Chapter 7

Buffy opened her front door the next morning, and found herself faced with the expectant faces of one Willow Rosenberg, and one Cordelia Chase.

"What?" she asked, glowering. The two at the door shared a look before they pushed past her. "Come in," Buffy said sarcastically, closing the door. She was cranky, guilt over kissing Spike, and liking it, warred with her desire to do it again, and feel that mouth on other random parts of her body, made it impossible to sleep. She so didn't want to think about it anymore, but looking at the red and dark haired girls, Buffy knew that it would be a long time before THAT happened.

"Why did you run out on Spike last night?" Cordelia asked, arching a brow. Buffy's eyes widened at the bluntness of the question.

"Hello?! Boyfriend. Not so good to be kissing other guys in plain view of all the people from school. As it is, I have to worry about his friends who were there calling him with the news," she groused, flopping on the couch.

"I wouldn't worry if I were you. No loyalty among that group," Cordelia said, speaking from experience.

"That's really not the point," Buffy told her.

"What's the point, then? You kissed him, and you obviously liked it," Willow shot in. Buffy's brows shot up.

"What part of 'boyfriend' don't you understand?" She threw up her hands in frustration.

"Oh, the word we understand. It's your choice of one that we don't." Anger flared between the two friends, and Cordy watched in fascination.

"Alright!" the brunette said, raising her hands to stop the argument. "Let's look at this another way." She sighed, and pinned Buffy with her eyes. "Have you EVER kissed Angel the way you kissed Spike last night?" Buffy sat back on the couch, scowling darkly.

"No," she grumbled, looking away. She didn't see the smug look that passed between her friends.

"So, why are you staying with him?" Buffy opened her mouth to answer, and found herself with nothing to say. Encouraged, Willow moved to sit next to her, green eyes searching hazel.

"Buffy, you're seventeen. Why stick with a guy that doesn't make you happy? That hasn't made you happy in a LONG time? You're too young to think you HAVE to stay with him." Buffy worried her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes darting around the room while she thought. Why was she staying with him? He never came home on the weekends anymore. When they talked on the phone, he was continually making references to other girls, or her lack of wanting to have sex. He wasn't coming home for the summer. What did she want? Her skin heated as she remembered the kiss from the night before, and she had her answer. But still, she was afraid.

"I just need to think. I'll be going to LA in two weeks. I'll see Angel, decide then," she stalled. Now all she had to do was avoid Spike for fourteen days. Not a problem. Right. Willow and Cordelia were at least glad that they got her to even do that.

"Well, thinking is good," Willow said, trying not to stand up and do the Snoopy dance. She was mentally kissing Angel goodbye, her smile struggling to break free.

"Yeah." A smile bloomed across Buffy's face, as she realized her opportunity to get her mind off one bleached blonde wonder. "So, what happened with the guitar player?" Willow's face flamed and she looked away.

"She so hit it off with him. His name is Mark Lynch, and he is originally from Arizona. He's twenty and has been playing guitar since he was ten. He's part Navajo Indian, and his grandmother still lives on the reservation. He moved here with the band, because it was close to L.A., and it's cheaper than living there. He lives over on Kensington, in the apartments behind the mall, and he asked her out for after the show next Friday," Cordelia answered for the flustered redhead. Buffy frowned at Cordy knowing and not her. "You ran off, and I was there," the brunette said, shrugging a shoulder. Buffy felt a stab of guilt.

"Sorry, Will," she mumbled.

"S'ok. You were kind of occupied at the time." Willow smirked, smiling at her friend's discomfort.

"Did he. . .say anything after I left?" she heard herself ask, cursing inwardly.

"Not a word. Not even goodbye. But, I already talked to Xander this morning, who already talked to Spike, and. . ." Cordy gave a dramatic pause. "He said it was life altering." Buffy's cheeks stained pink at the description, one that she couldn't argue with.

"So, was it?" Willow asked with anticipation. She had seen part of it, when she had turned nervously away from Mark to scan the crowd. She only hoped that Mark would kiss her like that. The blonde flushed deeper, and plucked at a stray thread on her shorts.

"Maybe."

"MAYBE!" Cordy snorted with disgust. "I wasn't even involved with it, and I could tell that it was. Geez."

"How would you know?" Buffy spat.

"Because that's the way Xander kisses me." The brunette answered simply, casting her eyes downward.

"Oh," the other two girls breathed.

"Buffy?" Joyce called, walking into the living room, putting on her coat. "Oh, hi girls," she said when she saw the other two.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I'm going to the gallery for a couple of hours. You're not going anywhere today, are you?"

"No. Why?"

"Dawn," her mother reminded her. "Just wanted to make sure that I didn't have to take her with me." Joyce picked her purse up off the table by the door.

"No, go ahead. I'm just going to rip into that tub of Ben and Jerry's in the fridge and watch t.v." Buffy told her. Joyce could tell something was bothering her, but they weren't alone, so she would talk to her later about it.

"Alright. If I'm not home by five order dinner. Okay? I left money on my dresser."

"Alright Mom. Bye."

"Bye honey," Joyce called as she closed the door.

"Well, I hate to cut this short, but I have a family thing to do tonight. Willow, you want a ride?"

"Yeah. Call me later, okay? We'll talk?" Willow asked, hopefully. Buffy smiled, and patted her knee.

"Yeah." With one last look, Willow got up and followed the prom queen out. Buffy sighed, and leaned her head on the couch, not moving when she heard Dawn come downstairs. When the eleven year old didn't say anything, Buffy looked at her, staggered by the anger simmering in the blue orbs of the girl.

"What's the matter, Dawnie?" she asked, concern marring her brow.

"You kissed him," she accused, her tiny form shaking with hurt. *Just what I need,* Buffy thought, groaning inwardly.

"Yes. I did." No use in denying it, Dawn had obviously been eavesdropping.

"How could you? You're going out with Angel." The older girl knew this had nothing to do with Angel. It had everything to do with the way her sister felt about the blonde.

"Dawn, it's not that simple. Angel and I. . .aren't really happy anymore, and. . ."

"And you thought that you would just move in on Spike."

