…there's no way in hell he's what Spike tried to make him out to be."

        "Buffy, please," Willow pleaded, "Just…don't get yourself in the middle between these two…"

        "I'm not! Spike's back in England, and Angel is here. Unless Spike comes back to Sunnydale, I don't see how there's a problem."

        Willow looked towards Xander pleadingly, and he sighed heavily, knowing what she was feeling. He was as worried about Buffy as Willow, but he knew just as well as she did that when Buffy put her mind to something, she'd do it, consequences be damned.

        "Buffy…you know we're worried. You really shouldn't discount what Spike said about Angel without really thinking hard about it and knowing EVERY aspect of both stories. Especially because this guy was accused of raping a young girl. Even if it isn't true, he did say he had a relationship with her…that's statutory, right?" He glanced towards Willow, who nodded in agreement. "Still not something you should just ignore."

        "God…what are you guys? The Society for the Ethical Treatment of Blonde Assholes?" Buffy snapped, grabbing her schoolbooks off of her desk, "I'm going to go study in the library…you guys have fun toting the virtues of the blonde wonder."

        Xander sighed heavily as he leaned back in his seat as Buffy stalked out, slamming the door behind her. He glanced towards Willow, who was groaning loudly and screaming into her pillow in frustration. "She's never going to listen to us about this guy."

        "I know that," Willow grumbled, lifting the pillow off of her face, "And lucky us, we're the ones who get to sit around, freaking out and worrying that she'll get hurt."

        Xander glanced down into the trashcan, where Spike's letter had been tossed and he picked it out, looking at it speculatively, "Is it wrong to read a letter someone threw away?" He asked and Willow glanced at him, frowning slightly.

        "Not sure…but we really shouldn't," Willow reached out and plucked the envelope out of Xander's hand. "But…I wouldn't think there's any harm in just saving the letter. Maybe in a week or two, she'll be more willing to at least read it."

        Xander watched as she stashed the letter away in one of her drawers. "Well…maybe we'll luck out and the only reason he wanted to be around Buffy was to freak Spike out," Xander said hopefully. "Now that Spike's gone, he won't need Buffy anymore…and God…do I sound like a horrible friend or what?"

        "Maybe…" Willow sighed, "But I'm kinda hoping the same thing myself."

        Buffy savagely attacked her glass of cherry coke, desperately trying to spear the slippery little maraschino cherry hiding at the bottom. She was well aware that Xander was watching her from behind the bar, obviously worried about the amount of violence she was using against a little thing like a cherry, but it was forcing her to become vicious, what with refusing to be caught by the fork fishing for it.

        Okay…so…maybe she was less pissed at the cherry and more pissed at the general male sex, but she liked the Labyrinth, and she didn't really wanted to be kicked out because she had started stabbing their male patrons with her fork.

        Spike had been gone for a few weeks now, and Angel had yet to call or contact her in anyway. Stupid jerk…the guys were probably right…he is a slimeba-

        "Buffy?"

        "Angel!" Buffy practically fell off the stool as she turned to face the man now leaning on the bar next to her. She immediately affected an air of nonchalance, "So…what's up?"

        "Nothing much…laying low…waiting for the swelling to go down," He smiled at her, his lips curling in a sensual smile, "Wouldn't want you having to see me at less then 100%," He glanced in Xander's direction, "Hey! Rolling Rock, now," He ordered.

        Xander scowled at him, turning to grab a bottle of beer. Angel turned back to Buffy, therefore missing Xander hawking, and then spitting into the open bottle. "Why? Did you think I was avoiding you?"

        "Just a tiny bit," Buffy shrugged, finally managing to stab the wayward cherry. She held it up triumphantly before biting it between her white teeth. Angel was staring a little too fixedly at the action, and Xander glared at him as he sat the beer on the counter and `accidentally' nudged it with his elbow.

        "Xander!" Buffy screeched as the beer spilled over the counter and onto their laps, "Oh my God! This is a suede skirt!"

        "Sorry, Buff," Xander said contritely, "Better get home and get that off before it really stains."

        Angel glared at Xander banefully as he grabbed a wad of napkins out of the dispenser and offered Buffy a sweet smile before helping her mop up the mess that Xander had made of her skirt. "Maybe I should take you back to your dorm so you can take care of that."

        "Hey, Buff…why don't you wait for Willow and Oz?" Xander interrupted Angel, "She's probably ready to go home right about now…" He glanced towards the corner, where said pair were currently conducting some serious snuggle-bunnies, "Any second now…"

        "Oh, stow it, Xander," Buffy pouted, tossing a wad of wet napkins on the counter, "I can take care of myself."

        "Yeah…but…" Xander swore as Buffy rolled her eyes and stalked off, Angel following her, and he grumbled beneath his breath. If he wasn't terrified about losing this job, he'd be chasing after her, trying to talk some sort of sense into her. Instead, he was reduced to praying that nothing would happen to one of his oldest friends.

        "I'm really sorry about that," Buffy apologized as she and Angel made their way down the street and towards campus, "Xander's…kind of…protective…like a big brother."

        "Doesn't really matter…these pants make my ass look fat anyway."

        Buffy laughed, smiling up at the man towering over her like a redwood. Angel turned towards her, his arm stilling her walk. "You're beautiful when you laugh, you know that right?" He asked, grinning when she blushed.

        He dipped down, catching her lips in an impassioned kiss, his hands falling to her waist and pulling her body closer against his. He pressed the evidence of his arousal against her stomach, one hand reaching down to squeeze her ass, the other coming up to roughly grope her breast. Buffy pulled away in surprise, her eyes widening slightly. He smiled down at her in what he probably thought was a sexy smirk, but it looked more like a pained grimace, and Buffy forced a sweet smile, "Uh…better save that for another time, tiger," She told him, "I got school in the morning."

        "All right," He replied, kissing her forehead as the campus came into view, "How about tomorrow? It's Friday night. I'll pick you up at 6?"

        "Um…" Buffy hesitated briefly, a little uncomfortable with his sudden grope-fest; however, he was watching her carefully, his eyes and face looking very vulnerable all of a sudden, as if worried she'd reject him. She cursed Spike and her friends for putting those doubts in her head, and this time when she smiled, it was a little more genuine. "Sounds good," She told him. "Six, then…"

        Angel grinned, pulling her in for another kiss, this time keeping his hands where they belonged. "Tomorrow," He promised her with a charming smile before slipping off down the street and leaving her to walk the rest of the way by herself.

        Willow was very near in a panic by the time she reached she and Buffy's shared room, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw Buffy sitting on her bed, writing in her diary. "Hey, Buff…have a nice night?"

        "Yep," Buffy replied, not looking up from her diary, "How's Oz?"

        "Oz is fine," Willow replied, hiding her sigh. She had been hoping that they could take advantage of Cordelia being out late for a make-out session, but alas, that was not a hope to be harbored. As soon as Xander had told her that Buffy had gone off with Angel, she had cut her date short. How's Angel?"

        "He's fine…swelling went away," Buffy answered, debating whether or not to tell Willow about her plans the next day with him. However, seeing as she really didn't want to hear a lecture about Angel possibly being dangerous or have to worry about Xander following her around on their date, she decided to keep quiet about it for the moment. She hated keeping things from her friends, but really, she just didn't want to hear anymore about Angel from them. They had already taken Spike's side against him for some strange reason. "You and Oz got plans tomorrow?"

        "Maybe…" Willow eyed Buffy, waiting for the blonde to make some sort of eye contact, but none was forthcoming, as Buffy seemed overly fixated on her diary. "You?"

        "Nope…just going over to my house to bug mom about getting me a car, again," Buffy replied, finally closing her diary, "I think I'm starting to wear her down."

        "I'm not sure the wearing down angle is going to work," Willow teased, "Considering she's less worried about your safety on the road and more worried about any stray old ladies that might be on the sidewalk when you come by."

        "Okay…that was ONE time and it was a mailbox, not an old lady. When are people going to stop talking about that?"

        "When they stop playing the footage on `World's Scariest Police Chases'," Willow replied, dodging a pillow that was pelted at her head, "I saw a movie on television last week…I'm pretty sure they were using stock footage of you for the car crash scene."

        "You're a riot, you know that right?" Buffy grumbled, "And I still can't believe I'm not getting royalties for that."

        "You're just lucky the Driver's Ed teacher sued the airbag company and not you," Willow reminded her, "Otherwise, he'd be living in Hawaii off your college fund."

        .Willow didn't quite manage to dodge the next pillow aimed at her head, and Buffy grinned when the redhead caught it right in the kisser. "HA! Mock me, will you?"

        Willow stuck her tongue out at her, and then became serious, "So…what did you and Angel talk about?"

        Buffy made a face at the change in subject, "Not much, really," She said, which was somewhat truthful. "Just stuff…" And kissing. Buffy decided not to bring that up, since Willow would want to break that down second-by-second, and ruin all her fun. Not too mention the compare and contrast. She had been a little freaked out when she realized that she had gotten more fluttery in the stomach area when Spike had kissed her then she did when Angel was kissing her. However, she rationalized that away as her still being a little freaked out over the whole Spike-incident.

        "So…you and Oz…" Buffy raised an eyebrow at her, "You and Oz? Are you? Aren't you? When, where and what positions?"

        "Not yet, probably very soon, don't know where yet…and ew…none of your business."

        "Well…" Buffy smiled at Willow encouragingly, "If you would happen to bring Oz over tomorrow night…there's a really big chance that I might consider sleeping over at mom's."

        "So…in Buffy speak…that means…'I will spend the night at mom's, so I don't walk in on something that could possibly scar me for life.'?"

        "Exactly," Buffy agreed, "But I get details right? Ooohhh…better yet, set up a camcorder so I can critique technique…"

        "Ew!" Willow heaved the pillow at Buffy and she caught in the air, "God, that is sooo gross?"

        "So…no on the camcorder?" Buffy grinned as Willow groaned and covered her face. "Killjoy."

Part Fifteen

        As soon as Willow was out the door to go out on her date with Oz, Buffy had thrown herself at her closet, hurriedly dragging out her clothes for her date. Willow, probably in an attempt to torture her, hadn't took off with Oz till five-thirty, and now she only had half an hour to get prepared for her date with Angel.

        Unfortunately, Willow didn't know where they were going, so they'd have to avoid all the date hot spots for the night, which mean the Labyrinth, Espresso Pump and movies were out of the question. So, that probably meant they would end up at the Bronze, land of immature teenagers; now that she was an illustrious college student, teenagers were a different breed of vermin that needed to be crushed and destroyed. Never mind that only two years before, she had been one.

        "If they play any Ricky Martin, I'm going to shoot myself in the head," Buffy muttered beneath her breath as she hurriedly pulled on her killer short leather skirt that Spike had found so offensive before. She paused midway through dressing and glanced down at the skirt and briefly thought of changing out of it. She then rolled her eyes at herself, reminding herself that she really didn't care what Spike thought; especially when it came to her clothing.

        "All right! Rule one of the night!" Buffy told herself out loud, "No thinking of that stupid jerk! Angel…nice…Spike….devil spawn."

        She was barely done putting on her make-up before there was a knock at the door. She started like a deer at the sound, and then shook her head at her nervousness. It's just Angel, Buff…stop acting like a spazz. She took a deep breath and went to greet Angel at the door.

        "I'm really worried about Buffy."

        Oz looked up at Willow, dragging his eyes away from her hand, which was digging into the popcorn and was covered with a thin sheen of artificial butter, as well as a bit of chocolate from her Raisinnettes. Call him weird…but the temptation to suck the buttery and chocolaty goodness off her fingers was very overwhelming.

        Willow met his gaze, smiling at him with that mischievous little upturn of her lips that drove him absolutely wild.

        He wondered if she could guess at what he was thinking; he found it very hard to be his usual, quiet self around her. Being in her presence made him want to stand up and scream that she was `his' woman and that he loved her more then life itself. He wasn't usually that possessive when it came to women, but something about her made him want to protect her and keep her by his side forever, no matter what. Somehow, he thought that the very Liberal Willow wouldn't take that so well, but he couldn't really help it.

        "Why are you worried about Buffy?" Oz asked, even though he was already pretty sure of the answer. It was killing him to not tell Willow all that he knew about Angel, but Spike had made him promise to never tell anyone, no matter what. Even if Spike hadn't been his best friend, it wouldn't have mattered. Making a promise was something Oz didn't take lightly and he had never gone back on one. However, no promise was more painful to him as Spike's was at the moment.

        "I don't know…she was acting weird whenever I brought up Angel last night," Willow replied, sighing as she laid her head on Oz's shoulder, looking up at the movie screen with little interest. It was a movie they had both seen already and neither one was really interested in it; not that they had come to the movies to actually watch it anyhow. "Got all quiet or avoided the subject altogether."

        "Maybe she was thinking about what you said?" Oz suggested hopefully, "Could be she didn't want to talk about him because she isn't going to see him anymore?"

        "Maybe…I hope so…but I'm not so sure," Willow said with another little sigh, "Or maybe she's tired of hearing me bitch about him and decided not to tell me anymore about him so she wouldn't have to listen to it?"

        "Maybe…but there's really nothing you can do if she's not going to listen to you," Oz told her, "And you have to remember, you did try to warn her off from him…and other people have tried as well, but she's just not listening."

        "Yeah…but I really wished she had at least read that letter from Spike…"

        "Letter?" Oz frowned slightly, "He left her a letter?"

        "Yeah, he didn't tell you?" Willow looked up at Oz in surprise, and he shrugged.

        "Last I heard from Spike about Buffy was that whatever happened to her was her own damn fault and he had tried…"

        "I guess he didn't want to leave without trying one more time," Willow replied, smiling slightly as Oz draped his arm over her shoulder, and she snuggled in closely to his side. "That was sweet of him…too bad Buffy's being as stubborn as ever."

        "Yeah…why can't everyone else be like us?" Oz asked her teasingly, "Look? No fighting, no arguing…"

        "Just cuddling," Willow replied, smiling up at him, "I'm starting to think everyone else is crazy."

        "Except us?"

        "Except us," Willow agreed, smiling as Oz dipped his head down to brush his lips against hers.

        "Any particular reason you're acting like a skittish rabbit?" Angel asked, his voice dripping with thinly masked annoyance. However, Buffy didn't seem to notice the tone of his voice as she peered at the redhead that had come into the Bronze, trying to decide if it was Willow or not.

        At first, it had been kind of cute, her jumping every time she thought she saw one of her friend's; after the sixth time it had interrupted their somewhat heavy make-out session on the couch, it was getting very old, very fast. He was trying to seduce the little twit, but it wasn't working out as well as he had planned, because she insisted on breaking his concentration with her constant fidgeting and worrying. He couldn't believe he'd given up the date with the brunette with the rack for this.

        Buffy's attention was drawn back towards him when he laid his hand on her bare knee. It was fairly dark in the back corner of the Bronze, where they had taken over a couch, but she could still see the exasperated look on his face, and cursed herself silently for her paranoia.

        Angel was being more then attentive to her, and she was ruining what should be a good date with her anxiousness over being seen by her friends; specifically, being caught sucking some major face by her friends. She wasn't usually like that, but when Angel had led her towards the couch and started kissing her, she hadn't protested. Somewhere, in the analytical part of her mind, (which existed, though she used it very rarely,) she was aware that she using Angel. It was either to perhaps get some sort of petty revenge on Spike he would never know about, or maybe even to eradicate him and the kisses shared with him out of her mind. She wasn't quite sure at the moment.

        Angel was leaning towards her again, his tongue thrusting into her mouth insistently, the taste of cheap beer and pretzels clinging to it. Buffy closed her eyes, allowing him to draw her closer towards him so that their bodies were pressed together, but she was forced to squeak and pull away with a pained wince when he squeezed her a little too enthusiastically.

        Okay…so, this wasn't entirely working for her…although, the pain did help her forget about Spike…unfortunately, she was pretty sure one of her ribs had punctured her lung.

        Angel pressed his lips together in annoyance when Buffy bitched about him giving her a little hug, and barely controlled the urge to roll his eyes at her antics. She was beginning to prove a little more trouble then she could really be worth. However, the appeal of having something that he was very sure Spike wanted was strong enough for him to offer her an apologetic smile before promptly dragging her into another kiss; his hands were roaming roughly over her body, the hand on her knee traveling up to just inside her short, little skirt, fingers brushing along her inner thigh and making her jump a bit.

        "You rat bastard…"

        Angel broke away from Buffy this time, and had to blink several times to make out the face of the waitress standing above them, glaring at both him and Buffy. "You broke our date for that little slut?" The brunette hissed at him angrily, dragging her eyes over a very confused looking Buffy.

        "Aw…Kathy…"

        "My name is Tracy, asshole, who in the hell is Kathy!?" The brunette demanded shrilly, "Oh, forget it, I don't give a fuck," She picked up one of the drinks on her tray and in one of the most cliché `scorned woman' moves, tossed it into his face and stalked off.

        Angel swore loudly, swiping at his face as he glared in the direction Tracy had gone, less pissed about the drink and more pissed that he was missing out on what he had been told was a very easy lay. Not only that, the girl had a pretty damn big mouth and he knew that the story would be all around town in short order. Well, no matter; he still had Buffy to string along till something better came along.

        He was then reminded of the reason Tracy was so angry in the first place, and he turned towards Buffy just as she was standing, grabbing her purse and jacket, and she didn't even bother to say a word to him as she hurried for the exit. He swore loudly again and followed her out of the Bronze, trying to get his anger over her screwing things up for him before he approached her again.

        "Buffy! Come on, Buffy…don't be like that," Angel caught her by the arm, and he gave her his best `anguished' look. "I'm sorry you had to see that…but she's nothing to me…that's why I broke our date for you…"

        "Yeah, all right, pull the other one," Buffy spat out angrily, rolling her eyes.

        "You don't understand…I was just scared," At her incredulous look, he sighed heavily, dropping his hand from her arm, inserting just the right amount of misery into his eyes. "The real reason I didn't call you for so long after the party…it was because I was scared, Buffy. I was afraid that Spike was going to get to you and spread his poison…so, when Tracy asked me for a date…I accepted. When I finally worked up the nerve to talk to you, and you said you would see me again, I immediately broke off my date with Tracy…"

        Buffy bit her lip, looking up at him skeptically, and he reached forward, clasping her hands with his, "I really do care about you, Buffy…I'm sorry I hurt you…I promise, it will never happen again…"

        "Can we just go now?" Buffy asked, sighing heavily, showing all signs of giving in, and Angel hid his triumphant grin.

        "Yeah, sure," Angel took her hand in his, gallantly kissing her knuckles, his eyes shining earnestly into hers. "I'll drive you back to campus…"

        "Can you drive me to my house instead? Willow and Oz are probably using the dorm room right now…"

        Angel nodded and led her towards the car he had managed to borrow from a friend for the night, and Buffy allowed him to open her door for her like a gentleman and slid into the passenger seat.

        The ride to Revello Drive was spent in silence, but with Angel casting smoldering glances at her every so often, and Buffy couldn't help but blush under his gaze, and he smiled at her gently as he pulled to a stop in front of her house. He glanced at the front and noted that all of the lights were off and it appeared as if no one was home at the moment.

        "She was really nothing?" Buffy finally asked quietly, and Angel immediately moved across the seat, smiling at her.

        "Absolutely nothing…heck, I couldn't even remember her name," Angel reminded her, and Buffy smiled unsurely. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, but as soon as they parted in invitation, it quickly turned into a somewhat aggressive kiss.

        Buffy wrapped her arms around him, kissing back with all she was worth, but for some reason, a sense of unease had settled in her stomach, the hairs on the back of her neck rising for no discernible reason. The unease deepened as Angel pulled her towards him and then started to press her down across the front seat.

        "Hmmphhh…" Buffy broke the kiss and his lips trailed down her throat, much as Spike's had done before, but instead of the flare of arousal that had accompanied the action before, she felt a sudden panic, "Angel…"

        Angel didn't answer her as he started to unbutton her blouse and Buffy reached up to grab his hands, stilling them. He shook them off in irritation as he straightened a bit and pulled her even more down the seat. She tried to sit up, but he roughly shoved her back against the seat.

        "Angel! Stop!" Buffy demanded angrily, trying to shove him away but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the passenger side door, his eyes gleaming in the dark interior of the car, "ANGEL!"

        "Shut up," He growled, holding her wrists with one hand as he started to reach for her blouse again. Buffy thrashed beneath him, her leg hitting against the steering column of the car, and her foot striking the horn, making it beep once, loudly. Angel almost snarled as he grabbed her flailing leg and squeezed her thigh till she cried out in pain. She jerked on her hands, trying to pull them loose, terror gripping her,

        "GET OFF ME!"

        "Shut up, you goddamned little cock-tease," He backhanded her across the face, and Buffy saw stars dancing in her vision. He reached for her blouse again and this time, succeeded in ripping it open. He scowled at her when he saw the big, fat tears rolling down her face and hit her again, and Buffy's head lolled on the seat, her vision blurring as she fought to maintain consciousness, and she continued to fight weakly as Angel went to work on her skirt. "Don't you fuckin' move, you little bitch, or I'll really give you something to cry about!"

Part Sixteen

        Giles yawned widely as he turned onto Revello Drive, glancing towards Joyce, who had dozed off in the passenger seat, smiling slightly. It had been a long night for both of them, the show at the gallery a week before having generated several sells, which they had spent all night packaging and preparing to send to the buyers.

        Joyce stirred, opening one eye and then straightening tiredly when she saw they were very nearly home and she stretched her arms over her head, arching her back forward. She caught the lustful gaze Giles sent at her as her breasts pressed against the front of her silk blouse, and rolled her eyes playfully before snuggling up to his side. "Hmmm…all I can think about is bed…"

        "Funny, so can I," Giles replied, chuckling when Joyce elbowed him, obviously catching the innuendo in his statement. However, he did try to give her his most innocent expression, but she wasn't buying it all.

        "Sleep first," Joyce admonished him, and then smiled coquettishly, "Of course…we could always send Cynthia in to open the gallery up for us while we…sleep in, tomorrow morning."

        "Oh, jolly good," Giles said, his smile widening, "Breakfast in bed."

        "What am I? Your chambermaid?" Joyce shook her head, "You can bring me breakfast in bed."

        "I wasn't referring to that sort of breakfast in bed."

        "Oh!" Joyce smiled at him brightly and then looked forward when she heard a horn going off. "Whose beeping their horn in the middle of the night?" She leaned forward in her seat when she saw the car parked out in the front of their house, "Who in the world is that?"

        "I'm not…" Giles suddenly blanched and then he was slamming on the brakes, barely taking the time to throw the parking brake.

        "Rupert…? What in the…" He was out of the car before she could even ask him what was the matter, and she looked towards the car in front of her. Her eyes went wide when she saw what her husband already seen. Someone was struggling in the front seat, legs flailing.

        Giles reached the driver's side of the car in time to see the man striking the girl he was holding down, and without regard to his own safety, jerked open the door. His hand enclosed on the back of the attacker's neck and he wrenched the man out the car, sending him sprawling in the road.

        Angel barely had time to register that he was now the one under attack before Giles was hauling him back up to his feet and throwing him against the car and pinning him there. Angel recognized Giles a few seconds before Giles recognized him. "Oh…shit…"

        "You!" Giles snarled, barely looking up as Joyce opened the passenger side car door, and gasping out his step-daughter's name. Giles' eyes snapped with blue fury when he saw Joyce helping a sobbing, disheveled Buffy out of the car, the girl's blouse torn and her skirt hiked up around her waist.

        Angel threw Giles off of him and attempted to get back into his car, but Giles grabbed him by the back of the shirt and hauled him back out. He gripped the back of Angel's neck and slammed him face first into the frame of the car, and Angel howled as he felt the cartilage of his nose shatter into several pieces.

        "I thought I told you to stay the FUCK away from my family!" Giles shouted at him as he slammed Angel's face into the car several more times. Giles didn't stop till he heard the sound of police sirens in the distance, and he finally dropped Angel in disgust, watching as the waste of human existence slumped to the ground, sobbing and clutching his now not-so-pretty face. However, he couldn't resist a hard kick to Angel's unprotected side, the sound of a rib snapping accompanying the hit. Angel screamed loudly before very nearly passing out, and Giles was satisfied the little shit wouldn't try to run now…and even if he tried, Giles would very easily be able to tackle him again.

        He crossed over to Buffy and Joyce, who were clinging to each other, both having watched Giles beat the crap out of Angel without saying a word in protest; tears were still streaming down Buffy's face and his heart broke when he saw the terror still visible in her eyes.

        When he opened his arms, Buffy practically flew into them, and he wrapped her up in a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" Buffy sobbed out, her face buried against his chest.

        "Shhh, darling…it's all right," He soothed as Joyce came up to rub Buffy's back. "You couldn't know…it's all right…"

        Buffy only sobbed even harder when Giles said that. She had known, that was the problem…she had known to some extent and completely disregarded all the warnings everyone had given her. Including those of her friends and she hadn't even bothered to listen to Spike. That just made it all the more worse.

        Giles looked in Angel's direction when he groaned, his eyes narrowing dangerously as the boy regained some consciousness. However, the sight of the police car turning onto their road was the only thing keeping him from beating Angel into unconsciousness.

        "Honey, the police are going to want a statement," Giles told her, loosening his grip on her so he could look down into her face, and hand her his handkerchief. "Are you up to that?"

        Buffy nodded, sniffling heavily as she wiped her face and then blew her nose into Giles' handkerchief. "Yeah...I…I think so…yeah…"

        Giles smiled at her reassuringly as he brushed her hair out of her face and then left Buffy to her mother as he went to intercept the two cops that were getting out of their car.

        "We got a call about some kind of domestic disturbance?" Giles blinked in annoyance when the female cop flashed her torch in his face, and he held up an arm.

        "My wife and I just got home to find this piece of shit," He turned to the side, gesturing at Angel, who was trying to climb back to his feet, but he didn't succeed. He merely groaned, slipping back down to the ground in pain. "Attacking our daughter…he was attempting…to take advantage of her."

        The lady cop exchanged a look with her male partner, and then glanced towards Buffy, who was now wearing Joyce's coat, but she could see a bruise already forming on Buffy's face, and also took note of Buffy's torn blouse. She immediately got out her handcuffs and walked towards Angel. She none to gently shoved him onto the ground and Angel nearly screamed as she straddled him and jerked his hands behind his back.

        As she was reading Angel his Miranda rights, the other cop took a tearful statement from Buffy, as well as from Giles and Joyce. Giles watched almost gleefully as the lady cop picked Angel of off the ground and then slammed him face-first into the trunk of his car. At the look she got from her partner, the cop grinned, "The perp was resisting arrest."

        Her partner rolled his eyes as he finished getting his statement, but he was obviously trying not to smile as he listened to Angel `resisting arrest' some more. When he was finished with her, Buffy turned her attention to Angel, her terror giving way to extreme anger, and then she was stalking towards him.

        "You asshole," Buffy hissed at him, "I trusted you." Giles glanced in their direction and then winced when he saw Buffy deal Angel a swift kick to the balls, causing his eyes to cross. "That's for me, you jerk!" She then punched him in the face, square in his broken nose, and Angel howled in pain, "And that's for Spike," She spat at him in a low voice so that only he would hear.

        "Man, oh man," The lady cop watched as Buffy stalked back off to her parents, shaking her head at Angel evilly, "You just don't know when to stop resisting arrest, do you?"

        "Here you go, honey," Joyce handed Buffy a cup of tea laced with honey and sat beside her on the couch. Buffy's hands were still shaky and Joyce had to take the cup back from her to prevent her from spilling it all over herself. Giles was moving about the living room restlessly, acting like an overly protective father bear as he circled around Joyce and Buffy several times. It was like he was half-expecting Angel to come crashing through the door to renew his attack on his step-daughter, despite being hauled away by the police, looking like he had been put through a meat-grinder.

        Buffy closed her eyes as she rested her head against her mother's shoulder, knowing what was giving poor Giles so much agitation. It wasn't just the fact that Angel had tried to rape her; though, that alone would have been enough to freak him out big time; it was also the fact that the same man had attacked his two daughters. She knew, on some level, that Giles was probably blaming himself for not having protected Buffy against him, even though there was really no way he could have known.

        But I did...well…sort of…I didn't know the whole story, but I didn't bother trying to find out, now did I? Buffy thought bitterly to herself, wishing she hadn't thrown Spike's letter away. Hindsight is always 20/20…she mentally grimaced, remembering that was one of Giles favorite lecture phrases.

        Giles had explained what had truly happened to Drusilla, but only in details he believed that she needed to know. Either his fatherly or Englishman sensibilities prevented him from going into great detail, and Buffy was having trouble paying attention anyway, her mind running a million thoughts a minute.

        "How you feeling, baby?" Joyce asked Buffy concernedly, tucking a strand of hair behind Buffy's ear. "You doing okay?"

        "Uh…yeah, I'm fine," Buffy managed to give her mom a shaky smile, "Just…a little tired and a lot freaked out…but I'll be fine…" She looked up to see Giles watching her somewhat worriedly and this time she did succeed in a genuine smile. "I'll be even better when he becomes someone's prison bitch."

        Giles grinned.

Part Seventeen

        "Oh my God! Buffy!" Willow rushed at her best friend as soon as she walked into the room, nearly knocking her over with the ferocity of her bear hug, "I was worried sick about you! On the news, they were saying Angel was arrested for rape, but they didn't say who…"

        "Wills, calm down," Buffy laid her hands on Willow's shoulder, giving her a gentle shake, "You're all blue in the face and you're going to make yourself sick…" Buffy glanced over Willow's shoulder to see Oz sitting on her bed, watching the two of them with a sickly expression. "And before you guys freak out…yes, Angel tried to rape me…but he didn't get the chance…Giles and mom came home and Giles kicked his ass, big time."

        "Oh my God…" Willow began to hyperventilate.

        "Wills…breath," Buffy instructed worriedly, leading her friend to the desk and sat her down in the chair, "I'm all right, promise…Angel is a lot worse off then I am, believe me…I'm really okay…kicking myself for being stupid, but okay…"

        "But…but…he tried to…"

        "He tried, he didn't succeed," Buffy reminded her, trying to sooth Willow's panicked mind. "It's my own fault…not that I was almost…you know…but it was my fault I was in danger in the first place."

        "It's not your fault," Willow replied, calming down some, "It's not your fault he came after you…" Willow frowned when she saw the guilty look flitting across Buffy's face, "He didn't just come after you, did he?"

        "I kinda had a date with him," Buffy admitted shame-facedly, "That's why I was with him in the first place. I lied to you when I said I was just going to bug mom about a car…"

        "Oh…" Willow looked down at the hands clasped in her lap, and Buffy glanced towards Oz, who was listening unobtrusively to her confession. "I still should've known that…"

        "Don't do the self-blaming thing either," Buffy admonished Willow, "Everyone pretty much tried to warn me…hell…Spike tried to a bunch of times and I ignored him; even tossed out that letter he gave me too…"

        "Actually," Willow stood up and went to her bureau, taking out the letter she had hidden away. Buffy blinked in surprise as Willow handed it to her, and looked up at her friend, raising an inquiring eyebrow. "I took it out of the trash…in case you decided to look at it later…" Willow told her sheepishly, "I didn't read it! But now I really kinda wish I had…"

        "Don't start that again," Buffy warned as she glanced down at the letter in her hands, turning it over in her hands and staring at her name written in Spike's elegant hand. "Could you guys do me a favor and…"

        "Skedaddle?" Oz guessed, standing up, and Buffy glanced up at him, smiling wanly.

        "If you could…I'd appreciate it," Buffy replied, and Willow looked at her worriedly.

        "Are you sure, Buffy? I mean…I don't mind…but…"

        "I'll be fine, Wills…I just...need some time to think some things over."

        "All right," Willow allowed Oz to take her arm, "We'll be real close-by and I have my cell-phone if you need anything…oh, and…"

        "Willow…" Buffy smiled at her in some amusement, "It's a letter…not a rapid dog."

        "Oh…right…sorry…I was just…"

        "Honey," Oz broke in, smiling at his girlfriend lovingly, "She'll be okay."

        "Sorry…" Willow said again, grabbing her purse and Oz turned towards Buffy, finally looking uncomfortable.

        "Uh…I probably should have said something…I promised Spike I wouldn't and…"

        "You couldn't have prevented it," Buffy told him, "I probably wouldn't have believed you."

        Oz nodded once before joining Willow, the redhead giving him a worried look, obviously picking up on his well-hidden guilt. Buffy saw them out and closed the door behind them, taking a deep breath before looking down at the letter still in her hand. Her hands were shaking a tiny bit as she broke the envelope seal, and took out two sheets of thick, unlined paper; she began to read.

        Right off the bat, I just want you to know that this letter contains no mention of the feelings I have expressed to you before and found so repulsive. The purpose of this letter is only to defend myself against the accusations made against me by a third party, as well as by you; also, to warn you of impending danger if you pursue your relationship with Angel.

        I have a fear that, by now, you've already thrown this letter away, but I shall continue on, nevertheless, in the hopes that you have kept reading.

        Firstly, I want to apologize for my behavior in the club, when we first met. There is really no excuse for what I did or said, so I won't make one to you. I doubt you would appreciate the effort anyway. I had no right to make those comments I made and I have cursed myself over and over again for that mistake. What I said was cruel and uncalled for and you certainly did nothing to warrant it, and I apologize sincerely.

        Now, onto the matter near and dear to your heart: Angel.

        I'm sure that he has mentioned, to some extent, the relationship between him and Drusilla. However, I'm not sure exactly what he told you, so, I suppose I should start at the beginning.

        Angel and I were never great friends. We attended the same school, however, and between the two of us, we developed a somewhat detrimental competitive streak. Since we boys, we were always competing over the same things; from sports to academic achievements…and once we hit puberty, girls, sadly enough. However, there was always something that he couldn't compete against, and that was the affection between my sister and I..

        My sister always had a bit of a crush on him, but it wasn't something I worried about. She had little crushes on many of my friends, and I had never made anything of it before, which, sadly, was my mistake. When Drusilla was fifteen, Angel learned of her crush on him, but he didn't of ignore or discourage it, he instead encouraged her. He began picking her up after school without my knowledge and convinced her not only that he cared for her, but to also keep the relationship from me. Drusilla and I were extremely close, even for siblings, and we shared everything together; you can imagine what she was going through, keeping such a thing as this from me.

