Challenge: 136

What happens when Joyce meets a nice young man at her gallery and decides to invite him for dinner...and maybe play matchmaker with her young, single daughter Buffy? How does the slayer react to a mother that doesn't know about slayers and vamps and a vampire determined to encourage her mother’s efforts?

Must haves:

1. Buffy trying desperately to keep her mom from finding out about her chosen status

2. Spike discovering his feelings for Buffy earlier than in canon. (Set maybe season 2-3)

3. Buffy finally giving in and agreeing to a date (much to Spike's surprise)

Can haves:

1. Angel jealous that Joyce likes Spike

2. Buffy plotting fun little ways to stake Spike without Joyce seeing, but her daydreaming keeps turning naughty

3. Angel starting a fight and Buffy defending Spike

This was written for Summer of Spike. Is complete now but I need to write an epilogue.

   Chapter 1

     As Buffy wearily closed the back door behind her, she suddenly stopped in shock.

    Her mom was busy in the kitchen and appeared to be cooking.  A lot.

 "Uh... Mom? What are you doing? Because that looks suspiciously like cooking to me." Buffy's forehead wrinkled in concentration. "I can't remember the last time you actually cooked."

Joyce spun around from her intent vigil at the stove at the sound of her daughter's voice, wiping her hands on the frilly apron that covered her work clothes. "Buffy! You're home early."

    Buffy's eyebrow raised with skepticism at her mom's June Cleaver impersonation - a side of her mom that had not been witnessed since their days in L.A. Before she had been chosen. When she actually used to have a real family life with two parents and everything. "Very observey. Are you feeling ok?"

    Joyce laughed, a brittle sound that only increased Buffy's dread. It continued to magnify when her mom picked up the water glass beside the stove and brought it to her lips, the slight viscosity indicating that it was most definitely not water that filled it. "I'm fine, Buffy," she assured.

    Buffy slung her backpack off her shoulder and dropped it at one of the stools in the kitchen island. "Ok, mom, now you're scaring me. What's the what?"

    Joyce waved gaily with a stirring spoon. "We're having company for dinner, that's all. Really Buffy, no need to turn everything I do into a dramatic production."

    Buffy gaped behind her mother's back, barely able to stifle the urge to reply that she obviously wasn't the one turning something into a dramatic production. Swallowing the sarcasm, she opted to play the good daughter, knowing that it led to fewer confrontations. "Oh really?" she responded perkily. "So who is coming?"

    Joyce's reply was irritatingly vague. "A customer from the gallery."

    Buffy's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Oh, I get it. Some middle-aged hottie with a mutual interest in art, huh?"

    Joyce threw a flustered look over her shoulder. "Buffy, please, it's nothing like that at all. He's much too young for me. It's just a customer I've gotten to know who is new in town and doesn't know anybody. I just thought it would be nice to have him over for dinner so he could meet some people. William is such a nice young man and I don't like knowing he's by himself all the time."

   Apparently 'meet some people' was code for... her. Well, that was a new one. Again, knowing it was easier to give in rather than argue, Buffy merely sighed. "So what time is dinner?"

    "Six."

    Another quiet sigh, followed with an eye roll, and Buffy grabbed her discarded backpack and headed out of the kitchen, mentally calculating her evening to include sneaking out for patrol later. "I guess I'll go do my homework before dinner then."

    "After you finish with it, can you come down here and set the table?"

    Buffy nodded, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl to tide her over.

    "Oh, and Buffy?"

    Buffy paused at the kitchen entry and looked at her mom questioningly.

    "Wear that dress we got you last week at the mall."

    It was all Buffy could do to keep her mouth shut with that one, however the incredulous look on her face should have clued her mom in on how ridiculous that request really was. 

    "Ooo-kay," Buffy replied and escaped up the stairs.

    Forty-five minutes later, Buffy looked at the clock and groaned. Her stupid algebra homework was kicking her ass. God she hated math. It wasn't fair anyway, she should be exempt from homework or something. If she had to put her life on the line every night, she should have at least gotten some sort of brainy compensation... As it was, she was barely hanging on in the school department, and being completely drained because she'd had to stay up late battling the baddies just so didn't help.

    Finding herself eager to escape the nightmare that was her schoolwork - even given the only available distraction - Buffy crossed the room and grabbed the requested dress from its hanger and slid it over her head. Once it had settled in flawless lines around her hips, Buffy looked at herself critically in the mirror. Yeah, it looked as good now as it had when she had tried it on at the mall. The deep red complimented her highlighted hair and the tan she had worked hard to mantain the thin straps and tight bodice pushed her cleavage up while the silky material fell in neat lines before stopping at mid-thigh. With her strappy black sandals, Buffy had to admit she looked pretty good.

    But itwas cause for some freakage that her mom requested THIS dress, since the woman had tried to talk Buffy out it, saying it was too 'grown up' for her seventeen years. So... to have her mom request she wear it for the mysterious young gentleman caller?

    Oh yeah, it screamed of the wiggage.

    Buffy heard the doorbell ring just as she was applying the last bit of make-up and couldn't help the stab of curiosity that accompanied the sound. Her mom wasn't big with the subtle and since Buffy knew she couldn't stand Angel, it could only be assumed that this was an attempt to replace the 'older boyfriend' in Buffy's life.

    With... another older guy? God, her mom was pulling out all the stops for this one. 

       "Joyce," Buffy heard a cultured voice float up the stairs, "I do appreciate your kind invitation." Great. Another Giles. Buffy could just picture him - nerdy and tweedy. Probably had adult acne or something equally gross.

    "I'm so glad you could make it, William," her mother replied. "Come in, please."

    Buffy took one last look in the mirror and after deeming herself satisfied with her appearance, headed down to put herself on display for her mom's guest.

    As she descended the stairs, her curiosity grew stronger. She couldn't help but wonder just what kind of a guy her mom was trying to set her up with,   because hello... jailbait much? 