"Well, he sort of moved in on me, if you really need to know the truth," Buffy said, temper making her words clipped.

"You didn't stop him," Dawn accused. "You knew I liked him, and you didn't stop him." Tears coursed down her young face, misery written across her expression.

"Honey, you're eleven. He's eighteen. What did you think was going to happen?" she asked gently. Dawn looked away, hating that her dream was being shattered.

"I'm not going to be eleven forever." She sniffed, crossing her arms over her Tweety Bird t-shirt. Buffy smiled, and looked at her sister who was wishing so desperately for womanhood.

"No, you're not. And when you get older, there were be other guys."

"They won't be Spike," Dawn insisted. Buffy sighed, and stood to walk to her sister.

"No. They won't be Spike. But, they will be your age. And you never know, there might be one out there like him," she offered, hopefully. The younger girl looked down at the ground, her chestnut colored hair hiding her features.

"If I was four years older. . ." she started.

"If you were four years older, Spike never would have seen me," Buffy assured her, rubbing her hands over Dawn's arms. A small smile formed on the girl's face, sadness still touching her eyes.

"I guess, if he has to date anybody, it might as well be you," she acquiesced, glancing up at Buffy.

"Thanks. But, I don't know if we will be dating. I'm still with Angel." Dawn's eyes widened comically at that.

"So, dump him. He's such a jerk. And you know what? Amber told me that he had sex with her older sister Jennifer before he left this last time." If Dawn could have pulled the words back, she would have.  Amber had told her just last night, on the phone, and she had meant to talk to Joyce first, but, now it was too late.   The look that crossed her sister's face made her sick. Buffy's face had gone pale, and her eyes had clouded with pain. Her hands were trembling as they dropped from Dawn's arms.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, she could have been lying," Dawn offered hopefully. She didn't want to hurt her sister. She was trying to make her see that Angel wasn't worth holding onto. Even at eleven years old, when she was supposedly not old enough to understand adult relationships, she knew that what Angel was doing was bad. Things started to fall into place in Buffy's mind, and she suddenly found herself feeling dizzy. "Buffy? I think you need to sit down." The older girl nodded numbly, as she allowed her sister to move her to the couch. The way he never came home on the weekends. The allusions to the other girls when they were on the phone. The way he was late that night at the Bronze the last time he was home. This all suddenly made sense, and Buffy could have slapped herself for being so stupid. It never even occurred to her that Dawn might be lying.  Suddenly, a blinding anger overtook her, and she shot up from the couch, eliciting a surprised squeak from Dawn. She marched straight to the phone, and stabbed at the numbers as she dialed.

"What are you doing?" Dawn asked, watching her sister with wary eyes. Buffy just shook her head as she waited for the phone to be picked up. Finally, on the eighth ring, a sleepy voice came over the line.

"'lo."

"I want to talk to Angel," she said without preamble. Why beat around the bush?

"S'not here," came the reply. *Yeah, right.*

"Well then, you tell him this. This is his GIRLFRIEND. You know, the one he has a tendency to forget about? You better tell him that if I don't hear from him by twelve o'clock, he had better just forget my number." Without waiting for an answer, she slammed down the phone with a force that should have shattered it. She stayed, standing by it, waiting. Sure enough, not five minutes later, the shrill ring exploded through the tense silence in the room.

"Hello," she growled into the phone.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Angel's sleep thickened voice shouted into the phone.

"I'd say it's who YOU'RE fucking that's my problem, Angel." A stunned silence permeated across the miles the second before the storm hit.

"What the FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

"Don't play dumb with me. Did you think I wouldn't find out? In a town this size? You have a problem keeping your zipper up, buddy."

"You're crazy," was all Angel could come up with, as his tired, alcohol laden mind tried to figure out how she could have found out, and just how he was going to smooth it over.

"Yeah, well, you're right. I am crazy. Crazy for even considering that you were worth giving my virginity to. Well, guess what? You can kiss that little treat goodbye, because you had better not EVER come near me again. Do you understand? You see me on the street, you walk the other way, because I will not be held accountable for my actions."

"Buffy, wait. You have it all wrong. Those girls, they mean nothing to me. You're my girl." The word 'girls' sent Buffy into another spiral of shock, and she took the phone away from her ear to look at it as if she could see Angel inside of it.

"Girls?" *Oh shit,* Angel thought, realizing his mistake. "GIRLS?!! How long exactly have you been screwing around on me, Angel?"

"They don't matter," he insisted. "You're the only. . ."

"Oh, shut up. Don't give me those lines. 'You're the only one for me', or 'a man has needs,'" she mimicked into the phone, disgust dripping off every word. "You make me sick. Stay away from me, Angel. I don't ever want to see you again." Then, she hung up the phone while he was still sputtering, picking it up and slamming it down again for good measure. Satisfied, she turned towards Dawn, and smiled at the stunned pre-teen.

"So, up for some sisterly bonding time?" she asked, ignoring the phone as it began to ring again. *Let the answering machine get it,* she thought, turning the ringer off, and lowering the volume enough on the answering machine that she couldn't hear the words, but she could recognize the voices, then turned away from it and went into the living room with Dawn.

~*~*~

Spike walked through the hot, California night, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, scowl firmly in place on his sharp features. He had managed NOT to storm over to Buffy's and demand to know why she ran out on him after the most amazing kiss he had ever had. He'd also managed not to call her the hundred times he had picked up the phone. Thankfully, Xander had been around most of the day, listening and agreeing with every word he said about the girl. The only reason Xander didn't get pissed off when the insults started flying was because he knew that Spike was just hurt and angry, and he would actually never say some of the more creative barbs that flowed from his mouth.

Unfortunately, Xander had to leave, since Cordy was presenting him to her family tonight. Spike felt sorry for the bloke, since the Chases were the most important people in town, as well as the richest. He had spent the day, when not bitching about Buffy, watching Xander's face go from a sickly pale to a worrisome green.