        Drusilla was a very animated girl, but as the relationship progressed, she became withdrawn, quiet, not speaking with my mother and I, and even drew away from her closest friends. It was only by virtue of her best friend, who was worried about Drusilla, that I became aware of the relationship in the first place. Also, through this friend, and later confirmed by my sister, I learned that Angel was pressuring her into doing things that she did not want to do. I'll allow you to draw your own conclusions as to what that is.

        After learning of this inappropriate relationship being conducted by Angel with Dru, I tried to convince him to break off with her. He wouldn't listen and I tried to resort even to bribery. He took my money, and for a little while, he left Dru alone. She was unaware of this and gradually, she became the girl she used to be. Then, a few months later, he took up with her again and she became withdrawn once more.

        After this, I decided to take the matter up with my sister myself. I managed to convince her that her relationship with Angel was something that just couldn't go on any longer. She called and told him that she would no longer see him, and for several weeks after that, worrying that he'd try to influence her again, I kept an eye on her. From driving her too and from school, to sometimes following her when she went out with friends. You probably think me paranoid and deceptive, and I don't think I can blame you, but Dru's safety and happiness is always utmost in my mind.

        After several weeks of inactivity on Angel's part, I became lulled by the illusion that he had truly given up and was no longer interested in my sister. However, as soon as my attention lapsed, he struck, quite frighteningly and literally.

        She was out with her friends when he approached, probably aware that I wasn't there to watch her this time and managed to convince her to go off with him. I only knew of this because her best friend, the one who informed me of the relationship before, called me. She was convinced that Angel was acting oddly around Drusilla and had frightened some of her other friends with his attitude towards her. With this warning and no true idea of where they were going, I headed to Angel's flat and hoped that they would be there.

        I was very nearly not in time, and to this day, it haunts me as to what would have happened if I had been five minutes later then I was. I reached the door just as she started yelling for help, and after breaking the door, I found him pinning my little sister to the floor and was attempting to remove her clothing and covering her mouth with his hand. I almost killed him then, and only Dru's presence prevented me from doing so. The police were called and he was arrested, but Dru, either terrified of him or what people would think of her, refused to testify against him, despite I and our mother, as well as our father, begging her to do so.

        Even though ours is not a small town, tongues did wag and Angel's reputation was sullied there, as you said. However, as I also said, I can't take credit for his ruin; it was all his own doing.

        I rejoiced the day he moved out of town and took off for parts unknown, but as you know, my wish to never see him ever again was ruined. To compound my distress was that you and he seemed to be starting out on a relationship, and I'm afraid that the same thing that happened to Dru could happen to you.

        You may laugh this letter off and call me ten ways a fool, but please, for your sake, if only, be wary of this man and know him for what he is. I beg you to at least take precautions, even if you don't believe me. Carry mace…or a taser, preferably and protect yourself if you insist on seeking out a relationship with him. Even if you put no stock in my word, at least be overly cautious instead of complacent in what you believe of him.

        I'm afraid that is really all I can say on the matter, and hope that my advice is taken or at the very least, not completely laughed off. I'd hope to be comforted in the fact that you take just a tiny bit of what I said in mind when you see him next.

        Always yours,

        William

        "Hello…I'm Buffy…and I'm a completely stupid idiot," Buffy muttered as she sat away the letter. She had already read through it three times, each time succeeding in making her feel even worse.

        She also couldn't help but to feel for not only Drusilla, but also Spike. Poor Drusilla, genuinely thinking she was in love with Angel only to be taken advantage of, not only once but three times! And Spike was right…she could use her imagination as to what Drusilla had done with Angel that she didn't feel like doing. And poor Spike! He really seemed to love his sister…yeah, he was kind of really overprotective, but if he hadn't been, Angel would have actually succeeded, and Spike probably would have blamed himself for simply being semi-friends with Angel and exposing Dru to him. He probably did actually blame himself like that now.

        Yeah…and add to it he thinks Angel was only interested in you because you're his step-sister…which, now that I come to think about it, is probably true.

         Buffy groaned, dropping her head into her hands, the papers of the letter crinkling in her head. "Great, Summers…nearly get raped by the guy you defended and ripped the heart out of the chest of the guy who was trying to protect you. How stupid can you be!?"

Part Eighteen

        "Wow…" Willow carefully smoothed out the now crinkled pages of the letter, her eyes slightly wide as she looked up at Buffy, who was laying across her bed, her stuffed pig, Mr. Gordo, tucked beneath her chin.

        Buffy nodded, a miserable look on her face, "I know…I'm an idiot…"

        "You're not an idiot," Willow argued, "You're just…just…"

        "Stupid?"

        "No! You were just…a bit biased," Willow replied, trying to soften the blow, "But wow…poor Spike…and Drusilla! That poor little girl, having to go through something like that…"

        "Yeah," Buffy sighed, "Okay…so, maybe if I read the letter before, I might have been more careful around Angel. I knew Dru was young…but I was thinking like…seventeen young or something… but it started when she was fifteen. I suck at math, but I think Angel must have been at least nineteen at the time, maybe even twenty…which is just kind of icky by itself." Buffy sat up and looked towards Willow dejectedly, "I really screwed up, didn't' I?"

        "What? No…well…kinda…but you know better about Angel now…"

        "Not about that," Buffy shook her head slowly, "With Spike. I just…couldn't let go of the way he humiliated me at the club…and even when he was trying to be nice to me, I was being a self-righteous bitch…and oh my God…do you have any idea what he had to be going through after I brought Angel to that party? I'm a horrible, horrible person."

        "Oh, Buffy…" Willow smiled at her sympathetically as she took a seat next to Buffy, wrapping an arm around her. "You just got angry and handled it badly. That doesn't make you a horrible person…"

        "I'm horrible," Buffy asserted, "You know, I didn't even like Angel? I mean…after the party, I was kind of not liking him so much…but I wanted to see him again, which I didn't get at first…I think I liked the idea that he pissed Spike off more then I liked him."

        "Once again, you just have some anger management problems," Willow consoled, smiling a tiny bit, "I mean…every time Spike talked to you, he came away bruised or bleeding."

        "Yeah, remind me of that," Buffy said sarcastically, groaning as she flopped backwards onto her bed, "I really screwed up this time, Wills. I alienated a possibly nice guy, insulted him and flaunted Angel in his face…"

        "Not to mention punching him in the nose, kicking him in the crotch, oh…and almost splitting his skull open…" Willow said in a teasing voice.

        "Okay, to be fair, he deserved the punch in the face," Buffy reminded Willow, but the rest of it…not so much, I guess…I kind of antagonized him now that I think about it…" A pained look twisted Buffy's face, "Oh God…and the things I said to him, accusing him of ruining Angel's life… and the things I said to him when he said he loved me…I couldn't even let the guy down nicely! Instead, I was being a completely nasty bitch. He's never going to want to talk to me again! And I really can't blame him either."

        Willow didn't really know how to comfort Buffy on that fact, knowing that very likely, it was probably true. "I'm sorry Buffy," Willow said, "But hey…maybe he'll come around eventually. Giles is bound to tell him what happened, and if he loves you, he'll be worried about you…that'll probably be enough to get him to call you or something."

        "Yeah…" Buffy sighed, not even bothering to hope for that much. She had already burned her bridges and she was going to have to learn to live with her mistakes. All she could hope for at the moment was that her mistakes wouldn't affect Giles' relationship with his family and make the most important man in her life unhappy.

        Buffy fidgeted nervously on the steps of the courthouse, smoothing her hands over her silk blouse and trying to appear as though she wasn't nervous. Which was a big fat lie. She had known this was coming for the last month and a half, but she was still nervous and scared out of her mind.

        She straightened when she saw the DA coming up the stairs towards her, and Elisa Bennett smiled at her reassuringly when she saw the look on Buffy's face. "How are you doing. Buffy?"

        "Oh…good, doing pretty good," Buffy lied unconvincingly, and the lawyer smiled at her as she ran a hand through her shortly cropped brown hair.

        "Listen, I know you're nervous, Buffy…but just tell the truth and don't let the defense attorney intimidate you. He might be harsh, he might imply that you led Angel on…but don't let him get you riled up. That's pretty much the only defense he has and no jury has bought that story since the Seventies," Elisa advised her, "I would also not advise looking at Angel at all, unless asked to identify him. He might attempt to make threatening gestures or simply stare at you to try and make you uncomfortable. Don't fall for it. It's an old trick made to make the witness look jumpy and therefore, not credible."

        "Gee…you really know how to make a girl feel better," Buffy said sarcastically, and Elisa chuckled.

        "I just wanted to warn you of what you're going to be probably be facing…you family is here, correct?"

        "Yeah, they're inside," Buffy replied, "I just needed some air…"

         "All right," Elisa laid a hand on Buffy's shoulder, leading her back inside the court building. "A bailiff will let you know when you're up to bat. Just sit tight till then, and relax."

        Buffy took a seat on the bench outside the courtroom doors and crossed her ankles demurely. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, mostly to keep herself from squirming as she waited, wondering when, exactly, she would be called to testify. She started to tap one of her feet impatiently, and glanced down when she heard her heel clicking against the floor. She looked around at the suited people preparing for other trials going on in the courthouse, and then back down at her feet. Out of boredom, she started lightly tapping out a tune that was stuck in her head on the floor.

        She looked up when she heard several people moving towards her and she blanched when she saw Angel come into the courthouse, flanked by two uniformed police officers. He shot her a sneer as he shuffled past her, and Buffy smiled at him sweetly, "Nice suit, Angel…it really goes with the handcuffs."

        "Keep moving and keep your mouth shut," One of the guards shoved Angel forward when he tried to stop and he was unable to shoot back a retort. Buffy leaned back in her seat as she watched Angel being led like a lamb to slaughter into the courtroom, all of her nervousness seeming to magically disappear.

        *POP*

        Buffy yelped, ducking a champagne cork that went careening across the room after bouncing off of the dining room wall and towards her head. "Giles! Watch it with the flying fatalities!"

        "Sorry," Giles was currently using a towel to mop up the champagne that was bubbling out of the bottle, shooting a suspicious look at a snickering Xander, "Xander! Did you shake the bottle before handing it to me?"

        "Not me," Xander protested, forking a thumb in Oz's direction, "It was him. No one ever suspects the quiet ones."

        Oz didn't even bother to dignify that with a response, and Giles gave Xander an accusing look before pouring what was left of the champagne into glasses, and then held up his own when everybody had a glass. "Just wanted to give a toast to Buffy, who was so very incredibly brave on the stand and made sure that prick ended up behind bars. Your mother and I are proud of you, darling."

        Buffy flushed and then rolled her eyes as Xander added, "And a toast to Angel, who will be enjoying communal showering with horny prison inmates for the next 3-5 years."

        "Ewww…gross…image I didn't need, Xand," Willow smacked her friend upside the back of the head. "I'll never sleep again."

        "I'll sleep just fine with that image in my head," Xander announced, and then leaned towards Oz when he saw the way the others all stared at him, "That sounded kinda gay, didn't it?"     

        Buffy disentangled herself from the little celebration party and went out to the back porch, holding a huge slice of chocolate chip cheesecake. She sat down on the steps and peered out into the shadows of the backyard. In the distance, a dog barked and crickets chirped; otherwise, the night was silent. Which was all well and good, since she was looking for the alone time.

        She picked half-heartedly at her slice of cheesecake, not really hungry, but her mother had practically shoved it at her, insisting she needed to eat something. She hadn't eaten anything really since she had testified at Angel's trial three days before.

        It wasn't the strain of worry about the outcome of his trial that had completely ruined her appetite. As soon as she had taken the stand and looked out over the courtroom, she had known that he was going to be found guilty. Call it woman's intuition…or Juror #9 giving her a thumbs up, but she had known the bastard was going to jail.

        She had been sitting pretty on the stand, answering the questions Elisa was asking about the time up to the attempted rape when someone had slipped into the courtroom and taken a seat way in the back. Despite his distinct appearance, it had taken Buffy a few seconds to register that it was really Spike. No one else had seemed to notice his arrival, and he slipped out as soon as her testimony was finished. By the time the court was recessed and she was allowed to leave, he was long gone, as if he had never been there. When she asked Oz later if Spike was in town, he had given her an odd look and replied that as far as he knew, Spike was still in England.

        Since then, she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him, and as far as she knew, he was really back home by now. Either that, he was never there and she had finally went crazy and was having Spike-induced hallucinations. However, she had a feeling that he had really been there but just didn't want to speak with her anymore.

        She tried to ignore the hurt feelings that arose from that thought, reminding herself that she had no real right to feel hurt by him ignoring her. It was her own fault that he didn't want to talk to her and was avoiding her, seemingly, at all costs, even going as far as to not tell his best friend that he had been in town.

        Buffy looked down at her cheesecake and actually found nausea rolling around in her gut and she sighed heavily as she set the plate aside. She rested her head on her hands, bending over her knees as she waited for it to pass, ignoring the tears that dripped slowly from her eyes.

Part Nineteen

        Spike leaned his head against the cold Plexiglas of the window, peering down at the lights of LA beneath him. His ears popped as the plane continued to gain altitude, and soon, LA disappeared to be replaced by the vast blackness of the Pacific as the plane prepared to bank around and head back across the continental mass that was the United States. In about nine hours, he'd be landing in La Guardia airport in New York…and then another ten hours across the Atlantic and back home to England.

        He was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. Not from the plane rides, although, they were a practice in futile frustration and the completely legal cruelty of twelve inches of leg room. He hated flying coach.

        He tuned out the sound of fussing children, snappish, peevish passengers, and sarcastic stewardesses as he concentrated all of his attention on the black, cold void outside his window and allowed his thoughts to carry him away.

        Unfortunately, for him, he had hours and hours of contemplation spanning out before him, giving him plenty of time to reflect on his cowardice. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do once he had reached Sunnydale…but turning tail and running away like a bitch hadn't really been part of the original planning. However…plans change…and he had found out that he was a big sissy girl.

        When he boarded the plane at Heathrow, he had been determined to find Buffy, speak with her and hopefully smooth things over with them enough that they could at least remain friends. However, as soon as he sat foot in that courtroom, he knew that it was impossible.

        She had looked so damn beautiful…confident and strong, as she sat there on the stand, her voice clear and steady as she answered questions. She was even more amazing during cross-examination, when the defense attorney had attempted to break her down on the stand by insinuating that she was leading Angel on. He had barely resisted the urge to jump over the gate and pummel the bald-headed little grease-ball for daring to suggest that Buffy was anything less then truthful. And, who, exactly, was going to buy a lame-ass defense like that anyway? He doubted even Angel's own mum would have bought that crap.

        However, even before she had finished on the stand, he knew it was impossible that he and she could simply be friends. Well, at least for his part. He simply loved and wanted her far too much for it to be possible. Maybe, one day, he might reach a point when he could see her or simply hear her voice again without the pain of knowing she would never love him piercing his very heart and soul.

        Spike closed his eyes with a heavy sigh as he leaned back in his seat and tried to stave off the sleep that would bring him dreams of her.

        "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

        Buffy thumped her head on her textbook after her scream, which made everyone in the otherwise silent library jump and look towards the blonde who was attempting to pulverize her brain by beating her head against her book.

        "Buffy!" Willow hissed, sending an apologetic smile at everyone else in the library, "You can't scream like that in the library!"

        "Sorry," Buffy mumbled into the now battered pages, and then lifted her head, "I'm so going to fail. Who was the sadist that put finals just before Christmas vacation? Failing all my classes is really going to put a crimp in my holiday planning."

        Willow smiled at her friend, glad that things had more or less returned to normal for Buffy. After a month or so, she had stopped worrying about Spike and the way he had never tried to get into touch with her, despite his renewed contact with Giles. However, the reason she had stopped worrying about him was because she was too busy freaking out about the upcoming finals for their fall semester classes.

        "You're not going to fail…you know the material…you just have to review it," Willow assured her, glancing down at their study guide, "All right, you've read Wuthering Heights…"

        "That was the one with the tree…oh, and the dog and the guy was all deformed, right?"

        Willow frowned in confusion, "Um…I…don't think anyone was deformed in Wuthering Heights…and…dog?"

        "Yeah, a dog…oh, and that really old creepy house with the crazy lady in it…" Buffy frowned, "Seemed kinda familiar, for some reason…"

        "That's Jane Eyre! Not Wuthering Heights! As excited as I am that you read Jane Eyre, it's not even on the test…it wasn't even in the curriculum!"

        "But…it was by Emily Brontë..."

        Willow groaned, covering her face with her hands. "No, it was by Charolotte Brontë, not Emily…they're sisters."

        "I think I have a problem…"

        "Buffy, didn't you notice when we were talking about it in class, that what we were talking about didn't exactly match what you were reading?"

        "Um…you mean, in the times when I was listening between napping and doodling? Not really."

        Willow very nearly screamed herself, but when she saw Buffy was trying to keep from laughing, she lowered her hands, glaring at her best friend. "You're screwing with me, aren't you?"

        "Yeah…" Buffy grinned evilly, "And it was fun. I read Wuthering Heights…it was the most annoying book on the planet and I wanted to bitch-slap half the characters…" Buffy scowled, "I mean…come on. Catherine was a total bitch. I mean, Heathcliff was a totally okay guy till she rejected him brutally and sent him packing. He was completely in love with her, and she was in love with him, but just because he wasn't all perfect and rich, she sent him packing. And they were totally perfect for each other! They were both passionate and kind of wild and…" Buffy trailed off when she saw Willow staring at her with wide eyes, "What?"

        "Wow…you…really read Wuthering Heights, didn't you?" Willow said in amazement.

        "Yeah, well," Buffy started picking at the fraying corner of her textbook, "Couldn't help but see a couple parallels between my life and that book."

        "Buffy, come on…you're hardly Catherine," Willow replied, sighing, "You've got to stop beating yourself up over this thing. It's been a couple months already, when are you going to just let it go and move on with your life?"

        "It'd be easy if I could at least talk to him," Buffy said in exasperation. "Last week, he and Drusilla called Giles; I asked Giles if I could talk to him, but before I even said a word, he hung up. Didn't even get a chance to apologize. I try calling him myself, he's always in the shower or not home. I did end up talking to his mom for like an hour…nice lady, by the way…but it's driving me insane! I mean, sure, I know he's pissed at me…but this is getting ridiculous."

         "Poor Buffy," Willow patted her on the back, "Just give him time…uh…even more time. He'll come around…"

        "That's what you said a month ago," Buffy grumbled, "I am so close to giving up and just saying screw him."

        "Why don't you?" Willow asked, looking exasperated. "Buffy, you've been obsessing about this for the longest time. Just give up. Move on with your life and stop freaking out over this. If he doesn't want to talk to you, there's nothing you can do about it, and obsessing about it will only make things harder for you, not him." Willow took Buffy's hand with hers and smiled at her sympathetically, "It's time to move on, Buffy. Why bother waiting for someone that wants nothing to do with you anymore?"

        If I hear one more Christmas song, I'm going to throw up, Buffy thought in disgust, trying to block out the horrific muzak being pumped from the speakers. Apparently, washed up pop stars singing remixed carols was all the rage at the moment. She was currently being pushed and jostled by frazzled parents with screaming children, and she wrapped her arms around her package, hoping she made it to the cash register before a crazed mother or father attempted to knock her over and steal it.

        Currently, the most wanted toy in America was something that was a cross between Tickle-Me Elmo and what may or may not be a Furby after being stripped of its cheap, fire-hazard faux fur. Her little cousin wanted one, and her mother had conned her into braving the holiday crowd at the local Toys R Us to get it. She had to pull off some `Matrix/Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' moves to get past the crowd when the store opened, but she had managed to get one. Now, she only had to get to the register in one piece.

        Buffy moaned in dismay when she saw several people cutting into line several people in front of her, and glanced at her watch. The store had opened at nine…it was now eleven. She glared at the people cutting and then glanced at the ten other empty registers. A couple hundred people crammed in one store…and they only had one register opened. She glanced upwards, knowing someone up there was laughing at her. Probably the store manager, sitting in front of the security cameras with a bowl of popcorn and watching the torture session with great glee.

        She glanced towards the side when she saw movement coming from the office off the to the corner of the store, and her eyes widened when she saw a girl shrugging on the blue vest and carrying a register tray. The kick-boxing classes she took one summer in high school was about to come in handy.

        As soon as the girl started walking towards one of the registers, the crowd heaved, already rushing towards her, and Buffy watched it in dismay, knowing that she was never going to get in without being crushed. Suddenly, she was being swept along with the crowd, someone holding her arm, and she blinked in surprise as she watched someone with sandy blond hair dragging her alone, pushing and shoving his way till they were at the now open register.

        Buffy looked around in shock when she saw that she had somehow ended up third in line, and the guy who had dragged her along turned and offered her a huge grin. "I take it you're new at this," He told her, carrying a box similar to hers, except his Furby/Elmo hybrid was a bright blue, instead of the bright pink of Buffy's. "I have four younger siblings and six cousins, so I'm an expert at toy crushes."

        "Wow…" Buffy sat the mockery of capitalism on the moving belt, looking up at the vaguely familiar boy, "Thanks a lot. I thought I was going to die in here."

        "You're very welcome," He offered his hand, "I'm Riley Finn…"

        "Buffy Summers," She said, letting him shake her hand.

        "Yeah, I know…" He smiled at her confused look, "I mean, I've seen you around on campus. I was trying to think of a way to meet you and appear completely cool at the same time. You needing to be saved from the horde of demented parents was a stroke of luck."

        Buffy smiled somewhat shyly as Riley paid for his toy and he waited patiently as Buffy paid for hers. His bulky frame came in handy when they had to push against the mob trying to shove their way into the store, and she took a deep breath when they finally made it outside. "I'm free! I'm finally free!" She threw up her arms, her bag dangling off of her hand, "The sweet air of freedom!"

        Riley laughed at her display, and Buffy lowered her arms, grinning somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry…I thought I was going to lose an arm or something in there. There was a kind of a tussle with one lady who wanted the pink one and she was glaring at me the entire time. I'd hate to have to hit an eighty-year-old woman, but there is no way I'm listening to my Aunt Katie screaming her head off cause she didn't get the pink one on Christmas morning."

        "Your…Aunt? How old is she?"

        "Thirty-eight…but if my cousin doesn't get the pink one, Annie will start freaking out…and then my aunt starts freaking out…aww…the joys and pains of a Summers' Christmas."

        "Sounds like mine…but there's more corn involved…ummm…that joke would make more sense if you knew I was from Iowa," Riley ran a hand through his hair, shuffling his feet bashfully as he smiled up at her, "So…huh…are you done shopping? If you are, I'd love to have lunch with you…"

        Buffy bit her bottom lip, "Um…actually, I have to get back to campus…I'm meeting a friend for a last minute cramming session. My last final is tomorrow, and if I don't want to fail miserably, I have to hit the books big time…"

        Buffy nearly sighed at the crushed look on Riley's face, and then frowned, wondering exactly why she was turning him down. She didn't have to actually meet Willow for another two hours. Actually, she did know why she was turning him down, and she mentally berated herself. Why, exactly, was she factoring Spike into the equation? He was thousands of miles away, not speaking with her, and Riley was right there, looking all sweet and disappointed. Wills said move on with your life…

        "You know what?" Buffy smiled at Riley, "Study group can wait a little longer…I'd love to have lunch with you."

Part Twenty

        Buffy sighed heavily as she plopped down into a chair across from Willow and Oz, smiling wanly as the two broke apart their lip lock, both looking a little bit guilty.

        "Uh…hey, Buffy," Willow greeted, glancing at the bag Buffy put on the table, "Christmas shopping?"

        "Descending to the ninth ring of hell," Buffy corrected, "Between a morning spent trying not to be crushed to death by every single person even remotely related to a young child in the toy store, and then the most boring lunch date of my life, that's pretty much where I wished I was."

        "Ouch," Willow winced on Buffy's behalf, "But! Hey! Lunch date! That's good! Not good in the you were bored sense, but in the getting back on the horse sense!" Willow frowned, looking at Oz, "Did that sound weird to you too?"

        "Nope," Oz replied, watching Buffy interestedly, "You had a date? Anyone I know?"

        "Not really…kind of ran into him in the toy store…his name was Riley…um…crap…something to do with fish…"

        "Finn," Oz supplied, "Ran into him a couple times…he asked about you. Seemed nice."

        "Yeah, he's nice, I didn't say he wasn't…he's just…you know…boring…" Buffy replied, and then frowned, "Plus, he wouldn't stop complimenting me about everything; from the way I folded my napkin on my lap…and even the way I told the freaking waiter I wanted cherry coke with no ice. He called me direct and to the point, or something weird like that. And then he just wouldn't stop talking…blah blah blah…the entire time! He followed me here, yapping the entire time…I managed to shake him outside of Stevenson Hall though…"

        Oz cleared his throat suddenly, straightening up a bit and Buffy nearly groaned as she turned in her seat to see Riley coming up behind her, big goofy grin on his face and several textbooks in his hands.

        "Hey guys," He greeted cheerfully, taking a seat beside Buffy and giving her an adoring look, "Buffy…"

        "Riley! How'd you find me?!" Buffy asked in thinly disguised dismay, but Riley only grinned even wider.

        "Where else would you have a study group?" He asked, gesturing around the library as he sat his textbooks on the table, "You don't mind if I join you guys, do you? I have a test tomorrow too."

        "Umm…" Buffy looked towards Willow and Oz for help, but they looked just as befuddled as she was, and she barely contained her sigh, "Yeah…sure…why not?"

        Two hours later, Riley proved `why not'. Since he had sat down, he had not stopped talking, driving both Willow and Buffy to distraction, and even Oz was starting to look a trifle frustrated by the boy's unrelenting assault on their ears.

        Buffy's head was lolling on the table lifelessly, Willow was stripping pieces of paper to ball up and stuff in her ears, and Oz was contemplating running away screaming, not caring about it ruining his cool exterior; all of this went on seemingly unnoticed by Riley.

        "So, Professor Walsh says I'm one of the most promising students in her class, and that I would make a great psychiatrist one day. That was really very good of her to say, especially since she taught three of the leading psychiatrists in the country…that's a lovely color for you, Willow, you should really wear it more. Anyway, I'm probably going to go for a doctorate in psychiatry…not here, of course. Once I finish up four years here, I'm going to transfer to a better school…maybe even an Ivy League one. Possibly in Boston, I always wanted to see the New England area. They say the trees up there, when they turn color, is like being surrounded by a rainbow…"

        Willow looked up when he said her name, but missed what he had said about her before he was off on another tangent. She leaned towards Oz, whispering, "How is he going to be any sort of psychiatrist if he won't shut up?!"

        Oz shrugged, frowning as he stared at Riley in something akin to amazement. "I think he has ADD or something," Oz finally decided, keeping his voice pitched low on the off-chance that Riley actually paid attention to something someone else had said.

        Buffy jerked awake suddenly, and looked around at everyone else in confusion, and then looked at Riley, her eyes slightly wide when she saw him. Oh God…I thought I was having a nightmare, she thought, barely suppressing her shudder.

        "Wow…look at the time!" Buffy exclaimed loudly, making an overly theatric point of looking at her watch, "I really need to get going."

        "Me too!" Willow chimed in, grabbing her boyfriend's arm and dragging him to his feet.

        "What? Already? We've barely studied," Riley complained, "We should really make sure we get all that we can from this study session. You know what they say…"

        "Yeah, we're horrible students," Buffy interrupted, grabbing up her books and toy store bag, "But shoot…we'll really have to do this again." When hell freezes over, she added to herself. "Bye, Riley!"

        "Yeah, bye Riley!" Willow chased after a swiftly disappearing Buffy and Oz offered Riley a short nod before running after his girlfriend, not wanting to be left behind.

        "Bye guys!" Riley called after him, ignoring the glares he got from the other groups studying in the library. "I'll see you all later!"

        The trio skidded to a stop at the library doors, all of them staring at each other like a herd of deer caught in the headlights of an approaching sixteen-wheeler. "Run," Oz hissed, beating a hasty retreat, in case Riley decided to follow them.

        "Hmmmmm…yum…I smell Christmas cookies…" Buffy sighed in delight as she walked into the house, the air scented with pine, sugar cookies and what could only be apple cider and mulling spice.

        Buffy dropped her duffel bag on the floor, smiling as she walked into the living room, grinning when she saw the decoration-bare tree already set up already. If there was one thing that she absolutely loved about Giles was that he had convinced her mom to get rid of the `plastic monstrosity' that they had used for a Christmas tree before he joined the family. He had refused to have a fake tree and the only sacrifice he had to make for that compromise was to agree that while the tree was up, he was in charge of vacuuming up the pine needles that fell off of it.

        "Hey honey," Joyce came out of the kitchen, wearing her special Christmas apron, "How'd you do on your tests?"

        "Fine," Buffy replied, "Just fine…where's Giles?" Joyce noted the way she swiftly changed the subject, but decided to let her off for the time being. Better to wait till after Christmas, when Joyce could withhold all her new presents.

        "He's at the post office, dropping off the last of the packages we had to send out," Joyce replied, "I hope you don't mind, but I signed your name on the gifts I was sending Spike and Drusilla," Joyce frowned slightly, "Do you think it's in bad taste to send them presents? Rupert said it wasn't…but I don't know…"

         "I'm not sure, mom," Buffy replied, "I'm still not sure on how that whole divorce etiquette thing works."

        "Well, it seemed wrong not to send them something, especially when they sent us a package…I hope they don't think that I only sent them something because they sent us something…because I bought the gift for Spike a couple weeks ago…I shouldn't have waited to the last moment to send those packages…"

        Buffy looked up at her mom in surprise, only catching the first part of her little worried rant, "They sent us stuff?"

        "Yes, it just came in two days ago," Joyce gestured at the tree, where a few wrapped presents were already waiting. "They sent us each something…and aren't they just beautifully wrapped? Rupert said that Claire took a few gift-wrapping classes when they were married. That's a good idea, don't you think? We should take one…well, especially you. Anything's better then your duct tape method."

        Buffy ignored her mother's criticism on her gift-wrapping skills. She already knew they sucked, which was why the presents she wrapped was always shoved to the back of the tree. She bent and picked up one of the more pretty packages and glanced at the label, seeing that, indeed, it was from the Giles' family in England. "Weird…"

        "Rupert is so excited about it…it's the first time they've sent him anything since we got married. Well, from his children, at least…he certainly wasn't expecting anything from Claire…oh, anyway, there's one for each of us…and Spike sent you something as well."

        "Huh?" Buffy glanced at the package her mother indicate and picked up a thin, oblong package wrapped in golden paper, and obviously wrapped by him if the ill-measured paper and askew bow on the top. A card, larger then the package, was taped to the bottom, but it was sealed, and Buffy knew from past experience that her mother wouldn't let her open it before Christmas. Great…I haven't felt this anxious for Christmas since I was twelve and I was convinced I was getting Barbie's Dream House.

        "I thought that was awfully nice of him, especially since it didn't look as though you two were getting along."

        "Yeah," Buffy muttered, setting the present back down again, "Really nice of him…"

Part Twenty One

        It was mocking her. With its little garish red bow decorated with holly imprints, shiny, golden paper, and heavily taped exposed edges.

        Okay…maybe she was reading a little too much into the present, but it was driving her absolutely insane. He hadn't talked to her for months, but he sent her a present? And he accused her of sending out mixed signals?

        Buffy sighed heavily in her hot chocolate, deciding that she really needed to get a frontal lobotomy so that she would stop thinking like a crazy person. Plus, then, she could probably survive a conversation with Riley.

        Buffy grimaced. She had been dodging phone calls from him all week, getting both her mother and Giles to make excuses for her. They finally got fed up with it, since both of them had been stuck on the phone with the boy when he decided that complimenting them on EVERYTHING Buffy had done since the beginning of time would be a good way to recommend himself to them. On the bright side, she hadn't seen Giles laugh so hard in his life after a phone call. However, he had made it clear that one phone call with Riley was quite enough and Buffy was delegated to phone duty for the rest of Christmas vacation. She was desperately hoping she got a caller ID box for Christmas.

        Buffy looked back towards the tree and the little present, which had been shoved towards the back, near her horribly wrapped gifts. She was definitely reading way too much into the present. It was probably some horrible plastic bauble he had picked up at the mall; guys had a tendency to think that some really hideous piece of junk was really classy or something. It had taken Giles two years to figure out that he should really leave the jewelry buying to Joyce. So, she was probably getting all bent out of shape for nothing. Yeah…but it's the thought that counts…Buffy reminded herself, barely able to keep from snorting. Who really bought that line anymore? All hail the mighty buck…and really good acting skills when you get underwear for your birthday.

        "I have to stop thinking," Buffy said to herself, "And stay away from Riley…I'm starting to think the way he talks."

        "What was that, Buffy?" Giles came up behind her with his own cup of tea, "Why are you still here?" Buffy tilted her head back, raising an eyebrow, and he coughed, knowing the way he phrased the question sounded, "I only meant that I thought you'd have all sort of Christmas activities planned…"

        "Xander's working overtime at the club and…Willow's Jewish. Not so up with the Christmas thing…plus, she's introducing Oz to Hanukkah…and her parents."

        "That poor boy," Giles said in amusement as he took a seat beside Buffy. He had only met Sheila Rosenberg twice before and each time, he came away a little worse for wear. The woman was a little insane, in his opinion. She was either extremely liberal or extremely conservative. It was completely bewildering trying to have a conversation with her, especially if religion, politics or cultures were brought up. He had a feeling that Oz would be subjected to the extremely conservative side. "That poor, poor boy…"

        "Okay…" Willow took a deep breath as she stood on the doorstep of her parents' house, "Before you meet my mom…you have to realize something…" Willow looked at Oz, "She's completely out of her mind…and…you have your yarmulke inside out."

        "What?" Oz reached up and pulled the yarmulke off and Willow smiled as she flipped it over and re-affixed it to his head. "Sorry…"

        "It's okay, it's your first yarmulke," Willow replied in a little too much cheerfulness. "So, the key to surviving my mom is to not bring up the following subjects: Religion, politics, weather, sports, different countries and cultures, language, animal testing…"

        "Wait…did you say weather?"

        "Yeah…" Willow shook her head, "Just trust me on this, unless you want to hear her talk about global warming and El Ninõ for four hours."

        "Willow…" Oz took Willow's hands in his, "I really love you and I want to be a part of everything that you are…but you're starting to frighten me. I may have to make a run for it."