    A familiar tingle began teasing her senses, but before she could properly acknowledge it, Buffy suddenly found herself distracted. Big time. She caught her first sight of the back of 'William' and her eyes were immediately drawn to his ass. It was definitely something to appreciate. Of course, the pair of faded levi's that were tight in all the right places and slung low on narrow hips didn't hurt either. The next thing Buffy checked out were the shoes. She liked shoes and Angel always wore the same pair of dorky ones. She gave a mental thumbs up at the brown pair of preppy chunky loafers she found. Adding the white oxford button-down shirt that was tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to reveal some damn nice forearms and Buffy could see that tweedy wasn't an issue here. Her eyes found their way back to his butt before she had completed a full perusal.

    "Oh, Buffy. There you are," her mother greeted her as she cleared the last step. "I have someone for you to meet."

    Pasting on a smile that she didn't have to work too hard to fake, she waited for the guy with the nice ass to turn around, the familiar tingle finally penetrating her awareness a millisecond before the full onslaught of facial features came into view.

    Oh. My. God. Buffy could feel the blood drain from her face and her breath hitched painfully in her chest. Her hands itched for the familiar weight of Mr. Pointy, and her eyes darted around furtively for the nearest substitute.

    "This is William. William, my daughter Buffy," Joyce introduced, oblivious to any emotional undercurrents flooding the air. She took a step back expectantly to witness how her introduction went over. Oh, she knew this wasn't the best idea, but Joyce just really didn't like that Angel fellow one little bit. And since she knew he was older than her daughter, it didn't seem that wrong to introduce Buffy to someone else in the same age range. She knew most parents would disagree with her logic, but she herself never dated from her high school dating pool, opting for the older - and much cooler - college guy.

    The look on Buffy's face confused her, however. Her daughter appeared to be almost... glaring at their guest.

*****

    Spike had a hard time keeping his familiar smirk off of his face at the slayer's reaction, it was bloody priceless. It was well worth the potential staking just to have caused it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Buffy. I've heard quite a bit about you from your mother," he commented smoothly, her name sounding strange on his lips as he extended a hand in her direction.

    Buffy merely stared into his face, her fury mounting with each insincere, Giles-sounding word that came out of that stupid mouth. She hadn't seen him since he had managed to restore Drusilla to health and fled into the night with the insane ho in his arms; leaving behind a fiery situation that she'd had to deal with.  Because burning down a church? Not much with the coolness there. 

    And now here he was. Invited into her house. For dinner. By her mother. With gelled, tousled curls and a pair of preppy glasses perched on his nose. And damned if Buffy's traitorous mind didn't whisper that it was a good look on him.

    Apparently she had taken too long to respond because her mother had a puzzled look on her face. "Buffy?" she asked meaningfully.

    Translated into mom-speak meant - get your act together.

    Pasting on her patented courtesy smile, Buffy slid her palm into the hand that had been extended in her direction. She ignored the spark that ran through her at the contact and proceeded to use her full strength to close her fist, satisfied when she heard bones protest. It didn't surprise her to feel Spike's own fingers become viselike around her much smaller hand, and the two enemies engaged in a well-known pissing contest.

    When neither backed down, Buffy finally ripped her hand away, knowing that her mom was about to ask some questions that she so wasn't prepared to answer. Spike wanted to play games? Ooooh, she could play games. She was the reigning champ at games.

    "So William, my mother says she met you at her gallery," Buffy inquired with false politeness as she deliberately turned her back on the master vampire and headed into the living room.

    "You two have a seat. I have a few things I need to finish up in the kitchen. Oh and don't worry about the setting the table, I already took care of it," Joyce instructed, quickly leaving the two alone.

    The minute her mom was out of sight, Buffy spun around and slammed Spike up against the wall, her fingers curled tight around his throat. Her eyes flashed with pure fury. "What the hell are you doing here, Spike?"

    "I'm havin' dinner," Spike replied mockingly, his accent returning to the one Buffy was used to. "Like the dress, pet. Got yourself all dolled up for me, did ya?"

    Buffy's lips compressed angrily into a thin line and she tightened her hold.  "I mean it, Spike. What kind of sick game are you playing this time?"

    "And you know it's a game... how?"

    Buffy snorted indelicately. "Right." Her hazel eyes hardened with rage. "You want to come at me, that's one thing. I expect it. Hey, it's all part of the job.       But you do not come through my mother to get there, do you understand? That is just so...wrong, it's not even funny."

    The amused blue eyes behind the clear lenses turned cold and Spike knocked Buffy away before rounding on her. "You got it all wrong, pet. Your mum is the one playing games here. She's the one who has the daughter with the unsavory boyfriend, the one who invited me to dinner in hopes we hit if off, and you ditch the wanker. You want to blame anyone for this set-up, you go blame the woman who gave birth to you."

    "And you're just the innocent bystander? Sorry, not buying it."

    Spike shrugged as he walked away from her. He wasn't about to admit that he had first cased the gallery with the intent to do exactly what Buffy had accused him of; using her mum to get at her. It was the slayer's fault that Dru left him, after all. Only proper and fitting he that he employ whatever means possible to kill her. But that plan quickly got pickled when Joyce began to grow on him, bringing back fond reminders of his own mum. The only reason he had for accepting the invitation tonight was to get under the slayer's skin; any sinister motives he may have had towards the chit had been removed once Joyce became a friend. He hurt the slayer, he hurt Joyce, and that wouldn't do at all.  Casually picking up one of the framed pictures from the mantel, he studied it, deliberately presenting his back to Buffy. "I was bored. And your mum invited me."

    Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. "And it had nothing to do with getting an invite into my house? I don't think so. Leave. Now."

    She watched as Spike threw himself onto the couch, his legs widespread and sprawled as only men can get away with. Buffy tried to ignore how different the vampire looked without the goth influence and screamed at herself to focus. "I mean it, Spike."

    "Nope. Stayin' for dinner." When Buffy opened her mouth to argue, Spike smugly informed her, "And if you're not nice, I'll fill your mum in on all the little nasties that you haven't seen fit to tell her about your life."

    Buffy's mouth dropped open in outrage and she charged across the room to shut Spike's mouth in a permanent and dusty sort of way.

    "Buffy, William! I've got dinner on the table," her mom called, halting her deadly intent.