He didn't want to go to the track tonight by himself, and his father was at the gallery helping Joyce rearrange some things, so he had been left alone. After about an hour of having the same recurring fantasy about the kiss, Spike had decided he needed to get out of the house. He didn't know where he was going. He just needed to walk. At least that's what he told himself, as he turned onto Revello Drive. His scowl darkened even further, and he crushed his fag out under his boot. As her house came into view, he slowed some, trying to decide what he was going to do. He was never one to back down from a problem, but he didn't like beating his head against a brick wall either. Then, his decision was made for him, when a sleek, red 280Z pulled up out front. He recognized the dark figure that emerged immediately, and noticed the angry edge to his gait. Walking a little quicker, Spike made it to the stoop just as the front door swung open.

"What the hell do you want?" Buffy spat, glaring daggers at the man in front of her. Spike's brows rose in surprise at her tone.

"Dammit, Buffy. You need to listen to me," Angel said, trying to enter the house. She just shifted her body so he couldn't and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I thought I made it clear on the phone that we have nothing left to say to each other," Buffy said, staring at him with cool hazel eyes. Neither had noticed the blonde standing in the yard, taking in the scene with great interest. Dawn saw him though, from where she was peeking out over her sister's shoulder to glare at Angel.

"You can't just break up with me without hearing me out," Angel insisted.

"What's to hear? You can't keep your dick in your pants. What's so hard to understand about that?" she answered cooly.

"Like you have room to talk," he shot back

"What the hell are you talking about. I NEVER cheated on you."

"Then what was with the phone call Andrew got from his little brother about you playing tonsil hockey with that Spike guy? You know, the one you were just being NICE to?" Buffy blanched at that. *So much for Cordy's theory* she thought. Spike scowled again, until he remembered what day the poof was talking about.

"A kiss is a lot different than sex, Angel. Or did you fall asleep the day they explained that in Health?" she snapped back.

"How do I know it was just a kiss? For all I know that cherry was popped the second he slithered into town. What is it about him? Huh? Is it the bad boy look? Or maybe it's the accent. Woman are suckers for accents." His head whipped to the side with the force of her tiny hand connecting with his face. She had finally recovered from the shock the first part of his statement had incurred and lashed out.

"Don't turn this around on me. . ." she started, only to squeak when he gripped her arms painfully. She felt a moment's fear before he was ripped away from her, his body flying down the stairs to land in a heap on the grass below. Spike was over him in a second, hand fisted in the front of his shirt, arm cocked back to strike. He wasn't expecting Angel to kick out and land a hit to his stomach. Dawn screamed, and Buffy watched in shocked horror as they went after each other.

Spike cursed inwardly when Angel's meaty fist plowed into the side of his head, making stars shoot brightly behind his eyes. Angel grunted when Spike blocked the next hit and landed one into his stomach. Fists flew, and blood spilled as the two went at each other, one in defense of the lady's honor, the other trying to lay claim to what should be his.

Unfortunately, even though Spike was quicker, he was outmatched in size and strength. The former QB soon had the blonde pinned to the ground, fists aimed at his handsome face. He never got a chance. Buffy had seen the turn the fight had taken, and ran back into the house to look for a weapon. Nothing deadly, just something to stop it. She came up with a frying pan. Cliche, yes. Effective. Definitely.

Buffy came up behind the man she had thought she loved and swung with all the force in her tiny body. It landed with a thud against Angel's back, causing him to grunt, and breaking his attention enough that Spike could buck him off. The men rounded on each other again, and Buffy stepped between them, silently praying that she didn't meet with any wayward punches. Dawn watched, wide-eyed from the porch, torn between horror and fascination at the spectacle.

"Go home, Angel," Buffy told her ex, hazel eyes flashing in the light of the street lamp. Angel looked at her with disgust, wondering what the hell he had ever seen in her.

"Fine, bitch. Hope you have fun with your new fuck toy." Spike went to go after him again, only to encounter Buffy with her raised frying pan. She didn't lower it again until she heard the purr of the powerful engine fade down the street.

"Pet..." Spike started, only to be cut off by her raised hand.

"You. House. Now.," was all she said as she turned and stalked away from him, leaving him to follow. He turned and slowly made his way to the porch, looking up at Dawn as he walked up the steps.

"How much trouble am I in?" he asked, staring at the open door with trepidation. Dawn glanced between him and it, flinching at the sounds of things getting put down with a bang.

"A lot," she answered, giving him a tight smile before going inside herself. Spike watched her go with an expression of horrified amusement on his face. He flinched when he heard something heavy slam down.

"SPIKE! NOW!" Buffy's voice drifted to him out of the open doorway, and he sighed heavily.

"Bloody hell," he cursed, before walking inside and shutting the door.

~*~*~

"Of all the stupid, mundane, macho things," Buffy mumbled to herself, ignoring the blonde for the moment and looking for the first aid kit. Spike sat silently, afraid to open his mouth, lest she start wielding the frying pan that was sitting on the kitchen table within easy reach. He jumped when she walked back to him, and dropped the kit on the table with a clatter. She slammed open the lid, and pulled out the disinfectant, and some cotton balls. Turning to him, she went to work, eyes flashing brilliantly with anger.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she asked after a few minutes. Spike had managed not to hiss or complain when the sting of the disinfectant seeped into the cut on his cheek.

"Thought he was going to hit you," he answered, and Buffy felt her anger start to ease.

"I don't know if he would've or not. That's the first time anything like this has happened," she admitted, her hands turning more gentle.

"Why do you put up with it?" She looked into his curious eyes, and sighed. Tossing the cotton ball on the table, she sat down on the stool across from him and started on his bleeding knuckles.

"I don't. Anymore," she said, shaking her head at the fool she had been. "He's been cheating on me," she whispered, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

"He's a fool," Spike answered, smiling shyly at her when she looked up at him in surprise.

"Thank you," Buffy said softly, before returning to her work.

"You're welcome," was all he said in return, and silence returned to the room.

Chapter 8

Xander stood beside Cordelia, shifting nervously and trying desperately not to reach up and yank on his tie. She had taken him shopping that morning, since he didn't have a suit, to make sure he was presentable. She told him that she didn't care what he wore, but she wanted him to make a good impression on her parents.