        "Okay…sorry…sorry…" Willow smiled at him wanly, "I'm just all nervous and stuff…I really want my mother and father to like you."

        "I'm sure they will," Oz assured her, kissing her forehead, "Relax....everything's going to be fine."

        This woman is out of her mind.

        Oz tried to appear like he was being very attentive to what Sheila was saying, but it was nearly impossible for any human to understand what she was going on about. Sheila Rosenberg, while intelligent, was something of a paradox of opposing viewpoints. She seemed to disagree with everything anyone else said, simply for the sake of disagreement.

        One moment, she was talking about music and stated that she enjoyed all forms of it, from classical to rap, since it was all music was an art in itself. However, when Oz mentioned that he played the bass in a band since broken up, she replied that she didn't think young boys should be putting all of their time into bands, especially when in school, since it was a drain on their scholarly activities.

        She mentioned something about London, and Oz replied that he had lived there for a couple years when he was a boy, and then the conversation became a diatribe on Americans living abroad and how, even though it might prove beneficial to their view of the world, it simply wasn't right depriving a child of knowing his own home and embracing his own culture. "And isn't the climate in England just dreadful?"

        Oz wasn't going to touch that one with a ten foot pole. He decided to agree, "Yeah, it was pretty bad, most of the time."

        "You think it rained too much? I suppose England's big appeal is its rain, as well. The hills are so green there, undoubtedly because of all the rainfall. I really can't stand for people who complain about the rainfall." Her eyes bored into Oz, apparently accusing him of this great crime.

        Oz opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it, deciding that maybe he should really start embracing his silent side, really fast. He looked towards Willow, who was covering her face with one hand, mouthing what looked like some pretty juicy curse words beneath her breath. God, he loved her…but he really hoped this insanity thing didn't run in her family.

        Mr. Rosenberg, for his part, was mostly silent unless directly addressed, and showed no real interest in the boy dating his daughter. When he did speak, it was to counter his wife's opinion with an agreement, but always tinged with a bit of sarcasm that Sheila either ignored or didn't notice.

        No wonder Willow was more relieved then disappointed that these people had ignored her for most of her life.

        "So, Daniel…" Sheila looked down her nose at him, and he shifted in his seat a bit uncomfortably, "Do you have any particular religion? Or are you an Atheist?"

        Willow was taking a sip of her drink when Sheila asked that, and she sprayed her coke across the table, hitting her father square in the face. David Rosenberg blinked in shocked surprise, slowly lifting his napkin to wipe away the droplets of sticky fluid sticking to his beard and cheeks.

        "Sorry, daddy…" Willow said sheepishly, flushing a rosy pink hue. Oz was forced to bite his lip till it bled to keep from busting out in inappropriate laughter at the look on Willow's parents' faces.

        "Willow!" Shelia cried, looking horrified, "What in the world was that about?!"

        "Went down the wrong tube," Willow said by way of excuse, and Sheila glanced at her husband, letting out a sharp cry.

        "That's a two hundred dollar tie! David, off with it, now!" She demanded, "Before the stain sets! Off! Off!"

        David did so without a word, and Shelia hurried off with the tie. David glanced at Willow, raising an eyebrow, "I have to admit…that's a really original tactic to get your mother to back off."

        "Thanks, daddy," Willow beamed, "Thought you'd like that…um…sorry about the tie…if I known it was that expensive…"

        "Don't worry about it," David waved off her worry, "Actually…it's only a twenty dollar tie. I got your grandmother to sew designer tags onto all my new ties after I realized your mother didn't really notice the difference between them. Who pays two hundred dollars for a tie, anyway?"

        Oz stared at Willow's father with new-found respect, and David smiled in his direction, "Don't let Mrs. Rosenberg frighten you off, son…and rejoice in the fact that she's out of town most of the time."

        Snow lay in a thick blanket upon the ground, covering everything in white splendor. More was falling thickly, clouding the view out the frost-encrusted window, and Spike pressed his fingertips against the cold glass.

        Behind him, a fire was burning in the hearth, the faint scent of smoke and burning wood suffusing the large library. Books, abandoned for the moment, lay spread across a large oaken desk, the pages rustling from the faint draft that always plagued the large mansion during the winter months.

        His mother and Drusilla were out, undoubtedly doing last minute Christmas shopping, judging by the secretive nature in which they left, and he was left to his own devices.

        He was alone, save for the few servants that were in charge of the upkeep of the mansion, but he almost never noticed them, except for Dottie, the housekeeper. She was hard to not notice, since she pretty much had free reign of the entire house and was given permission to discipline he and Drusilla however she saw fit. Good thing she adored them and let them get away with murder; otherwise, they would have spent most of their childhood inside the house and never interacting with the outside world with the way they were always getting in trouble.

        He dropped his fingers from the window and crossed the room to sit in the chair pulled up by the fire. When he was a child, he used to sit in the huge, plush chair for hours, while his father worked at the desk, especially during winter. He usually had a stack of comic books to keep him occupied, and, as he grew older, one of his journals; that, of course, was back when he was aspiring to be a writer…a poet to be more exact. Those days were long gone, of course, but he did find a bit of comfort in the old library still, even though times had drastically changed since then.

        So much simpler back then, he thought wryly as he steepled his fingers beneath his chin and gazed into the fire introspectively. He was somewhat aware of the fact that he probably looked like a character out of Dickens in this setting that breathed of antiquity and reflection; with the fire crackling in the grate and the scent of ancient, musty tomes filled with the world's knowledge spanning each of the four walls. Above him, a portrait of his great-grandfather glowered at him disapprovingly, as if disliking his relation's presence in what used to be his own sanctuary. Or perhaps, he was frowning down what he would undoubtedly have seen as a disgrace to familial tradition.

        He wasn't going back to Cambridge. He had made the decision two weeks before. He had yet to inform his mother or his father, both of them undoubtedly hoping that he would be going back after the coming summer. He couldn't exactly pinpoint the exact moment that had changed his view of what he wanted his future to be, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with a certain fiery blonde that had turned his entire world upside down.

        He had tried to return to his studies when he had come home, intending at the time to return to school at the nearest opportunity, and to immerse himself in academics and to forgot all that had transpired in California. However, he was unable to find any sort of solace in it, let alone the barest bit of interest. He was now convinced that law was no longer in his future.

        He cast a cursory glance towards his desk, where several of his journals lay open, most of them filled cover to cover with his lilted handwriting, most of it chicken scratch, few passages written with painstakingly neatness. Most of them, he had filled out in the last two months. When he had returned from California, he had picked up a pen for the first time in three years. Buffy had touched something in him, he was sure. Ever since then, he had been writing feverishly, only stopping when the duties of real life required him to do so, or when his hand became too stiff and sore to hold the pen any longer. Poems, stories and sonnets flowed from the ink to paper, and he found himself tapping resources he had never known existed. The muse had finally awoken inside him, and it had opened a new, hopefully brighter future before him.

        However, he couldn't help but feel frustrated by it all.

        The source of his inspiration was also the source of his inner torment.

        Great…look like a Dickens character…sound like something out of Poe, Spike thought sardonically, deciding that perhaps it was time for a change of scenery before he started to loudly lament the sorrow of lost love, or some such nonsense like that.

Part Twenty-Two

        Christmas morning dawned bright and early...unfortunately, so did Joyce Summers.

        "Bbbbbbuuuuuuffffffyyyyyy!" Joyce hopped on top of her sleeping daughter's bed, singing out her name loudly, "It's Christmas! Wake up! Wake up! Come on, sweetie, it's present time!"

        Buffy cracked open one eye, took one glance at her clock and then pulled a pillow over her head, "Oh God…I woke up in Hell!"

        "Buffy, come on, honey," Joyce resorted to bouncing on the edge of the bed, ignoring her daughter's grumbling, "Wakey, wakey, Joycie's got cakie!"

        "Mooooommmm!" Buffy whined from beneath her pillow, "The sun isn't even out yet! Are you insane?!"

        "That's what I said," Giles mumbled as he shuffled tiredly past Buffy's open door, his hair sticking up all over the place, and still clad in his robe.

        Joyce swatted Buffy's butt as she stood up, "You got ten minutes to get ready for breakfast," Joyce informed her, "For every minute after that it takes you to get downstairs, you forfeit a present."

        Buffy lifted her pillow, narrowing her eyes at her mother, "You wouldn't…"

        "Just try me," Joyce challenged, "You have nine minutes."

        Buffy groaned as her mom bounced out of the room, kicking the blankets off of her, but she couldn't quite work up the energy to actually climb out of bed.

        "Buffy! You didn't really want that HUGE present down here with your name on it, did you?" Joyce called up the stairs, and Buffy found that maybe she did have the energy to get out of bed.

        Four hours and about ten trash bags of wrapping paper later, Buffy was stashing her Christmas loot up to her room and to change for the extended family that would be converging on her house in short order.

        On top, Spike's still wrapped package was perched precariously on top of the stack. She had stashed it away early on in the morning, deciding that she would open it in the privacy of her own room. For some reason, she was leery of opening it in front of her mom and Giles and probably being forced to field curious questions about the contents of both the card and package.

        Buffy carefully set her stuff on the bed and then took a seat, extricating the package that she had received from Claire, Drusilla and Spike. Nestled inside the tissue paper was a beautiful, deep purple velvet dress and she smoothed out the soft fabric before stripping out of her pajamas and dressing herself. It fit her perfectly, and Buffy smiled into her  mirror, liking how the dress clung to her curves, but yet managed to still appear very tasteful. The neckline was edged with thin, delicate lace just above her breasts, and the hem fell to just above her knees.

        You're stalling, Buffy's traitor mind told her and Buffy rolled her eyes at herself as she turned away from the mirror and faced Spike's small gift. Wimp…it's not like there's explosives in it…it's too small to hold a ticking clock and dynamite.

        She sat back on her bed and picked up the present. She glanced briefly at the card, but then broke the rules by deciding to start with the present first. She sat the card aside and tore open the wrapping, exposing a smooth, oblong box. She popped it open, a gasp being torn from her throat.

        Inside was a beautifully intricate silver choker. Thin strands of silver were threaded around a deep purple amethyst in the middle, and around the stone, the silver bloomed out in tiny, intricately carved ivy leaves.

        "Wow…" Buffy breathed as she fastened the choker around her throat, fingering the stone in some surprise, "Okay…so…he obviously didn't get his sense of taste from Giles…thank God."

        She picked up the card, already feeling almost giddy at what he had written, her hands shaking a tiny bit. She barely glanced at the front, which only bore a scene of a snow-capped cottage. Buffy immediately recognized Spike's handwriting after several careful readings of the letter he had left her.

        "Facilius est excludere perniciosa quam regere et non admittere quam moderari."

        "It is easier to exclude harmful passions then to rule them, and to deny them admittance than to control them after they have been admitted."

                            --Lucius Annaeus Seneca

        Merry Christmas, Elizabeth.

        Your brother,

             William.

        Buffy frowned, reading the card several more times, but it did little to alleviate her melancholy. The message was clear. He regretted admitting his feelings to her and was letting her know that he was no longer even going to acknowledge them. If the quote from the dead Roman guy didn't make that clear enough, the way he signed off just drove the point home.  

        She let the card flutter to the ground, trying to keep the tears that pricked hotly at her eyes from pouring forth. Can you blame him? She thought somewhat bitterly, her hand straying up to the necklace about her throat, and finally realized it for what it was: a consolation prize.

        She was tempted to tear it from her throat and send it back to him in a million pieces, but she dropped her hand half-heartedly, reminding herself that she had brought it all upon herself.

        "Merry Christmas, Buffy," She muttered to herself, sighing heavily as she rolled off of her bed and onto her feet, forcing herself to prepare her for the influx of relatives about to hit her home like a plague of locusts. However, all the fun of the holiday had been sucked out of her.

        "Wow…I can't believe he quoted Seneca…no one knows who he is!" Buffy glowered at Willow over her drink, and the redhead flushed, "Which really isn't the point, is it?"

        "Well, duh," Buffy rolled her eyes, barely glancing around at the other patrons of the club who were celebrating yet another year that was about to pass. "I didn't show you that so I could get your critique of his Latin."

        "Sorry," Willow handed Buffy the card back, eyes dropping down to the necklace around her throat, "That's the necklace he gave you?"

        Buffy lifted her hand to it and shrugged almost sheepishly, "Yeah…it's pretty…" She cleared her throat, changing the subject. She wanted a chance to speak with Willow alone, without Oz, so that nothing she said would get back to Spike. Currently, he was stuck at the bar, waiting to get Willow a refill on her drink, but there was a huge line forming over there. "But you see what he's saying, right? I'm not completely getting nuts over nothing, right?"

        "Yeah, I see what he's saying," Willow offered her a sympathetic smile, "Sorry, Buff…but I think you were right."

        "Great," Buffy sighed heavily as she sank down in her seat with a pout, "Could my vacation get any suckier?"

        "Buffy, Willow!"

        "You just had to say that, didn't you?" Willow asked with a groan as Riley shoved his way through the crowd and towards them.

        "I've been trying to get a hold of you all vacation!" Riley addressed Buffy, taking a seat without asking, "Your cousin Yentil said you were in LA."

        `LA? Yentil?' Willow mouthed at Buffy, raising an eyebrow, and the blonde gave her head a slight shake.

        "Yep, LA," Buffy smiled thinly at Riley, "Visited my dad…fun all around…"

        "Great," Riley replied, grinning goofily, "Wanna dance?"

        Buffy looked at Willow in a panic, but then took a deep breath, "Riley…I think you're really nice and everything…but there's something I have to tell you…something you won't like about me very much…"

        "Believe me, there's nothing you can say that will make me not like you," Riley told her firmly, "You're beautiful, intelligent…"

        "I'm a Satanist," Buffy interrupted, and Riley's eyes went wide, "The Dark Prince will raise in the year 2010, and I have been chosen to be his High Priestess…" Buffy cocked her head slightly, "Are you a virgin? Sorry, but we're supposed to ask that…you know…just in case."

        "I….I…" Riley stammered, staring at Buffy like she had lost her mind, "I think I have to go…"

        Buffy and Willow watched as Riley scurried off, looking panicked, and Willow leaned over in her seat to watch him go, "You think that's a yes on the virgin thing?"

        Spike picked at his food half-heartedly, trying to ignore the conversation between his mother and Drusilla as they flipped through the massive stack of photos that had been sent to them from Sunnydale. He refused to look at them, already having decided to distance himself from everything related to Buffy Summers. He had made a clean break, physically, and he was desperately trying to do so now mentally.

        "Oh, look, Will," Drusilla nudged her brother, trying to show him a photo, "This looks like the point when they got really annoyed with the hundreds of pictures of them in their robes." Spike mumbled some unintelligible response, refusing to look at it, and Dru rolled her eyes at his behavior.

        "Poor Joyce," Claire observed as she tucked a strand of her short, dark hair behind her hair, "We probably should've warned her to never put a camera in your father's hands." Claire looked up at Spike, and saw he was still sulking, "William, could you at the very least show the tiniest bit of interest in your father, for my sake? Besides," Claire peered down at a photo in her hand, "Buffy seems like a nice girl when I talked to her on the phone, and she's a very pretty young woman…"

        Spike looked up at his mother sharply, narrowing his eyes a tiny bit, as if he suspected her of knowing something. Claire only looked at him with a frank, open expression on her face, but there was something about that Mona Lisa smile that made alarms ring in his mind.

        "Yeah? So?" He asked, keeping his tone even, "Point?"

        "Don't talk to your mother like that, dear," Claire replied, looking down at the photos again and resumed her flipping and commentary, "Oh! She's wearing the dress you picked out, Drusilla," Claire handed her the photo, "It fits her perfectly, from the looks of things…and that's a lovely necklace she's wearing."

        Despite himself, Spike peeked at the photograph Dru was so very obviously tilting in his direction, and he barely contained a pleased grin when he saw Buffy was wearing the choker he had sent her, but then quashed any hope that rose up in his breast at seeing it. It was a pretty piece of jewelry; of course she was wearing it. It didn't mean anything at all. When he looked closer at the photo, he couldn't help but noting a bit of sadness in her eyes that the camera had captured…

        "Jeez, Will…take a picture, it lasts longer," Drusilla teased, tossing the picture at him when she noticed he was staring a little too fixedly at it. Spike glared at his little sister before brushing the picture off his plate, but didn't hand it back to his mother.

        Claire pretended not to notice when Spike slipped it into his pocket when he thought no one was looking at him.

Part Twenty-Three

        The charcoal scrapped across the white surface, leaving behind short, dark lines. It made a scraping sound across the paper, which was music to Buffy's ears as she sketched out the rough outline of the face, and then added the smaller, important details.

        Buffy ignored the sound of the other students at work on their own canvases, and that of their teacher as she made rounds about the room, checking up on the progress of each student. The teacher said her name three times, and then shook her shoulder before Buffy was broken of her concentration, and she blinked, looking up at her instructor.

        "I like this, Buffy," Mrs. Bryant laid a hand on Buffy's shoulder as she peered at Buffy's drawing, "Classic Roman features, beautiful…and you paid special attention to the eyes…they're very vibrant, even with the charcoal." She looked at Buffy, raising an eyebrow, "You're drawing this without a guide?"

        "No…yes…" Buffy shifted a bit uncomfortably on her hard stool, "It's someone I know."

        "Wow…" Mrs. Bryant looked back at the sketch, joking lightly, "If he's single, give him my number."

        Buffy smiled thinly as Mrs. Bryant moved on and then looked back at Spike's face, who was smiling at up at her mischievously. She knew it was a good likeness, and she felt like she could almost reach through the paper and feel the sharp edges of his cheekbones beneath her fingertips, the soft lushness of his lips…

        Buffy scowled, lifting up her charcoal and scrawling a large `X' across his face with a sound of disgust and flipped over to a new, fresh page.

        By the time class ended, she was still staring at a completely blank canvas, her charcoal hanging limply in her hand.

        "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Buffy, happy birthday to you!"

        Buffy kept her smile plastered to her face as her friends and family sang out the same old tune. A party hat was strapped to her head, and she only kept it on at her mother's insistence, and her face was flushed a deep red at being the center of attention.

        She really hated her birthdays.

        "Blow out the candles and make a wish!" Willow called out, giving Buffy a light shove when she just stared into the flames. She wondered if she lit herself on fire, if it would put herself out of her misery. "Come on, Buff…"

        Buffy rolled her eyes as she blew out the candles; she only made a wish out of her own hopeful nature, but when she looked around, nothing had changed. The whole wishing thing was a total crock.

        "Here, honey, cut the cake," Joyce held out a long butcher's knife, and Buffy glanced at it then at her mother.

        "Mom, you so don't want to put a knife in my hands right now," Buffy warned her, "I said no surprise birthday party, remember?"

        "You're such a party-pooper," Joyce told her, opting to cut the cake herself, "It's your birthday! You're a whole year older! Celebrate!"

        Buffy made a face, but accepted the cake that was practically shoved at her, deciding that even if her birthday was sucking big time, she could at least enjoy a good sugar rush.

        "So, Buff," Xander joked, "Want your birthday spanking?" Giles glared in his direction and Xander straightened, clearing his throat, "Not from me, of course."

        "Anyone attempts to spank me and they're losing a hand," Buffy replied, digging into the chocolate ice cream Giles had piled liberally onto her plate. Hmmm…glucose… yum.

        Joyce exchanged a slightly worried look with her husband, both having noticed Buffy's less then cheerful demeanor of late, but neither were able to figure out what was wrong with her. They were hoping it was just a little bit of a slump and easily cured with their presents.

        "Okay! Gift time!" Joyce announced, hurrying the kids with their plates of food into the living room, where the gifts were piled. Buffy noticeably cheered up a bit when she saw the gifts, and Joyce smiled with some relief. "Whose first?"

        "Me!" Willow practically bounced, and Buffy laughed as she took her friend's package, "It's from me and Oz together," Willow told her as she took a seat on the couch, Oz slinging one arm around her shoulders.

        Buffy opened her gift and grinned when she saw a stuffed pig wearing a pink bow behind her ear and above her little curly-Q tail. "Oh…thanks guys! Mr. Gordo finally has a girlfriend. She's cute."

        Buffy continued to open her presents, getting a videotape of Leonardo DiCaprio's `Romeo and Juliet' from Xander and a several gag gifts that included itching powder and for some reason, a whoopee cushion.

        Joyce and Giles' gift came last, and Buffy raised an eyebrow when Joyce handed her a thick envelope, "What's this?" She asked, then pouted, "It's not big enough to have a car in it."

        "You'll get a car when you get credit or when I die, whichever comes first," Joyce teased, "Just open it."

        Buffy pretended to grumble as she tore open the envelope, trying not to think of all the crappy things envelopes had contained for her of late. She lifted out what looked like plane tickets, and Buffy frowned slightly as she opened them and saw that they were plane tickets. "What is this?"

        Giles beamed at her brightly, "Plane tickets."

        "Yeah…I kinda figured that out…what with the little planes on them," Buffy frowned, and peeked inside one before squealing, "Oh my God! I'm going to New York! You guys are the BEST!" Buffy hopped up and hugged her mother, then Giles before turning towards her friends, "I'm going to New York!"

        "Well…um…we'll be in New York for about an hour," Giles interrupted, and Buffy looked over at him in confusion.

        "Um…then this present sucks…"

        "No, no…it's only a slight lay-over," Giles explained, "Our final destination is Heathrow airport…"

        "What's Heathrow?" Buffy asked, frowning, "Is that somewhere in New York?"

        "It's in England, Buffy," Willow spoke up meekly, "Heathrow's in England…"

        Buffy stared at Willow uncomprehendingly for several seconds, and Giles cleared his throat, glancing at Joyce before forging on.

        "Claire has been kind enough to extend us all an invitation to visit over your Spring break," Giles told her excitedly, and then his face fell a tiny bit, "Joyce can't come, though, she has a buying trip at the same time, but there's no reason we can't have a wonderful time!"

        Buffy glanced at Giles, who was looking at her with expectant excitement, and Buffy swallowed her sudden panic to give him her best, fake radiant smile. "Oh my God! I'm going to England!"

        "Oh my God…I'm going to England…" Buffy groaned, "Why does God hate me?"

        "It's not that bad," Willow consoled her friend, patting her on the back, "I mean…it's a big house, right? You'll probably barely ever see him, especially if he's still avoiding you…"

        "Oh great…and that's better?!" Buffy sent her friend a look, "You suck at this…"

        "I'm sorry!" Willow held up her hands, "I don't know what to say! Do you want him to avoid you? Or do you want him to pay attention to you?"

        "I don't know…I just don't know!" Buffy sighed, hugging both Mr. Gordo and Mrs. Gordo to her chest, "I hate this…I don't know what I want from him. I mean…I don't want to be hurt again. I don't want to get there and have him completely ignore me…but I think it'll be worse if he doesn't ignore me but just…doesn't…doesn't…"

        "Love you anymore?" Willow asked, eyes widening somewhat, "Buffy…do you love him?"

        "I don't know!" Buffy threw her arms up, both hands holding a stuffed pig, "I think…I think I just want a chance to find out if I do or not…and I don't think I'm going to get that chance…but if I do and find out he doesn't love me anymore…then that's really going to suck…"

        "Buffy," Willow sighed, "Don't let this thing with him ruin the entire trip for you…" She advised wisely, "Don't show your cards till he shows his. Oh! And besides! You have like…a sister now! Didn't you always want a sister?"

        "Yeah," Buffy admitted grudgingly, and then smiled a tiny bit, "Yeah…I did always want a sister…and I think Drusilla's nice…if Spike and Giles are any indication…"

        "Yeah, see?" Willow nudged her playfully, "At least some good can come out of this trip," She smiled at Buffy slyly, "Besides…I hear England has some of the best shopping on the planet."

        Buffy perked up immediately, "Shopping?"

        The next month and a half flew by and before Buffy knew it, she was boarding a plane for New York and for the first time in memory, she was actually leaving California. She found her anxiousness lessening as she got more used to the idea of seeing Spike again, and she was soon congratulating herself on being able to see him again without having a complete break-down.

        However, by the time she and Giles were flying across the Atlantic and approaching ever closer to Spike, she felt it all coming back to her.

        Is he going to meet us at the airport? Should I be hopeful if he does? What if he doesn't meet us at the airport? Does that mean he hates me? Or is he just being aloof? Bastard better meet us at the airport…but even if it does, it could just mean that he's there for his dad…

        She glanced at Giles, who was dozing in his seat, which was supposedly `reclined.' She couldn't tell the difference between reclined and not reclined…it all looked the same to her, but maybe it was just because she wasn't all airplane savvy. Personally, her back was killing her, reclined or not.

        Giles stirred when the captain came over the intercom and started droning about the weather conditions they would be landing in and Buffy tuned him out as she peered out the window and down at the landscape passing below them. "I think I'm going to heave."

        "What?" Giles leaned towards her, "You're getting air-sick now?" He started sifting through the contents of the pocket embedded in the seat before him, "Bloody hell…does your pocket have one of those paper air-sick bags?"

        Buffy made a face as Giles tried to hold it up to her face, and she waved him off, "Giles, relax…I'm not going to puke…" Yet, she added silently to herself. As an afterthought, she took the paper bag from Giles and shoved it into her purse, just in case.

        Two weeks…I can survive two weeks, she kept reminding herself as the plane bumped and jolted as it landed. Buffy grimaced to herself as she tried to calm herself down, as the panic was returning full-force the closer the closer she got to seeing Spike again.

        Giles noted Buffy was oddly quiet as they attempted to get their bags down from the overhead compartment in the de-boarding crush of passengers. She's nervous, Giles thought to himself, smiling a tiny bit, thinking it was cute. "I think Drusilla and Claire are going to love you," Giles told her as he handed her a back, grunting when a little old lady practically body-checked him to get off the plane. "Especially Dru, she's always wanted a sister."

        "Yeah?" Buffy forced a smile on her face as she managed to wriggle her way out into the aisle with Giles, carry-on bag clutched to her chest. Their seats were relatively far back into the plane, so they would be one of the last passengers off. This gave Buffy ample time to panic about every possible scenario that her mind could come up with.

        By the time they made it out into the terminal, Buffy had worked herself into a frenzy, and as soon as she was out of the plane, her head was whipping around, looking for a tell-tale bleached blonde head.

        "Daddy!"

        Giles was very nearly knocked over by a dark blur that raced past Buffy. He laughed as he dropped his bags, and enveloped Drusilla in a bear-hug. Buffy smiled when she saw the blissfully happy expression on Giles' face as he embraced his practically long lost daughter; however, she still kept an eye out for Spike, specifically looking in the direction that Drusilla had come running from.

        However, all she saw was a very attractive dark-haired woman with a sharply featured face approaching, a bright smile on her face. Whoa…no way is that Giles' ex-wife…Buffy thought, but when she glanced at Drusilla as she let go of Giles finally, she could definitely see the family resemblance. They both had the same facial structure, which Buffy noted Spike sported as well, but as opposed to him, they had dark, brown eyes and dark, nearly black hair. They looked more like sisters then mother and daughter.

        "Rupert, Buffy!" Claire greeted, her smile widening, "I'm very glad you two could make it!"

        "Thank you, Claire," Giles smiled at his ex-wife, no animosity showing in his face, even going as far as to embrace her warmly. "You're looking well."

        "You too, Rupert," Claire pulled away from Giles to turn her gaze on Buffy, looking the young girl over, "You are a very pretty girl…the pictures Rupert sent didn't do you nearly enough justice."

        Buffy blushed, muttering out a thank you as she looked down at the floor, and Claire grinned, "She's just the cutest little thing, Rupert…Dru, get over here and give your sister a hug."

        Drusilla rolled her eyes as she and Buffy exchanged a somewhat awkward hug and Dru whispered in her ear, "I promise, she's not this nuts all the time…we were waiting for a while and the sugary candy bars were calling her."

        Buffy grinned as they broke apart, deciding that she already liked Drusilla. "Believe me, my mom's the same way…but she doesn't need candy to get nuts," Buffy admitted in a low voice.

        "See, they're already bonding," Claire said as Buffy and Drusilla giggled over whatever was said between them, and she socked Giles in the arm, "And you were worried the children wouldn't get along."

        Drusilla was definitely something else.

        Buffy had to grin as Dru excitedly outlined every single thing they could do together over the course of her two week visit, from shopping to checking out the best places to find cute guys. Buffy could see why Spike had called her a sweet, animated girl. She was all that and more. She also very affectionate and kept grabbing Buffy's hand to give it a squeeze, all the while smiling so brightly, she seemed to eclipse everyone around her. No wonder Spike was so fiercely protective about her; Buffy had just met her and she was ready to beat the crap out of anyone that attempted to harm her stepsister. She just had the sort of innocent aura that made one want to protect her.

        The long drive seemed to fly by as they exchanged stories and such with each other, and soon, Buffy was distracted away from their conversation when the car pulled to a stop outside a huge, wrought iron gate.

        "Oh…wow…" Buffy's eyes went wide as she glanced out the window at the huge, brick fronted mansion that lay at the end of the long driveway and lushly green lawn, "That's where you guys live? The heating bills must be killer."

         Drusilla giggled, leaning over Buffy, "Well, the West wing is closed up during most of the year," She informed her, "We only use one side…well, except for Will…the library's kept open for him," Dru rolled her eyes, "He'd spend all of his time with books rather then real people if he could get away with it."

        "Still, it's a big place for just three people," Buffy replied, trying not to react to the off-hand mention of Spike. Claire heard her and glanced over her shoulder with a smile as she drove towards the house.

        "We've shrunk over the generations," Claire told Buffy, "The Mansfield family used to be quite large, but now, we're all that's left. I'm hoping Drusilla and William will be up to filling the mansion back up with children…"

        "Mama, you realize that if Will had his way, I would never be able to have children?" Dru reminded her, and Giles blanched.

        "Quite right…" He sputtered, "Drusilla, you're far too young…"

        "I didn't mean now, daddy," Dru rolled her eyes at Buffy, "I went on a date last weekend, and Will threatened to use his `guts for garters' if he even thought about touching me. Someone has to remind that boy that I'm eighteen."

        "Sounds like Spike…" Buffy replied with a smile.

        Claire groaned, "Oh good Lord…please tell me he wasn't running around California by that moniker?"

        "Afraid so," Giles told Claire, shaking his head slightly, "He insisted everyone call him by it."

        "I'm going to have to talk to him about that…who is going to hire a lawyer named `Spike?' He sounds like he should be in a biker gang, for goodness sakes."

        "How is he doing?" Giles asked a bit worriedly, "I was surprised he didn't meet us at the airport as well…which is probably a good thing, considering the amount of luggage Buffy brought with her…"

        "Hey…I told you…I only brought what I needed," Buffy protested.

        "You needed two different hair dryers?" Giles teased.

        "Okay…it's a blow dryer and a curling iron, two totally different things that serve two totally different hair functions." Buffy sniffed, "You don't understand the pain of long hair."

        "I don't know about that…" Claire grinned evilly at Giles, "You haven't seen Rupert during his formative years, have you? Well, no worries. I have an entire photo album filled with pictures from that time."

        "You wouldn't dare," Giles eyed his ex-wife warily, "This is the revenge part of the divorce people kept warning me about?"

        Claire looked towards Giles in all innocence, "I don't know what you mean, Rupert. Showing Buffy pictures from your youth is entirely beneficial in getting her to understand you more." She smiled at him slyly, "However, making double prints to send to Joyce is revenge."

        Okay…wow…vacation, already starting to look up, Buffy thought as she looked around the very large foyer with wide eyes. An actual servant was bringing the bags from the car, and another was trying to help them all out of their coats.

        Several family portraits hung in the foyer, and a large, wide staircase led to a dark upstairs; it's oak banister was gleaming in the light of the chandelier dangling above them, and it's wooden steps, though a bit scuffed from wear and tear over the years, was buffed to a high sheen. She had a hunch she was going to be paranoid about touching anything in this place, it was all so beautiful and expensive looking.

        "Mama said you could have the room right next to mine," Drusilla told Buffy excitedly, "There's a door between our rooms that opens up, so, it'll be like sharing one room! You don't mind, do you?"

        "Sounds great," Buffy replied with a grin, "Be kind of like an extended slumber party."

        "Oh, we so have to pig out and watch movies every night," Dru clapped her hands together, "I had the housekeeper stock the cardboards with all the junk-food I thought you might like!"

        "Chocolate?"

        "Um…what do you Californians say? Oh yeah…DUH!"

        Giles shook his head as Dru and Buffy burst into laughter, and glanced at Claire, "Fascinating…they've both regressed to their pre-teen years."

        "Oh, don't be so stuffy," Claire chastised him after directing where the luggage would go, "Let them have their fun."

        "I fully intend too," Giles replied, raising an eyebrow, "You're calling me stuffy?"

        "You're stuffy," Claire confirmed, before turning towards Dru and Buffy, "Dru, why don't you show Buffy your room? And let your brother know that we have guests."

        "Huh?" Buffy blinked in surprise, turning towards Claire, "Spike doesn't know we're here?"

        "Mum?" Buffy jumped when she heard his voice coming from above her, and then the sound of boots pounding down the staircase, "Have you seen my…bloody hell!"

        Buffy smiled at Spike sheepishly as he froze on the staircase, and stared down at her in shocked surprise; unfortunately, he was in the middle of taking a step and he over-balanced.

        Buffy winced as Spike pitched forward down the stairs, tumbling ass-over-teakettle and Claire cried out in surprise when he finally rolled to a stop when he hit the wall at the bottom, "Oh God! Will! Don't move!"

        "Bloody buggerin' fuck!" Spike sat up, uncaring of his swearing in front of his mother as he touched the back of his head, staring up at Buffy, "It never friggin' fails! Two seconds in a room with you and I end up broken!"

        "William! Watch your mouth!" Claire chastised as she hurried to her son's side and helped him to his feet, "Are you all right?!"

        "I'm fine, mum," Spike grumbled as he popped his shoulder with a wince, "Lucky I didn't break my neck, I suspect…" He glanced towards their `guests', narrowing his eyes slightly, "Anyone want to tell me what the hell they're doing here?"

Part Twenty-Four

        Buffy felt torn between two extremely hysterical emotions; she either wanted to fall down to the ground, laughing till her sides hurt, or fall to the ground and sobbing until her throat hurt. Neither one was a good option.