    Spike jumped to his feet and grinned irritatingly at her, offering his elbow to escort her. "Shall we?"

    Buffy threw him her most chilling look and spun around defiantly to march into the dining room.

    "I like the way your ass looks in that dress, Slayer. It's bloody perfection, it is."

    Buffy's face turned crimson at his words, glad her mother wasn't close enough to hear them. She didn't even want to think about how she had been ogling his ass earlier, before she had known it was him. Not that she would have been able to recognize his ass since he had always worn that long leather duster...

       Ok, and she was so getting off track.

***

    Dinner wasn't even half over and Buffy's jaw was starting to ache from keeping her teeth clenched together and she glared at Spike to add that latest injustice onto the heaping pile of grievances. If he hadn't sat there and spilled such...crap, then she wouldn't have had to fight so hard to keep her mouth shut.

    Buffy knew she was acting badly and that her mom was growing increasingly upset with her, but....gah! Having to sit there and listen to Spike chat with her mom, with his dumb, phoney 'Grey Poupon' accent, was just beyond aggravating. Her appetite was non-existent and she amused herself by staking her steak with her knife, imaging it was Spike's dead black heart. 

    "Buffy! Is the meat too tough?" her mom asked worriedly.

    Buffy looked up guiltily, wishing she could reach over and smack the amused smirk off Spike's face. "Oh no, it's fine, really. That uh, banana I had earlier kind of filled me up, I guess."  She could feel Spike's eyes on her cleavage and had to fight not to send her knife sailing across the table to put an end to his ogling. She had planned on saving this dress for a special occasion and Spike had just ruined that for her. In retrospect, her mother should be smacked around for putting her virgin flesh on display like it was, and Spike was having no trouble making his appreciation known.

    Jerk.

    "So William, are you like a total window shopper or what?" Buffy asked sweetly.

    Her mom looked confused.

    "You know, someone who just browses?" Buffy clarified.

    If possible, Spike's smug smile grew wider and Buffy kicked his shin under the table in a fit of juvenile defiance. When that didn't have any affect, she went to kick him again only harder, but found him waiting for her.

    Without Joyce being any wiser, Spike's fingers wrapped around her ankle just before the pointy tip of her shoe connected with his leg and Buffy shot him a furious look.

    "Let. Me. Go." Buffy mouthed, her hazel eyes flashing with indignation. How dare he grab her when she was trying to kick him!

    Buffy had been trying to avoid looking at Spike all through dinner, but this necessity called for desperate measures. Again she was struck by how... good and non-evil Spike looked wearing these preppy clothes and glasses. She tried to rip her ankle out of his grip but her efforts were unsuccessful, growing irritated by the self-satisfied look on his face. When she felt him work her high heeled sandal off, she gave the vampire a warning look.

    Which was totally ignored.

    A muted thump was heard as her shoe hit the floor and Buffy was contemplating how she could stake his ass and have her mom be none the wiser. With the amount of alcohol her mom seemed to be consuming, it might not be too difficult to pull off, she decided. When strong, cool fingers began stroking the arch of her foot, Buffy had to swallow her responding gasp as she tried to free herself once more.

    "Did you hear what I said?"

    Buffy's eyes widened and flew to her mom. This was a nightmare. Her mom was trying to set her up with her mortal enemy who in turn was playing with her foot under the table and away from her mom's not so watchful eye. And what was worse? His touch wasn't repulsing her. It felt...good.

    "Buffy!"

    Buffy shook her head to clear it, doing her best to ignore the irritant seated across from her. "I'm sorry, what? I'm just spacey Buffy tonight, I guess."

    Joyce sighed and repeated, "I said... that yes, William browses quite a bit, but he's purchased quite a few wonderful pieces."

    Buffy turned startled eyes back in Spike's direction. "You have?"

    He shrugged. "I like art."  His talented fingers left her foot and traveled lightly to caress the satiny skin of her calf, gently working the muscles that held so much power. Christ, she felt good under his hands. It was all he could do to not drag her closer so he could do more exploring of a more intimate nature.  He bit back the smile at the delicious sound of her heart beating faster in response to his delicate strokes .

    Buffy gulped, finding the only thought penetrating her addled brain was how that she was glad that she had shaved that morning and wasn't all with the stubblies. But when he gripped her ankle and repositioned her foot so that her toes brushed the hard bulge between his legs, she jerked with mortification, her face flushing a delicious crimson.

    With the point being made, Spike released her, his hand still tingling with the burning imprint of her skin.

    Oh, he had a whole new objective now. With not killing the bint off of his to-do list, he had figured he could go with some good mental torture. Especially knowing that her mum didn't know about her calling. It'd be good for a few laughs, if nothing else. God knew he was bored enough these days.

    But now?

     He shot his prey an evil smirk.
   
    He had a more carnal intent in mind.

chapter 2

    Dinner seemed to drag on and Spike watched with amusement as the slayer became almost... shy in his presence. As if she had never thought of him with a dick before and now was trying to resign herself to the image. He knew from Joyce that Angelus -or the souled version anyway - was still in the picture, and Spike was determined that would soon change.

    He watched as Buffy began clearing the plates without being asked, having recovered her wayward shoe without too much difficultly. He kept his eyes on her, knowing that she was fully aware of him and every once in a while, she would allow her gaze to meet his blatant stare before her eyes would dart away again. 

    Spike could barely contain his smile. Knowing how much he was unnerving her. It was an empowering feeling. It was a reaction he’d never managed when he had been her enemy. That meant she was seeing him as a man and he had every intention of having her see his entire manly package in the very near future. It was time for stage two.

    When Buffy was in the kitchen, Spike turned to Joyce. "Would you mind terribly if I asked your daughter to accompany me to that club I have heard so much about? Oh... what is the name of it..." He appeared thoughtful.

    "The Bronze?" Joyce supplied helpfully, to which Spike nodded. "Why... I don't see a problem with that." She tried to keep the smugness out of her voice. After having spent so much delightful time in William's company, she knew he would be nothing but good for her daughter.

    "What about the Bronze?" Buffy asked as she made her way back into the dining room to retrieve more dishes.