So, he had put up with her fussing, and had paid the outrageous price for the suit, and left the store so she could drop him off at home to get ready. He had studiously ignored his father, who was sitting in the recliner in front of the t.v., beer can clutched in his big, meaty fist. He glared at his son, taking in the way he was dressed, and mumbled something about 'putting on airs for those rich prigs.' Xander just left, not bothering to get drawn into the argument his father obviously wanted.

So now, here he stood in the entry way to the country club, light softly playing over them from the crystal chandeliers above. White linen wallpaper with thin gold stripes running the length trimmed the walls. Plush, velvet, maroon settees lined the walls around them, for the people without reservations. Hardwood floors that gleamed ran the expanse of the room, and large, thriving plants flanked the door to the dining room. The maitre 'd stood behind a tall, dark wood podium, reservation book open, disapproving glower on.

"How do I look?" Cordelia asked, after they had checked her wrap. He paused, and backed up a step to look at her, never releasing her hand. His dark eyes appraised her from head to toe, finding her nothing less than stunning. Her simple red silk dress hugged her curves, the sleeves ending just below her elbows and the sweetheart neckline showing off her slim throat. The dress cinched in at the waist, then flared a bit to fall gracefully to her knees. Red, high heeled sandals that clasped around the ankle lent length to her already mile long legs. A heart pendant that Xander had given her after he'd gotten his first paycheck adorned her throat. It was the only jewelry she wore. Her thick, dark hair was pulled up into a sleek twist.

"Stunning," he said, smiling. She smiled hugely, taking in his grey, double breasted suit, crisp white shirt and matching grey tie, and shiny black shoes with appreciation.

"So do you," she told him, giggling when he actually blushed. Heaving a deep breath, she looked at the dining room, steeling herself. "Ready?"

"Not even remotely so," he answered, grinning.

"Good. Neither am I. At least we won't be panicking alone." She didn't care what her parents thought of him. She would keep dating him anyway. She just didn't want them to embarrass him.

"Shall we?" Xander asked, waving his hand gallantly, and tilting his head slightly. "After you."

"Why thank you, sir." Cordy accepted with a smile. When they reached the entrance to the dining room, their fingers linked, silently putting up the 'we're in this together' vibes. They wove their way through the sea of linen covered tables, to the middle of the room. Once they reached the table, it was all Xander could do not to keep tugging Cordelia until they had made it safely out of the french doors that mocked him on the other side.

"Daddy, I would like you to meet Xander Harris. Xander, this is my father Jefferson Chase, and my mother Katherine," Cordy said, presenting her parents. Jefferson Chase stood, managing to stare down at Xander, even though they were the same height. He was a fit man, who took pride in the way he looked. The suit he was wearing was impeccably tailored to him, the dark charcoal color of the material perfect with his olive complexion. His features hinted a European descent, his chin square, his cheekbones high, and his brow sweeping. Dark brown, slightly disapproving eyes were set under thick, dark brows. His carefully cut hair was also thick and still dark, with only the slightest hints of grey flecking through the sides.

"Xander," he said, holding out a hand.

"Mr. Chase. It's a pleasure to meet you. Mrs. Chase," Xander managed, shaking the man's hand, and nodding to the woman dressed in blue next to Cordy's father. His panicked mind scrambled to remember the crash course in 'rich' manners that Spike had given him before he left, since they seemed to be just the same as everyday English manners. Or at least that's what Spike had told him.

Carefully, he pulled out Cordelia's chair, and helped her sit, then sat himself in the chair between her and her mother, and across from her father.

"We've been hearing so much about you, Xander. It's a treat to finally meet the man that has captured my daughter's attention so fully," Katherine said, turning her grey eyes to him. Save for the eye color, she was the vision of what Cordy would look like in twenty years. Xander gave her a small smile.

"Thank you, ma'am. She's pretty much captured me too." Cordy blushed prettily, and Jefferson scowled. Picking up his wine, he took a sip before speaking himself.

"So, tell us about yourself," he said, his voice rich and commanding. He motioned for the waiter while he waited for Xander to answer.

"Well, sir, I guess I'm just your average teenager. I go to school and I have a job," Xander said, not knowing what to say.

"Commendable for a boy your age to already be working. Not enough out there like that. They all want their parents to support them." He slid a pointed look at Cordy, who ignored him beautifully, and looked up at the waiter.

"Could we just have two Cokes, please?" she said, smiling at the waiter, then looking back at her father, arching a brow.

"Thank you sir." Xander had no clue how to answer that, so he just said the first thing that came to mind.

"What does your father do?" *Not beating around the bush, are you old man?* Xander thought to himself.

"Well, he actually works in one of your factories," he told him. *But you knew that, didn't you?* he said to himself. The two men stared at each other, understanding flowing between them.

"Which one?"

"The electronic factory on Hesner." Xander tensed, waiting for the next question.

"Really? What does he do there?" Cordelia's eyes had narrowed into slits during the questioning, knowing EXACTLY what her father was doing.

"Daddy," she said, her voice carrying a warning tone. He merely glanced at her, before returning his eyes to Xander.

"He's the janitor, sir," the brunette answered, staring him in the eyes. Jefferson had to give the boy credit, he didn't back down. Too bad the boy was the progeny of a drunk. And if the rumors were true, an ABUSIVE drunk. Definitely not the sort he wanted around his Cordelia, since the apple tended to never fall far from the tree.

"Well, that's interesting. What about you? What's your plan after high school?" he smoothly asked, taking another sip of wine. Xander thought about his options for answering, and decided that honesty was best. This guy hated him anyway, he didn't think he could make it worse.

"Me and a friend are going into the racing business," Xander told him, taking a quick glance at Cordelia. She only flashed him a smile, and went back to glaring at her father. They had already talked about it after all. Katherine sniffed delicately, eyes widening in horror. Jefferson just stared at the boy, wondering if he had taken too many head shots from his father.

"Racing? What sort of racing?"

"Stock cars, sir. I'm good with mechanics. Figured we could build a pretty good car." His back straightened as he talked, and he sat proudly before the Chases, his eyes telling them he didn't care what they thought of him. When Cordy's hand snaked across the table to rest on his, he linked his fingers through hers, an action not missed by either parent. Their daughter's support of this dreamer was not a little unsettling. Xander continued to stare at the man, daring him to let go. Jefferson decided to oblige him.