        Luckily, Drusilla had snagged Buffy's arm as Spike and their mother got into an argument over her not telling him about their visitors, and the two girls had retreated up the stairs as fast as their legs could carry them.

        "Oh, God…" Drusilla led Buffy into her room and closed the door with a roll of her eyes, "Sorry you had to see that…Will's been a little crazy lately…and pretty much driving mama up the wall…"

        "How come you guys didn't tell Spike we were coming?" Buffy asked in confusion, "I mean…why didn't you tell him?"

        "It was kind of a surprise…" Drusilla fidgeted, "Okay…so…mama and I figured out he had sort of a crush on you…and we thought he'd like to see you again…we really didn't know he'd react like that…"

        "Oh God…" Buffy covered her face, horrified at their well-meant intentions which had gone so very terribly wrong. "This is going to be bad…so very, very bad…"

        Spike sullenly made his way up the staircase, rubbing his sore ear with grumbled swears. After his mother had dragged him out of the foyer by his ear and proceeded to lecture him about the `proper' treatment of guests, he had been ordered upstairs to apologize to Buffy for his less then polite greeting.

        Like it was his fault? He had been ambushed, for Chrissakes! He had been faced with the one person in the world he had least expected to see gracing his home completely unexpectedly, and had nearly killed himself on the stairs. And they were surprised he was less then thrilled?!

          He shook his head ruefully as he knocked on Drusilla's door, guessing by the way his little traitor of a sister had dragged Buffy off, that would be where they would be hiding.

        Drusilla opened the door and scowled out at him, "What do you want?"

        "Cut it out, Dru…" Spike replied wearily, "Is Buffy in there?"

        "No," Dru sniffed, "She's unpacking in her room. Could you have been more of a prick downstairs, Will?"

        "You could have given me a heads-up," Spike reminded her, irritation lacing his tone, "You realize this isn't Belize and guerilla tactics are hardly necessary."

        "Yes, because watching you mope about the house in a fugue state most of the time is so much better," Drusilla poked him in the chest, "Unlike you, we're not completely clueless about what is going on with you. You may like running around like you have a little tortured poet soul, but it's depressing the HELL out of mama and I. Buffy's next door." Dru slammed her door in Spike's shocked face.

        He scowled as he straightened, and started towards Buffy's room. However, he stopped when Dru popped her head out of her door, adding a strident, "And be nice!"

        Buffy sighed as she loaded her clothes into the wardrobe in the corner of her room, trying to regain her lost good mood. Her bedroom was beautiful, with a large four poster against the wall, and windows that looked out over the back lawn and the forest along the borders of the property. She even had her own bathroom, complete with large, porcelain claw-foot tub, but she wasn't able to find the joy in her lavish surroundings that she should have normally.

        It was all very beautiful and perfect…but it was all so very wrong at the same time.

        Shut up, Buffy…She told herself derisively, It's a pretty house …and you have a girl who so very obviously wants to be sisters with you and her mother seems to like you, so, stop whining about a stupid guy that doesn't like you anymore.

        She nodded her head firmly, deciding not to let Spike's little thing ruin her entire vacation, especially since she had other things to look forward to on this vacation. Namely, shopping with Drusilla, hanging out Drusilla, getting the dirt on Giles, and treating Spike like her brother and nothing else.

        She had just reached this conclusion when someone knocked at her door, and Buffy called a cheerful `come in' that was almost believable. "Dru…this room is so pretty," Buffy said as she shoved another pile of clothes in the wardrobe, "And a bathroom I don't have to share with two other people! I'll probably beg to move in with you guys by the end of two weeks…"

        "Glad you like it," Buffy stiffened as she turned to see Spike leaning against the doorway, and she blushed brightly as she closed the doors on the wardrobe.

        "Um…sorry…I thought you were Dru," Buffy mumbled, her nervousness increasing as Spike came fully into the room and closed the door behind him. Okay, so, telling herself that she could pretend Spike had no effect on her was one thing…convincing her body to pretend as well was another.

        "Listen…before you say anything, I really didn't know that you didn't know I was coming," Buffy hurriedly rushed to explain, "If I had known you didn't know, I would have never come, you know?"

        Spike smiled slowly at her somewhat flustered state of mind, even though, a part of him, was very aware that he was in serious danger of being as in love with her as ever if she kept up that sweet little babbling thing she was doing.

        Be nice, right…I can be nice…

        "It's all right, Buffy," He said when she finally stopped talking and was looking up at him with her beautiful wide, hazel eyes, and he felt himself swallow heavily, "Uh…I'm not mad at you…just a bit miffed that my mother and sister didn't think it pertinent to tell me you all were coming…I don't take surprises too well."

        "Yeah, really," Buffy couldn't suppress her grin as she remembered the look on Spike's face seconds before he took a header down the stairs, "Nice dismount, but I give your landing a `3'...we'll have to hear later from the International judges."

        "Well…I think we broke my last record," Spike teased her, "I've been in the same room with you for almost three minutes and I have yet to be maimed in some way. I hope we can keep it up." He watched a soft flush touched her cheeks once more, and his grin widened.

        Buffy's smile slowly faded, and then she scuffed her toe along the hard wood floor almost timidly as she changed the subject, "I…I didn't have a chance to apologize to you yet…"

        "Buffy…that's not…"

        "Yeah, it is necessary," She interrupted him, shaking her head decisively, "You were right…I never gave you a chance…well, a second chance…and that was wrong of me…and when you tried to warn me about…Angel…and I completely brushed you off without bothering to listen." She looked back up at him, "So…I was hoping…you know…if you would give me a second chance, even though I didn't give you one…"

        Spike stared at her in unbearable silence, an unreadable look on his face, and Buffy bit her lip and started to turn around, "But you know, if not…that's fine too…I'll…I won't bug you while I'm here…it'll be like I'm not even in the house…"

        She's asking ME for a second chance?! Spike blinked and then managed to shove his shock aside when Buffy thought he was ignoring her. He reached out and caught her shoulder before she could turn all the way around.

        "Buffy…you don't even have to ask me that," He smiled slightly when she stared up at him in confusion, "I'm the one who ought to be on my hands and knees and begging for a second chance…"

        "Are you nuts?" Buffy asked him, "I mean…I beat the crap out of you…a lot…and then…the whole thing with…"

        "Forget that," Spike told her firmly, "I deserved whatever I got. You were right, I was a totally prick towards you, and I was acting like a spoiled child pretty much the entire time there…but I would love a chance to make things right between us…"

        Buffy felt a lump rise in her throat as Spike stared down at her with his deep, smoldering blue eyes, and she started to lean towards him without thinking. Spike's eyes widened a fraction, but then they closed as his lips brushed lightly across hers; however, before he could even attempt to deepen the kiss, Dru knocked on the connecting doors between their rooms, and the pair broke away before she popped her head in.

        "If you two are done snoggin', mama wants us all down at dinner in five minutes," Drusilla informed the pair with an unrepentant grin. She glanced towards Buffy, "And you beat the crap out of him? When was this? I want details."

        "You were listening at the door!" Spike accused his sister, who only shrugged, hiding the glass she was holding behind her back.

        "I have no idea what you're talking about…the sound just carries in this house…"

        "Get out!" Spike ordered, and Drusilla laughed as she retreated back into her room, and he shook his head at Buffy apologetically, "Sorry…you'd think with a house this size, we'd get some privacy." He grinned as he stepped towards her, "Now…where were we?"

        "I was about to change for dinner," Buffy informed him, ushering him towards the door, and he looked over his shoulder at her in disappointment.

        "That's not what we were doing!"

        "I know, but we're…not doing that other thing with your sister listening at the door," Buffy hissed, pushing him out into the hall, "I'll be down in a couple minutes…"

        Spike scowled at Buffy's door after she closed it in his face, and he glared down the hall when Drusilla came out of her room. Her eyes widened when she saw the look on his face, and with a screech, she was racing for the stairs, Spike following closely at her heels, "You are so dead!"

        "Moootthhheeerrr! William's threatening me!"

        Buffy took the time during a relatively innocent dinner to get a fix on her thoughts and emotions…all the while, avoiding little green missiles launched off Spike's plate that were supposedly meant for Drusilla, but for some inexplicable reason, kept missing and landing down her shirt. Buffy had a hunch he just liked watch her having to reach down her cleavage to get the little pea out.

        "Mama! Spike's throwing food down Buffy's shirt!" Drusilla tattled with an evil look at her brother, and Spike stuck his tongue out at her.

        Claire groaned as she covered her eyes with a hand, "If you two don't cut it out, I'm going to start feeding you in different rooms!"

        "Sorry, mum," Spike said with a charming grin in Claire's direction, but his mother didn't look as though she was falling for that for even a second.

        Buffy smiled as she glanced down at her plate, trying to ignore the antics of the Giles' children as she picked at her own dinner, but she kept half an eye on Spike, who was constantly looking in her direction when he wasn't distracted with trying to shoot another pea at Drusilla without his mother seeing.

        It was like watching the chimpanzee in his natural habitat, his behavior was so very different from what it had been in Sunnydale. Buffy almost rolled her eyes at that. She had spent way too many Saturday nights watching Discovery Channel instead of going out on dates lately. Anyway, it was like seeing two very different Spikes. Or maybe she was only seeing this side of him now because she had acted like a bitch towards him before…

        She was starting to get a headache with all this thinking crap.

        "After dinner, Buffy, why don't you have William show you around the rest of the house?" Claire asked in all innocence.

        "Yes, that would be lovely, wouldn't it, Buffy?" Giles put in his own two cents, beaming at Buffy brightly, obviously pleased that besides Spike and Drusilla's somewhat childish antics at the dinner table, they all seemed to be getting along.

        "I thought you'd want her to actually see the house," Drusilla said, "They wouldn't get past Will's…" Drusilla jumped when Spike kicked her in the shin none too lightly, and she glared at him, "Ow."

        "Whoops, sorry, reflex," Spike said, blinking at Drusilla innocently, and she rolled her eyes, not buying into that act for even a splint second, but she did shush up on the subject. Spike glanced towards Buffy, who was once again flushed a lovely red, something he would never fail to think was absolutely adorable, "S'bout it? Sound good to you?"

        "Yeah, sure," Buffy shrugged her shoulders, trying to appear at least a little bit disinterested, despite the way Claire was watching her reaction carefully. However, as soon as Claire looked away to speak with Giles, a pea landed square in her cleavage. Okay…that time had to be on purpose.

        "This is the hallway, that's another hallway…open this door and there's an empty bedroom…"

        Buffy rolled her eyes at Spike's version of the tour. He showed her the kitchen, door to the indoor pool, and what may have been a billiards room, but he had dragged her past them so fast, she really couldn't tell. However, he was holding her hand tightly and he had yet to let go once the tour started, and she wasn't really complaining about that. After she had seen a bunch of doors that led to rooms he very obviously wasn't eager to show off at the moment, he swept her up the stairs.

        "And this is my library." Spike stopped in front of a large door, and Buffy raised an eyebrow.

        "So…this is the place where Dru says you live like a shut-in?" She teased, and Spike rolled his eyes as he opened the door.

        "Laugh all you want, but it's the only place in the house where I have absolute privacy," Spike told her as she walked inside and glanced around at the thousands of books lining the walls.

        "Wow…that's a lot of books," She said, turning to face Spike, "Is there a hint involved in why you're showing me a room full of books?"

        "Not really," Spike closed the door behind him, and in two steps, Buffy was in his arms, and his lips were devouring hers. "God, I missed you," He muttered when he broke the kiss so they could suck in large breaths. "Spent hours and hours in here, just thinking about you…the way you looked with your lips all swollen and red after we kissed in the laundry room. Your smile…your eyes…"

        "I think this is my favorite room now," Buffy smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he grinned as he lifted her up off her feet. She squealed as he swung her into his arms and he plopped down into the chair in which he had spent hours gazing into the fire, thinking of her; but this time, she was firmly wrapped up in his arms, and there was no way he was going to be letting her go anytime soon.

        He leaned in to kiss her again, but she avoided the kiss, "Whatever happened to `It is easier to exclude harmful passions then to rule them, and to deny them admittance than to control them after they have been admitted,' Latin boy?" She asked, quoting his card from memory. She had long ago memorized both that card and his letter from frequent readings.

        "What about it?" Spike asked in confusion, "Still applies…"

        "What!?" Buffy scrambled off his lap, glaring down at him, "So, you're what? Just using me for the smoochies now!?"

        "Huh…?" Spike frowned, honestly confused about her reaction, "Buffy, what did you think I meant when I wrote that?"

        "That you meant you…weren't going to admit you liked me anymore…"

        Spike laughed, shaking his head slightly in relief, but then immediately sobered when Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. He reached up and caught one of her hands and attempted to draw her back down to his lap. "You could have taken it like that, I suppose," Spike conceded, "But I merely meant that even though I would `try' to put you out of my mind, I knew it'd probably be impossible…and I was right."

        "Oh…" Buffy looked sheepish, and Spike grinned as he pulled her back into the comfort of his arms, and pressed a chaste kiss against her lips. "Okay, I feel stupid now…I was going nuts all this time over nothing?"

        "Going nuts, now?" Spike peered into her face interestedly, "Why…Buffy Summers…do you have a `thing' for me, as my sister would say?"

        "There might be a thing," Buffy admitted, smiling as he drew her into another deep, passionate kiss that made the butterflies in her stomach dance the Lambda. She wriggled in his lap, and grinned against his lips when she felt something poking her in the butt, and she shifted her weight on him, causing him to groan. "Definitely something...you know…this is probably illegal in most states…"

        "Good thing we're not in the states," Spike murmured, "And that I'm filthy rich…I can get away with anything…you know…like the Kennedys and Royal Family…"

        "Hmmm…" Any answer she had to that was lost in the swirl of passion and emotion that surrounded them as they kissed in his chair, bodies curled together, hands slipping through hair and over any bare skin that was bared by their clothing. After what seemed like seconds, Spike broke away from her lips, drawing heavy breaths into his lungs.

        "Gotta stop…mum and the old man will start thinkin' we're lost…"

        "Wanna stay lost," Buffy protested, drawing him down for another kiss, and Spike groaned against her lips, pretty much helpless when it came to her. He wanted nothing more then to sweep her off to his room and lock the door, and not come out for the duration of her stay, parents and consequences be damned. However, Buffy was the one this time that tore away from him with a soft moan, "But I promised Dru we'd watch movies and eat chocolate all night…gotta go…"

        "Screw Dru…" Spike replied, but Buffy slipped off of his lap and out of his arms, and attempted to smooth her rumpled clothing and mussed hair.

        "Can't, I promised," Buffy reminded him, "Besides…if we don't stop now…God knows when we'd stop…"

        "Never sounds good," Spike grinned at her rakishly, but knew she was right. Another few minutes with her lips on his, her hands touching him, and the feel of her body against his would have made it impossible for him to stop without going out of his mind. He glanced down at his lap in some dismay, knowing his erection wasn't going to go down anytime soon, especially with all the fantasy fodder he had just so generously received. "Um…you think you can find Dru on your own? I think…I'll just hang here for a little bit…"

        "Sure," Buffy grinned at his predicament, and he frowned as she bounced towards his desk.

        "Um…pet? The door is that way."

        "Duh, I know that," Buffy replied, grinning evilly at Spike as she lobbed the box of tissues that had been on his desk at him, and he caught it against his chest, frowning down at it in confusion. Buffy giggled when realization bloomed over his face and she ran for the door, "Have fun," She called to him teasingly as she darted out into the hall.

        Spike rolled his eyes as he stood up, dropping the tissues on the chair as he headed towards the door to make a run for his bedroom. However, he paused briefly, then swore as he retrieved the tissues and then raced for his nearby bedroom and what was sure to be a very long and very lonely night.

Part Twenty-Five

        "So, what do you want to watch?" Drusilla asked, "Hamlet, Shakespeare in Love, Othello…"

        "You have a thing for Shakespeare?" Buffy asked as she lounged on Dru's bed, staring dubiously at the collection of dolls that graced the shelves covering Drusilla's walls. All those sightless eyes staring at her was kind of giving her the creeps.

        "I have a thing for attractive men in tights," Dru replied, and Buffy glanced towards her, grinning widely.

        "Now that's what I'm talking about," Buffy rubbed her hands together, "Hmmm…which hotties are up on the block again?"

        "Mel Gibson in tights…Lawrence Fishbourne in tights…and Joseph Fiennes in tights…"

        "Choices, choices…" Buffy sighed, conflicted.

        "Everyone dies in Hamlet and Othello…very depressing, but on the other hand, there's Gwyneth Paltrow pretending to be English…also very depressing."

        "Got it, skip Fiennes, you chose between Mel and Larry."

        Drusilla popped a video into her VCR, then hopped onto the bed beside Buffy, reaching for the chocolate chip cookies, raising an eyebrow as the opening credits rolled, "So?"

        Buffy glanced at Dru, "So what?"

        "You and my brother…" Drusilla grinned, "Are you going to jump him?"

        "Ew! Dru, he's your brother!" Buffy shuddered, "You can't talk about him like that! It's…icky…"

        "Icky or not….he needs to get laid," Drusilla stated matter-of-factly, popping a cookie in her mouth. Buffy stared at her with wide eyes, mouth hanging open, and Dru nudged her, "You're attracting flies."

        "That is just so gross," Buffy rolled her eyes, not able to figure out why Drusilla was so interested in her brother's love life.

        "Listen, I care about my big brother…even if he's a little creepy overprotective sometimes," Drusilla held up a hand before Buffy could say something, "With really good reason, which I think you probably found out by now…but the boy has had a lot of time on his hands lately…which just means my social life? Not too social. He's been kind of crazy since he came back from California…some of it was because of you…and the rest was probably misplaced worry. Anyway, you're here, now…and I want to know your intentions for him…and whether or not you're going to jump him and put a big smile on his face."

        Buffy was flushed a pretty bright red by now, "God…you are so weird," Buffy muttered, then sighed, deciding at least part of her statement was fair. "I don't know what my…intentions are for your brother…but I promise…I won't hurt any…virtue or whatever you're worried about…"

        "Oh, Lord no…hurt his virtue all you want," Dru replied, "In fact, I insist on it…but hurt his heart…now, we might have a problem with that."

        "I have no intention of hurting Spike," Buffy was able to assure her, "But the whole…jumping issue? That I'm not so sure about…I like your brother…a lot…but I'm leaving in two weeks…and jumping him is very possibly a bad idea. I mean, some people can make long distance relationships work…but this is an entire continent and an ocean between us…" Buffy frowned, "Oh God…I didn't think about that before…that's a bunch of distance…a big bunch of distance…this will never work…"

        "Distance, schmitance," Dru waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, "Doesn't matter when it comes to the hearts bit."

        "Yeah?" Buffy squinted her eyes at Dru, "Is that so, oh Guru of Romance?"

        "I'm right about that and you know it," Drusilla replied, "I know my brother, and I know that won't matter to him. Distance is nothing to him if he's as in love with you as everyone else thinks…and if you love him enough, it won't matter to you either…now shut up, here comes Mel."

        Buffy shook her head slowly, somewhat amused and amazed at Drusilla's frank honesty, and obligingly turned her attention to the less complicated love life of Hamlet and Ophelia.

        "You know…maybe it's the cookies and all the caffeine we consumed…" Buffy squinted at the television from where she and Dru were snuggled beneath the bedcovers, "But about two hundred Scottish guys waving their asses in the air is kind of making me queasy…"

        "Maybe Braveheart wasn't the best choice after eating our weight in junk food," Drusilla agreed, "Unwashed men in skirts doesn't seem that appealing anymore. Besides," Dru made a face, "This movie makes the British look worse then Nazis…"

        "Yeah, what is with that?" Buffy asked, "You should have seen Giles after he saw `The Patriot.' He thinks Mel Gibson is the devil now."

        "Yes…but the devil with a very fine ass," Drusilla clarified.

        "Oh, no one's arguing that one," Buffy replied, "Just don't mention him in front of your dad unless you want a lecture on the evils of American Cinema."

        The two girls were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Spike peeped his head in, "Everyone decent?" He asked, and Drusilla rolled her eyes as she grabbed the remote for the VCR and paused the movie.

        "You know, I'm a little old for you to keep tucking me in," Drusilla complained, a little embarrassed, and she added with a hiss, "Especially when you do it in front of my friends."

        "Too bad…big brother rights," Spike replied, and Dru sighed in resignation as she tilted her cheek up so he could kiss it. "Night, Dru…"

        "Night, Will," Drusilla watched as Spike picked up her favorite doll and kiss it before handing it to her, "Okay…what in the hell was that?!"

        "What?" Spike narrowed his eyes at his sister, mentally willing her to shut up, and he smiled at her brightly, "I always kiss Miss Edith good-night for you…" He added in a low whisper, "I'm trying to be cute…help me out here…"

        "Well, it's not working, you look like a freak," Dru told him, and Buffy started to giggle at Spike's expense as Dru held up the doll he had kissed, "Miss Edith, in case you haven't noticed, is an inanimate object that has not required good-night kisses since I was eight. Hence, you look like a complete dork, not cute."

        Spike sighed as he straightened, "Fine…just bust m'balls…" He grumbled.

        "Well, it's not like anyone else is going too…oh…but wait…" Drusilla glanced at Buffy pointedly, and Spike groaned.

        "You told her?"

        "Well," Buffy wriggled under his gaze, "She begged…and she's really good at the begging thing…and she threatened to withhold the cookies until I told her…" Buffy glared at Dru, "She also promised she wouldn't tell you."

        "Sorry…but you couldn't expect to give me all that prime blackmail material and not use it," Drusilla defended herself.

        Buffy considered this, and then shrugged as she looked up at Spike, "She has a point."

        "Okay, I'm starting to see I have to avoid you two together…you're teaming up against me," Spike complained good-naturedly, leaning down to kiss Dru's forehead again. "Night, you little pain in the arse."

        "Aren't you going to kiss Miss Edith again?" Drusilla asked innocently, and Spike rolled his eyes.

        "Why couldn't I have been an only child?" Spike asked rhetorically, "And why didn't I drown you in the pool before you learned to swim?"

        "Ha ha," Drusilla said sarcastically, and then grinned at Spike evilly, "What? No good-night kiss for Buffy?"

        Spike glanced at Buffy, who was blushing again, and he crossed around the bed till he was standing above her with Drusilla watching on expectantly.

        "Good-night, Buffy," He purred slowly as he leaned down towards her, and Buffy's eyes went a little wide and her lips parted in expectation of his kiss. However, Spike changed the descent so that his lips only brushed against her cheek, "Sleep tight," He smiled at her wickedly as he straightened and smoothly walked away and towards the door as she stared after him, a little flustered.

        Dru started to snore loudly, "God, Will…could that have been anymore boring?!"

        His grand exit was ruined by Buffy and Drusilla's giggles, "Demon child," He muttered beneath his breath as he closed the door behind him.

        Light suddenly flooded the room, and Buffy groaned sleepily, burrowing her head beneath her pillow, willing the world to go away. It was too damn early to acknowledge one existed.

        "All right, girls…up with the both of you!" A cheerful voice called out, "Miss Dru, your mother is waiting breakfast on you two."

        "No breakfast…sleep…" Dru moaned, pulling her blankets over her head.

        Dottie, unhindered by their whining, stripped the bedclothes off of the two girls, and Buffy yelped when the sudden rush of cold air hit the bits of her body not covered by her nightgown. By the time she sat up, her teeth were chattering.

        "Dottie…" Dru sat up, blinking in the bright light streaming in from the window, "You can't pull the sheets off of Buffy…she's from California…she can't handle the Spring chill."

        "Now, that should make her dress faster, now wouldn't it?" Dottie observed, smiling at Dru as she kissed the young girl's cheek before swatting her back, "I'll check on the both of you in five minutes, and you better not be crawling back under those sheets if you know what's good for you."

        "Yes, Dottie…" Drusilla sighed, resigned to the fact that she had to get up. Dottie had spoken and Dottie's words were law.

        Buffy squinted at the plump woman that left the room, her brown hair pulled up into a tight bun, "Who was that?"

        "The housekeeper," Dru rolled out of bed, "Better get dressed…if Dottie comes back and sees we're still in bed, she's gets mean."

        "And I thought the way my mom woke me up was evil," Buffy grumbled as she wrapped her arms around herself and headed to her own room to get dressed. By the time Dottie came to check up on her, she was ready for breakfast, and she and Dru fled their rooms with Dottie shooing them down the stairs.

        "Oh my God…Giles did have long hair!" Buffy stared down at the picture of her youthful step-father, who was straddling a motorcycle, his long, brown hair hanging around his face in scraggly strands, wearing a fringed leather jacket and fringed leather pants, "And he's kind of skanky…"

        Giles grimaced at that, shooting a look at his ex-wife, who was perched beside Buffy, having great fun in showing off the pictures of him in his less-then-sterling youth.

        "This one was taken our senior year," Claire informed Buffy, peering down at the picture, "I think I was a little too into the bad boy aura he was exuding…you know, smoking in the bathrooms…sitting beneath the bleachers and attempting to peek up the girls' skirts with his friends…"

        "They still do that," Buffy rolled her eyes, "My friends, Xander and Jesse, used to spend hours beneath the bleachers…especially when the cheerleaders were practicing flips and splits."

        "Oh, yes…that was always Rupert's favorite extracurricular activity," Claire winked at Giles, who was flushed in embarrassment.

        "Claire…must you tell the girl that?" He asked pleadingly.

        "Of course I must," Claire replied, waving off his worries, and Buffy looked up at Giles, raising an eyebrow.

        "Oh, yeah, she's got to tell me that…this is dirt…lots and lots of dirt…" Buffy grinned evilly, "Dirt I can so use."

        "Buffy, dear…remember that allowance you used to get?"

        "Oh…look! Baby pictures!" Buffy flipped the page of the photo album, and Claire grumbled something about `Rupert ruining her fun.' "Oh…is that Spike?"

        "Yes it is," Claire smiled down at the picture of her son, while inwardly wincing at the nickname, "He was such a tiny little thing…he's still a bit on the short side. There was a little while, before he hit puberty, when Drusilla was actually taller then him. You can imagine how that he reacted to that."

        "Yep," Buffy grinned a bit as she looked at more of Spike's baby pictures, thinking he was just too cute with his small frame and big, blue eyes. "Aww…he is sooo sweet."

        "William was a surprisingly quiet baby," Giles replied, "Remember when everyone was telling us that we wouldn't sleep an entire night through the first year? But…not a peep from him."

        "Drusilla more then made up for that," Claire added with a smile, "Now, that girl couldn't sleep a full night till she was four years old. She was far more energetic as a baby then Will was. However, nowadays, the boy can hardly keep still for longer then ten minutes."

        Buffy smiled at that as she flipped through further in the book, awww-ing at the baby pictures of Drusilla and then she nearly choked on her tongue when she reached Spike's grammar school years. "Oh…my…God…" Buffy bit her lip to keep from giggling when she saw the big pair of glasses he was wearing, the metal braces gracing his toothy grin and the mop of curly, dirty blond hair atop his head. He was a dork!

        The dork trend carried on through his school career, from the looks of things. Separating most of his pictures were academic awards and report card grades.

        Spike was a massive nerd…go figure. Buffy stopped at a picture of Spike, still wearing his glasses, braces and the huge glasses…only now, he had a major case of acne. "Do you have this one in wallet size?"

        The second Spike and Drusilla had seen the photo albums come out, they had fled the room, neither one of them wanting to be there for their mother's special brand of torture.

        Should've burned them when I had the chance, Spike thought with a wince, remembering much too vividly the way he looked in most of those pictures. He only hoped his mother skipped his High school years out of pity for him. However, he didn't like his chances on that one.

        He shook his head slightly as he resumed his laps in the enclosed swimming pool, trying to push the thought of Buffy looking at baby pictures of him and could harbor the small illusion that his mother kept the childhood stories down to a minimum. She had better and far juicer ones then his father did, but he hoped she would have mercy on his poor reputation. He wasn't holding breath on that one either.

        He didn't hear the door to the patio open, and Buffy smiled slightly as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The pool was surrounded by tinted glass the provided privacy from anyone that was outside of it, but the glass of the steeped ceiling was clear, allowing the light of the sun entrance. There was a hot tub near the pool, already bubbling and releasing steam into the slightly cool air.

        So can get used to this, Buffy thought as she shed her robe, wearing the bikini Drusilla had lent her, since she had left hers at home; thus disproving Giles' theory that there was absolutely no way she could have forgotten anything with the amount of luggage she had brought with her.

        Buffy set her towel and robe on one of the chairs that graced the pool area, watching with much appreciation as Spike continued with his laps, unaware of her presence. Hmm…yum…Buffy thought, observing the way his muscles rippled beneath his bare back and the way his arms strained forward before pulling back towards his body, propelling him through the crystal water.

        Spike reached the end of the pool and he laid his arms across the edge of the pool as he swiped the droplets of water that poured down his face out of his eyes, and swept his wet hair off of his forehead. It was then he finally noticed he wasn't alone.

        His gaze traveled over the slender, golden skin of Buffy's body, and he swallowed heavily when he saw the tiny dark blue bikini she was wearing. Two little triangles barely contained the bounty of her breasts, and the wisp of fabric between her legs allowed a few dark curls peek out the sides. As the blood traveled instantly to his nether-regions, Spike found a hard time forming any sort of coherent thought, let alone words.

        Buffy looked down at herself when Spike just stared, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously, "I had to borrow it from Dru, so it's a little small…and the color's really bad with my skin tone…"

        "It's perfect," Spike finally managed to get out without making himself sound like a complete ass, and he grinned as Buffy flushed again. God, he really loved it when she did that. It made her skin shine with a rosy glow that took his breath away. He pushed away from the edge of the pool, momentarily thanking whatever higher power that was that he hadn't opted for the speedo and wore swimming trunks instead. Otherwise, he'd be a mite uncomfortable. "You coming in?"

        "Naw…finish your laps, I was just going to hang out in the hot tub anyway."

        "Believe me, I'm done," Spike replied, "Give me a second and I'll join you."

        Buffy smiled as she hopped into the tub, watching in confusion as Spike simply threaded water for several minutes, staring up at the glass ceiling above them. What is he doing?

        Manchester United losing all season…watching Titanic thirty-three times in a row…walkin' in on mom and dad when they forgot to lock the door…Spike took a deep breath, finally managing to have talked his `little' problem down. However, from the pool and to the hot tub, he kept his eyes on a point past Buffy's head, so that he was well beneath the water before he'd have to worry about anything springing back up again.

        However, the second he looked up at her, the game was lost. Not that he minded too much. However, Buffy was staring at him in open bewilderment, probably trying to figure out why he was acting so crazily. "So…have fun with the family photo albums?" Spike asked, "Not hardly fair, seeing as your mother didn't whip out your baby pictures."

        "No offense, but both times you were at the house, you didn't look that interested in seeing them," Buffy teased him, trying to stare at his sculpted chest without being obvious about it, "Besides…I think you were cute with the braces."

        "Hmm…If I'm not mistaken, those perfect, Californian pearly whites aren't exactly home-grown, pet," Spike observed.

        "Maybe, but you have no evidence to prove that," Buffy reminded him cheerfully, "And I have negatives."

        "Mum and I are going to have to have ourselves a little talk," Spike mumbled, sulking a bit, and looking like an adorable drowned puppy while he did it.

        He watched as Buffy dipped beneath the water and straightened instinctually. She came back up, slicking her hair back, looking like an enticing little water nymph. Only the mental reminder that there were less then fifteen feet from the house and that anyone could walk in kept him from kissing her breathless. And God…he didn't know whether to kill Drusilla for owning a bikini like that, or kiss her for lending it to Buffy. Either way, it was killing him.

        "Man…I wish I could convince my mom to put in a pool," Buffy said as she sank lower into the water, closing her eyes as she reclined her head back, "You know what she did last time I asked for a pool? Handed me the mop bucket and told me to knock myself out."

        Spike chuckled, and Buffy cracked an eye open when she felt the water shift noticeably and saw that he was swiftly edging his way to her side of the tub. Before she could move, his lips were at her throat, and he was running his tongue along her jugular as his hands found her waist beneath the water. "Spike! What if someone walks in here…"

        "Piffle…" He mumbled, throwing his own worry about that straight out the window. "No one comes out here when I'm doing my laps…and Dru's probably upstairs, chatting up all her friends on the phone…can't wait any longer to touch you…"

        Buffy gave in as his lips made their way up to her jaw and she turned her face towards him, cupping his cheeks in her hands as she kissed him back for all she was worth. He was starting to slid her onto his lap when he heard the sound of the patio door opening. They disengaged from each other so fast that the water sloshed out of the tub in a Tsunami-sized tidal wave.

        Giles stepped into the patio, and then looked down at the water that splashed over his feet, and then up at the two blonds sitting in the hot tub, looking decidedly sheepish. "Do I have to warn you two about horsing around in the pool?" He asked sternly.

        "Sorry," They piped up in unison, and then exchanged a horrified look as Giles turned to shed his robe, leaving himself clothed only in a pair of swim trunks with little sharks all over them, his very pale legs standing out against the black fabric.

         "You don't mind if I join you, do you?" Giles asked cheerfully as he came towards them, and Buffy bit her lip against a giggle as Spike dropped his head back against the edge of the hot tub in frustration.

        "No, dad," Spike muttered beneath his breath so that Giles couldn't hear him, "Already ruined the damned bloody moment, now haven't ya? Soddin' friggin' hell…"

Part Twenty-Six

        “I think Spike is getting a little frustrated,” Buffy told Drusilla as she held up a light pink blouse, putting it back when Dru shook her head and made a face. “For the last couple of days, every time we get five minutes alone, someone interrupts us.” With that, she threw a pointed look at Drusilla, who was one of the main interrupters. “Between you and Giles, he's going to snap and it's not going to be pretty.”

        “I hope dad doesn't catch you guys,” Drusilla replied, looking towards Buffy, “When I'm not there to see the look on his face.”

        “You're a beautiful person, Dru,” Buffy said with a roll of her eyes, “You realize that the second Giles leaves the land of Denial, he enters Heart Palpation country? That way leads to Heart Monitor town, with a stop at Nitroglycerin Pill Town Hall.”