    "Would you care to accompany me tomorrow night?" Spike asked, gleefully anticipating her negative response.

    But she managed to surprise him.

    "Sure," was all she said before disappearing back into the kitchen.

    Well, that sure took the wind out of his sails. He realized he had actually been looking forward to having to use subtle threats to get his way, and her quick acceptance made him suspicious. Grabbing the few remaining dishes from the table, he waved off Joyce's protests about him being a guest and followed Buffy into the kitchen.

    He found her at the sink, rinsing the plates under running water before stacking them carefully into the dishwasher. When she didn't turn around at his approach, he moved in slowly behind her until he had her pinned up against the counter. "You givin' me the silent treatment, eh, Slayer?"

    "No," she responded calmly, continuing with her task. The fact that she kept herself vulnerable to attack refused to trigger an alarm through her, although she knew he shouldn't be given any measure of trust. Yet he seemed... different. Buffy would say softer but knew that the vampire would bite her in a second if she dared hint at that. And just as she listened and was guided by her slayer instincts, she decided to listen to her Buffy instincts that told her that this Spike meant her no mortal harm.  

    And her slayer instincts seemed ok with that.

    "Good," Spike murmured, his cool breath teasing the bare skin of her shoulders. Leaning around her, he set his offering of dirty dishes on the counter next to her, purposely grinding his crotch into the delicious curve of her ass. She stiffened at the intimate contact, but didn't react otherwise, just kept her body poised to see how far he would take it. However, her increased respiratory and pulse rate informed him that she was very much aware of his touch, and he let his hands settle on the span of her hips, once again curious to see her reaction.

    This time she didn't disappoint. In the blink of an eye, Buffy had grabbed a wooden spoon from the sink and whirled around to face him, the end of the spoon positioned lethally against his chest, her furious eyes clearly heralding a warning.

    Which he ignored, of course.

    "Now, now, Slayer. Wouldn't want your mum to get wind of your little secret - now would ya?"

    Buffy huffed with irritation. "What is your problem? Are you so bored that you have to amuse yourself by tormenting me? "

    A wicked glint entered his eye. "Oh, I don't think you're ready to hear about my newest plans for you, pet."

    Buffy couldn't help the shiver that ran through her traitorous body as Spike's smooth, seductive tone washed over her and her mind went immediately into the gutter - which is what Buffy knew was exactly what the stupid vampire intended. Especially when his hands found the span of her hips again and he pressed closer, trapping her once more against the hard length of his body and the edge of the sink.

    Ok, she was so going to push him away. Any time now.  Just as soon as he stopped staring at her with that dumb sexy look like he was God's gift or something. 

    And why didn't Angel ever make her feel this way? Like every nerve ending was sitting and begging for just a mere crumb of attention? From him. Spike. Her mortal enemy. Who was most definitely not her boyfriend.

    Thumbs seductively stroked their way along her hip and Buffy summoned up enough self-righteous fury to actually glare up at him.

    "What are you doing?" she found herself repeating, yet made no attempt to move away.

    "Touchin' you," he murmured, his gaze capturing hers with a bottomless well of sensuality present in the aroused blue depths. "Thought that was obvious."

    "But... why?" Buffy asked, sounding more like the youth she really was than the slayer he was used to.

    Spike opened his mouth to answer when he heard the unmistakable sound of Joyce's footsteps on their way to the kitchen. Even knowing that Joyce had orchestrated this little meeting, he didn't think she'd appreciate seeing him feeling Buffy up in the middle of the kitchen. Dropping his hands reluctantly from her succulent body, he took a step back, already missing the sweet contact of her skin.

    It was hard to ignore the confused - and surprisingly hurt -  look on the slayer's face, but he schooled his features carefully. "If you direct me to the dishtowels, I will be more than happy to assist you," Spike announced loudly, re-adopting his crisp British accent.

    "Huh?" Buffy asked in confusion, but when her mom entered the kitchen, she got what Spike was doing. Now that her brain had returned from the gutter, she couldn't believe she had just let Spike touch her like that. Giving him a dirty look, she announced, "You don't need to dry. We have a dishwasher."

    He threw her an amused smirk and thrust his hands in his pockets, which of course made Buffy's eyes travel south. When she realized what she had done, she mentally slapped herself.

    "Buffy, honey, don't worry about the dishes. Why don't you and William go in the other room and relax," Joyce suggested, the slight glaze of her eyes telling Buffy all she needed to know about her sobriety. Or lack thereof. "You can watch some TV."

    Buffy watched as Spike directed a kiss-ass smile in her mom's direction and a burst of anger surged through her. God, she was really stupid. It was so obvious that Spike had created this entire persona entirely to pull one over on her mother. And the sad thing was that it had worked. Searching for excuses for her own behavior, she decided that he had probably put her under some sort of thrall earlier, which totally explained why he was still corporeal and not mingling with the dust bunnies under the refrigerator. Well, she was out of the thrall now and she proved it by delivering her most effective glare and pantomiming staking his sorry ass.

    Spike caught her sad performance out of the corner of his eye and had to fight to keep from laughing. Who did the bint think she was fooling? Of course he had gone so far beyond his original intent, it was hard to remember exactly what it was.

    Oh yes, revenge. Death. Third slayer under his belt.

    After he had left Sunnyhell with a thankfully healthy Drusilla, they had wound up in Mexico. It had been wrong from the start. So many sacrifices he had made in an effort to get her well, only to have her reject him as soon as she was herself again. Telling him that he wasn't enough for her any longer, she needed something 'more'. What she meant by that, she refused to elaborate, and then she was gone. Leaving behind nothing but a broken heart and a hastily scribbled message.

    'The prize you seek shall be yours.'

     Fucking Dru and her cryptic words. She was like a fortune cookie with fangs. 

    Spike had had absolutely no trouble in identifying the one to blame for Drusilla's fickleness and betrayal. And she was standing in front of him, the lingering scent of her burgeoning arousal still teasing his senses. 

     And she would be his, whether she liked it or not.

    Chapter 3

    "So...Buffy, would you care to watch some telly?" Spike asked, an evil glint in his eyes. "I hear there is a brilliant new show on about a teenage girl who hunts vampires."