"I will be honest with you, Xander. I don't think you're good enough for my daughter. She was raised with all the finer things in life. She is not made to be with a man that wants to play with cars for a living."

"Daddy!" Cordelia hissed, fire shooting from her eyes. "That's enough."

"No, it's alright, Cordy. May as well have it all out. Don't want there to be any misunderstandings," Xander said, tightening his fingers around hers. She squeezed back, and turned to her mother.

"Mom. Do you think you could say something?" she asked her mother. Katherine merely looked at the two men, then back at her daughter.

"I'm sorry, dear. I think your father is right."

"Fine. Have a nice dinner," Cordelia said, pushing away from the table. "Xander. I've lot my appetite," she said, before tugging him out of the chair and storming out of the room, both brunettes oblivious to the eyes that followed them.

~*~*~

"I am so sorry," Cordelia said, looking down at the steering wheel. They were sitting outside of his house, neither saying anything on the drive back from the country club.

"It's not your fault. It's typical," was all he said, turning to smile at her. "You don't think it, and that's all that matters." She smiled back at him, going willingly when he tugged her into his arms. With a sigh, their mouths came together. When she pulled away, she rested her head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart soothing.

"Don't ever think you're not good enough for me, Xan." *It's true,* he said to himself, then gently brushed his lips across her hair.

"Okay," was what he said. He ran a finger down her cheek when she looked up at him.

"You better get home. I'm sure they're worked up pretty good by now," he told her, leaning in to kiss her again. She reached a hand up and held him in place when he tried to pull away, engaging his tongue and lips in a sensual dance. She smiled up at him when they broke apart.

"I love you," Cordy whispered. Xander felt the awe and disbelief that he felt the first time she had said it in the hallway flare.

"I love you, too. Now, go. Don't feel like having the cops after me," he said with a chuckle. "Goodnight, sweety."

"Goodnight." Xander climbed out of the car, leaning into the open window to steal another kiss.

"I'll call you tomorrow," she said, waving as she pulled away. He watched as the little red convertible drove down the street, and turned at the stop sign. Once she was out of sight, he turned and walked to the house, Mr. Chase's words playing back through his mind. He couldn't really find anything but truth in them, and that made him scowl. He didn't have anything to offer Cordy. She had everything, what the hell was she doing with him?

Sighing heavily, he went inside, knowing the instant he saw his father he was in trouble. Carefully, he shut the door, mentally calculating the odds of his getting up to his room healthy. When Tony Harris turned to look at him, he realized that his chances were definitely not good.

"Where the hell you been?" he spat, pushing himself out of the recliner.

"Date," was all Xander offered, attempting to walk around the stone wall that was his father. He felt himself jerked back when Tony grabbed his arm.

"Don't walk away from me, boy," he said, his voice low. Xander felt fear slam into his chest as he looked into the cold, dark eyes.

"Just going to bed, Dad." He never saw the punch coming. With a force that would have sent him to the floor had his father not had hold of him, Tony Harris let loose on his son.

"Think you're better than me, now? Got yourself a rich bitch girlfriend, and suddenly you forget where you come from?" With each word, a fist connected with Xander's body, the ferocity of the attack stunning the boy. He gathered himself up enough to block the next hit, this one aimed at the side of his head, and raised his arm to retaliate. He knew from experience that his mother wouldn't come downstairs to help him, so he swung, and immediately wished he hadn't. Tony caught the fist that was coming at him with ease, letting Xander in on the fact that he wasn't as drunk as Xander first thought. "You'll never be nothing but a janitor's son, boy. You might get that girl for a little while, so she can scratch an itch. But, you mark my words, she'll be tying up her skirts soon enough and running back to mommy and daddy." That was the last thing Xander heard before a blinding white pain sliced through him. Then, it was black.

~*~*~

Giles sat in his chair, cup of tea on the table, and book in his lap. He had just gotten home from the gallery, and had listened to Spike's message saying that he was over at Buffy's watching movies with the girls, so he decided to relax while he had the house to himself. When a knock sounded on the door, he frowned a bit, and rose to answer it. Thinking it was Spike who had forgotten his key, he was not prepared for the sight that met him. Xander stood on the stoop, blood and bruises covering his face, his obviously new suit in tatters. His breathing was ragged as he stared up at his friend's father, desperation swimming in his eyes.

"Xander?" he gasped, frozen to his spot. His first thought had been accident. But, the more he looked at him, the more he could tell that it was fists that caused this damage. Xander's eyes darted around, shame joining the misery on his face.

"I. . .I'm sorry to bother you. I . . .I just didn't have anywhere to go." The last word came out as a sob, and Giles watched as the boy crumpled in front of him. Without thought, Giles reached through the door and gathered him against his chest, tears springing to his own eyes as Xander wept.

~*~*~

"You are such a dork," Buffy said, giggling as she watched Spike try to catch popcorn in his mouth. So far, he was 0 for 10 and he was getting the stuff every where.

"That may be. But you like it," he purred, sliding his eyes over her. She rolled her eyes and laughed, kicking him. Dawn had retreated up to her bedroom as soon as Angel left, her heartbreak too fresh to have to deal with watching her sister and crush flirt. Which they had been doing shamelessly since they moved into the living room to watch tv. Joyce had just came in, and was in the kitchen making something to drink. She was just coming back into the living room when the phone rang.

"I'll get it," Dawn screamed from the top of the stairs, the sound of her footsteps heavy on the floor.

"What are we watching?” Joyce asked, sitting in the chair next to the couch where the two blondes were currently sitting. As soon as she walked in, they had told her about the fight, so that the neighbors wouldn't beat Buffy to it, and make it sound worse than it really was. She wasn't too happy it happened, but at least Buffy had finally broken up with Angel, and Spike didn't look worse for wear, so she figured that freaking out wasn't going to do any good.

"Airplane," Buffy answered as Dawn came bounding down the stairs, the cordless from her mother's room in her hand.

"Spike, it's your dad," she said, handing it to him. Spike wiped his hand on his jeans to remove the grease from the popcorn, a move that made Joyce cringe, before taking it.