        “I was with you through the heart palpations…then you lost me…I like the purple…it's a great color on you,” Drusilla replied, sifting through her own rack of clothing. “I don't know…I think daddy will actually take it pretty good…he loves both of you…”

        “Yeah, but how do you suppose we break the news to him?” Buffy asked, “It's either, `Dad, I'm schtubbing the girl who's like a daughter to you,' or it's `Giles, I'm schtubbing your son and my step-brother.' Either way, it's not going to be a good conversation.”

        “I don't really see Will saying `schtubbing'…he might say `shagging,' but never schtubbing…” Drusilla replied, holding up a short purple skirt that matched the blouse draped over Buffy's arm, “Here…and I suggest you rehearse the opening…those are going to get you both slapped upside the head. Heck…even mama would smack you both if you said it like that, and she's behind you two one hundred percent.”

        “Comforting thought,” Buffy sighed as she took the skirt from Dru, “That's great…one parent out of three behind us. There's still my mom…”

        “Will said your mom seemed kind of laidback,” Drusilla replied, “I'm sure she'll take it well…”

        “My mom?” Buffy raised an eyebrow at Dru, “My mom will say that she's okay with it as long as the parenting books says she should be okay with that…and unless there's a book called, `Incest is Best…and Completely A-OK,' she's not going to be okay.”

        “It's not incest if he's your step-brother,” Dru replied practically, “No blood relation at all.”

        “Yeah…but my mom's schtubbing his father,” Buffy pointed out, “There's the icky factor.”

        “Ew…could we not mention my father and sex in the same sentence? I'm still trying to convince myself that I'm the only person on the planet born by cellular mitosis. And we have to find you a new word for sex. Something classy…like…”

        “The beast with two backs?” Buffy suggested with a straight face, and Drusilla started cracking up, drawing several looks from the people shopping around them.

        “That's horrible,” Dru gasped out when she finally had control of herself, “I have to use that one in front of mama,” She shook her head, “You know…we have these special things here in England…I'm not so sure if you have them in America or not…but they're called dates. Basically, what they entail is…going out someplace without your family being around, and usually, if you plan them right, you can get a little something called privacy. You should embrace our culture, for our culture is wise.”

        “Wow…you've really gotten the British sarcasm thing nailed. And I thought Giles was an expert at it.”

        Drusilla dropped into a curtsy, and then grabbed the skirt and shirt ensemble in Buffy's hands and replaced them on the rack, “Forget these…we need to get you the heavy artillery…”

        “But…those were nice…” Buffy protested as Drusilla dragged her out of the store and back onto the street. She was led like a lamb to slaughter a few stores down, and Buffy winced immediately when she walked in and saw the pricey clothing. “This artillery is much too heavy for Buffy's purse…”

        “Meet my best friend,” Drusilla whipped out a shimmering, golden credit card, “We will embrace the credit card and worship him at the altar of the God of Shopping.”

        “Dru…I can't…”

        “Shhh!” Dru pressed a finger to Buffy's lips, “You do not control the credit card. The credit card controls you. And it commands the virgin sacrifice of pretty clothing and more shoes then you could possibly need.”

        “You're scaring me,” Buffy informed Dru, “And yet…you sound strangely familiar. But really…I can't…”

        “Buffy, we're sisters…we now share a credit limit,” Drusilla held up her card and waved it in Buffy's face, saying in a squeaky but surprisingly loud voice, “Use me, Buffy…use me! Use me like you've never used anyone before!”

        Buffy glanced around the store and noticed they were drawing looks from everyone around her, “Will you please stop doing that?”

        “Use me,” Drusilla squeaked.

        “Dru…”

        “Use me…”

        “People are…”

        “Use me! Use me! Uuuussseeeee meeee!”

        “All right!” Buffy threw her arms up in exasperation, “Oh my God…you're evil!”

        “Only when I don't get my own way,” Drusilla replied, slipping her card back into her purse. “If you had resisted any longer, I probably would have had to throw myself on the ground and have a good tantrum…I haven't had a really good one since…last week.”

        Buffy laughed, shaking her head in acceptance of her fate. Spike had warned her that when Dru wanted something, it was very hard to resist her. “You win…but…only one outfit, Drusilla. I mean it.”

        “Great! I can live with that!” Drusilla started to drag her towards the back of the store, already devising things in her mind to break Buffy down on the `one outfit' issue, “We'll start with the underwear and work our way outwards.”

        “What? Dru! No underwear…”

        “Let's not start that again…do I have to whip out my credit card for another discussion? Huh? Do I?”

        Buffy groaned, holding out her arm, “Resume the dragging.”

        “Oh…Good Lord…” Giles paused in his walk about the grounds as he watched Drusilla's convertible pull up the driveway and stopped in front of the house, and paled when he saw the amount of shopping bags in the back of the car. He quickly removed his wallet and checked the billfold, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw his credit cards were all safely nestled in his bill-fold. Okay, so, he wasn't the sponsor of this little shopping spree. He could breathe easier now.

        “What have you two been up too?” Giles asked as he approached the car, peeking into the backseat, “And which shopkeeper is your mother sending to the Bahamas this year?”

        “I tried to talk her out of it, Giles, I really did…but…she's…evilly persistent…and she kept making the credit card talk and people were staring and…”

        “Breathe, Buffy,” Drusilla patted the blonde on the top of her head, grinning up at her father, “She's suffering from shopper's shock. I'm surprised…I figured experience on Rodeo Drive would prepare her for me, but…by the fifth pair of shoes, she was out for the count…” Drusilla snorted, “Lightweight.”

        “Well, seeing as you very likely spent what would have been a year's tuition for her at the shops, I'm not surprised,” Giles replied, staring at the bags ruefully, “I'm going to need more suitcases, aren't I?”

        “Probably,” Drusilla said cheerfully as she hopped out of her car, “Oh, daddy! Did you want to go out tonight, just you and me? We haven't really had a chance to bond since you've come…”

        Buffy shot a sharp look at Drusilla, seeing her little trick for what it was, and the brunette winked at her, “Yeah, Giles…that's a totally great idea…I can find something to occupy me tonight…it'll be good for you guys.”

        “Well, I suppose if your mother has no objection, I'd love too, Dru,” Giles replied, and Drusilla went over towards him and wrapped her arms around his middle.

        “We'll have a great time, daddy,” Drusilla told him, beaming brightly as Buffy got out of the car and started gathering up the myriad of packages the filled the backseat, “Little help?” Drusilla asked as she went to help Buffy carry them inside, and Giles sighed as he looked at the backseat, shaking his head slightly as he filled his arms with the bags, nearly falling over under the weight of them.

        Well…nice to see the alimony isn't going to waste in a silly little thing like a trust fund, Giles thought, shaking his head slightly at his daughter's spending habits. However, he couldn't fault her generosity when it came to treating Buffy to this little shopping binge. Then he remembered that he was the one who was going to be schlepping Buffy's bags through Customs, and let out a loud groan. These children are going to be the death of me.

        Right, mate…there's two ways you can go about this…Spike thought, trying to come up with a workable plan. In his hand, he held his weapon steady as he squinted at his opponent, preparing to attack.

        Spike made a face at his reflection as he ran his comb through his damp hair, cocking his head as he stared at his hair, smooth and sleek…screams bad ass…

        He cocked his head thoughtfully, and then dug his fingers into it, shaking the smooth strands loose till they were standing up in slightly curled spikes. Hmmm…not bad…still bad ass…but she can run her fingers through it and play with it…

        Spike rolled his eyes as he tossed his comb onto the bathroom counter, deciding that he was putting far too much thought into how his hair would look just for dinner with the family. And Buffy, Spike amended, smiling slightly. He squinted at his reflection once more, knowing that his mother and sister would see through him in a second if he came down with a new hairstyle, but that wasn't precisely a problem. The question is, would his father see through him?

        The man does bring new levels to the state of obliviousness, Spike reminded himself. However, clueless or not, Giles was probably going to eventually figure out that something was going on between Buffy and him…with any luck, by then, they'd be married, with 2.5 kids and a mortgage.

        Spike smiled a tiny bit at that thought, and then his eyes widened a bit in horror. Christ…he was already whipped beyond recognition. A few months ago, a thought like that would have sent him running for the hills, not grinning like an idiot. And that was just from a few stolen kisses whenever they could manage it!

        Girl is turning me into William the Awfully Bloody Whipped…he thought deprecatingly, but then decided in the next instant it was far better then what he had been called in school. Took him a long time to shake that one…had to get in more then a few dirty fist fights before that reputation was cleared off and he had made himself a new one. Unfortunately, he was watching the demise of his `Spike' reputation now, and he wasn't entirely sure what would be left in its place. Would he become the hopeless, tragically love-struck nerdy little poet he had been? God…he hoped the hell not.

        Spike shook his head as he wrapped a slightly damp towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door, walking out into his bedroom. He frowned when he saw his clothes all laying strewn about the floor, and then glanced in the direction of his wardrobe, where the clothes were flying from. “Dru…you better have a damn bloody good reason for why you're mussing up my room,” He complained as he bent to pick up his bathrobe and pulled it on.

        “I do,” Drusilla replied as she tossed his clothes about in annoyance, “Don't you have anything that's not black or red? You know, there's an entire spectrum of colors to choose from…and strangely enough, people have figured out a way to dye clothing those shades.”

        “Heavy with the sarcasm, light on the explanations,” Spike said, giving his sister a dirty look, “Let's try it the other way now.”

        “You,” Drusilla held up a dark blue dress shirt, cocking her head as she tried to envision it on Spike, “My dear, colorant-disadvantaged brother, have a date.”

        “I do?” Spike frowned, “Since when?”

        “Since I'm using myself as a human sacrifice to get you and Buffy some alone time,” Drusilla informed him, tossing the shirt on his bed as a potentially suitable date shirt. “And you have an eight o'clock dinner reservation at La Maison Rouge, so we need to get you dressed. You know, I remember you having other colors…and you never throw anything away…so where are you hiding your old clothes?”

        “Dru, I can bloody well dress myself,” Spike complained, “And I'm not sure I entirely like the way you're taking charge of my love life. I'm a grown man…I don't need my little sister to set up dates for me…”

        “Yeah…and it occurred to you when to take Buffy out?” Dru asked shrewdly, “I love you, Will…but you're a complete idiot when it comes to girls. You can't just run around the house, dragging her into the nearest room to make out for two seconds before daddy or one of the servants interrupts you. Where's the romance in that? You need dinner…flowers…obscenely shaped chocolates…”

        “What shaped what?!”

        “I was kidding,” Drusilla rolled her eyes as Spike seemed to be stuck on the `obscenely shaped chocolates' part. “My point is…you're an idiot, who needs to invest in a much needed clue…and I'm here to help you with that. Where are you hiding your old clothing?”

        Spike rolled his eyes and gestured at the chest at the end of his bed, giving up. Drusilla, when she wanted to be, was very singular minded. Drusilla threw open the chest and scowled, “Great…all brown. Why do you have to be so damned monochromatic? Worse! Monochromatic with the most boring colors on the planet!” Drusilla huffed to herself as she dug deeper into the chest. She found a pair of dark blue dress slacks that had been part of his old school uniform. They'd have to do, as long as they still fit.

        Spike grumbled beneath his breath as Drusilla tossed the pants into his face, but she ignored his complaining.

        “Get dressed, Buffy's waiting…and for the love of God, leave that ugly leather jacket that's practically grafted to your skin at home!”

        Spike peeked out the front door as his father and Drusilla drove off in her car, and glanced at his watch, and then the stairs. They had three, maybe four hours before they would be back and Spike grew impatient as precious minutes of that time ticked away, completely wasted.

        He started to impatiently rock back and forth on the heels of his feet, black dinner jacket slung over his arm. He had taken Drusilla's advice on leaving his duster at home, but it was only out of necessity. La Maison Rouge was one of those infuriatingly fancy restaurants that insisted on jackets and ties, and he had no intention of being forced to wear the `house' jacket, which invariably ended up being too big for him and he'd have to spend the entire time making sure not to drag the baggy sleeves in his food. He had more then learned his lesson after the sixth or seventh time.

        Jesus…Spike looked at his watch again, scowling. Ten minutes had passed since Drusilla and his father had left, and he had yet to even hear a peep from upstairs. He shook his head as he shrugged into his dinner jacket and started jogging up the stairs. Halfway up, he heard a door open; he breathed a sigh of relief, and then affected an unaffected air as he leaned against the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets, giving his shoulders just the right amount of slovenly slouch. He may be her bitch, but she didn't have to know that.

        However, despite his attempt at nonchalance, parts of him stood up to attention the second he saw her. Buffy smiled shyly as she drew her pale violet shawl around her, the gossamer-like threads glittering in the low light from the chandelier hanging above the foyer. Her dress was a shade or two darker, clinging in all the right places, and the skirt flared out in a gauzy wave that swayed with the slightest movement of her hips. On her feet were a pair of flat sandals, which laced up with white leather cord; they threaded up her golden legs, ending just below the knee, Roman-style. Her tawny hair was unbound and tumbled over her bare shoulders in soft waves.

        Buffy licked her pink-glossed lips as Spike stared at her without saying anything for several minutes, a faint blush touching her cheeks without aid of make-up. She drew her shawl more firmly about herself, wondering why he wasn't saying anything.

        Spike swiped his hand across his lips suddenly, wiping off the drool that had gathered at the edges of his mouth before pushing off from the wall and smiled slowly, “You look absolutely stunning, pet.”

        “Oh, it speaks!” Buffy teased with a shy but pleased smile, “Dru was right…the outfit did render you speechless...I owe her twenty bucks…” Buffy frowned, “Or pounds…I'm not too clear on that one. It's probably the one that's going to end up costing me more.”

        Spike chuckled as she came down towards him, and he kissed her cheek chastely and offered her his arm. “I didn't mean just the outfit, ducks,” He informed her as he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “You could make a paper sack look like it came off the Paris runways…”

        “Ha, shows what you know…the paper sack was on the Paris runway,” Buffy informed him with a cheeky little smile that begged to be kissed away. “Didn't you read the Spring edition of Vogue?”

        “Can't say as I have,” Spike answered as he held open the front door for her. She shivered in the chilled spring air, and started to draw her shawl around herself again, but then felt the weight Spike's coat settling over her shoulders.

        “What? No leather jacket?” Buffy teased as she slid her arms into the sleeves of the dinner coat, and Spike shook his head with a rueful sigh.

        “Sadly, not tonight...I've been informed that it's a `travesty of nature and all that is good and decent in the fashion world',” Spike replied, winking at Buffy, “I'll pull the car around so you don't muss your lovely shoes in a puddle of motor-oil; I'm not exactly a cleanly mechanic.”

        “Sounds good,” Buffy had to shake her head in amusement when Spike flashed her a brilliant grin, and then raced off for the garage at the far corner of the house. She took the opportunity to breath in the scent of his jacket, a combination of his aftershave, cigarettes and a particular musk that was all Spike. She smiled into the fabric, and then immediately stopped sniffing his jacket like some big perv when she heard the roar of an engine.

        She had to roll her eyes when Spike came racing out of the garage in a silvered bullet of a car, and screeched to a stop right in front of her. He immediately hopped out to open her door and help her in, making sure that her skirt wasn't caught in the door.

        “Nice car…” Buffy ran her hands over the soft, black leather interior, shooting him a look, “Especially for an extension of your penis.”

        Spike laughed loudly as he threw the car into gear and peeled out down the driveway. “Thank you, luv…it's old dad's car though.”

        Buffy looked at Spike, and then giggled, “This is Giles' car?”

        “Was…he sold it back to the estate before he left the country,” Spike told her and then leered at her crudely, “I prefer my extensions to have two wheels…or at least a solid steel body that can crush all lesser autos in its path…and the large, roomy backseat is always a plus.”

        “You're a pig, Spike,” Buffy wrinkled her cute little button nose at him, but the way her eyes twinkled in her face lessened the impact of her insult.

        “You really have no idea,” Spike teased back, cursing the gearshift that separated him and Buffy, and also demanded he keep one hand on it and the other on the wheel. He should have taken one of his other cars, but most of them were American-made and he still got thrown off by the wheel on the wrong side. It made him tempted to drive on the wrong side of the road. Why Americans couldn't just drive on the same side as everyone else was beyond him.

        He glanced at Buffy as she crossed one leg over the other, and his gaze was drawn to the bit of thigh that was exposed when her skirt rode up a bit. He wriggled in his seat, somewhat glad he was wearing cotton pants rather then jeans. They had a bit more give to them, and he had a feeling that he would be needing that extra give all the night long.

        “I really like your hair like that,” Buffy told him after several moments of silence; it wasn't the uncomfortable kind at all, more of a `companionable, completely comfortable with your partner' type silence. She leaned over in her seat to run her fingers through the gelled, curly locks, “Much better then that harsh, slicked-back thing you had going…”

        “Yeah?” Spike replied, shrugging his shoulders, “Just didn't bother runnin' a comb through it after my shower...” Okay, that was a blatant lie; he had spent more time on his hair then he usually did, but once again, that was something on a need to know basis. She didn't need to know that he was a complete and utter poof when it came to her.

        “Remind me to steal your comb later,” Buffy grinned as she settled back in her seat, but her hand remained, playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

        Spike grinned, still bad ass…but she can run her fingers through it still…damn but am I good…

Part Twenty-Seven

        “Wow…this…this is nice…” Buffy said in awe. Spike divested her of her shawl and brought it to the coat check, leaving her too look about the dimly, but romantically lit French restaurant.  Several couples were already dining at the candle-lit tables or booths, all of them dressed as nicely as she and Spike.

        Spike returned to her side and took her arm once more as the Maitre'd approached them, greeting Spike with a decidedly ass-kissing smile. She could tell by the way the smile on his face tightened that Spike didn't like the short, somewhat snobbish little man very much, but you couldn't tell it by his tone. “'Allo, Phillip.”

        “Monsieur Giles!” Phillip greeted, the English accenting tainting his French one. It was obviously not his first language, but for a guy running a French restaurant, you'd think he'd try a little harder to improve on it. “Been a very long time, eh? I don't think I've seen you here since your last birthday…” He turned to Buffy, “And such a lovely companion you've brought!” He took her hand and kissed it with a smarmy little smile, “Enchanted!”

        “Um…thank you,” Buffy glanced at Spike, who rolled his eyes with a tiny shrug in apology.

        Phillip straightened, letting go of her hand immediately, much to her relief, “You're an American.” He said it in the same tone of voice as someone would say, `You're a cockroach.'

        “Yes, she is,” Spike's voice was pitched low, and his eyes narrowed dangerously, “We'd like a booth, if you please.”

        “Yes, of course, Monsieur Giles!” The sycophantic little worm immediately was reminded on whose arm the cockroach American had come attached too, “This way.”

        They were led towards the back, in a cozy little corner booth on whose rounded seat they could both sit together in. They were handed menus, and Phillip attempted to ass-kiss his way through Spike's perusal of the wine list, and Spike had to scare him off with the most scathing glare Buffy had ever seen, aside from her mother's.

        “I hate that bloody little twit…” Spike growled beneath his breath, and Buffy had to giggle when she saw the relieved look on Spike's face when, instead of Phillip, a waitress came to take their drink order. Spike ordered them a bottle of red wine, in French, which impressed Buffy to no end.

        “Good, at least one of us gets this stuff,” Buffy scooted down the seat so that she was right beside him and held her menu open, “All I get is the stuff about cheese…I think. Fromage means cheese, right?”

        “Yeah,” Spike chuckled in amusement as he slung his arm across the backseat of the booth, and he picked up a strand of her golden, silky hair to twine about his fingers absently. He went through nearly the entire menu with her, explaining what every dish was, and Buffy found her attention straying from food to the sound of his voice, sliding silkily over her; his accent lost that lower class sound as his spoke, pitched low and deep as he pronounced the French names impeccably. Her mom would probably call his a bedroom voice and she definitely knew now why they called it that…God…she was so turned on…

        “What do you think, pet? Anything sound good to you?” He asked in concern when she seemed to have lost interest, her gaze indicating she was anywhere but with him. “If you'd like, we could eat somewhere else…”

        “No!” Buffy immediately came to attention, her face flaming red at the direction her mind had taken her. Bad Buffy…can't jump Spike in the middle of the restaurant…even though it would be so worth it to see the look on Phillip's face…”Um…the mushroom thingy sounded good. I'll get that.”

        “All right,” Spike snapped the menu shut, eyeing her still glowing face. He would give his entire heritance for just a little peek into that mind of hers. Judging from the way she wouldn't meet his gaze, the wriggling in her seat and the color of her cheeks and ears, he'd guess that it was some fairly juicy thoughts running through that brain.

        Spike poured their wine when the waitress returned with it, and then gave their orders to her. Once the waitress had disappeared, Buffy slammed back her wine like it was tequila, and Spike raised an eyebrow as he sipped at his own glass; he also moved the wine bottle closer to his side of the table. “I think I'll wait a few moments before pouring you another. Wouldn't do to have you sick all over the table even before the food arrives.”

        “Sorry,” Buffy looked at him sheepishly, and he smiled as he leaned forward to brush his lips across her cheek. She turned her face towards him so that he could kiss her full-on, but they were interrupted by a not so delicately cleared throat.

        Spike looked up in annoyance, his expression immediately melting into surprise when he saw the woman standing before their table, “Cecily?”

        “I thought I heard your voice!” The woman smiled at him in some condescension. “It's been a very long time, hasn't it?”

        Buffy tensed in some jealously when she saw Spike's face melt into pained, but somewhat tender look. “Yes, it has,” His upper-crust accent was once again evident, as if it was some sort of protective mask he slipped into, with or without his knowledge. “How are you, Cecily?”

        “Oh, I'm doing very well,” She tossed her curly hair, “Papa has just purchased me a villa on the Mediterranean, you know…to celebrate my upcoming wedding,” She flashed the biggest rock Buffy had ever seen in her life, “Isn't that just too wonderful? Robert and I shall be very happy there!” Cecily smiled down her nose at Buffy, “And whose your…little friend, William?”

        “Oh…uh…this is Buffy…”

        “Oh…Buffy, is it? How…quaint…American, I suppose…well, with a name like that, who else could it be!”

        What is with these people and their hatred of Americans? Buffy thought in annoyance, We kicked your asses like…two hundred years ago…get OVER it already!

        “Hey,” Buffy waved half-heartedly, trying to control the urge to spring up and strangle the high and mighty little bitch. It would be so satisfying. “Congrats on the wedding…”

        “Uhuh…” Cecily turned her attention back to Spike, “Really, William…things have changed a great deal since I've seen you last, hasn't it?” She asked a bit snidely, “And whatever happened to your hair? Really…you used to have a bit of class…”

        Buffy narrowed her eyes at her, while Spike merely cast his eyes down, a shamed look crossing his face. Okay…that just made her really pissed off. Spike was her man and if anyone was going to bitch about his hair color, it was her.

        “Wow…it must be really painful for you,” Buffy said nonchalantly, and both Spike and Cecily looked at her in confusion.

        “Excuse me?” Cecily pressed her hand to her collarbone, raising an eyebrow, “Is what painful for me?”

        “You know…” Buffy glanced to either side of her, as if checking for eavesdroppers and then she leaned forward, crossing her arms on the tabletop, “Sitting down with that silver spoon jammed so far up your ass…”

        Cecily let out a strangled gasp as Spike stared at her, looking a bit shocked, but then a mischievous little twinkle appeared in his eye as Buffy leaned against him, a little self-satisfied, smug smile on her face. That was his little hellion…

        “Well! I never!” Cecily spat out indignation.

        “That's not what the notes on the men's room stalls in school implied,” Spike replied, and then cocked his head thoughtfully, “If I remember correctly, Robert was the one that wrote most of them.”

        Cecily's face turned a cherry red that was not at all attractive and she sputtered for a few seconds before giving up on the talking thing and whirling on her heel to stomp off in a magnificent huff.

        “Bitch,” Buffy muttered beneath her breath as she glared at the retreating back of the ticked-off debutante, and then glanced at Spike, “Who was that?”

        “Um…would say ex, but we never actually got to that part in our relationship…” Spike smirked, “We only had the abject humiliation and shattering of the heart part that you and I have luckily seemed to have got over.”

        Buffy colored in embarrassment, but before she could attempt to apologize yet again for her previous behavior, Spike finally initiated the kiss he had been attempting before being so rudely interrupted by Cecily.

         “God…I love you…”

        Buffy pulled away from him a bit, her smile widening, “Really?”

        “Well…uh…yeah?” Spike frowned in confusion, and then looked slightly alarmed, “You're not going to have another mental meltdown, are you? I don't think I can handle that…especially in public…”

        “No, I'm not,” Buffy rolled her eyes and then snuggled back up against his side, lying her cheek to his chest as he hesitantly draped his arm over her, “It's…just that you haven't said that since…you know…the…laundry room…”

        “Didn't know if you wanted to hear it,” Spike replied softly, “You're not punching me in the face or attempting to break something vital…so I'm assuming that you don't mind so much anymore…”

        She smiled up at him without a word, and planted a kiss at the edge of his cupid's bow mouth. God, he had incredibly soft, full lips…it wasn't fair that nature endowed him with what she had to fake with Cover Girl…not to mention he got those long, beautiful lashes that had no right being on a guy. She reached up to trace her fingertips over the sharp planes of his face, ones she was intimately acquainted with, having spent hours upon hours reproducing them on lifeless paper. His scarred, black eyebrow rose over his azure eyes at her tender caresses. He was smiling, but she couldn't help but notice the flood of self-consciousness filling his eyes.

        “I think…I love you too…”

        Spike grinned almost goofily, leaning forward to kiss her, but his lips veered off course at the last, possible second, and he frowned as he peered at Buffy, “What do you mean…think?”

        “You're withholding smoochies for semantics?” Buffy gave him a look, “You're such a nerd.”

        “That would make you …a…uh…nerd…lover…” Spike's face twisted when Buffy giggled at his expense.

        “That's the best you can come up with?” She teased, “Someone losing his touch?”

        “Not bloody likely,” Spike glanced down, where Buffy's hand was lying on his thigh, her nails lightly scratching him through the cotton of his pants, “Someone's distracting me.”

        “Yeah?” Buffy's smile was decidedly evil as she tightened her hold on his thigh, and she watched interestedly the way his eyes widened and a soft gasp fell from his lips when she slid her hand up just a smidge farther.

        Then his hand was on hers, guiding it away from the point of no return, his eyes blazing in his face. “Edging into dangerous territory there, pet,” He murmured in a low voice, “'M already two seconds from tumblin' you down to that seat and havin' my way with you…”

        Buffy swiftly removed her hand, letting out a little surprised `eep' as she did so. As much as she supported PDAs, that was a little farther then she wanted to go…at least in a place this public. Hmmm…lusty bad thoughts, Buff…She caught the wicked grin Spike sent her way, and felt the butterflies in her stomach take up break-dancing. That grin was a promise of naughty things to come, and she found she couldn't wait to get the hell out of there.

        Spike, for the first time in a very long time, found himself feeling very…content.

        Now, that might seem like a luke-warm emotion to an outsider, hardly the great sort of passionate sensation that many romance heroes have forced upon themselves by an over enthused narrator. However, if you recall past events in this chronicle, our hero has gone through a great many emotions and a great many trials to reach this stage of the story, and therefore, to feel, finally, content…is a great miracle in itself.

        If you had told him a mere week before that he would be walking through a moonlit garden, with his beautiful lady-love on his arm, talking in hushed whispers, and exchanging kisses every few steps, he would have laughed…or burst out crying. He would vehemently deny this, of course, but we know better.

        Spike smiled to himself as he watched Buffy dance a few steps ahead of him as they approached the center of the garden and towards the fountain that had given him the scar through his eyebrow as a child. She was wearing his jacket once more, to protect her bare shoulders safe against the slight chill of the night.

        She spun around to face him, her hair flashing gold in the moonlight, making his breath catch in his throat. A teasing smile flitted across her lips as she gestured at the Cherubim that were frolicking in the silent, waterless fountain, “I still can't believe you tried to jump over that. Did your mother drop you on your head as a baby?”

        “Well…might actually explain why I love you,” Spike retorted, pretending to stumble back a few feet when Buffy slugged him in the arm. “Hey now! Thought we were having none of that!”

        “You're such a jerk,” Buffy said with a pout, but was utterly unable to keep pretending that she was even a little bit put-out with him. He still loved her! Her heart leapt into her throat and started doing a little happy dance, which then progressed into some pretty hot and heavy Salsa dancing when he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her breathless.

        She nearly stumbled when he broke the kiss, but he easily supported her against his chest as she gulped for air, her eyes slightly wide. “Little…warning…next…time…” She finally caught her breath, “Got me…on an exhale…”

        “Sorry `bout that,” Spike said, but Buffy was suspicious of the knowing smirk on his face.

        “You were right,” Buffy said, smiling slightly when he wrapped his arm around her waist, and drew her close to his side, “The gardens are way nice.”

        “If you came a little later in the spring, the roses would've been out in the hedges,” Spike said, glancing towards the dark house. By his reckoning, they had barely half an hour before Drusilla and his father would return from their dinner and movie, barring any other distractions she could think up. They crested a small hill, and he guided Buffy towards a stone bench situated on top of it. It was as good a place as any to sneak a make-out session, since he could see anyone coming up the driveway.

        Buffy settled on the bench, primly tucking her skirts beneath her legs, ducking her head almost shyly as Spike sat beside her. He smiled when he saw her almost bashful behavior, surprised that she would feel so, especially around him. However, he couldn't help but think it was absolutely adorable.

        “It must've been weird growing up here,” Buffy said, almost awkwardly, and she blushed when he glanced at her curiously,  “I mean…in a mansion and stuff? Like some kind of…um…tragic English hero…on the moors…”

        “There's no moors around here…and I hardly think I'm a Heathcliff,” Spike teased, raising an eyebrow when Buffy refused to meet her gaze, “But you seem to think to think I am…don't know whether I'm insulted or not…”

        “Not in the way you think,” Buffy hurried to reassure him, her face flaming. Her color was so bright that even Spike could tell she was blushing in the dim moonlight. “I meant as in…you know…tragically…rejected by…um…love for a guy you hated?”

        “Been awhile since I've read that…but fine, yes…I can see the parallels,” Spike replied, “But you're not heartless…not like his bird was,” He cocked his head thoughtfully. “Though…you did convince me to change my life…but not in a bad way…”

        “What?” It was Buffy's turn to stare at him in confusion, “I did not…did I? How?”

        “Changed my entire outlook, actually,” Spike said cheerfully, enjoying her confusion very much. She went to swat him when she saw he was intent on drawing out the suspense, but he simply caught her hand and folded it into his lap. He sobered then, peering into her face intently. “After I left California…the first time, that is, I was in a bit of a…temper. Pretty much a royal terror to anyone I ran into. Mostly crazy with worry…” He shushed her before she could attempt to interrupt him. “Was pretty much like that till I heard about the trial. I went back there with the intent of moral support, at least to talk to you…chickened out, a'course…left before you could see me…”

        “Um…Spike? Guy in the trench coat with the white hair?” Buffy playfully ruffled said hair, “Wicked conspicuous...” She smiled at him when he looked flustered, and gave his hand a squeeze. “I'm glad you were there…wanted to kick your ass when you left without talking to me…but…you helped. Whenever I got nervous…I looked towards you…and uh…” She colored once more, “And…I wasn't nervous anymore…”

        Spike looked away, somewhat embarrassed, but after a few seconds, he cleared his throat, and continued, absently stroking Buffy's wrist with his fingers. “Anyway…uh…after I came back…I was…a little more…mellowed out, I guess you'd say. Still couldn't get your face out of my head, for the most part…thinking about you every single waking second…and every time I fell asleep, you were there too. Tried everything…immersing myself into my studies, drinking till I was almost blind, umm…little…bit of um…sex…” He was actually blushing as he admitted that. Buffy only squeezed his hand again, but hard enough that he winced. Yeah…okay…better skip that…He thought, reminded of Buffy's temper.

        “Right…so…none of that worked, of course…so…I…uh…decided to start writing again…” He actually was blushing now, “At first it was mostly poems and…uh…prose, things like that. Not very good, and it didn't work…not really, not the way I wanted it too, though. Didn't make me forget you. Then, around November, started noticing it was actually getting better, the writing, I mean…started in on short stories which were a world better then the poetry. Also, now, instead of writing to forget you…started writing because of you…” He fidgeted shyly, “Instead of…um…trying to escape you, you turned out to be my…uh…muse.” He paused, turning his attention to their linked hands, “Yeah…so…I sound like a total poofter…” He looked up at her, his eyes narrowing, “Are…you crying? Oh…Jesus, pet…I think it was that lame …forget I said anything…”

        “I'm not crying because it's lame, you moron,” Buffy punched him in the chest, and Spike teetered, in danger of spilling over, but was once again balanced when Buffy threw her arms around him in a tight hug, “That's just…the sweetest thing a guy has ever said to me!”

        “Uh…” Spike awkwardly patted Buffy's back as she burst out into sobs, her face pressed against his shirt and undoubtedly wetting the front. He was at a bit of a loss as to what to do, since the last reaction he had expected from her was tears. “Um…there…there, luv…s'alright…”

        Buffy sniffled as she lifted her head, smiling at him as radiantly as she could, despite her slightly red nose. “God, I'm such a bitch for turning this down…”

        “Well…to be fair…I was being a bit of a prick,” Spike replied, “On the bright side…if this hadn't all happened…I would have been stuck in a job I hated…and you could've been dating a soon-to-be rich-as-hell-lawyer…”

        Buffy rolled her eyes as she wiped at her nose delicately, “As opposed to the already-rich-as-hell-writer-to-be.”

        “Don't know, pet…family might disown me…come from a long line of stuffy lawyers, you know…” Spike told her, draping one arm around her shoulder, trying not to bounce with sheer giddiness as Buffy cuddled to his side. He was vastly relieved that, despite the tears, she hadn't reacted like he had imagined in any one of the paranoid scenarios he had thought up since dinner.

        “Really?” Buffy looked at him in alarm, “But I only love you for your money!”

        “Ha bloody ha, pet…”Spike said, but inwardly let out sigh of relief when she giggled. “So…um…you don't just love me for my money?”

        “Nope…love you for a buncha things,” Buffy replied almost absently, snuggling closer to his side; however at this point, it was more of a warmth thing then an intimate thing…either way, it had its perks.