    "Oh really? I didn't see that in the T.V. Guide," Joyce commented, taking a quick break from her task of putting the leftovers in containers. "What channel is it on?"

    Buffy tensed at Spike's cryptic announcement, her eyes narrowing furiously as she regarded him. Asshole.

    Spike appeared to be thinking. "I am embarrassed to say I can't quite recall. Buffy, surely you know what I am referring to, don't you? About a little blonde girl who was chosen to slay vampires?  Living a double life?"  He tilted his head cockily in her direction, his tongue curling behind his top teeth as he waited to see if she took the bait.

    She was saved from answering by her mom's commentary. "Oh, the shows they come up with these days. Really. That one sounds extremely farfetched."

    Spike crossed his arms over his chest, distracting Buffy momentarily by the sight of his muscular forearms resting atop each other. "Oh, I don't know. It's quite possible that girl could exist. Maybe in this very town." He looked at her meaningfully. "Or quite possibly-"

    Buffy panicked. There was no other explanation for the words that popped out of her mouth in a desperate attempt to shut him up.

    "Hey! I know! Why don't we go to the Bronze instead."

    Spike smirked at her stricken face. "At this very moment?" he asked in false surprise, his piercing eyes traveling up and down her body in slow succession.

    Buffy nodded, determined to carry this through. She had to get him out of this house, away from her mother. Because her mom and the truth? So not mixy.  "You don't mind if we go, do you, mom?"

    There was the barest hint of hesitation in her mother's face before she nodded her approval. "Just remember it's a school night."

    Buffy nodded, then looked down at what she was wearing. "I'm just going to go, uh, change." Giving one last warning look to Spike to behave, she exited the kitchen and ran up the stairs. The fact that she had just left her mom with a vampire didn't even penetrate.

    Not wanting to take the time to change, she threw on a jean jacket before loading her pockets with her tools of trade. Stakes, holy water and a cross. As backup, Buffy retrieved the garter  she had tucked away in her lingerie drawer and slid her foot through it, drawing it up snuggly around her upper thigh. Huh. Who knew that wearing one of these things could be kinda...sexy?

    Slipping Mr. Pointy under the elastic, she tugged the skirt down to make sure it wasn't visible. Nope, no unsightly bulges or anything. She was ready to get Mr. Pain in the Ass out of the house and away from her mother and hopefully rid herself of his presence - in a permanent kind of way.

    And why did that thought not bring as much satisfaction as it should have?

    While Spike waited for Buffy to return, he couldn't help but imagine the possibilities of her being naked just above him. Truth was, he was looking forward to their little impromptu Bronze trip and would have suggested it himself if he hadn't been trying to give airs of being polite and not forward. He almost snorted at that one. But the manners he displayed in front of Joyce came naturally, and he was almost loathe to give up their friendship in pursuit of his more intimate plans for her daughter. Really though, which would she prefer? That he killed her daughter or fucked her?

    "William." The name was spoken with quiet insistence and Spike turned amiably in Joyce's direction. She seemed to be on the verge of saying something a bit more serious than he was used to hearing from her lips. "Buffy is very young."  There was a wealth of meaning behind that quiet reminder.

    "I understand, Joyce. I won't hurt her," he assured her, before tacking on a mental 'much' to the end of his somewhat sincere reassurance.

    Joyce sighed heavily. the uncertainty that she had just set something in motion that could be potentially damaging to her daughter weighed heavily on her mind. She had been so certain... She held William in high regard, and Joyce couldn't help but hope that he would offer Buffy a way out of her current mindset; where mayhem and lies were the norm. From their conversations, she knew William was in his early twenties, more than financially stable, and had an easy manner about him. So very different from the bad influence of Angel, Buffy's current boyfriend, who had been nothing but broody and morose in the small amount of time she had spent in his company. Joyce blamed him for Buffy's distraction and heavy moods, and the way she acted as if the weight of the world rested solely upon her shoulders.

    In short, typical teenage angst, or so Joyce assumed.

      Buffy's slight form framed the entryway to the kitchen, bringing Joyce out of her lamenting reverie.

    "I'm ready," Buffy announced with saccharin sweetness, directing her attention towards Spike. "Let's go."

    Spike nodded, his piercing gaze once more traveling the length of her body, admiring the sinewy shape of her legs that were currently being displayed, thanks to the plentiful expanse revealed by her short skirt.

    Buffy cursed the flush that rushed to the surface of her skin at his deliberate perusal, knowing it only served to hand the stupid vampire even more ammunition in which to torment her with. She couldn't wait to get him out of here, where she didn't have to pretend to like him.

    Because she so didn't. Like him, that is.

    Really.

    The moment they were out of the door and Buffy was free of her mother's watchful eye, she spun around and let her fist fly, watching as it flew with pure precision towards Spike's face. Oh, how satisfying the crunch of bone and cartilage would be ...

    But he was ready for her, grabbing the incoming fist easily within his own larger hand while smirking at her predictability.

    "Now, now, pet. Is that any way to treat your future boyfriend?"

    "You are so demented," Buffy declared heatedly, struggling to free her hand.

    "Yeah," Spike agreed easily, slipping his fingers through hers as if it were the most natural thing in the world, guiding her to his side as he set off down the sidewalk. "Fancy a walk, eh?"

    When trying to get her hand free from his strong grip only served to make him tighten his and do that stupid smirk thing, Buffy eventually gave up and allowed him to keep a hold of her hand and walk along beside him quietly.

    Well, almost quietly.

    Because the freakiness of knowing that she was holding hands with Spike? She so wasn't ready to go there.

    It had been Buffy's intention to beat the crap out of Spike, if not outright staking him, before maybe doing a bit of patrolling or Bronzing before returning home to lie to her mother yet again. Because what was one more lie piled on top of a daily mountain of lies? But this Spike was freaking her out, this less-evil version. Or she thought he was less evil, anyway. He seemed less evil, for some reason.

    "Are you still evil?" she asked, figuring she better clarify his moral outlook these days.

    He threw her a horrified look. "Bloody well better believe I'm still evil. Big Bad 'ere."