"Dad? What's up?" The smile that had still been curling his lip started to fade, and angry glower taking it's place. His jaw clenched tight as he listened to what his father was saying, and the hand on his leg fisted. Buffy and Joyce exchanged a look of concern, before turning back to the blonde. "I'll be right there," he said, hanging up. He closed his eyes, and pressed the phone against his forehead, his body shaking with tension. "Mrs. Summers, would you take me home?" he asked after a minute.

"Of course, Spike. What's the matter?" He didn't answer, just stood and put the phone on the table, then reached for his duster.

"Spike," Buffy said, standing and blocking his path out of the room. "What is it?" Her eyes met his, and she was staggered by the emotion swirling through them.

"Xander," was all he said as he moved around her and stalked outside. The three Summers women looked at each other, then they all followed him out.

~*~*~

Rupert Giles was not a violent man. In fact, if anybody had told his son that in his day, he had been known to have a bar fight or two, Spike would have laughed in their faces. But the look in his father's eyes when he left the apartment, after telling Spike he was to stay put, had made the young man shiver.

Giles reached up and knocked soundly on the door to the Harris residence, taking his glasses off to clean them as he waited. A few seconds later, he heard some cursing and stumbling, then somebody fumbling with the lock before it swung open to reveal Tony Harris.

Tony stared down at the man in his doorway, taking in the calm demeanor, the tweed jacket, and the glasses.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, words slightly slurred. Giles replaced his glasses before answering.

"Mr. Harris, I am Rupert Giles, Spike's father." He never used his son's nickname, unless he was speaking to someone that would only know him by that name. He watched confusion, then recognition cross the other man's face.

"That freak with the white hair, right?" Rupert's eyes flashed dangerously at the insult to his son.

"Yes, that would be him."

"Whatta you want? He ain't here if you're looking for him." Tony started to close the door, only to scowl when Giles blocked it.

"I assure you, I know where my son is. The question is, do you know where yours is?" Anger flared across Harris's face.

"Damn little pup better be in his bedroom," he growled, turning to head up the stairs. If that boy wasn't there, he would give him another seeing to when he got hold of him. He didn't get far. With a speed and strength that Tony didn't think the smaller man had, Giles had Tony pulled out of the house and slammed against the wall, forearm banded across his throat "What the hell. . ." His words ended up garbled as Rupert increased the pressure.

"Let's you and I come to an understanding, shall we?" Giles started, conversationally. "If you so much as bat an eyelash at that boy again, I will kill you." Each word was punctuated with the crushing of his arm across the other man's windpipe. "He will be staying with me, from here on out. You are not to have contact with him unless he wants it. Do you understand?"

"You can't do this, that's my son. . ." Another strangled cry filled the air as Giles pressed just a little bit harder.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" After staring each other down, Tony looked away first, nodding his head in the process. With a unsteady 'thud', he barely managed not to fall over when Rupert dropped him

"Good. We, as in Spike and I, will be here tomorrow to pick up his stuff. Might I suggest you find another place to be."

And, with one last parting glare, the nerdy little man in tweed walked away, not sparing the man behind him another glance.

Cordelia slammed into her room, letting her parents know just what she thought of their little display at the country club. She hadn't said a word to them when she walked through the door. They had been sitting in the parlor waiting for her, calling her name as she walked past, nose in the air. Stripping off her clothes, she left the expensive dress laying in the middle of the floor, tossing her shoes on top. Pulling the clip from her hair, she dragged her brush through it, and went in search of some clothes. She had just finished pulling on a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, when they knocked on the door.

"I'm going to bed," she called, glaring at her father when he walked through the door. "Invasion of privacy," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, and rolling her eyes. Her father regarded her, standing in the middle of her room, surrounded by all the things a girl of her stature should have, and wondered where his little girl had gone. She was almost a woman now, old enough to make her own decisions, and he was terrified.

"Cordelia, we need to talk," he started, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"You want to apologize for the way you acted at dinner?" she asked him, pointedly, one delicate brow arching. Jefferson sighed, seeing that this wasn't going to be easy.

"No. I felt like I needed to say those things, just so he knew where I stood," he answered.

"Then, I have nothing to say. What you did was just so wrong, Daddy. He's good, and kind, and he treats me like I'm everything."

"Of course he would. You're Cordelia Chase." He sounded so sure of it, she nearly smiled.

"It's not because of my name. He sees ME. Not all this stuff," she said with disgust, waving an arm to indicate her belongings.

"Honey," Jefferson started, voice soothing. Cordy immediately set on the defensive. He used that tone when dealing with an upset client. "He's not our sort of people. He'll never amount to much, and you're too young to saddle yourself with the sort of problems he carries with him."

"You know, I thought that for a long time. That he wasn't good enough for me. But, you know what? I think it's ME that's not good enough for HIM," she spat, blinking back tears. Jefferson reared back, as if she had struck him.

"How could you say that? You're my daughter."

"Who I'm related to doesn't measure my worth. Money doesn't make me who I am. And no matter what problems he has at home, and trust me, I know a lot more about them than you do, that doesn't make him who he is. If he's strong enough to rise above it, why can't you be strong enough to see him for who he is. Instead of just a janitor's son?" she implored, her hands flying in front of her to punctuate her point. Whatever response he would have given was cut off by the shrill ringing of the phone. Cordelia stomped over to it and snatched it up.

"Hello? Oh, hi Will," she said, glaring at her father, who hadn't moved. She listened as the redhead talked, eyes widening and her face blanching with each word. "Where is he?" Cordy started to move while Willow answered, pulling on shoes and grabbing the same purse she had taken to the restaurant, the tiny square of red looking ridiculous with her casual attire. "I'm on my way." She hung up and walked past her father, not saying a word.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, moving to block her path. His eyes narrowed at the ice that was in her glare.

"He needs me," was all she said, before shoving past him again and walking out the door, leaving her father to stand alone in her room.

~*~*~

Xander sat on the couch in the Giles' living room, surrounded by his friends. Joyce had immediately set to patching him up, while Spike went to go hunt down something for him to wear. The anger rolling off the blonde was electric, and Buffy followed him into his bedroom, watching as he flung clothes around the room.