        Spike, however, was still stuck on the `L' word, and wondering if he could count that as an admission. Unfortunately, before he could do a little more prodding, he saw headlights in the distance, and he groaned when they turned into his driveway. “That'll be the old man and Dru,” He said miserably, standing, offering her his arm, “Come on, I'll walk you to your bedroom door and leave you with a chaste kiss…wouldn't do to be cut in the lady's quarters by dad.”

        “Ever the gentleman,” Buffy teased, taking the arm offered, and trying to appear that she wasn't disappointed.

        “Not by choice,” Spike replied wryly.

Part Twenty-Eight

        Buffy had hardly changed out of her dress and into her nightgown before Drusilla was barging into her room. She flopped onto the bed and bounced in place excitedly, “So! How was it?! How was dinner? Did you kiss him or did he kiss you?! Oh! OH! Or did you just leave during the middle of dinner and go off too…you know? Details, I want details!”

        Buffy paused in brushing her hair, staring at the girl who had burst into her room and fired off questions like a cannon. “Um…you're nuts, you know that, right?”

        “Yeah, yeah…quit stalling,” Dru grinned broadly, “So? How was it?”

        Buffy bit her lip, glancing away with a bit of color added to her cheeks, her mind immediately jumping to what Spike had told her in the garden. “It was okay.”

        “Okay?” Drusilla repeated, dismayed, “Oh God…he didn't read you his poetry did he?” She covered her face with a groan, “I told him no poetry! God…the boy is just determined to never have sex again, isn't he?”

        “Dru!”

        “What? Oh…come on…even you can admit it's the most horrible crap on the planet…I mean, really. Who the hell even knows what effulgent means anyway?”

        “Effulgent? Buffy shook her head, “Never mind…I don't want to know, and no, Spike did not read me poetry…” She pouted. Why didn't he read her poetry? That would have been so sweet and romantic.

        “Believe me…you're better off,” Drusilla consoled her with a grimace, “Well…at least he listened to me for once,” She gave Buffy a shrewd look, “So, if he didn't read you that awful crap he calls poetry, why aren't you shagging him brainless right now?”

        Such a good question, Buffy thought disappointedly; she had to admit, the urge had come upon her once or twice, pfft…who you kidding? At least a hundred times in the last hour. Fortunately, she had that really steamy good-night kiss to tide her over for the night. “God, Dru…you sound like his pimp,” Buffy said, and continued to brush her hair out.

        “God knows I'm trying,” Drusilla replied, rolling her eyes, “But you people are impossible. You both want each other, that much is obvious. You could cut the sexual tension in this house with a bloody knife! What is wrong with you?”

        Buffy shook her head slowly as she stared at Spike's supposedly sweet, innocent little sister, and wondered what in the hell kind of drugs he was on. This girl was ten-kinds of pure, unadulterated evil. “Nothing's wrong…” She said in what she hoped was a convincing tone. Apparently, it failed.

        “Uh-uh,” Drusilla cocked her head in a gesture that was eerily reminiscent of Spike. “You're an idiot…good thing Spike's an idiot too…you'll be a matched set of idiots.”

        “Hey!” Buffy protested, “We're not…”

        “Yes, you are,” Dru interrupted, waving her hand dismissively, “I mean, look at you! You're all hot and bothered, and you're about to get into bed. Alone. Alone, cold and frustrated. My brother is on the other side of the house, probably intending to wank off till his hand cramps up and then get into bed, alone cold and frustrated as well. Now…tell me how the hell you two aren't idiots?”

        Buffy opened her mouth to argue, but then closed it. There was just nothing she could say to that. Well, she probably could have said something…but at the moment, she was a little too distracted with the image of Spike Drusilla had just painted. “Does wank mean what I think it means?”

        Drusilla rolled her eyes again as she stood up, “Good-night, Buffy,” She said before disappearing through the door that connected their bedrooms.

        For several minutes, Buffy stared at the floor, debating with herself before taking a deep breath and reaching for the doorknob. She froze suddenly, and then swore loudly. She didn't know what in hell she was thinking: she couldn't just go sneak up on him and jump him. She sighed heavily and turned back towards her bed.

        She nearly screamed when Drusilla popped her head out of her room with a knowing grin, “His bedroom is two doors down from the library, left side of the hallway.”

        Buffy stared at Drusilla in amazement before breaking out in a wide grin, “Thanks…you read my mind.”

        “It's what I do,” Dru told her gravely before ducking back into her bedroom.

        Drusilla was not only an adept at reading minds…but she also, apparently, knew her brother better then anyone else.

        “Ow…” Spike flexed his hand with a grimace before rolling onto his side and reaching for one of his many journals. It was one of his particular favorites, and was reserved only for his most intensely private thoughts and reflections. It was the one he had received for a Christmas present from the Summers'; it was made of a heavy, green-colored leather, embossed with an elaborate oak-leaf design, and fastened with a bit of rawhide that encircled a silver button engraved with acorn and leaves. He didn't bother trying to delude himself into thinking that it had come from Buffy…or even that she had picked it out; hell, she hadn't even signed the inscription Joyce had written on the first page. However…he was just pathetic enough to consider even the sight of her name precious.

        It was a simple inscription…mostly, `Merry Christmas, enjoyed meeting you,' blah blah blah, then, `Love Joyce and Buffy.' He ghosted his fingertips across Buffy's name with contented smile. The name was very nearly rubbed out from his constantly touching it, and he wondered idly if he could get Buffy to actually write the name back in. He immediately quashed that thought. He was already whipped beyond belief…it just wouldn't do for her to find out how much he was truly under her power.

        As if she doesn't already know, he thought as he started digging through his bedside table for a pen. He paused when he grabbed one, narrowing his eyes slightly when he heard movement in the hallway. He tensed as the footsteps stopped outside his door, and he reached for the nearest solid object, hand closing over his journal.

        As the door swung open, he flung it with all his strength. There was a squeal of pain and then the sound of a body hitting the floor. He sat up, peering out into the dark hallway and his eyes widened when he saw a splash of blond.

        “Oh…shit!” He jumped out of his bed, heedless of his nudity, and crouched down next to a very dazed Buffy. “Luv? Are you all right?”

        “Ow…” Buffy moaned, sitting up slowly and rubbing her forehead where the heavy journal had connected with it, and she looked at him with slightly glazed eyes, “Who're you?”

        “Bloody hell…” Spike scooped her up and carried her into his bedroom, “Great…just bloody grand...'hey, Spike! What you do last night? Oh…nothing much…just concussed my soddin' girlfriend with a book.' Pillock!”

        Buffy frowned up at Spike in confusion, and then looked around the otherwise empty bedroom, and drew the conclusion that he was talking to her. “Am not a pillock!” She tilted her head up and slightly to the side, “What's a pillock?” Before he could answer, she became distracted when she saw his shirtless chest, “Oh…nice chest…”

        Spike groaned when she started touching him, and had to swat her hands away as he sat her on the bed. Undaunted, she tried to make it past his defenses, which were faltering each time she touched him. “Luv…please…got to see if you're going to get a bump,” He told her, and her eyes widened in alarm, hands shooting to her forehead.

        “Bump?” She fairly whimpered, “But bumps are ugly!”

        “Yeah, I know…” Spike urged her to lay down on her back before disappearing into his bathroom to wet a cold rag. Buffy lifted her head as she watched him walk away, eyes going even more wide when she saw his bare backside.

        “Oh…really nice.” She laid her head back down and when Spike returned ten minutes later, regrettably wearing a pair of boxer shorts and white wife-beater, she was already recovering from the blow to the head.

        He grinned at her as he sat down, laying the rag across her forehead and she groaned in relief, closing her eyes. “Not so much fun to be on the bruising end, is it?” He teased.

        “You laugh,” Buffy grumbled, “What in the hell did you throw at me…and why?”

        “Journal…and what did you expect? You were creepin' out in the hallway in the middle of the night; thought you were a burglar.” He finally took notice of the sheer, white silk sheath of barely-there fabric Buffy called a night-gown and swallowed heavily, stirring to life within his boxers. “What were you doing walking about the house in that, anyway? S'bit a drafty in this house…could've caught your death of cold.”

        Buffy sat up, letting the rag fall off of her face. She was embarrassed…and a little hurt that he didn't seem to want her there. “I…uh…got lost on my way to the bathroom?”

        He eyed her skeptically, “You couldn't find the bathroom…that was ten feet from your bed? And then went looking for it on completely the other side of the house?”

        “Fine! I was coming to see you, stupid,” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, unaware of how much it emphasized her cleavage. “Big mistake, all right? Not only do I get slammed in the head with a book, but I also get to be humiliated. Great…thanks a lot…stupid jerk…”

        Spike blinked, wondering how in the hell he had managed to piss her off. Well…he had smacked her with a book…but she didn't seem to be angry about that. “Um…pet?” He hazarded to address her, hoping she wouldn't take his head off for it. “What in the world are you talking about?”

        She looked up at him with a wounded expression on her face, “I thought that…I…we…could be…together…tonight…” She bit her lip, “Sorry…I wasn't…thinking. I thought you wouldn't mind…but I guess I was wrong…”

        Spike was unable to make a reply to that, stunned that, one: Buffy had come to find him, for sex…and two: Buffy seemed to think he'd mind…and was upset about it. Women!

        He watched as Buffy worried her lower lip, which was already a bit red and swollen. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward and captured the ripe little bit of flesh in his own teeth and gave it a gentle tug before releasing it. “Can't believe that you came to me…” He said with a bit of awe in his voice. “First time you've come to me…”

        “You're…not mad?” Buffy asked hesitatingly.

        “Bloody hell! You're a raving nutter if you think I can be mad about that,” Spike replied with a snort, “Even if I didn't love you more then life itself, I wouldn't have been able to turn down an offer like that!”

        Buffy, thus reassured, smiled coyly, “What? So…any woman could've walked in here and said that, and you would've been, `yeah, okay, let's do it'?” When he nodded, she poked him in the stomach none too gently, “Whore.”

        “Not denying that,” Spike said, eyeing her almost non-existent nightgown, “You really wear that to sleep?”

        “Next best thing to being naked,” Buffy said, and giggled when Spike made a choking sound. However, the next instant, he fixed her with such a hungry, lustful gaze that she nearly choked herself. When he reached for her, she slipped away from his hands and off of the bed, hiding a smile when he shot her a disappointed…and slightly frightened look.

        As if she was going to take off now! She had a good look at his cute little butt, and his deliciously muscular chest, after all. She was already hooked, big time. She took a quick peek downwards and gulped; and judging from the bulge in his shorts, a nice chest and cute ass wasn't all that he had to offer.

        Spike was about to voice a protest, but it died on his lips as Buffy gazed at him with a coy, little smile, and began to sway her slender hips enticingly. She crossed her arms across her chest, fingers playing with the thin straps of her night-gown, and Spike ran his tongue over his lips as she slipped them down her shoulders. She didn't uncross her arms until she turned her back on him. She then lifted them over her head, and gave her body a little shimmy, allowing the fabric to slip down around her waist.

        Spike clenched his hands, fingernails digging into his palms; he was sorely tempted to grab Buffy, throw her down on the bed, and simply ravish her until they were both too sore to move, ever again. However, he counted down from one hundred. He could deny his libido a little longer and let Buffy have her fun with him…it wasn't that hard…he groaned, sounding almost pained as Buffy looked over her shoulder at him as she wriggled her hips again and the nighty pooled onto the floor, leaving her clad in nothing but a pair of white lacy panties. Jesus…he was already about to die, and he had yet to touch her.

        She finally turned again, and slowly lowered her eyes, as well as her arms, and Spike's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Despite her near-nudity and the naughty little dance she had been doing, she was biting her lip once more, appearing unsure of his reaction to her. With the pink tinge in her cheeks, now spreading down her slim throat and to the full globes of her breasts, she looked almost like a virgin, apprehensive of what was to happen. It was probably the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

        “C'mere…” He ordered huskily, and Buffy shuffled towards him, her eyes fixated on his upper body. As soon as she was in range, he snagged her waist in his hands and pulled her towards him, opening his legs so that she could stand between them.

        He placed a soft kiss between her breasts, murmuring small comforts and reassurances of his love for her, trying to still her slight trembling. Buffy closed her eyes, trying to force herself to relax. She was definitely not a virgin…she had been with two different men before…Scott and then Parker, in her freshman year at college…but they had been boys compared to Spike, and for some reason, she was infinitely more nervous now, then she had been her first time. Then again, she hadn't been in love with either one of them…not like this…

        She lost her train of thought abruptly when Spike nuzzled the underside of one breast with his nose, and then dragged his lips across the soft flesh.  He seized a nipple with his lips, and started to suckle gently. Buffy's hands came up and grasped at his head, fingers threading through his mussed hair.

        She moaned softly, and thus encouraged, Spike sucked at her harder, his hand coming up to fondle it's neglected twin. He pulled her closer, using his other hand to guide her hips against him, until she was straddling his lap, his covered erection pressing into the juncture between her thighs.

        Buffy tugged on his hair, capturing his lips when he lifted it away from her breast. Spike groaned against her mouth when she began to rock against him, and he dropped his other hand down to cup her ass and urge her to press down on him even harder.

        She broke the kiss suddenly, and it was Spike's turn to gasp in surprise when she shoved him down onto his back. She grabbed his wrists and pinned them to his side with all of her strength; she bit her lips against her own gasp when she felt his erection jump against her thigh. God…she thought as she rocked against him once more, can't wait too see what he's hiding in there.

        “Christ, baby…” Spike turned his head to the side obligingly as Buffy began to kiss along his throat; he flexed his arms, but then tried to keep from moving them so that he wouldn't break from Buffy's hold. Though he could easily toss her off, he had no wish too; he enjoyed the feel of her body pressing him down into the mattress, and the sensation of being entirely at her mercy far too much. He wondered if he still had those handcuffs he had pinched off a cop a few years back lying around somewhere. He cried out suddenly, hips arching off the bed when Buffy roughly bit his nipple.

        He shot her a look and she shot him one back, “You weren't paying attention…” She yelped when Spike suddenly flipped her onto her back and before she could even react he was hovering over her, eyes boring into hers.

        “Just was thinking about these lovely wrists…” He took one wrist in his hand and kissed the pulse point, “Tied to m'bed…” He grinned when Buffy's breath hitched and her eyes widened. “But not tonight…”

        Why not?! Buffy wanted to whine, but the words would not come as Spike started kissing his way down her body. He slipped her panties down her legs and tossed them over the side of the bed, near her discarded nightgown.

        “Someone's not a natural blllllooonnddeee…” He sang playfully and Buffy braced herself up on her elbows to glare down at him. Sensing dangerous territory, he grinned apologetically and dipped his head down, playing his tongue in and out of her belly-button till she forgot all about his teasing. From the sound of her moans, she was already on the way to wonderful amnesia.

        Buffy hissed as Spike gently spread her legs and ran his tongue along her inner thigh, and then tensed when she felt his fingers parting her arousal-swollen folds. Oh…God…the jolt that went through her system when she felt Spike's tongue run along her slit was enough to make her whimper rather loudly. She scowled the next second, sure she could feel his self-satisfied smirk, but when he dipped his tongue into her dripping well, she immediately ceased caring about his facial expression. In fact, if he never made another one, she could care less…as long as he kept up what he was doing to her.

        She clenched her legs and lifted her hips off of the bed with a wanton cry of pleasure as she came, her body shuddering. “Oh…God…” She breathed as soon as she was able, and lifted her to smile down at Spike. Her smile abruptly disappeared and she immediately spread her legs again.

        “Oh God…I am so sorry…” She covered her face with one hand as Spike sat up, gasping for air.

        “Nothing…to…be…sorry…for…” Spike said breathlessly, staring down at her legs with almost morbid fascination. “Gotta love a girl who can smother a bloke with her thighs…” He shuddered a bit, envisioning those same legs wrapped around him as he pounded into her. Wait…why am I imagining it when she's right here for the taking? Idiot!

        “Poor baby…” Buffy sat up, and she watched his face as she placed one hand on his chest and traced each and every defined muscle with her fingertips. Spike allowed her to roll him onto his back, and he watched with heavy lids as Buffy playfully ran her lips down the middle of his body. He was very careful to keep his eyes on her, especially when she reached his nipples. However, while his attention was so diverted, Buffy's hands were not idle; she felt his muscles jump when she brushed her fingertips against his stomach, and then his whole body tensed when she slipped that hand beneath the brim of his boxers.

        “Oh…look who I found,” Buffy whispered as she licked along his earlobe, enjoying the way he was shuddering as she caressed him. “Think he wants to come out to play?”

        Spike nodded dumbly, clenching his fists as Buffy shifted away from him to draw his boxers down his legs. She then crawled back up his body, lithe as a cat, her eyes never leaving his for a second. He was having more trouble breathing now then when his head had been caught between her legs. His cock twitched dangerously as Buffy moved over it, her breath fanning his bare skin. She started to lean forward to kiss the tip, but he grabbed her shoulders suddenly, startling her.

        “Not going to last if you do that,” He told her before brushing a kiss across her lips. “Want to be inside you so much…”

        “Okay…” Buffy smiled as Spike leaned across her, reaching for his bedside table. He fumbled around in the drawer for a couple seconds, swearing beneath his breath.

        “Fuck…shit…bloody...just bought a goddamn…YES!” He sat up, brandishing a box of unopened condoms, and Buffy giggled as he tore open the packaging with all the zeal of an all-mighty conqueror, sending the black and blue wrappers flying all over the bed. “Whoops…”

        “Someone's eager,” Buffy teased as she picked up one of the condoms. She didn't think that in his current state of mind that he could open it without causing farther damage. Spike leaned back, closing his eyes and counting down from one thousand as Buffy unrolled the condom over his erection. As soon as he felt it was all the way one, his eyes snapped open and before Buffy could react, he was on her.

        “Sp-IKE!” Buffy squealed as Spike tossed her onto her back and using her hips, dragged her against him. She threw her head back with a gasp as he plunged into her and fell forward on his hands, bracing them beside her head.

        “Oh…sweet…fuckin'…Jesus…” Spike grunted out, his eyes closed tightly shut as he fought for control. None of his fantasies could prepare him for the reality. Never before had it been like this…never had it felt so damned good to be sheathed in a woman. She was so hot…and tight…and…he opened his eyes when he felt Buffy's hand against his face, and he stared down into her stunning face, her eyes heavy with pleasure and filled with love.

        No…never had it been so…perfect.

        He kept his eyes on hers as he began to thrust into her slowly but deeply, his head tilted into the small hand that cupped his face. She lifted her hips in time with his thrusts, lower lip caught between her teeth; she watched as his blue eyes darkened into black, his face dotted with sweat that glittered in the light from his bedside table lamp.

        “You are so beautiful…” She whispered, her voice filled with tenderness, her other hand coming up to cup both sides of his face. Spike would have questioned the validity and manliness of that statement, but Buffy was squeezing certain hidden muscles around him, and he was unable to form the proper coherent words to do so.

        Instead, he finally broke off eye-contact to seize her lips and pour his voiceless emotions into it. He reached between them with his hand and pressed against her clit with one fingertip. Buffy cried out into his mouth, hands sliding down from his head, to slip along his back. There, she found another unexpected playground on his body. She could feel each and every muscle clenching and unclenching with his every movement, each one a shifting hard mass. He had a sexy back! She dug her fingernails into said sexy back when his pelvis rubbed against her clit, her entire body tensing.

        Spike barely noticed the sharp pain in his back as Buffy's head fell back and she stared at him with wide eyes before she shattered, crying out his name. Spike followed her with a guttural groan, his arms shaking where they were bracing his weight. He barely had time to move aside before he collapsed, careful not to crush Buffy with his weight. A split second later, Buffy was rolling towards him, curling into his side. He disposed of the used condom and then wrapped his arms around her, dropping a kiss on the top of her golden head.

        “Wow…” Buffy muttered.

        “Just…wow?” Spike tried not to sound disappointed, but was unable to help the childish pout that touched his lips, and Buffy giggled as she snuggled up closer to him.

        “Really, really wow,” She clarified, resting her hand on one sweat-soaked pectoral. Usually, after making love, she'd be running for the shower a few moments later, but for once, she was content to sit still and cuddle, unmindful of the way their slick bodies adhered to each other. “Biggest wow ever.”

        “Really?” Spike raised an eyebrow, intrigued, “When you saw biggest…”

        Buffy swatted him playfully and laughed softly as he titled her head up to steal another kiss. He had one hell of a way to get her to talk. It was very, very devious. “Let's just say…biggest wow all around.”

        Spike grinned widely, and not a little bit smugly, “Nice. Very nice…really? All around?”

        “Okay…sooo done stroking your manly ego,” Buffy huffed, pretending to sit up and slip out of the bed. However, as planned, Spike simply grabbed her and hauled her back against him.

        “You're not going anywhere…ever again…” Spike told her fiercely, his eyes flashing possessively.

        “Good…” Buffy smiled as she snuggled back into his embrace, and drew the covers over the both of them, “Happy here anyway.”

        “Love you,” Spike murmured, tracing random patterns on her bare arm, watching as her eyelids became heavier and heavier, and she became sleepier and softer in his arms.

        “Mmm…love you too…now stop moving…trying to get comfy…”

        “Bossy bitch…”

        “Don't call me bitch, asshole…”

        “Don't call me asshole, bitch…” Spike chuckled, and then winced when Buffy pinched his nipple, “Ow!”

Part Twenty-Nine

        “Hmmmm…” Buffy hummed sleepily as she rolled over in bed, absently throwing out an arm. She scrunched her face together when she found nothing but empty space, and she sat up, blinking blearily. “The hell?” She muttered, seeing she was in her own room once again.

        A bit confused, she took stock of her situation. There was a pleasant sort of pain between her thighs, and her nipples were chaffing against the fabric of her nightgown, which she did not remember putting on again.

        Buffy shook her head slowly, then noticed a piece of paper laying against the opposite pillow, and she snatched it up eagerly.

        `Last night was perfect, darling. Wished you could have woken beside me, but Dottie has nasty tendency to burst in on me at the most inopportune times. Would have woken you, but you looked so sweet asleep and didn't have the heart.

`Sweetly sleeping, golden haze stealing over me,

My mistress, my love, my darling,

Who owns me heart, body and soul.'

        Admittedly, not one of my better compositions, but I just thought of it now, watching you. Lack of sleep is certainly the problem, don't you agree? I love you, Elizabeth and I'll see you at breakfast.

        Lovingly yours,

             William

        P.S. I kept a little `souvenir.' I hope you don't mind.

                  -W-`

        Buffy hugged the piece of paper to her breast, and barely contained a little squeal. He had written her poetry! Bad poetry, but still! It was utterly sweet…and just made up for waking up alone. She hopped out of bed and started to fold the piece of paper.

        She frowned suddenly, and unfolded it once more, “Souvenir? What souvenir?” She asked aloud, baffled. It wasn't till she started dressing that she finally realized what souvenir he had taken; the underwear she had worn the night before was missing.

        “Hey Giles, Clare, Dru,” Buffy greeted as she joined the family at breakfast, and tried to ignore the knowing smirk on Drusilla's face as she sat down and winced. She shot her step-sister a look as she shifted to her thigh, and tried to not look well-laid. It was a struggle, to be sure.

        “Good morning, Buffy,” Giles smiled at her tiredly, “Did you have fun last night with Spike?”

        Buffy, who had been biting into a bit of toast, promptly choked, “What?!”

         “Dru told me that he was going to show you around town last night,” Giles cocked his head, “Did you end up not going?”

        “Oh…” Buffy threw a look at Dru, who was desperately trying to stifle giggles and failing; even Clare looked like she was having a hard time keeping a straight face, and Buffy's face turned even redder. It was bad enough that Dru knew what she was up too…but apparently, their mother knew too. Great…

        “Um…yeah, we went out…um…had a dinner, wandered around…he showed me the garden…I had fun…” Buffy cleared her throat after her faltering explanation, “So…late night with Dru? You look tired.”

        “Not really,” Giles shook his head, “Spike was banging around in his room for most of the night…I think he was moving furniture or something,” He glanced at Clare in concern, “I would have thought he'd have grown out of his insomnia by now…”

        That was it for Dru. She buried her face in her napkin and let loose a fit of laughter that made her thin shoulders shake. After a few moments, she gained a little bit of control of herself, and lifted the napkin from her face; when she saw her father staring at her like she had gone mad, she couldn't help but add, “Sorry…but it's just been so long that Spike's…rearranged his furniture…” She immediately started laughing again as Buffy covered her face with both hands.

        “Excuse me…” Clare abruptly left the table, presumably to escape so that she could laugh all she want without fielding questions from her ex-husband.

        It was amongst this that Spike finally showed up for breakfast. He stared around at everybody. He saw Buffy, who looked about ready to climb under the table to hide, his father, looking about in confusion, his sister, who went into hysterics when she saw him…and what looked like his mother in the opposite room, laughing her ass off as well; he shook his head, grabbed some toast and beat a hasty retreat.

        He didn't even want to know.

        “You are so dead, buddy…” Buffy stomped across the garage, where she could see a familiar pair of black jeans sticking out from beneath a huge, black monstrosity of a car.

        Spike winced when he heard her voice echo in the spacious room, and as her elephant-stamp drew closer, he rolled out from beneath his DeSota, shooting an innocent look up at Buffy. However, as soon as he saw what she was wearing, the innocent look disappeared to be replaced by desire.

        “Where did you get that outfit?!” He croaked out, eyes running over the very short plaid skirt, her long legs, bare save for a pair of knee socks, and the bit of golden midriff that was exposed beneath the blouse that was knotted just below her breasts. The buttons were all nearly undone as well, showing off the purple bra she was wearing beneath it. If the death she had just threatened him with involved lust-induced combustion, she was already off to a good start. “Wait…were you running around the house in that?!”

        “Relax…Dottie went off to the store, your mom and Giles went to an art auction, and Dru's at a friend's house. No one saw me,” She told him, pouting as she leaned against a motorcycle that was propped up beside the car he had been working on. She licked her lips as she looked over Spike, who was looking pretty damn yummy himself, in nothing but his jeans and a bit of motor grease staining the alabaster of his chest and black swipe marring his forehead. She had to forcefully remind herself that she was mad at him.

        “I can't believe you ditched me at breakfast this morning! I had to sit there for a whole half hour while Dru all but told Giles what we were up to last night!”

        “Sorry, pet,” Spike gave her his best kicked-puppy look as he grabbed his discarded t-shirt and wiped his greasy hands on it, “But it would have been worse for me. The girl lives for those kind of blackmail opportunities. If I stayed, I would have had to give her my trust fund before she shut her damned mouth.” He scowled, “How in the hell did she figure out what we were up too last night is beyond me…infuriating chit must've been sneaking around my room.”

        “Um…yeah…must have…” Buffy glanced away from him, biting her lip against a giggle. She had a feeling that he wouldn't be thrilled to hear about the way Dru had pushed her to pay that little midnight visit to his room. She just hoped he wouldn't question how she found his bedroom in the first place; that could get a little sticky.

        To get his mind off the mystery, she smiled coyly and leaned forward at the waist, “So, trying to get this junker running?”

        “Junker?!” Spike cried out in actual dismay, arm reaching out to touch the chrome bumper, as if his presence along could protect against the cruel words she was flinging at his car. To Buffy's disappointment, he seemed not at all interested in the massive cleavage she was showing off, more worried about protecting his `baby.' “This, darling…is a 1958 DeSota Sportsman…a Classic American beauty. It is not a junker!”

        “I thought I was your `classic American Beauty,'” Buffy replied with a pitiful little pout.

        Utoh…girlfriend jealous of car…damage control! Damage control!

        “Course you are,” Spike purred, holding out his hand, and when Buffy had placed hers in his palm, he pulled her down so that she was draped over his lap. He was awarded with a giggle when he trailed kisses across her throat, and he inwardly sighed in relief. All danger to his car had been adverted. “Sorry to ditch you at breakfast…I'm a bad, rude man…forgive me?”

        “I…guess so…” Buffy said with false reluctance as she trailed her fingertips across his bare chest, her eyes gleaming wickedly. “You might have to make it up to me…big time.”

        “Yeah?” Spike looked very eager to make it up to her…big time. “How big we talking?”

        “Giles out of the house till late afternoon, big time…”

        Spike grinned as he stood up, Buffy held hostage in his arms. “Think I oughta break in my American beauty…” He said, “And I don't mean the car.”

        “Think I love this car…” Buffy murmured beneath her breath, lying sleepy and sated across Spike's nude body, skirt bunched around her waist. His hands were lazily drawing patterns along the ridge of her spine, his face pressed into the juncture between her throat and shoulder.

        “Yeah…” He replied in a dreamy tone of voice, “Big back seat…knew I loved her for a very good reason.”

        Buffy lifted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow, “Do you and the car need some time alone?”

        “Nope,” Spike replied with a goofy grin, dropping his hands down to her bare backside and squeezing the soft globes in his large, calloused hands, “Like time alone with my best girl better.”

        Buffy smiled as she sat up, causing Spike to groan, as he was still deeply seated within her hot channel. She could already feel him hardening within her. “Someone's being a naughty boy,” She teased, “Seducing poor innocent girls in his car.”

        “Girl, singular…and if I remember, you were the one flouncing about the garage in a teeny little skirt and a bra that pushed your pretty little titties to the sky. So who was seducing who?”

        “Little?!” Buffy looked down, “You think they're little?”

        He sat up, catching her about the waist as he pressed a kiss to a berry-colored nipple, “No…not little at all…perfect size…love your pert, pretty breasts…taste like strawberries, they do…” He told her huskily.

        Wow…hot, funny, sweet, great in bed…and knows hot to make a girl feel beautiful, Buffy thought with an abashed grin, blushing even as she started to rock against him, he's the perfect man…and he's all mine! Yay!

         “It's almost sickening, how cute they are,” Dru commented to her mother two days after Buffy and Spike officially consummated their relationship.

        The family was currently in the pool patio, Dru and Clare sitting on lawn chairs, Giles in the hot tub and Buffy and Spike were roughhousing in the swimming pool. They were playing a game of Marco Polo, which was highly unsuccessful, since they were both cheating and every time Spike lunged at Buffy, she shrieked and then ducked him beneath the water before she could be `tagged.'

        “I think it's sweet,” Clare replied, glancing towards the pool as both `children' disappeared beneath the water, and…suspiciously, appeared to be fused together at the face, “If they keep that up, one of them is going to drown.”

        “Does mouth-to-mouth resuscitation work underwater?” Drusilla asked thoughtfully.

        “I would think not…but they're giving it the old college try, aren't they?” Clare said as both blondes popped up out of the water, gasping for breath and both looking decidedly flushed. “You…don't think we'd have to drain the pool after she goes home, do we? William wouldn't have gotten…up to anything in it…he knows better…right?”

        Dru gave her mother a look over her fashion magazine, “Why do you think I'm not swimming?”

        “Right…” Clare sighed, looking back at Buffy and Spike, who were now competing over who could do the most laps, “I was that young once…” She smiled fondly, “I remembered sneaking around my parents to meet your father and then we'd…”

        “Ew! EW!” Drusilla dropped her magazine to cover her eyes, “MOTHER! I don't want to know about you and daddy!”

        Clare sighed, “Of course…that was all before children…and when I didn't have stretch marks from bringing you two into the world.”

        Drusilla shuddered, burying her face in her magazine, “I'm not here…I'm not here…”

        “Why aren't you here, darling?” Giles asked as he emerged from the hot tub and picked up one of the towels. He tossed a frown in Buffy and Spike's direction when they popped up out of the water after another bout of underwater CPR, “And for the love of God, you two…get a room! The swimming pool is not Lover's lane!”

        Drusilla's mouth dropped open as Giles wrapped the towel around himself, and whistling, left the stunned group to stare after him in horrified amazement.

        “He-He-He…” Buffy stuttered.

        “I think he knows,” Spike said, his ears tinged pink with embarrassment.

        “Oh! And Spike, Buffy,” Giles stuck his head back out into the patio, giving them a stern look, “I'll talk to you both after lunch. ALONE!”

        Drusilla snickered as Spike and Buffy turned pale as both at Giles' tone, but the laughter died in her throat when her father turned his gaze on her, “And I'll speak to you later, as well, young lady.”

        “Crap.”

        “We are so dead…” Buffy moaned for the third time in a minute, staring at the sight of the closed library with dread. Giles had told them to sit and not move before going inside with Drusilla.  “Dead…dead…dead…”

        “Pet…” Spike laid his hand on her leg, which was jittering almost convulsively in her nervousness, “Relax…the worst thing he can do is…”

        “Kill us slowly and painfully,” Buffy finished for him, “This is way worse then the time I scratched his mid-life crisis mobile. And he was way pissed when I did that…he didn't stop yelling for a week!”

        “I'm sure it's not that bad…”

        “Please! I'm screwing his only son! You said so yourself! I seduced you! With my little boobs and…and my short skirts! I'm a…I'm a horrible seducer-person!”

        Spike couldn't help chuckling, but the laughter died when she shot him a look, “Sorry, pet…but you're just so adorable when you're panicked,” He leaned forward, brushing a kiss across her lips. “However,  we're involved, we love each other and I know I won't let anyone come between us…ever…he's just going to have to accept that or piss off.”

        Buffy smiled tentatively, still not entirely reassured. They both looked up when Drusilla came out of the library, looking both annoyed and thoroughly chastised, “He'd said he'd be with you two in a moment,” She said, and then snorted, “So glad I'm not you right now.”

        She flounced off before Buffy and Spike could make a reply to that, and they exchanged a look filled with trepidation.

        Spike sulked against the wall with a sigh, “We're so dead.”

        Giles laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the desk in front of him, staring down the two blondes who were fidgeting restlessly in their chairs, like two naughty children. If he hadn't been so angry, he would have been amused at their discomfort.

        “Um…Giles? You didn't tell my mom yet, right?” At his look, she quailed, “Um…I just want to break it to her…myself…”

        “You can start right now, Elizabeth Anne Summers!”

        Buffy shrieked when she heard her mother's voice in the room and looked behind her, half-expecting Joyce Summers herself to be standing beside her. Spike tapped her shoulder, and gestured at the phone next to Giles' elbows, “He's got her on speaker, luv.”

        “Oh…yay. Hi, mom,” Buffy greeted half-heartedly, although she was relieved that she wouldn't receive a chewing out in person from her mother. Nothing was more frightening then a really ticked-off Joyce Summers.