    Buffy's eyebrow raised in response. "Yeah, the big bad vampire who is holding hands with the slayer. What is up with that?"

    His shrug was slightly abashed. "You feel good, is all," Spike mumbled, refusing to meet her eyes; yet finally relinquishing his grip on her hand as if at war with his own sense of morals.

    Buffy jerked to a stop and swung him around to face her. "I feel good? That's your excuse? For this whole... deception thing with my mom?"

      Buffy realized her mistake the moment the predatory glint entered his smoldering eyes, and she couldn't help the small step away from him that she took. "Would you stop looking at me like that?" she demanded heatedly.

    "Like what?" The sensual tone of his voice sent shivers down her spine and she swallowed nervously, knowing she should be trying to punch him in the face again, at the very least. For every step back that she took, he followed, his movements slow and purposeful, until Buffy found her escape halted by the feel of coarse bark against her back.  He paused then, for just the merest second, to allow her  the chance to flee, before a wicked grin stole over his face

    But it was as if her body was frozen with anticipation, waiting for the one thing that had been floating between them from the moment  they had first laid eyes on each other, a sexual charge that had been building and was now screaming to be let out, consequences be damned.

    When Spike witnessed the answering awareness enter her eyes, he couldn't help the low growl that charged from his throat as he swiftly took the last few steps that separated them and claimed her lips for his very own. He felt her stiffen slightly with surprise before she accepted his touch, her body becoming pliant against his as he plundered her mouth, his lips demanding and fierce. When he felt her arms tentatively wrap around his neck, he growled in approval, his tongue seeking entry into the warmth of her mouth, tasting her sweetness. God she felt good, he hadn't been lying when he had told her that.

    The feel of her body pressed up against his, her mouth greedily seeking his as his tongue swept through and danced with hers, was enough to make Spike forget that they were just down the block from her mum's house, against a tree along the sidewalk. The answering responsiveness of the girl in his arms told him that she also had forgotten exactly where they were.

    It was the hardest thing he had ever done, but Spike forced himself to break free from the succulent lips he was devouring before he said to hell with it and fucked her right here in the open. He had other plans for her and when he took her, it wouldn't be a rush job. No, it would be magic that would last all bloody night long.

    As he pulled back from her, Spike saw the uncertainty and mortification slam into her and found himself smiling in reassurance. "You're bloody beautiful, you know that?" His hand reached up to caress the youthful curve of her cheek, relishing the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingers.

    Hazel eyes stared up into his. "Did we just kiss?" Buffy finally asked, her brain spinning in conflicting circles of desire versus duty.

    Spike tucked the tongue that had just been exploring her mouth behind his front teeth as he smirked knowingly at her. "That we did, pet."

    Placing her hands against the hard wall of his chest, Buffy pushed him away. She couldn't think when he was pressed up against her like he was. "Don't try that one again," she managed to say primly before tossing her blonde mane over her shoulders and stomping away.

    Watching her walk away from him, Spike had to bite back the snicker. Her high and mighty act had served no other purpose than to get him even harder than he'd already been, and after readjusting his crotch, he followed her.

    Buffy didn't argue when his hand slid into hers, their fingers interlocking as they kept walking. Why she wasn't staking him after he dared to kiss her, Buffy didn't know. She had planned on patrolling but now the Bronze was sounding pretty good about now. She was in the mood to dance.

    With Spike.

Chapter 4

Angel didn't usually visit Buffy's house during her mother's waking hours, Joyce's undisguised, fierce disapproval of his presence was usually something he tried to avoid like the plague. But there was an uncomfortable discord working its way through him that he was determined to address and he just couldn't wait until he saw Buffy later, when they usually patrolled together.

The truth was, things hadn't been the same since Spike had used him to cure Drusilla - almost as if that had tainted their relationship somehow. Angel could sense that he was losing the almost hero status in her eyes, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit. He wanted her to need him, he craved it. It was almost as if his redemption depended on it, that perverse need to be needed. And if he lost that, he was nothing.

And that just wasn't acceptable.

Not able to stand it another moment, he had grabbed his coat and left the apartment, intent on seeking Buffy out and getting some answers, once and for all. If she didn't need him anymore, well... he'd make her see all the reasons why she really did.

Angel took the stairs that lead to Buffy's front door with determined resignation, mentally preparing himself for the disapproval he would most likely see on her mother's face. Suddenly struck with blinding revelation, he realized that Joyce was most likely the problem here. That her censure had tainted Buffy's feelings towards him. Well, he knew what he had to do.

He could kiss ass with the best of them if the situation was dire enough. And this was definitely a situation which warranted such drastic measures.

Nodding smugly to himself, Angel pressed the doorbell that would summon the subject he wished to subdue, knowing that his success with Buffy lay with the woman who gave birth to her.

As he waited for the faint footsteps he heard inside the residence to reach the door, a familiar scent began teasing his awareness, causing a frown to crease his features. A growl was torn from his throat when he identified the source of it, his lip curling with outrage.

Spike.

And then Joyce opened the door, and his every intention to present a different side of him was quickly ruined when she caught sight of the anger stamped across his face.

"Hello, Angel," she greeted coolly, her tone not at all welcoming.

Pushing aside his fury, Angel realized that Buffy could very well be in danger, and her mother would be none-the wiser that her daughter was at the hands of a monster. "Is Buffy here?" he asked in what he hoped passed for a pleasant tone. The scent of his kin was stronger with the door open, and his worry escalated.

Joyce stared at this man who her daughter insisted on calling her boyfriend and wondered how much she should reveal. "No, I'm afraid she's not here right now. She... went to the Bronze."

Angel blinked in rapid succession, dumbfounded by Joyce's revelation. He had wanted Buffy to meet him at the Bronze this evening but she had begged off, saying she had too much homework. "Uh, did she go with Willow?"

Joyce shook her head slowly and couldn't quite help the stab of guilt that swam in her eyes. "She went with a friend," Joyce answered, with emphasis on the word 'friend'.

Angel got it. "Xander?" he asked hopefully.