"Shoulda told Dad," he muttered, feeling the need to punch something. He jumped when he felt her hand touch his arm, and he turned angry, guilt ravaged blue eyes on her. He saw his own feelings mirrored back at him, and he sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, his head dropping to his chest.

"It's not your fault. Xander's dad is a bastard. We all knew. But, Xan wouldn't let us do anything to help," she said, taking a chance and pulling him into her arms. He was shaking in her grasp, and she ran soothing hands down his back. He crushed her to him, closing his eyes tight against the tears. He had failed his friend, and they were lucky it hadn't killed him. When he had first seen the damage done to Xander, he turned, prepared to go find Mr. Harris and exact some retribution. His father had seen the bloodlust flare in his son's eyes, and had stopped him. Telling him to stay, take care of Xander. Then, Rupert had given him a look that would freeze lava and went out the door himself. He hadn't returned yet, and he could only pray that his father came back unscathed.

Slowly, he pulled himself together, his grip loosening on the tiny woman in his arms. She pulled back to look at him, taking another chance and leaning up to kiss him softly. His eyes drifted shut as the tears threatened again, and he angled the kiss to deepen it. She allowed him to, kissing him back with equal fury, taking their anger and hopelessness out in the kiss. When they pulled back, they were both panting heavily. He leaned his forehead against hers, and took comfort from the feel of her. They hadn't discussed anything about the kiss in the bar, or what they were now, but it was enough to take consolation in each other for the moment. Now definitely wasn't the time for a heart to heart.

"You call Cordelia?" he asked, his voice rough.

"No. Willow's going to." She had called the redhead almost immediately, knowing Xander would want her there. He had just been sitting on the couch when they got there, shell shocked. It hadn't occurred to any of them that Xander might not want everyone around him. When one was hurt, they all felt it, and pulled together to band around the injured. Spike nodded, struggling to calm down. "Come on, let's find him something to wear, then we can be the strong and supportive friends that we are. Okay?" He nodded again, and looked down at her, sighing.

"Let's go," he said, releasing her, and grabbing a pair of sweats and a shirt before exiting the room, Buffy right behind him.

~*~*~

Cordy took one look at the battered face of her boyfriend and immediately went to him. Joyce discreetly moved away, allowing the couple to embrace. Cordy cupped his face, running gentle thumbs over his bruised cheeks, struggling with the emotions rolling through her. He just sat there, not responding to her touch, save for the tears that still leaked from his eyes.

"Xander?" she whispered softly, begging him to look at her. He avoided her eyes, his fingers coming up to pull her hands away.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his soft words shocking all in the room.

"Why?" was all she could gasp.

"Because. Your father was right. This is all I am."

"What? A punching bag?" she snapped, confusion and anger making her words sharp. Everybody present was suddenly wishing desperately to be somewhere else when they felt the air change. Joyce tapped Dawn and motioned for them to leave, sending Buffy a pointed look as well. The blonde nodded and started out, casting one last glance towards Spike, then over to the pair on the couch. Spike gave her a tight smile, and laid the clothes on the couch, before turning to go back to his room. Willow tentatively ran a hand over Xander's back and squeezed Cordy's arm before following the Summers women out. Since Giles hadn't returned yet, that left them alone in the room. They had been steadily staring at each other while the others quietly made their exits, tension thick around them.

"Well?" she asked, expectantly, crossing her arms over her chest. Xander shoved a hand through his hair, and heaved a deep breath.

"No. Yes. Everything," he stammered, looking at her with such misery, her heart nearly broke.

"Xander, don't you realize, I don't care where you come from, or where you've been. I love you. That's all that matters to me."

"I have nothing to offer you," he insisted, looking away from her. She gripped his chin, and turned his face back to hers. He nearly smiled at the look of steely determination in her eyes.

"You have everything to offer me," she told him, brushing her mouth across his split lip. His eyes drifted closed at the contact, and hot tears slid down his cheeks to mingle in the kiss. "Don't push me away," she pleaded, bringing her hands up to cup his face again. When she found herself hauled against him, she held onto him, fingers lacing through his hair, soft words flowing from her mouth to soothe him.

~*~*~

"Hey, man," Spike said, sitting next to Xander on the couch after he and his father returned from the Harris residence, His father had come home the night before, not saying a word about where he had been. The only thing he said, was that Xander was staying with them now, and that he and Spike would go pick up his things in the morning. Jessica Harris had met them at the door, looking tired and defeated, but Spike couldn't muster up much sympathy for her. He and Giles had made quick work of packing Xander's things, amazed at how little he actually had. A radio, some cd's, a collection of car magazines, and his clothes were it.

"Hey," Xander replied, glancing at Spike. He was currently watching the race, not really paying attention to it.

"You alright?" They didn't look at each other, uncomfortable.

"Yeah. Thanks, by the way," he said, rubbing a hand over his thigh.

"For what?" Spike turned to look at him, tilting his head to the side while he waited for him to answer. Anger flared through him anew as he looked at the bruised face of his friend.

"For, you know. . ." Xander struggled for words, not feeling comfortable with the display of emotion. It was one thing to do this in front of Buffy or Willow. They were girls, the emotional stuff was easy for them. Spike recognized his dilemma, and shared it.

"Yeah. I know. It's cool." He settled back on the cushions, and suddenly finding himself enraptured in the race.

"Cool," Xander said, sitting back himself, happy for being let off the hook.

~*~*~

"So, you ready for Friday?" Buffy asked, scraping her spoon through the ice cream in her hand. The phone was balanced on her shoulder as she danced around the kitchen to the radio, gold hair bouncing around her shoulders.

"No. You going to come over and help me get ready? I so don't think I could manage it on my own," Willow said, feeling panic starting to set in.

"Course. I'll bring Cordy and her trusty curling iron." She chuckled when Willow groaned.

"This is why I don't date. Too many accoutrements are needed," she complained.

"You'll be fine. Have you talked to Xander?"

"Yeah. He sounds good. I can still tell he's upset. It wasn't even that bad when he was a kid. But, being at Spike's seems to be helping. He gets to be a part of a family that works." Buffy huffed in agreement.