        “Young lady, you have a lot of explaining to do!” Joyce's voice bellowed out of the phone with enough intensity to make even Giles wince a little. “I raised you better then this! Clare was kind enough to invite you into her home, and this is how you repay her? It's disrespectful!”

        Buffy and Spike exchanged a look, but neither made the attempt to correct Joyce about Clare's feelings on the matter. They were neither stupid or suicidal.

        However, Giles' survival instincts were not so finely honed. “Actually, honey…I think Clare invited Buffy here for this express purpose,” He grimaced, “Wished someone would've kept me in the bloody loop for once.”

        “Your ex-wife invited my daughter to her home so that Buffy could sleep with her son?”

        “Dad…could you please not try and help us?” Spike pleaded, “Um…Mrs. Summers…it isn't really like that…”

        “Oh, Spike, honey, is that you? How are you doing? I didn't know you were there too. Rupert didn't tell me.” Giles winced. Oops.

        A bit flustered at the suddenly friendly tone of voice coming from the phone, Spike nodded. Then, realizing she couldn't see him, cleared his throat, “Um…yeah, I'm here…and um…I'm fine, thank you…eh…how are you?” At Buffy's look, he shrugged and mouthed, `Is she sane?' Buffy shook her head.

        “I'm just fine, dear. It's nice to hear from you,” Joyce's voice then hardened, “Now…will someone please explain to me what in the world is going on over there? Or do I have to fly down there to find out?!”

        “Okay…mom, it isn't as icky as it sounds…we're not even related, really!” Buffy hurried to explain, not wanting her mom to fly down there. She loved her mom, really, truly…but the thought of facing her face to face after a really long flight? Not fun. “Okay, so…we're step-brother and sister…but there's no blood relation, so it's not illegal! It's like…the Marcia and Greg thing…”

        “Marcia and Greg?” Giles stared at Buffy, “You're using the Brady Bunch to explain your relationship with my son?”

        Spike groaned, dropping his head back, “Bloody grand…”

        “Hey, if you think you can do better, you do it,” Buffy poked him in the side.

        “Fine…” Spike straightened, trying to look as respectable as he could manage, even though Joyce couldn't see him, “Mrs. Summers, I am in love with your daughter. I think she's beautiful, intelligent, sweet and in every way, the perfect woman for me. I'm sorry that you had to find out about our relationship like this, but we've only just recently worked out our mutual differences and started dating. We would have spoken up sooner, but we were afraid that you and my father wouldn't approve and insist that we stop seeing each other. Once again, I'm sorry, but…I love your daughter, and I would very much like your blessing to keep seeing her.”

        “Okay…so he can do it better,” Buffy muttered beneath her breath as Spike leaned back, watching the phone warily and awaiting Joyce's verdict.

        “Rupert? Can I speak to you alone for a moment?” Joyce asked after a short silence.

        Immediately, Buffy and Spike were on their feet and heading towards the door, but Giles called after them, “Don't go far, you two…I'll be with you again in a few moments.”

        “Yes, sir…” They both mumbled unenthusiastically.

        “Well?” Giles asked as soon as Buffy and Spike had vacated the room, “What do you think?”

        “They're both adults,” Joyce replied, “I really have no problem if they want to keep seeing each other. Actually…I'm so relieved that they're finally getting along that I can easily overlook…the rest,” Giles could almost hear the smile in her voice, “Also, at least this way, we'll know he'll visit us more often. However, the final decision is yours. He is your son, after all.”

        Giles chuckled, “I feel exactly the same way,” He assured her, “Shall I call them back in and give them the good news?”

        “Naw…” Joyce's tone of voice turned distinctively evil, “They tried to pull a fast one over us…I'm thinking that we should let them sweat it out for…oh…the next half hour?”

        “God…I miss you so very much,” Giles said sincerely. He glanced towards the closed door, and picked up the phone, switching it off of speaker, “So…what should we talk about for thirty minutes?”

        “Oh…I can think of something,” Joyce, on the other side of an ocean and a continent, smiled coyly, “Want to know what I'm wearing?”

Part Thirty

        Thirty minutes, incidentally, turned into nearly two hours, during which Spike and Buffy stared at the door fearfully, trying to interpret the faint sounds they could hear coming from inside.

        “I don't think this is a good thing,” Buffy practically whimpered, when she heard Giles' voice rise in a shout, “Really, really not good.”

        “He sounds pissed,” Spike had to agree, wincing a bit himself, and then stiffened his stance, “Sod what they say…not giving you up just because they said so. We're bloody adults!”

        “Yeah,” Buffy said grimly, “We're adults still living with our parents, depending on their money to put us through school…”

        “Well…” Spike grinned at her, “If worst comes to worst…we could always get an apartment in New York together. You'll be a starving artist and I'll be a starving writer…working nights at some dive of a restaurant in Greenwich Village, where you waitress and I cook…and then we go home to our roach-infested, cramped apartment, collapse into bed and shag like weasels. And you know what?” He leaned forward, pressing his lips against her ear, “It'll be paradise…because I have you and you have me.”

        “Wow…” Buffy breathed as she tilted her head up to stare at him, “I…think you're the only guy who can use roach-infested in a sentence…and still make it sound incredibly romantic.”

        “It's a gift,” Spike murmured before pressing his lips to hers. She opened her mouth beneath his, and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer. They were so lost in their own little world that they hadn't even heard Giles open the door, nor noticed that he had called their name several times before they finally broke apart, breathing heavily.

        Giles cleared his throat, finally gaining their attention, “Not that it matters…but you have our blessing,” He told them, a corner of his mouth tilting up when they both let out a sigh of relief.

        “Thank you, Giles!” Buffy hopped up to embrace him tightly, “And believe me…it does matter,” She told him. “We wouldn't have obeyed you for a single second…but it does matter.”

        Giles glanced over Buffy's head at Spike, who nodded slightly, indicating he felt the same way, and Giles was forced to clear his throat again, but for an entirely different reason. “So…um…traditionally, this is the part where'd I threaten one of you with death if you hurt the other…” He sighed, “As you're both my children…I think we can assume it's an empty threat.” He then leveled them both with a glare, “If one of you hurts the other one…I'm cutting you out of my will.”

        “That's not fair!” Buffy protested playfully, “He's rich as all hell!”

        “Oh…bugger off,” Giles pushed Buffy towards Spike, who took her hand, and the pair darted off, laughing at his expense. He pinched the bridge of his nose, where a headache was starting to form, “Bloody children…be the death of me yet…” He grumbled.

        If Drusilla thought Spike and Buffy were sickeningly cute before, it got infinitely worse after Joyce and Giles gave their blessing. They were no longer just Buffy and Spike. They had evolved into a creation that was constantly joined at the hip, and even their names were linked as one. It was always BuffyandSpike now. They were never separated long enough to be simply Buffy or simply Spike.

        However, it was also a great source of amusement for Drusilla. Especially after Dottie burst into Spike's room to wake him up for breakfast, only to catch the pair indulging in their own version of a wake-up call. She had gotten up a whole half hour earlier just to see Dottie screaming, covering her eyes and shouting `Oh, my sweet Lord! My William's a sinner!'

        It had taken about six cups of tea and a bit of valium crushed up into the last cup before poor Dottie stopped her shaking and wailing. Of course, Drusilla accidentally misjudged the dosage, and the housekeeper had wandered around the house for the rest of the day, in a somewhat delirious daze. True, nothing really got done that day, but she had never seen Dottie in such a good mood in her life. That was worth something…even if she was pretty convinced there were unicorns in the garden.

        However, all too soon, the two weeks drew to a close, and they were facing a separation for an indeterminate amount of time.

        “Sure you can't just move in?” Spike asked half-seriously as he lay facing Buffy, one arm draped loosely over her bare waist. His free hand was tracing the soft contours of her face, as if his fingertips could carry the imprint of her features for the long, lonely nights he was to face after this. “Just never go home.”

        Buffy smiled at him somewhat sadly, shrugging one golden shoulder. “Very tempting,” She murmured as he moved forward to press a kiss to her shoulder, his tongue darting out to taste her sweat-slicked skin. “But I have to go home sometime. I got school…and my mom and all my friends…”

        “Don't know…thought the starving artist/writer thing had some appeal,” Spike teased as he gently rolled Buffy onto her back, pressing soft kisses along her collarbone. “You've always wanted to go to New York.”

        “Yeah…” Buffy breathed, a little amazed that he remembered that. He was still surprising her, and she had the optimistic thought that he would be able to keep it up, even long into their old age. Hmm…old Spike…God, she hoped he didn't end up looking too much like Giles. That would just be a little freaky.

        “Mind wandering away from you, pet?” He asked playfully when he saw her gaze had become a bit unfocused. He curled a tendril of tawny hair around his fingers before bringing it to his lips. “Where to?”

        “Just thinking about you,” Buffy replied, “How you make me feel.”

        “And how's that?” Spike asked as he slipped easily between her slick thighs.

        “Very…very nice…” Buffy almost purred as he slid home inside, wrapping her arms around his neck as she raised her hips to meet his, “I've…never been like this before…”

        “Like what?” Spike asked, his eyes riveted to her face as he watched the pleasure suffuse it.

        “Like…for the first time…I've been sent free,” She gasped slightly, tightening her grip on him, “And like I can never get enough of you…ever…like I'm your prisoner…” She grimaced a little in disgust, panicking him a little bit, until she whined, “Why do I sound so stupid when I try the prose crap but you can do it perfectly?”

        “Trial and error, luv,” Spike told her warmly, “But that was rather…poetic for a first-timer.” He was relieved that her little facial expression hadn't been because of his performance. However, he was still not completely comfortable with the fact that she was even able to carry on a conversation at this particular moment.

        To remedy that situation, he captured her lips while they weren't moving, and increased the strength of his thrusts. It had the desired effect as Buffy was too busy moaning and writhing with him to think of speaking.

        “Okay…where was I?” Buffy asked breathlessly after Spike rolled off of her, and she curled up against his side. “Crap…can't remember?”

        “You can't?” Spike sat up, feigning concern, “Do you remember your name? Who's the president? How many fingers am I holding up?”

        Buffy shoved him playfully, and he laughed as he rolled her on top of him. “Ego much?” She huffed, “You were good…you weren't that good.”

        “Oh! I'm wounded,” Spike clasped his hands to his heart, and then made a grab for Buffy's breasts when she started to sit up.

        She swatted his hands away and straddled his middle, and then glared down at him. “Is that all you think about?”

        “When you're in the room? Pretty much,” Spike said with a wicked grin, which disappeared when Buffy shook her head slowly in disappointment. He pulled her down against him, feathering soft kisses over her face, “I was just teasing, sweet. Of course that isn't all I think about…”

        Apparently, that wasn't going to be good enough, but she was still scowling at him. “I also think about how amazing you are…so beautiful, so strong, so intelligent…all wrapped up in this sweet and sour little wrapper…” He frowned, “And I think I may have just compared you to Chinese food…”

        Buffy continued to glower at him, but he noticed that suspicious little lines were appearing around her screwed up mouth. “You're screwing with me, aren't you?” He asked in an accusatory tone.

        Buffy finally gave up and collapsed into giggles, falling forward onto the bed, “Yeah…and it was fun,” She said, not making any attempt to stifle her laughter. “You should have seen the look on your face when you thought you were in trouble.”

        “Ha ha…very funny…” Spike muttered beneath his breath, but was unable to work up any ire. Not when her warm breath was already fanning across his hot skin and her little hands were absently tracing the counters of his chest. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, and he would be very content to not move an inch for a thousand years; actually, his body was sore enough after their marathon love-making that he would have trouble moving, let alone walking, for that amount of time.

        He listened as Buffy's breathing eventually evened out and then deepened as she slipped into an exhausted sleep. He shifted slightly so that her head was resting in the hollow of his elbow, and he turned onto his side so that he could look into her face as she slept.

        He tucked away a few, damp strands of hair that clung to her forehead, his lips following their path. She smiled slightly, and mumbled something unintelligible beneath her breath.

        He continued to watch her as the last few hours of their time together slipped away, unable to sleep himself. God only knew when he would be in this position once more, able to take stock of each soft snore, (which she denied, vehemently, she even did,) and each time she muttered his name and then giggled.

        For the rest of the night, he lay still and silent in his vigilance, and when she woke, the first thing she would see is the smile on his face and the suspicious gleam of liquid in his eyes.

        “Buffy, are you sure you have everything this time?” Giles asked his stepdaughter in exasperation. Four times already, they had been about ready to leave for the airport when Buffy would remember something she left in her room, by the pool, in Spike's car, and very possibly every other room in the large house.

        Skeptically enough, Spike would always help her to go `look' for the forgotten item, and they would return to the car after ten to fifteen minutes, both looking a bit disheveled, and empty-handed. Not that it wasn't sweet the way they were acting, Giles was fast getting annoyed; he had his own companion that he was impatient to get back too, and if they missed their flight, heads were going to roll.

        “Um…I think I forgot my…”

        “Forgot it,” Giles said sternly, “Whatever you've forgotten, I'm sure that Drusilla or William can mail it back to Sunnydale for you. Say your good-byes and get in the car.”

        Buffy made a face at his back as he turned to address Clare, and Spike finished loading their luggage into the back of his mother's car. She would say her final good-byes to him at the airport, since he was driving them there.

        “You have my phone number, so, give me a call anytime,” She told Drusilla, “And you definitely have to come visit us! Sunnydale is pretty small and sucky, but you can at least meet Willow. You'll love her.”

        “I'll definitely come to see you in the summer,” Drusilla replied. The two girls then hugged each other, and not a few tears were shed over the parting. Buffy then said her own good-byes to Clare, and the two bound for Sunnydale got into the car and Buffy watched in the rearview mirror as the mansion that had contained so much of her happiness disappeared from view.

        “Come on, you guys…hold up the signs!” Willow bounced excitedly as she watched passengers beginning to disembark off the plane. Joyce, Oz and Xander exchanged looks with each other, and then glanced down at the signs Willow had handed out to them.

        “Why is mine all glittery?” Xander whined, “Oz's isn't all glittery!”

        “I made mine,” Oz informed Xander, and then lowered his voice, “She went a little crazy with the glitter after prolonged exposure to the permanent marker fumes.”

        Xander made a face as he rubbed a glitter-covered hand over his jeans, only to turn his pants into a sparkling mess. He nearly groaned when a girl looked over at him and promptly started snickering.

        “Xander, you're not holding up your sign!” Willow accused, waving hers so enthusiastically that it was impossible to read in the first place.

        “Sorry, Wills,” Xander mumbled, half-heartedly brandishing his sign, thanking God that Buffy was finally coming home. He loved Willow, he really did…but without Buffy, she had become even more hyper then usual. Not that the four Latte Grandes from the airport Starbucks she had consumed didn't play their own part.

        “Dude…your girlfriend is vibrating,” Xander whispered to Oz.

        Oz simply grinned wolfishly, “Yeah…love it when she does that.”

        Xander blinked as Oz slipped away to go stand by Willow, and was trying to decide whether or not Oz was making an subtle sexual comment about his best friend when Willow let out a whoop.

        “There they are!”

        Buffy and Giles, both looking very haggard from their two consecutive flights that spanned several thousand miles, emerged from the gate. Giles flinched when Willow squealed loudly and bounced up and down, waving her sign with such exuberance that he couldn't read what she had written on it.

        A few seconds later, Buffy found herself enveloped in a painful hug that made her ribs creak in protest, and she grunted as she lifted one arm to return Willow's embrace. “Hey Wills…missed ya too.”

        “You didn't call me everyday like you were supposed too, Turd-head!” Willow socked her in the arm when she pulled away, and Buffy winced.

        “Ow…and sorry I didn't call…I was…um…” Buffy flushed, “…busy…doing…stuff…”

        “Yeah, well, you were supposed to tell me what stuff you were doing!” Willow pouted while Giles flushed a bit and ran for the safety of Joyce's arms. He really didn't want to be reminded of what `stuff' Buffy had been doing on her vacation. His poor blood pressure wouldn't be able to handle the subsequent images.

        “Sorry, Wills…I'll definitely catch you up as soon as I sleep for like…five days.”

        “Too bad you have classes again tomorrow,” Xander said as he came up to give Buffy a much gentler hug then what had been offered up by Willow.

        “Eew…you had to remind me?” Buffy grimaced and cast a glance at Oz, who was sorta smiling at her. It looked kind of smug to her, as if he knew something no one else did, but she couldn't really tell with him. He could be bouncing up and down in happiness for all she knew. Wonder if he's been talking to Spike, Buffy thought, and wondered if he had broke the news about she and Spike to Willow already.

        “Come on, children,” Giles called, shifting his carry-on to his other shoulder, relieved that Joyce had come with reinforcements. Buffy's bags were so heavy that he half-suspected that she had smuggled Stonehenge past Customs. Maybe he'd hit the Duty-Free Shop before baggage claim, and numb the ensuing back pain with a good bottle of Scotch.

        He watched as the children darted ahead, and then jumped when Joyce goosed him beneath his jacket. She flashed him a wicked grin and said in a low, seductive voice, “We're dropping Buffy off at the campus,” She told him, “So, we'll have the house all to ourselves.

        Giles swallowed heavily at the naughty things her eyes were promising to do to him; he probably should add a pack of cigarettes to the Duty-Free shopping list, as he was pretty sure he'd need them after she was done with him. He grinned slowly, “I know a girl's whose been very naughty…” He purred in a low voice, his blue-gray eyes twinkling in his face. “Making dirty overseas calls to strange men…”

        “Might need a spanking,” Joyce agreed.

        “Eeewwww!” The pair looked up to see Buffy, Willow, and Xander staring at them with wide, horrified eyes, and Oz was staring anywhere but at them. Apparently, they hadn't been as quiet as they had thought. “That is sooo gross…” Buffy complained with a shudder.

        “Oh…grow up,” Giles sniffed, “Most children are happy when their parents are as in love with each other as when they married.”

        “Yeah! But you're not supposed to be doing…that…” Buffy made a disgusted face, “It's gross.”

        “And that is why she failed health class two times,” Joyce mumbled beneath her breath, earning a snort from Giles. “Go get your bags, Buffy.”

        The group moved off, and Joyce and Giles sighed in unison when they heard Xander ask, “Did your mom say she wanted a spanking?”

        “EEWW! Shut up! Shut up!”  

        “Don't look at me, darling…she's your daughter.”

Part Thirty-One

A/N: Many, MANY Thanks to my lovely Chen, who helped me in my hour of writer's block need and lovingly nurtured my muse during her detoxification. She's a beautiful inspirationist and I bow down to her creativity.

        “Oh God…why does her stupid dorm room have to be on the third floor?” Xander complained as he sweated beneath a pile of Buffy's bags. Oz was ahead of him on the stairs, huffing and puffing under the weight of about ten thousand outfits. “I think I'm herniated!”

        “Told you to lift with your knees,” Oz managed to gasp out, throwing a look up at Buffy and Willow, both who were carrying two tiny bags and chatting back and forth excitedly. The second they had unloaded Buffy's luggage from the cars, Giles and Joyce had peeled out of the parking lot, leaving only Xander and Oz to act as Sherpas for Buffy's luggage.

         “She better have brought me something damn good for this,” Xander muttered darkly, breathing a sigh of relief when they finally stepped up onto the third floor. Only about a hundred feet more to the girls' room and he could collapse into a coma without worrying about being crushed to death by Buffy's bags.

        Once they were in the room, both boys dumped the bags and collapsed onto the floor with pained groans.

        “God…guys are such wimps,” Buffy complained, watching as Xander weakly lifted an arm to flip her the bird, “You two are just as bad as Giles and Spike!”

         “Hnnhhh…shut up…dying…” Xander grumbled as his arm fell back limply across his chest. “Now give us prezzies!”

        Buffy rolled her eyes as she grabbed one of her bags and started fishing through it for the presents she had brought her friends. Willow exclaimed over the leather skirt Buffy had gotten her, Oz thanked her graciously for the Ozzie t-shirt she had gotten him, and Xander stared at the t-shirt that said `Wicked Women.'

        “'Wicked Women?!'” He looked up at her, trying not too look disappointed, but failing miserably, “You got me a t-shirt that says `Wicked Women'?” He turned it over, “And `I am a Wicked Woman'?!”

        “It's from the Tower of London,” Buffy proudly informed him, “I was going to get you a whip, but they were all out.”

        “So…the next option was a girly t-shirt?” At Buffy's look, Xander grinned sheepishly, “Um…love it. Really, I do.”

        “Great! You're going to wear it, right?” She gave him a pout, and Xander found himself nodding without thinking of what he was doing. “Yay! I'm glad you like it!” She turned to Willow, “Oh, and we have so much dishing to do!” She lowered her voice, “And I mean big, ole details…schematics even.”

        “You mean…! Oh, God!” Willow clapped her hands, “Details better be coming…and oh, God…you missed so much while you were gone. I have to tell you about…” Willow stopped gushing immediately, casting a suspicious look at Oz and Xander, who were leaning forward a bit too eagerly. “Um…you guys mind?”

        “Nope,” Xander waved his hand magnanimously, “Don't mind us. We're not even here. Get on with the details…draw diagrams if you want.” He frowned, “But only if you're talking about what I think you're talking about…if not…then forget it.”

        “Oh, we're talking about what you think we're going to talk about,” Buffy said with a smirk, “You two just won't be here to hear about it.”

        “How do you like that?” Xander complained to Oz, standing up, “Makes us lug her bags up here, and then kicks us out when they're going to start talking about the naughty stuff. That's gratitude for ya.”

        “I don't know what you're complaining about,” Oz muttered, “You're not the one being submitted to an A-B comparison.”

        “Fine…than you and I are going outside to A-B comparison them!” Xander sniffed, throwing an arm around Oz's shoulder. “Okay…whose breasts are perkier? Willow or Buffy's?”

        Oz glanced back at Willow and Buffy, who were both watching him expectantly for his answer, “I'm not touching that one with a ten-foot pole,” He informed Xander, knowing the answer could prove an end to his life…or at the very least, his sex life for an indeterminate amount of time.

        “OUT!” Buffy herded the both of them out, “And for the record, Willow's are perkier but mine are bigger!”

        Xander fish mouthed at the door Buffy slammed in his face, the two girls giggling on the other side. He narrowed his eyes slightly, and then pressed his ear against the door, frowning when he heard Buffy mention something about metric systems and Willow squealing in response; unfortunately, he couldn't hear anything else, and he looked at Oz hopefully, “I think Buffy's talking size and Willow's making funny noises. Happen to have a glass on ya?”

        “Don't think it works on a door made of plastic wood-grain, man,” Oz said, admittedly sharing a fair amount of curiosity about what had his girlfriend squealing excitedly…and okay, he could also admit, a little bit of worry. He remembered showering in gym class with Spike, and even back then, for a skinny-ass little dweeb, he had…ahem…impressive measurements.

        “Now Willow's talking size…no squealing though…” He glanced at Oz, and than glanced below the waist area, “Sorry, man…OW!” Xander rubbed his arm where Oz had punched him and then froze when all sound on the other side of the door stopped. “Shit! They're on to us! RUN!”

        The two males took off down the hall before Buffy could open the door, and Buffy shook her head when she saw them skidding around a corner and nearly running into a wall before turning around and raising an eyebrow at Willow, who was busy trying to squeeze her feet into a pair of shoes Buffy had brought back from England. “What the hell do you think that was about?”

        “No idea,” Willow muttered, giving up on getting her foot into the shoe with a sigh. “Anyway, I think I was right…because of the metric system, a size six shoe in Europe is different from a size six shoe here. I can't get my foot in either.” She eyed the shoes disappointedly, “It's really too bad. They're too cute, definitely squeal-worthy. ”

        “Dammit,” Buffy sighed, closing the door, “I was hoping that walking all day had just made my feet a little puffy. What a waste of forty bucks.”

        Spike was not being a pathetic loser. He was not staring at the telephone, waiting for it to ring. Nope, not at all…it just happened to be sitting on his telly, and he was actually engrossed very heavily in the BBC news, which was talking extensively of important world events that he was very much concerned about. Okay, so, maybe he couldn't tell you what the anchor had said in the last ten minutes, but really…that was really because his short term memory was crap, and not because he was paying acute attention to the programme…oh, fuck…who was he kidding? He was being a pathetic loser.

        Spike finally gave up the game for what it was, and stood up out of his armchair to stalk across the room purposefully and lift up the telephone. There was the dial-tone, clear as day…but that didn't mean anything. It could have been out for the last few hours and had just switched on when it saw him coming. Surely, the phone was fucking with him. Everyone knows that phones were put upon this planet expressively to torture the lonely and friendless. They just sat there, all high and mighty, taunting you with its silence and waiting for you to go off the deep end and finally rip it out of the wall and fling it across the room to smash into a pile of useless plastic.

        “GOD! Not another one!” Drusilla popped her head into her brother's room a few moments after the destruction of the telephone. “Mom said you're not allowed to steal phones out of any of the other rooms before you replace the other three you stole, idiot.”

        “Knocking is foreign concept to you, isn't it?” Spike asked sarcastically, plopping back into his chair and trying to contain his pout.

        “If the door's not locked, than it's an open invitation,” Dru reasoned, looking down at the wreckage of the phone, “HEY! That was mine! I can't believe you broke my phone!”

        “If mum pays for it, than it's communal property,” Spike replied, scowling.

        “Geez…you're in a mood,” Dru said as she walked into his room and plopped onto his unmade bed. She glanced around his bedroom, raising an eyebrow when she saw the disarray it was in. Books, papers and clothes were lying all over the place, which was surprising. Her brother wasn't exactly a neat freak, but he didn't usually let things get this messy. The destruction of property was normal when he was in a pissy mood, but not messiness. “Let me guess…by evidence of the wanton destruction of innocent telephones and…um…what's hanging out of your pocket?”

        Spike's eyes widened slightly, and he shoved his hand into his pocket, hiding the lacy bit of fabric from view, “Um…no. What are you talking about? What kind of friggin' pervert do you think I am?!”

        “Ooookkkaayyyy…” Drusilla gave him a confused look, not sure what he was talking about, “Anyway…Buffy hasn't called you yet, right?” She made a sudden face, “And ewwww! You're carrying around her panties, aren't you?! You are a pervert!”

        “Get out of my room.”

        “Ewww….ew…ew…” Drusilla shuddered, “What…do you like…sniff them or something? That is GROSS!”

        “MUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!” Spike bellowed, “DRUSILLA WONT'T LEAVE ME ALONE!”

        “Moottthhheeerrrrrrr! William's sniffing girl's pan---ooofff!” Spike tackled Drusilla, trying to shut her up by covering her mouth, but she bit the palm of his hand hard enough to cause it to bleed, “HE'S A BIG PERVERTTTTT!”

        “You're such a fuckin' brat,” Spike growled, letting go of her to go sulk in his chair again, “Don't you have any friends to go chat with?”

        “I would, but some dickhead broke my phone,” Drusilla reminded him, crossing her arms over her chest, “You're so pathetic. You've been sitting around here for like…three days, waiting for her to call you, sniffing her panties…”

        “I was not sniffing--”

        “And breaking crap like a spoiled brat. I mean…come on, how lame is that? And in case you've forgotten, the phone line works both ways. Why don't you call her?”

        “Did…hasn't called me back,” Spike replied, sinking farther down into his chair, looking completely miserable.

        “Uhuh…did you talk to her or leave a message with her roommate?”

        “Neither…her friend Xander picked up…he took a message for me,” Spike said, scowling at his sister, “Your point?”

        “You're an idiot, that's all,” Drusilla rolled her eyes, “You left a message with her friend…that's a guy.”

        “Yeah, so?”

        “When's the last time you've actually successfully passed on any sort of phone message to me?” Dru rolled her eyes, “Boys are chronically unable to pass on the simplest message, especially if it's by phone. You've been obsessing about this for three days instead of just calling her back?! I swear…I think daddy dropped you on your head as a baby.”

        “I need another phone,” Spike said, peering around at the broken plastic pieces that had been the bane of his existence for the last few days.

        “You and Buffy are going to have the stupidest children to ever walk the Earth...”

        “Dru…get the hell out of my room.”

        Spike took several deep, lingering breaths as he paced agitatedly outside the parlor. He clenched and unclenched his fists compulsively as he peeked through the crack of the door and saw his mother was still seated on the couch, reading a book by the light of a lamp.

        Several times, he almost wussed out completely and fled back to his room; he regretted the fact that he had once again been unable to get a hold of Buffy. He desperately needed to hear her voice, to hear her encouragement whispered in his ear. Hell…just the sound of her voice would do wonders to calm his fractured nerves as he prepared to entirely change his life. A change that had been wrought by her wonderful influences in his life. Maybe he should have done this when she had been there…at least then he would have had the comfort of her arms if this went as badly as he anticipated.

        However, it was too late for that now, and taking one more not-so-calming deep breath, he knocked on the door to the parlour and stepped inside as his mother looked up from her book.

        “William!” Clare greeted her son with a cheerful smile, which disappeared when she saw the almost wary look on his face, “William? What's wrong, honey?”

        “Nothing, mum…I was just…uh…wondering if I could talk to you about something?”

        She smiled at him encouragingly as she patted the seat beside her, “Not a problem,” She assured him, setting aside her book. “Should I ring for some tea?”

        “No…I…no, I'm fine,” Spike fidgeted nervously as he took a seat beside her and was unable to quite meet her eye. “I just want to say something…and would you promise to hear me out before…um…saying anything?”

        “All right,” Clare felt a niggle of worry in her gut as her son seemed to gather up some courage before addressing her again. She started to reach out to him, but he flinched at the movement towards him and she immediately withdrew her hand. “What's wrong, Will?”

        “Nothing's really wrong…I just…been thinking lately,” He told her, worrying his bottom lip, “About…what I want to do with my life and all that. I thought that…no…I've decided that I want to change my major…”

        “Really?” Clare looked somewhat disappointed, “Well…I suppose that's all right if you don't want to practice property law. I suppose that we've had enough of that in this family. What were you thinking instead? Criminal law? Political counsel?”

        “Uhh…not so much, no…” Spike felt like he was a school-boy again, being brought to task by his mother for his poor grades. However, he had learned that avoidance would only prolong his torture. “I'm leaving Cambridge, mother…”

        “What?” She stared at him like he had sprouted a second head, “You must be kidding…your great-great grandfather, great-grandfather, and grandfather all attended Cambridge…it's a wonderful school! Why would you want to leave it?!”

        Spike was about to remind her that she had promised to hear him out, but caught himself in time. She was already starting too look a bit angry, and he didn't want to aggravate the situation. Better to get it over with. “I don't want to be a lawyer, mum…I want to be a writer…” When he saw her eyes widen, he pushed on hurriedly, “Also…I…I want to attend school in California…possibly LA. They have good schools there…respectable schools where I can earn my English major…I won't disappoint you, I promise. My grades will be perfect…”

        “Absolutely not!” Clare stood up abruptly and turned to face her son head-on. “You must be mad! You've wanted to be a lawyer since you were a boy! Why would you change your mind?!”

        “I never wanted to be…”

        She interrupted him, “Never mind, I know,” She shook her head, “William…you can't make such an important decision like that because of an crush on a girl. It's ludicrous and I won't let you ruin your life like that! It's absolutely out of the question!”

        “It's not a crush, mother, I love her!”

        Clare sighed, shaking her head, “Then it can wait till after you finish your schooling and are set up in your grandfather's firm…”

        “Why aren't you bloody well listening to me?! I told you, I'm not going to be a fuckin' lawyer!”

        “Young man, perhaps you had better remember who you're talking to and not speak to me in that tone and with that sort of language!” Clare told him in a tight voice, “I am your mother and I demand respect.”

        “Mum…I've done everything you've ever asked me to do,” Spike tried to reason with her, “Always without question. You can't deny that. Now, this is something that I want and I'm not going to take no for an answer.”

        “You're not doing it, end of discussion,” Clare told him curtly, “I'm sure if you think on it a bit more, you'll realize that I'm right in this, darling. Trust me, you will thank me for it later.”

        She resumed her seat and took up her book once more, obviously dismissing him. Spike stared at her incredulously for a few moments before standing and skulking towards the door, his head bowed in shame. He paused at the doorway and looked back over his shoulder as his mother, who was once again engrossed in her book.

        Bloody…buggerin' fuck…he thought before whirling around and stalking back towards her. “I'm doing it with or without your support, mother,” He announced as soon as she lifted her head up to look at him inquiringly. “I'd rather have it, but I'm not changing my mind on this. I'm an adult now and it's my decision. There's nothing you can do to change my mind either.”

        “Don't you dare to make pronouncements to me, William,” She told him darkly, “This subject is wearing thin on my patience, and I will not discuss this with you any farther. It's out of the question, and that's final. Understand?”

        “No…I don't bloody well understand!” Spike snapped, his blue eyes blazing in his face, his cheeks flushed with anger. “I'm not going to let you dictate how I should live my own bloody life!”

        “You're living under my roof, William, and thus, under my rules!” Claire finally sat aside her book, standing up to face her slightly taller son eye to eye. “I'll only ask you this one more time…do you understand?”

        “Yes, mother,” Spike hissed out, stiffening his shoulders and straightening his spine resolutely. “I'll have my things packed by the end of the week.” He turned and started for the door once more.

        “Don't you dare turn your back on me!” Clare shouted, but he ignored her steadfastly, “You get back here, NOW!” That had no effect either. “If you walk out that goddamn door, William, don't you bother coming back!”

        “FINE!” Spike snapped over his shoulder at her before racing for the stairs, his feet pounding against the hardwood, their angry clomps echoing hollowly through the house.

        A few moments later, Clare heard the slamming of his bedroom door, and she sighed shakily as she sat back down on the couch. Her shoulders shuddered with repressed sobs as she leaned over her knees and pressed her face into suddenly cold palms.

Part Thirty-Two

        “Son of a bitch,” Buffy glared over her shoulder at the man walking his demon dog from the scene of the crime, unheeding of the damage done to the expensive shoes Drusilla had bought her. Buffy scowled as she scraped the bottom of her shoe on the curb, swearing some more beneath her breath. She groaned a little when a mother with two children shot her a dirty look before hurrying the little ones away.

        “Fuck,” Buffy tilted her head up towards the sky, as if praying for strength. This was shaping up to be the worst week of her life. Firstly, because of jet-lag, she had slept through her first class after the Spring break, and of course, a paper was due at the beginning of it and college professors apparently didn't take jet lag as an excuse for late papers. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, she had failed two pop-quizzes and a test she had forgotten to study for during the Spike-Buffy Spring Sexfest. And speaking of Spike, the last she had spoken to him had been at the airport. Not a single freaking phone call or letter.