With a barely perceptible shake of her head, Joyce told him all he needed to know; fully aware that it wasn't really her place to break the news but finding it impossible to stop herself.

When Angel's eyes turned black with barely constrained fury, Joyce took a step back, more than prepared to shut and lock the door on what was evidently a very unstable person. "Who did she go with?" he demanded, his demon fighting his soul for dominance, and for the first time since he had been cursed, he felt like giving into it. That lying bitch.

Joyce tried shutting the door in his face but Angel's reflexes were quicker than hers and he managed to wedge a foot in the door before it could be closed. "Who?" he prompted fiercely.

Joyce felt true fear grip her; Angel was obviously deranged. She had been right to introduce a nice, young man to Buffy. Hoping that he would go away and she could call 911, she gave him the answer he sought. "His name is William."

Angelus howled in fury. William.

Spike.

Suddenly smelling the fear pouring off the woman in front of him, Angel shoved aside his demon's fury and shook the scowl off. "Listen to me, Joyce, I know you have absolutely no reason to believe me, but William is not who you think he is. Buffy is in danger. How long ago did they leave?"

Desperately wanting to deny his words yet somehow knowing he spoke the truth, Joyce was suddenly gripped with a paralyzing terror. What had she done? "Uh, forty-five minutes ago," she managed to bite out.

"I need to use your phone," he told her curtly, not even bothering with the niceties as he shoved past her and helped himself to the phone that rested on the antique table in the entry way.

Joyce watched him dial, her brain working in slow motion. She had been so sure...

"Giles, it's Angel. We've got a problem. It looks like Spike has Buffy," Angel spoke curtly into the borrowed phone.

"She's with William," Joyce interrupted, relief flooding her that Angel had been mistaken. "I don't know who Spike is."

Taking the phone away from his ear, Angel pinned a piercing look upon her. "Bleached blonde hair, British... wears a lot of black?"

Her heart thudded in her chest. "I've never seen him wear black..." Joyce uttered inanely as her fingers sought to grab the doorframe, suddenly finding she needed the support.

Angel ignored her as he turned back to his phone conversation, and Joyce belatedly realized that the 'Giles' he was speaking to was the librarian at Buffy's school. Confusion warred hard with her rising panic.

Angel's parting comments of 'I'll see if I can follow their scent' made absolutely no sense to Joyce and she watched as he slammed the phone down and headed for the door. "Don't worry, Joyce. I'll get her back," was his cryptic parting comment. Then he was gone, disappearing out the door, and Joyce was left standing there with her mouth agape, wondering exactly what had just occurred.

Well, one thing was for certain. She wasn't going to just sit there. Not when her daughter might be in danger, potentially at peril over something that she had been responsible for orchestrating. With a determined set of her chin, Joyce locked the front door behind her and set off to follow Angel, hoping that her daughter's safety would soon be assured.

Chapter 5

Angel's enhanced sense of smell had no trouble discerning the trail that both his girlfriend and his kin had taken. However it failed to lead where he expected, to some sort of abandoned building or an out of the way lair; someplace private where Spike could fully torture Buffy without any threat of discovery. His mind was working in overdrive at all the possible scenarios and he conveniently forgot that it wasn't in Spike's nature to torture - it was Angelus who had relished in causing pain and agony. When the trail ended, it came as quite as a surprise where Angel actually found himself.

At the Bronze. Exactly where Joyce had said Buffy had gone.

With a growl, he threw his money at the bouncer and stalked in, sure he would find something sinister inside.
****
Buffy found herself content, something that was way off the wiggage scale, but couldn't be denied nonetheless. During the walk to the Bronze, no more words had been spoken, instead they had found a mutual pleasure in the contact they had maintained through their linked hands. It was inevitable that they pondered the curveball life had thrown them. Once inside the club, Buffy had found herself nervous, not sure exactly how to act with her mortal enemy who had just given her the most toe-curling kiss she had ever experienced.

Spike had solved her dilemma by tearing off her jacket and throwing it over the table they had claimed before pulling her wordlessly out onto the crowded dance floor. Now, wrapped in his arms, she couldn't help the contented sigh that worked its way past her lips. She had lost track of time, feeling like they'd been dancing forever. She marveled how perfectly her body fit against Spike's lean mass, and had finally given up trying to tell herself that she was only there because she didn't want Spike tattling on her.

Even with the rapid beat of the music, their bodies moved to their own sensual rhythm. Buffy's fingers were linked around Spike's neck, his own hands resting dangerously close to her ass as they swayed together. Eyes closed, all Buffy could feel was Spike as he moved against her, the heavy weight of his arousal nudging her stomach. Rather than being repulsed by the knowledge that he was getting turned on, Buffy found her own juices flowing at the satisfaction that she was responsible for that. This just wasn't the Spike she thought she knew, always associating him with violence and crudeness.

'Not true,' her inner voice taunted. 'You knew he was capable of tenderness and caring...' Buffy sighed and finally admitted the truth to herself. That she had been attracted to him from the moment she had laid eyes on him at this very club, and finding out that he was a vampire had been the cruelest of all blows.

Lifting her head up from where it had been pressed against his silent chest, Buffy finally voiced the question that had been haunting her. "Why are we doing this?" she whispered against the smooth flesh of his neck, knowing he would be able to hear her over the thumping music.

Spike tipped his head down and pressed a chaste kiss to the slim column of the throat exposed to him. "Because we can't not do it, is why," he rumbled into her ear, his tongue darting out to trace her inner shell before blazing a trail of moist kisses along her jaw. "You know it as well as I do, Slayer."

A small part of her hated the fact that he was right. She did know it. Her body definitely knew it, the blood pounding through her veins at his merest touch told her that much. "What about Ho-zilla?" she couldn't help but ask, telling herself it wasn't jealousy she felt at the thought of him being with someone else. Even if that someone else had been his girlfriend for over a century.

"Left me," was his curt response, and Buffy didn't press him for details, instinctively knowing by his tone that it was a painful subject. Besides, no Ho-zilla was a good Ho-zilla, as far as she was concerned. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, Buffy smiled up at him brightly before allowing her head to drop back to rest against his chest, her cheek nuzzling into the soft material of his button down.