        She tried not to get pissed about it, she really did. She loved him and he loved her...or so he said. Spike didn't seem like a Parker-Poophead, so Willow and Buffy called the type of men who slept with a girl and then wanted nothing to do with her. Or so she hoped. She was pretty sure he wasn't…but he hadn't called and he had promised to call her the second she got home.

        Oz, lucky for him, was out of the line of fire. He had gone to LA to look into a band that was searching for a bass player. Otherwise, Buffy would have been all over him about Spike, since he was the only other person who regularly spoke to him. She desperately wanted to know what the hell was up with her boyfriend!

        “Hey! Buffy! Wait up!” Buffy groaned loudly as she stopped, despite her brain asking her what the hell was going up and slowly turned to see Riley Finn trotting up to her, his face all boyish eagerness and oh GOD! Did she not need this right now.

        “Hey, Riley…how's things?” Buffy asked listlessly. She so wanted to be back in her dorm room and shouting obscenities at the phone, not here to be subjected to Riley Please-Remove-Your-Nose-From-My-Ass Finn.

        “Good! No, great!” He practically bounced foot to foot with barely restrained energy and Buffy wondered if the steroids he had to be popping caused hyperactivity disorders. “I'm getting married!”

        “What?” Buffy stared at him blankly, her mind unable to come up with the proper scenario in which any woman would marry him. “You're getting…married?”

        “Yep,” Riley grinned at her,  and she thought she could detect a hint of smugness in it, as if he thought she was losing out on a great catch. “You know her. Sam Goodall? She's in your history course.”

        “Sam?” Buffy repeated, “Really? She seems…” Sane, smart, intelligent…what the hell is wrong with her then?! “Nice. She seems nice.”

        “She's wonderful,” Riley sighed, “It was love at first sight, for both of us. It's great.”

        Buffy wondered if he had some rich family that he stood to inherit from. That was the only explanation. “Wow…I'm…” Stunned, surprised, shocked… pretty sure she's had a recent blow to the head… “I'm happy for you, Riley. I really am.”

        His grin turned to something more serious as he laid a hand on her shoulder, “I know we have…a history, Buffy. But I would be thrilled if you attended,” He then added, probably in deference to any hurt feelings he may have, “You don't have to make a decision now, the wedding isn't until next Christmas…but I would be honored if you came.”

        “Uh…yeah…sure…I'll think about it,” Buffy grunted when she suddenly found herself on the receiving end a Riley hug that could crush lungs. “Eh…need to breath…”

        “Sorry,” Riley realized her and then playfully `slugged' her on the chin, “Ah, don't worry about it, Buffy. I'm sure you'll find someone who'll love you…and uh…your…Dark Lord Satan…”

        “Huh? Oh…right…my…Dark Lord Satan…” Buffy managed a small, sickly smile, “That'll be great.”

        “Also, you might want to wear a little less make-up,” Riley confided to her in a low voice, “I'm only saying this because I'm a good friend…but you look a little like a circus clown.”

        Buffy's hand flew to her face, her eyes widening a little, “Make-up? Clown?”

        Riley nodded, “And the short skirts? Probably not sending the right image to the type of men who're looking for a marriage. But that's okay…you're young. You still have plenty of time to catch a guy. So, keep your chin up…and stay in the game. I might be off the market, but there's plenty of other good guys out there who'd be dying to meet you…”

        After Hurricane Riley departed, leaving Buffy feeling about two inches tall, and only that high because she was wearing high heels covered in dog shit, she let out a choked little sound that could have been a sob if she wasn't too damned shocked to cry.

        She started back towards the campus, already feeling ready to either breakdown into tears or to start crying, when the sky opened up above her. She blinked as she was soaked in seconds, the brief, California downpour that had been threatening to explode all day finally doing so.

        “Oh…just fucking GREAT!” She stalked up towards the dorm building, swearing and cursing up a blue-streak that would even have had Spike blushing if he could hear her. But he couldn't…because the damned asshole HADN'T CALLED!

        She ignored the catcalls of the people sitting around in the common room, watching television as she stomped past. As if she wasn't aware already that she looked like crap and that her mascara was running down her face.

        She slammed the door of her room, and leaned against it, turning her eyes towards the ceiling as she fought for some control of herself. However, the fact remained that she was wet, pissed and thanks to Riley and the absentee boyfriend, was having some severe self-esteem issues that wasn't helped by a glance into her mirror.

        She kicked off her shoes angrily, only to swear when one bounced off the wall and struck one of her shelves, shattering a small, silvered glass perfume bottle that had been a gift from her grandma before she died. She checked the answering machine, and nearly sobbed in relief when she saw the light blinking and pressed play.

        “Hey, Wills…it's me…just wanted to let you know that'll I'll be coming home tomorrow night. Think it looks good for the band. They need work, but since the bandleader lives in Sunnydale, Dingoes Ate My Baby will be doing a bunch of gigs down there that I can sit in on until we come up with something more permanent. Anyway…love you, miss you…see you tomorrow…oh, and wear something nice…I'll take you out to celebrate…”

        Buffy viciously stabbed the stop button, gritting her teeth angrily. Great…even Oz, he of the monosyllables, knew enough to call his girlfriend, but Spike, who otherwise could not keep his stupid mouth shut,  was still silent on the phone front. Grreeeatttt.

        Buffy went over to the fridge, intending to devour the last of the chocolate fudge ice cream hidden within the freezer. Of course, going with Buffy's fantastically horrible luck, it was empty. She couldn't even scrape off a bit of chocolate from the inside. What stupid idiot would put the ice cream carton back in the freezer after eating it all…wait…that was her.

        “Great!” Buffy slammed the empty container into the trash before collapsing onto her bed and covering her head with her arms. She just wanted the world to go away and leave her be for the rest of the day. She couldn't handle anymore bullshit.

        Of course, that was when the phone rang.

        Buffy groaned as she rolled out of bed and reached for the cordless, “Willow's not here,” She grumped into it, “Call back later.”

        “Buffy? Luv?”

        “Spike?!” Buffy was excited for a brief moment before it faded, and she scowled at the wall, “Gee…it's great to hear from you, Spike. It's only been…what? A week and a damn half?!”

        “Yeah, I know, baby…sorry,” Spike sat on the edge of a patio chair near the pool, staring bleakly out into the darkness, broken only intermittently by a few streaks of lightening. The only lights within the pool house was the ones beneath the water, illuminating it a startling, aquamarine. He almost wept with relief at hearing Buffy's voice again. Even if she sounded incredibly pissed. “Pet…listen…”

        “I'm not in the mood right now, Spike,” Buffy said shortly, “I'm tired, I've had a real fucking horrible day…and the last thing I want to do right now is talk to you.”

        Spike blinked at the hostility in her voice and scowled a little, “I'm sorry, luv…but I really need to…”

        “Not in the mood for phone sex, Spike,” Buffy snarked, “You know, I really needed to talk to you earlier. I've been having a shitty time of it since I got home, and I really wish that my boyfriend would have at least taken time out of his oh-so-important busy schedule to give me a call. But of course…I have to wait until you need something before you give my ass a call. Excuse me if I'm not exactly thrilled to hear from you right now!”

        “I did try to call you!” Spike protested wearily, not wanting to get into an argument with her. He had already had one fight with one woman he loved, and he didn't want to have one with Buffy. “Xander didn't pass on the bloody message, obviously…”

        “Yeah, whatever…and it didn't ever occur to you to try calling again?” Buffy asked, rolling her eyes even though he could not see it, “I'm hanging up now, Spike.”

        “Buffy…pet…” Spike took a deep breath, closing his eyes when the line went dead. He hung his head as he hit automatic redial.

        “Goddamn it, Spike!”

        “You bloody well listen to me,” He seethed out, “I'm sorry you had a shitty week, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I really should've been…I get that. I'm a bloody stupid idiot…”

        “Well…duh. You're just getting that now?!”

        “Goddammit, Buffy! I don't want to soddin' argue with you!” He snapped angrily, “If you'd stop being a selfish bitch for half a fuckin' second…!”

        “Fuck you, Spike!” Buffy shouted back at him, and he cringed at the volume she achieved, even over the phone, “GAWD! I can't even believe that…UGH! You're such an incredible jerk! I must've have been freaking crazy to think we could manage this!”

        “Manage what?” Spike's face crossed in a dark look.

        “This…this whole long distance thing!” Buffy snapped, “Hell…I doubt we could even make it short distance! You're just so…damned infuriating! And irritating! And you suck!”

        “I'm just goin' to let that slide,” Spike growled over the line, “Mostly because I can't do this with you right now. You wanna throw a bloody hissy fit over your damned completely horrible little life, fine. You could at least me tell you about my fuckin' horrible day, about how I don't have a home anymore, and how I pretty much told me mum to go fuck off so that I can move down there to be with you…but I guess you don't want to hear that, because I'm infuriating, irritating…and I suck…”

        “You did what?!” Buffy didn't sound as thrilled as he had hoped she would be. “Oh…don't you dare fob that one off on me. Did I ask  you to do that?!”

        “No…you didn't,” Spike admitted, “But I'd thought you'd at least be happy. I did it to be with you. I love you, Buffy…”

        “Jesus, Spike…” Buffy's voice sounded strangled. Was she crying? Was it happy crying? “What in the hell have you done?”

        “I did what I needed to do,” He said gruffly, “I'm giving up everything to be with you, Buffy. Hell…I already gave up everything for you…”

        “No…” Buffy pressed her hand over her eyes, “Fuck, Spike…don't be an idiot.”

        “What?!” Spike was having a hard time keeping control of his temple, “I'm an idiot now?!”

        “Yes!” Buffy cried, “I'm not going to let you do this, Spike! I'm not…I don't want to be the girl who tore your family apart and ruined your life, all right? You're going to resent me!”

        “I'm not…”

        “Yes, you are!” Buffy stood up off of her bed and paced her bedroom, gesturing her free hand angrily, the other pressing the phone hard against her ear,  “When we break up, you're going to be all pissed off because you gave up everything for me! You think I want that on my conscience?”

        “If we break up, you mean,” Spike corrected tightly, “Not when, if.”

        “No, Spike…” Buffy sounded weary, “When. Seriously…how can a relationship like ours last? I mean…God…we're too different. I love you…but I can't do this. Not if you're going to ruin your entire life to be with me. I can't do that to you. You have to understand…”

        “It's my life, Buffy…leave it to me to worry about ruining,” Spike hated the note of pleading in his voice. He was beginning to once more hate the power she had over him. “I love you. We can make it last, dammit…we're in love!”

        “Sometimes, love isn't enough, Spike,” Buffy told him quietly, “My parents loved each other and your parents loved each other…but look at what happened to them. And hell…I bet they had more in common then we do. Spike…William…if…if you do this, you won't have me here to support you. I'm sorry…but I can't just be apart of this.”

        “Jesus Christ, Buffy! Don't do this to me!” Spike surged to his feet, yelling into the phone now, his forced patience disappearing rapidly. “If you love me, you won't do this!”

        “Don't you dare try to emotional blackmail me!” Buffy shouted back at him, “Jesus! That's just as bad as Ang-“

        “Don't you FUCKING compare him to me!” Spike roared, “You goddamn BITCH! I'd do ANYTHING for you! I gave up EVERYTHING! My mother, my home…hell! Probably even my money! All for you! And all you wanna do in return is rip my fuckin' HEART into pieces!? There's something really seriously WRONG with you!”

        “I can't do this…” Buffy was definitely crying now, “I'm sorry, Spike…but I just…can't…” She sobbed, “I love you, Spike…but…fuck…” There was a strangled cry on her end before the line went dead. The phone dropped from his numb fingers.

        He turned slowly and stared out into the dark night, the rain pelting the windows and his barely there reflection looking back at him with wild, unfocused eyes. His hands suddenly clenched and he screamed with anger as he lifted his fists and put them through the glass. “FUCKING BITCH!”

        He was unheeding off the blood he dripped onto the slick tile as the rain fell through the hole in the glass, pelting him in the face and mingling with the tears upon his face. He swiped one hand across his face,  the blood running down his face in gory streaks of crimson.

        ”Stupid…fucking…BITCH!” He choked out, putting his fists through another window. The pain meant nothing to him…couldn't even begin to compare with the pain in his chest.

        The blood was pouring freely now, gathering in puddles upon the white tile. He continued to break windows with his bare hands until they were a mass of shredded flesh, and then he turned his rage onto the patio furniture, overturning tables and kicking chairs. The phone rang and he turned staring at the innocuous looking piece of technology, lying harmless and unassuming on the ground.

        “FUCKING BITCH!” He snarled again, racing forward and kicking the phone so that it soared through another window, tinkling glass briefly covering up the irritating ringing. Unfortunately, he followed too far through on the kick and his legs went out from beneath him.

        Spike slammed into the tile, his scalp splitting open upon the broken glass and hard, unforgiving tile. He lay there for several minutes, blood pouring from his head and hands, dazedly trying to remember to breath. When he had managed to catch his breath a little, he struggled to his feet, laughter and sobs mingling in his throat as he fought to stay upright, dragging himself along the patio. However, his vision became darker and darker as he fought to remain conscious. He had a brief glimpse of aquamarine water shimmering in his vision as he collapsed, and then the sensation of liquid pressing down onto him from all sides as he fell. He closed his eyes slowly, Buffy's name escaping his lips in an explosion of bubbles that flew rapidly to the surface in a sea of red water.

        “Please…please…Spike…pick up…” Buffy pleaded through her tears, sniffling as the snot gathered in her nose, “Please…” The call went through to his voice mail and she sobbed.

        “Spike…please…call me back. I'm so sorry,” She said pleadingly into the phone, “I'm sorry…you're right, I was being a bitch, okay? I was just in a pissy-ass mood…and I was taking it out on you. I was being stupid, honey…I…please? Call me back? I'll…I'll be waiting by the phone, okay?” Buffy sniffled again, “I…Spike, I didn't mean it…I love you, baby. I love you…”

        “Bloody hell...” Giles forced one eye open, glancing at his alarm clock as it gave out several shrill rings. However, he immediately was confused, seeing it was three AM in the morning. He sure was hell didn't set it for that time!

        “Rupert…it's the phone,” Joyce told him, already sitting up in bed. She was immediately struck with the mother's panic that someone was calling to tell her that her baby was dead or hurting in a gutter or hospital somewhere.

        “Oh…quite…right…” Giles fumbled for his glasses, slid them lopsided onto his face and then grabbed the annoyingly buzzing receiver. “'Allo?” He asked gruffly, “Do you have any idea…Clare?!”

        Joyce immediately relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief that her baby was fine before remembering that Giles had babies of his own. She immediately went rigid when Giles started to look panicked, “Oh…Jesus…is he…?” Giles went silent for several seconds, his eyes on Joyce's as his face slowly began to pale and the shock of what he was hearing on the other end causing him to start breathing heavily, “Oh…Jesus…God…no…no…no…”

        “Rupert?”

        Giles slammed his eyes shut as he listened to the woman crying on the other end of the phone and whispered softly to his wife, “It's William…”

        “Oh…God…Rupert, what's happened?”

Part Thirty-Three

        Willow groaned and rolled over in bed with a frown as she glanced at her alarm clock, and then at the door which was being pounded upon in annoyance. If the girl who lived down the hall from them got drunk and forgot which room was hers again, she was going to have to get medieval on drunk girl's ass.

        “Coming, coming,” Willow grumbled, casting a look at Buffy, who was sleeping like the dead, her face a little red and puffy. Puffy Buffy. Willow's stern expression automatically softened, remembering the mess she had found her best friend in the night before. However, she wasn't too worried about her. She and Spike were mad in love and one little fight wasn't going to change that. He would just have to get used to Buffy's pissy little moods when he moved down here. God knew Willow had gotten used to them, and she loved her friend more than life itself. That was probably the only thing that kept her from slapping the blonde upside the head whenever she got a little too snippy.

        Bet she's in a better mood when she's getting laid on a regular basis, Willow thought with a sly smirk. Once Spike moved down to Sunnydale, she had a hunch that Buffy's moods were immensely improve. Nothing like a big slab of meat to curb those bitchier attitudes…

        “Willow! Buffy! Will one of you please open up?” Joyce's voice was filled with desperation and Willow, alarmed, yanked on her robe and flung open the door.

        “God…Joyce!” Willow looked over the elder woman's appearance in surprise. She was still dressed in her nightclothes, a long trench coat that belonged to Giles thrown on over top. Her eyes were red with crying and they were filled with anguish. “Joyce?! What's wrong? Is it…is it Giles?”

        “No…no…he's fine,” Joyce slipped inside, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to worry it as she glanced at her peacefully sleeping daughter. “He's…the doctor gave him some sedatives…but…oh Lord…I thought he was having a heart attack…” She laughed bitterly before covering her mouth with her hand as Buffy stirred.

        “Mommy?” Buffy blinked slowly, and then shook the sleep from her eyes as she sat up, “Mom? What are you doing here?” She asked sleepily, and as she came more awake, alarm suffused her voice, “Mom? What's wrong?”

        “Oh…baby…” Joyce sat on the bed next to her daughter and pulled her into a tight hug, “Oh…baby…I'm…I'm so sorry…” She let out a sob, “I'm so sorry…”

        “Mom…is it…is it Giles?” Buffy asked fearfully, “His heart? He's all right, right?”

        “No…no…Rupert's…he's fine…” Joyce glanced at Willow, who sat on the other side of her, lying a hand against the older woman's shoulder.

        Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, “God, mom…you had me all panicked…I thought he had died or something…” Joyce closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Mom?”

        “It's…it's William, Buffy…” The young girl tensed in her arms, “He's…he's had an accident an-and…”

        “Wh-what?” Buffy's eyes widened as she started to shake, now terrified, “He's…what kind of accident?! Is he all right?!”

        Joyce slowly shook her head, meeting Buffy's terrified gaze, “I'm…I'm sorry, baby…but…he's…” She didn't even have to finish the sentence before Buffy was shaking her head in denial.

        “No…oh…God…please…no…” She covered her face with her hands and let out a mournful wail.

        “Hey,” Willow gently nudged Oz as they pulled up the long driveway in the rental van. He was staring outside the window, not speaking as he watched the landscape pass by. “Honey…you…you all right?”

        He turned his gaze from the window, his eyes dark in his pale face, and he let out a shuddering breath as he ran a hand across the black spikes adorning his head. He didn't have to answer her, his answer conveyed clearly in his eyes. Willow smiled wanly in support before glancing into the backseat.

        Buffy's knees were curled up onto her chest as she stared out the window, just as Oz had been doing, her lips set in a thin line, a severe line cutting through her forehead. Willow was still waiting for her to cry, but it had not happened as of yet.

        “Just…just pull around up front,” Giles told Joyce softly, his hands clutching the armrests of his seat as he stared forward at the house looming before them, the front seemingly bathed in shadows on this dreary late Spring day.

        Joyce did not say anything as she parked and then reached across the front seat to clasp one of Giles' hands, wrapping her fingers around the shaky appendage. He glanced at her, his face full of weariness and sorrow before he let out a shaky breath and opened his door.

        The group huddled in the driveway for several minutes, staring at everything but the house and each other. Buffy stood off to the side, arms wrapped around her middle, and she wouldn't speak when spoken too and wouldn't allow anyone to touch her either. She wouldn't partake in the comfort of human touch, and it broke Willow's heart to no end. Oh…Buffy…

        The front door opened while they were still gathering their thoughts, and a dark-haired woman glanced out. She looked about forty years older than her true age, and only by the designer clothes she was wearing did Willow know this was Clare Mansfield, Spike's mother. The pictures she had seen showed a much more beautiful and younger looking woman, but under the weight of what had happened, she had wilted.

        In only a few steps, she was down the stairs and in Giles' arms, breathing out a shaky, “Rupert.” He hugged her back tightly even as Joyce rubbed the small of his back, eyes on the ground as the exes gave each other a modicum of comfort.

        “Joyce,” Giles said simply and the two women clasped hands, their eyes conveying the emotions that only mothers could read and understand. They embraced after only a moment's hesitation.

        Clare pulled away after several minutes, turning her gaze on the others there, “Daniel,” She greeted Oz softly, “Lovely to see you again.” Her voice cracked and he hugged her without prompting.

        “This is Willow, my girlfriend,” He introduced quietly, and Clare smiled at her wanly.

        “Buffy's told me a gre-great deal about you,” Clare said softly, clasping Willow's hand with a tiny nod.

        Her eyes fell on Buffy next, who flinched visibly before looking at the ground. “Buffy…” Clare walked up to her and tilted her chin up. “How are you, dear?”

        “I…I'm…” Buffy's voice failed her and she glanced away from Clare's probing gaze.

        “Yes, I know the feeling,” Clare said with false lightness, and she turned back to the others. “There…there are rooms set up for everyone. I'll have your bags brought in…come with me, please…”

        Buffy shuffled behind the others, everyone subdued, as if the weight of the world pressed down upon their shoulders, trying to force them to their knees. Buffy, for her own part, felt like she was in a constant free-fall, with her heart in her throat and bile churning in her stomach as she fell, waiting for eternity to strike the ground.

        The foyer was filled with flowers. The sickly sweet smell gave it the air of a funeral parlor and made Buffy ill. She wanted to run, screaming from the room, not stopping until she reached the ocean and could plunge into its cold depths, hoping the sudden shock would stop her heart. Then again, what was the point? It already felt like her heart had stopped beating in her chest.

        Buffy looked up when she heard leaden footsteps upon the stairs and saw Drusilla, frail and pale looking, not at all the energetic, beautiful girl she remembered. She was being supported by a middle-age gentleman with a hand upon her arm. Drusilla froze on the stairs when she saw the group of people standing there, and stumbled down to fall into her father's arms with a muted cry.

        Giles almost collapsed to his knees as he held his daughter, tears pouring down his own face. The others almost wept to see them.

        Buffy's eyes were still dry; she felt like a stone, an unfeeling statue that only watched with impassive eyes the world that passed before her. She was too numb to weep, too numb to feel anything.

        Drusilla shakily released her father, and once again, the unidentified man laid a hand on her shoulder to steady her, whispering something in her ear. Drusilla nodded, but when her eyes fell on Buffy, all sorrow in them disappeared to be replaced by pure, unadulterated anger.

        There was no shakiness as she swept across the room, and Buffy could dimly hear the gasps over the sound of palm striking the flesh of an unprotected cheek.

        “You bitch,” Drusilla hissed at her, “How dare you show your face here!”

        “Drusilla!” Clare was alarmed as she went towards her daughter, grabbing her arm, but Drusilla easily shook her off.

        “You bitch! You killed him! You murdered him!” She was sobbing again as she grabbed at Buffy's hair, yanking at it as she drew her nails across the cheek she hadn't slapped. “You FUCKING BITCH!” She howled as the man dragged her off of her stepsister, “I hope you fucking rot in hell, you murdering WHORE!”

        Oh God, oh God, oh God…Buffy stared after Drusilla as she was dragged into another room, still screaming and hurling obscenities at her. Every single one deserving. Buffy's thin frame trembled as a heavy door was shut, her almost demented screams becoming muted behind the oak that was the only thing protecting her at the moment.

        “Oh, God, Buffy…” Clare turned towards her, “You mustn't listen to her…she's been…she's been hysterical since…you mustn't blame yourself…it was an accident…”

        Buffy shook her head in denial, drawing away from the kindness and forgiveness that should not be in her eyes. Buffy glanced at her friends and family, seeing the horrified confusion in their eyes. Except Willow and Oz. They looked at her with pity…fucking pity! Like she deserved it!

        When Joyce tried to reach for her, Buffy stumbled back with a wounded cry and turned, fleeing out the front door. “Buffy!” Joyce cried, making to follow, but Giles caught her arm.

        “I think…I think she needs a little time alone,” Giles said sorrowfully, “I don't think she'll let us speak to her just yet…”

        “But that's my baby, Rupert,” Joyce protested, “She's hurting…”

        “I know, love,” Giles kissed the top of her head, drawing her into his arms. “But…but she'll just run away even farther…just…we need to give her some time…”

        Joyce stifled a small sob as she covered her mouth and turned into her husband's arms. She hated it, but he was right…oh…Rupert…darling…everything's coming apart…

        Buffy slumped over the stone bench, gasping and dry-heaving, her empty stomach giving up nothing but a little bit of bile that stung her throat and mouth.

        Oh…God…Spike…William…She gasped again as a sharp jolt of pain ran over her body, and she slowly rolled off of the bench and onto the damp grass. It wasn't a physical pain, but it was agony, nevertheless. It was then that she noticed that she was lying beside the same bench that she and Spike had sat on after their first and only date. When he had confessed his love and devotion to her, never knowing that she would rip his heart out just because she was in a pissy mood and had lashed out at the nearest person.

        Oh…God…it hurts…make it stop hurting…she pleaded as she curled into a ball, wanting to sob, to scream, to do anything. But she couldn't make herself cry, as if she wasn't allowed to cry. She didn't deserve to cry for him. Drusilla was right…she had killed Spike.

        She shoved herself to her feet, unable to stand being in that spot for one more moment. She didn't deserve the happy memories of him either.

        She looked around her, her eyes falling upon the pool house, where Spike had spent his last few moments alive and found her feet carrying her in that direction, even though that was the last place on Earth she wanted to be. From the side she was standing on, everything was calm and quiet, as it should be, her reflection in the glass cast back at her. Her hair was nearly standing on end, one cheek was red from the slap Drusilla had given her, and the other was covered in drying blood from the long scratches that Dru had gouged in her flesh. Her clothes were rumbled and her panty hose was missing its knee.

        She tore her eyes away from the reflection of a broken and beaten girl and traveled around to the other side. Glass that littered the ground glittered in the sun that peeked out from between the clouds, shards of it covered in blood.

        She approached the broken windows, trying not to see the blood that had dripped down them and stumbled as one of her flats came off. Her foot stepped on a piece of glass but she ignored the fresh blood that mingled with the dried. She ignored the pain.

        The pool had been drained, but that was the extent of cleaning up anyone had done, as if no one in the house had the heart to clean up the last traces of a beautiful, amazing man she had taken horribly for granted. The bit of water that still remained in the bottom was tinged pink, the tile covered in gore and blood. She could see the spot where he had struck his head, a wide halo that reached out as far as it could, tendrils of blood having traveled along the grout. She lifted her hand against a still intact pane of glass, unaware that it was perfectly lined up with a bloody handprint on the other side.

        With some difficulty and cut fingers and legs, Buffy climbed through a shattered pane and came to stand over the pool, staring down into the pink water that remained at the bottom. She slowly sat down on the edge of the pool, her legs dangling over the edge and her remaining shoe dropped off with a plink. She stared down at it blankly and then lifted her head, staring forward, her eyes unfocused. Spike…I am so…sorry…and I did it anyways, didn't I? Didn't want to tear your family apart…but I did it anyways…oh…God! I love you, baby…you know that, right? I love you!

        For the first and last time, Buffy wept.

        “Buffy!” Willow slid her flashlight along the bushes, “BUFFY! Please! Answer me!”

        Oz held her hand in support, shooting her a comforting smile, “We'll find her.”

        Willow didn't answer, merely chewed on her lip as she glanced across the grounds. In the distance, she could see Giles' flashlight as he searched the other side. She shook her head before looking forward again, blinking when her light reflected back at her.

        “Oh…God, Oz…you don't think…” Willow hunched her shoulders as she stared at the pool house. “She wouldn't…she wouldn't go in there, right?”

        He took the flashlight from her, “I'll check,” He said resolutely, even though he'd rather not see the place where his best friend died. “You wait here.”

        “No…I'll…” Willow took a deep breath, “No, I'll come with you.” They held onto each other's hands tightly as they went around the other side of the pool house, and Willow's grip tightened enough to make him wince. “That's…that's Buffy's shoe.”

        “Maybe you ought to get Giles,” Oz suggested, and Willow nodded before reluctantly releasing him and racing across the lawn. Oz stepped carefully towards the shattered windows and swept his light across the dark patio, trying to block out the image of blood covering everything. His flashlight faltered and then fell upon Buffy's deathly still form. She was sitting on the edge of the empty pool, staring straight ahead, her back to him.

        “God…Buffy…” Oz closed his eyes against a swell of anguish, “Buffy…come out of there, okay? Please? I don't want to come in there after you…just…come on out…and we'll get you something to eat, a'right?” She completely ignored him, “Okay…if you're not hungry…we'll get you something else…anything you want…just come out of there…”

        “I'm here,” Giles panted heavily as he came up beside Oz, his face twisting in pain when he glanced inside. “Oh…Jesus Christ…”

        Maybe getting Giles hadn't been the best of plans. Oz cursed himself for not thinking. Of course it'd be worse for Giles to see then Oz. Spike was his fucking son. “I'll get her, Mr. Giles,” Oz said, which was unnecessary, since Giles was already breathing heavily and being lowered to a sitting position by Willow as the elder man covered his head with his hands with a choked sob.

        “Buffy…” Oz winced as he cut his finger on a piece of glass and then stepped onto the tile. He played his flashlight along it, noticing that small footprints, all of the same foot, were outlined upon the tile in blood. She had cut herself when she had lost her shoe, obviously, and it disturbed him that she hadn't even cared enough to seek help for it.

        “Buffy, come on…I know you're hurting…but cut this shit out,” He hissed, sounding harsher than he intended. But fuck…this place…this place was horrible. He never wanted to see it again and he never thought he'd remove the image of his best friend's blood painting the tile a rusty crimson would ever get out of his head. He was sure he'd have nightmares about this until the day he died. He wanted to grab Buffy, shake her and scream in her face, make her wake up and realize how fuckin' stupid and selfish she was being, by making him come in here after her, by making Giles look in at all the blood and glass and have to smell the reek of congealing blood and chlorine. Fuck…he'd never be able to swim in a pool again…that scent…that biting, sharp scent of chlorine was forever tainted in his scent memory.

        He grabbed her shoulder, waiting for her to react, either to shove him off or to tell him to fuck off. Neither happened; instead, her body limply carried with the movement, and he had to catch her, lest she crack her skull upon the tire.

        “Bu-Buffy?” Oh, fuck, Jesus fuck Christ, no no no, fuck, fuck Jeuss…Oz thought hysterically as he stared down into Buffy's blank and unseeing eyes. “Buffy?!” He shook her in alarm, but she only jiggled in his grasp.

        “Oh…God…no…” Giles scrambled over into the pool area, now panicked,  “Oh God…don't tell me…please…”

        “She's alive,” Oz told him quietly, only marginally relieved when he saw her chest rising and falling in even breaths, but that cold, dead, not there stare…oh God…it was…it was freaking horrible and it made his skin crawl on his flesh and made him want to scream and cry and laugh hysterically, all at the same time.

        “Buffy?” Giles yanked her from Oz's arms and halfway into his lap, “Buffy?! BUFFY!” He shook her, hard, her head flopping limply on her shoulders, lolling to the sides, “BUFFY!”

        Oz covered his mouth as he backed away from the horrifying scene, trying to keep in the hysteria that swam around his brain as Giles shouted and cried over his stepdaughter's lifeless but alive body. Oz turned away when Giles buried his face against her throat with a anguished sob, and met Willow's wide, green eyes, seconds before they rolled up into her head and she fainted dead away upon the grass.

        “God, no!” Giles sobbed, “BUFFY!”

Epilogue

        “Can we please just take her home?” Joyce twisted her hands together, staring at her daughter, who stared back at her. She might as well have been staring at a wall, for all the good it did.

        “Mrs. Giles…you have to understand Buffy's condition,” The doctor told the woman gently, glancing at the older gentleman who sat slouched in his chair, his eyes almost as unfocused as Buffy's. “She's suffering from undifferentiated schizophrenia, and that is when she's not in a completely catatonic state. She's created…a multi-layered fantasy world where…she's some sort of superhero…”

        “The Slayer,” Giles provided quietly, watching his silent and broken stepdaughter with sorrowful eyes.

        “Yes…the Slayer,” The doctor nodded at him with a wan smile, “Everyone she knows…somehow, they've become involved in this…elaborate fantasy where she…fights mythical or fanciful creatures…and vampires. In her mind, she's the central figure in a world beyond imagination, surrounded by her friends who all have their own superpowers,” He glanced at Giles apologetically, “Including your son.”

        “Whose a vampire,” Giles muttered beneath his breath, almost bitterly, “A creature that cannot die.”

        “And one that she has tried to kill on several occasions, but ultimately cannot,” The doctor shook his head slowly. “It's a severe case, I'm afraid. Medication does not temper the hallucinations, and even if it did, it would not help the catatonia,” The doctor sighed heavily, “I'm afraid…I'm afraid there is really nothing I can do to help her…”

        Joyce was silently crying as she reached out and stroked her fingers along her catatonic daughter's cheek, “I guess…” She swallowed heavily, “I guess we can only hope that she's…she's happy wherever she is…”

        “Buffy…wait the soddin' hell up!” Spike scowled as he caught up to her side, nearly tripping on a headstone, “Bloody hell, Slayer…you're gonna be the death of me one of these days…”

        Buffy turned towards him and smiled slowly before wrapping her arms around his waist and standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Not if I can help it, blood-breath.”

        “Bitch,” He muttered fondly, his blue eyes alight with love and adoration.

        “Don't call me bitch, asshole,” Buffy countered with a giggle as he attacked her throat with a playful growl.

        “Don't call me asshole, bitch.”

The End

Author's Notes:

Okay, so, I don't do the author's notes thing at the end of the story, but what the hell. I want to thank everyone for the love and support they've shown me during the making of this story…and wow! Can I say amazed that it's finally over? I want to say thank you bunches to Chen, who helped me get through the writer's block to write the final chapters and thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed. I didn't expect this fic to be so well received, considering how AU it is. And yeah, I know…bittersweet ending, huh? I was just going to end with the whole `Normal Again' theme, but I thought…damn…at least give them something a little happy to leave with. Once again, I want to say thank you to Chen, who helped me break out of the fluffy mold and actually do something that was somewhat dark for once. I'm almost sorry to see the story end, but I hoped you guys enjoyed it…and nope, sorry. No sequel. Whatcha see is what you get. Please, review below, let me know if you liked/hated/loved it. Thanks!

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