God, he felt good.

Angel couldn't believe what he had just seen. He was sure it had to be some sort of illusion or mirage. Because he couldn't have just seen his girlfriend kiss Spike. It just wasn't possible. He squeezed his eyelids shut in hopes that the disturbing image of Buffy in Spike's arms would not be in front of them when they reopened.

Luck was not with him.

Joyce materialized at Angel's side and shot him an angry look. "I thought you said he was going to hurt her!" she accused, now more than ever knowing that Angel was bad news. Sending her into a blind panic when it was clear that Buffy was perfectly alright. Although a bit too familiar with William for her liking...

"He will," Angel growled, not bothering to look in her direction. "He's playing some sort of sick mind game."

"I don't think he's the one who is playing the mind game," Joyce announced pointedly, delivering her most evil glare.

Angel's demon was simmering once more, rage and betrayal swirling in his blood. Without a second thought, he charged forward, eager to rip his girl away from his errant kin.

Spike sensed Angelus a split second before he was grabbed and tossed to the side, barely keeping his demon from making a shocking appearance. He figured there would be a confrontation with the grand poof sooner or later; he'd had just hoped it was later.

After the girl was truly his.

"Angel!" Buffy cried, her eyes widening with shock - but quickly followed by a rapid flare of her temper. How dare he! Well, ok, maybe he had a bit of reason...

Her mom rushed to her side, eager to assure herself that Buffy wasn't injured in some way. "You're all right, aren't you sweetie??"

This was a nightmare. Her mom and Angel? Buffy looked over at the two vampires facing off right in front of her, knowing they were both seconds away from making a scene. A very big scene of the fangy and bad kind. Giving her mom a hurried nod of assurance, Buffy stalked forward to grab Angel by the arm to get his attention. "Not here," she hissed at him, aware of the curious onlookers that had turned in their direction.

Releasing him, Buffy tipped her head in Spike's direction, her eyes meeting his with just the slightest hint of reassurance before she spun on her heel and headed for the back door that led to the alley, where privacy was a bit more prevalent and very necessary. This reeked of impending badness.

When the back door slammed closed, Buffy spun around and faced Angel, knowing her face held a certain look of guilt.

"What are you doing, Buffy?" Angel questioned, his lips set in a firm line.

"Um, dancing?"

"With Spike?" Angel bit out heatedly, throwing a scathing glance at the smirking vampire in question. "Why?"

"Because I invited him over for dinner, that's why," Joyce announced, not appreciating the way Angel was speaking to her daughter.

The look Angel gave her was one of incredulous. "Do you even know what you invited into your home?"

Joyce's mouth tightened into a disapproving line. "Someone with better manners than you, Angel," she bit out angrily.

"Ok, enough," Buffy interrupted, after a quick glance at Spike confirmed that he didn't look like he was about to go grrr and attack Angel anytime soon - and in fact seemed pleased by Joyce's defense. "Angel, I'm sorry. I know my dancing with Spike didn't look very good-"

"Oh, you have no idea how it looked," Angel commented darkly.

Yeah, she kinda did. Hot and heavy - and she kinda wished she could get back to it. Not that she would actually say that...

"Looked like she was enjoying herself, dinnit?" Spike had to go and comment smugly, and Buffy groaned to herself.

Joyce did a double-take, William's manner of speech not sounding at all like she was used to. In fact, his whole demeanor seemed different. Pinning a severe, disapproving look in his direction, Joyce attempted to get to the bottom of what was proving to be a very confusing evening. "William, do you already know my daughter?"

Spike couldn't help the abashed look that stole over his face as he nodded.

"Mom, can we not do this?" Buffy pleaded, her dread growing.

"How?" Joyce persisted, ignoring her daughter's interruption.

"He wants to kill her, that's how he knows her."

"Angel..." Buffy ground out dangerously, shooting him a warning look. If he went where she thought he was going, she was so going to kick his ass.

Joyce's gaze never wavered from the man she had invited into her home, had wanted to be involved in her daughter's life. "Is this true?"

Spike shuffled uncomfortably, cursing these new feelings that prevented him from just killing Joyce and putting an end to his discomfiture. Not that long ago, he wouldn't have hesitated. But now? He wasn't ready to go there. "Not anymore," he finally mumbled, staring at the ground.

Joyce blinked rapidly, not quite able to process William's admission.

"Can we just drop it?" Buffy injected, frantic to end this line of questioning. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the vampire who was still technically her boyfriend. "Angel, I'm sorry to do it like this, but I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Angel stared at her in shocked disbelief. "You're breaking up with me? For Spike?"

"Buffy, I don't think that is such a good idea," Joyce commented, her confusion mounting. Surely if there were murder attempts on Buffy's life, the police should be involved...shouldn't they? Deciding it was up to her to take charge of the situation, she added, "I think you're very confused, Buffy, and I think we should talk about this a bit more." She took a moment to glare at Spike, now seeing the broad smirk that graced his face as something sinister rather than adding to what she had originally considered boyish appeal.

Buffy took a step closer to Spike, her torn emotions on full display in the wide set of her hazel eyes. A deep sigh of relief escaped when her mortal enemy closed the gap between them and grabbed a hold of her hand in a show of solidarity, clearly choosing her as she had chosen him. With a barely perceptible nod and a tender smile, Spike told her without words that she wasn't imagining the genuine regard of his feelings. That he wasn't merely toying with her in an attempt to seduce her into an easy death.

That he was someone worth fighting for.
The End
A/N-*ducks away* I seriously had NO intentions of just...ending it like that. I just wrote this last part and to go any further right now would put me over my 24 hrs, and I got in all the challenge requirements. BUT I do plan on doing an epilogue because I CAN'T just leave it like that. No really. (what? Just because my SoS fic LAST summer is still a wip?) You can find the epilogue updated at the Bloodshedverse since my own personal site is kind of not there anymore *adds to list of things to do*  Thank you to Karyn for submitting this challenge and again to Megan for the beta. This last chapter was beta nekkid though because well, I pretty much just wrote it.
Thank you to the mods of SoS! And I apologize for messing up the subject line! *headdesk*