"Will. Why didn't your parents ever do anything?" Willow sighed, her own home situation settling heavily on her.

"They barely notice me half the time," was all she said, and Buffy felt a stab of guilt for her question.

"I'm sorry. That was thoughtless."

"It's okay. Nothing you can do about it. Just is. And they don't IGNORE me. They just aren't involved so much." Buffy thought it was amazing how she and Spike had such NORMAL home lives, and they were being raised by single parents, while their friends had both parents, but they were either unnoticed or abused.

"I'm sorry, anyway."

"So, anything new with Spike?" Willow asked, changing the subject.

"Not yet. Too much going on to do much thinking or talking."

"Yeah, I guess so. Have you. . .decided anything?" the redhead prodded. Buffy giggled at her friend's single mindedness.

"What did I just say?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. It's just, I don't know, you seem to click." Buffy thought about the two kisses they had shared, and the ease they felt in each other's company, and silently agreed.

"I don't know, Will. I'm still supposed to go to LA next week. Not so good to start a relationship before ditching out of town for three months."

"Well, that's a neat excuse." Buffy frowned, shoving a spoonful of chocolate-chocolate chip in her mouth.

"Aren't you supposed to be my best friend? You know, the one that's supposed to let me live in self denial." She huffed, dropping the spoon in the sink, and shoving the empty container in the trash.

"Is that in writing somewhere?" She could practically hear the smile in the redhead's voice.

"Yeah, 'The Best Friend's Guidebook to the Galaxy'." Buffy replied, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't get a copy," Willow deadpanned.

"Pfht!" she spat when Willow burst out into a fit of giggles.

"What's scaring you so much, Buffy?" she asked, turning serious. Buffy sank down onto one of the stools, resting her forehead in her hand.

"I don't know, really. I mean, he's sweet, funny. . ."

"A total hottie," Willow offered.

"Yeah, that too. I dunno. Guess I don't want to see underneath the polish and realize he's just a regular guy."

"Spike is far from polished."

"You know what I mean. I told you, I'll make a decision when I get back. If I still want to go out with him, then I will. This could all just be repressed sexual tension."

"Riiigghhht. And the Nile ain't just a river."

"I really need to get you that handbook," Buffy said with a disgusted snort. Willow chuckled at her friend's discomfort.

"Listen, I gotta go. Big test tomorrow. Why they wait until the last couple of weeks of school for finals is beyond me."

"Well, I think that's kind of why they call them FINALS Will. Wouldn't make sense if they were, I dunno, in April."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Willow said with a sigh. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Alright. Later, Will."

"Hi honey," Joyce said, walking into the kitchen.

"Hi Mom," Buffy said, looking thoughtfully at the table.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter. Why?"

"Well, you've got the same expression on your face that you get when you're trying to decide what to wear. Although, this time I don't think it's a fashion emergency." Joyce sat across from her daughter, and waited. Buffy played with the phone in her hand, not looking up at her mother when she started to speak.

"What do you think of Spike?" Her mother managed to bite back her grin, and seriously thought about the question.

"I like him," she said simply. "He's a good kid on the brink of becoming a good man. He's had some crappy things happen, with his mother dying and all. But, he seems to be working them out. Why do you ask?" Buffy looked up then, a blush creeping across her features.

"He kissed me, Friday," she mumbled.

"What?"

"He kissed me," she said louder, smiling a little.

"He kissed you, or you kissed him, or both?"

"Well, it started that he kissed me, but I was soon a willing participant." Buffy's cheeks were really flaming now, and not just from embarrassment. The way he had kissed her, made her skin tingle and her stomach flutter.

"Okay. I can tell by the look on your face that it was a pleasant experience. What does it mean?"

"I don't know. I mean, when it happened, I was still with Angel. And now I'm not. Should I just jump back into another relationship so soon?" Buffy turned confused hazel eyes on her mother, brows drawn together.

"Honey, I can tell you, you weren't in a relationship with Angel. He left you the day he went to college. Maybe even before. He just wasn't man enough to let you go, for whatever reason. But, you are the only one who can answer your question. Do you like him?" Joyce asked, leaning on her elbows on the table.

"Yeah. Maybe." Her mother could tell that was a huge YES.

"Well, then, do what your heart tells you to." Joyce smiled at the annoyed look she got. "You're a little old for me to make decisions for, Buffy."

"I know," she said miserably. Why was this so hard? She knew she liked him, knew she liked kissing him. Easy, right? Not so much.

"You'll be happier once you decide," the older Summers said, getting up to walk over to Buffy. Placing a kiss on her head, she smoothed down her hair and smiled. "Don't think. Just feel." Just then, the phone rang.

"Hello?" Buffy said, answering it. "Oh, hi Dad."

~*~*~

Spike walked up to the Summers' door, intent on talking to Buffy. The mid-afternoon sun beat down on his shoulders and head, making him feel like he was baking. He loved it. He didn't understand why everybody didn't live in California. He had just raised his hand to knock, when a sound carried on the wind caught his attention. It was a sound so full of hurt it nearly broke his heart.

Following the sound, he found himself in the backyard of the house, staring at Buffy's tiny form, huddled on the top step of the porch. Her head was buried in the arms across her knees, golden hair glinting in the light.

"Pet?" he started, slowly walking towards her. She jerked up, hand instantly going to her cheeks to wipe the wetness away.

"Spike. Hi. What are you doing here?" she asked, forcing a bright smile.

"Came to talk to you," he answered, sitting down next to her. Their bare arms brushed, causing a shiver to run through them. Ignoring it for now, he turned to look at her, his blue orbs full of concern.

"What about?" She feigned ignorance. She knew exactly what he wanted to talk about, and she wasn't in the mood.

"What's wrong?" he asked as if he hadn't heard her.

"Nothing, why?" He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Cause you're crying, that's why." Spike's tone had a touch more edge to it than he had meant, but she didn't seem to notice. Sighing, she looked out across the backyard, eyes getting a distant look.

"My father just called," she admitted, glancing at him. "We can't come for the summer. He has to go to Japan, or something."

"That's too bad," he said, resting his arms on his knees, never taking his eyes off her face.

"No, it's typical. Sorry Buff, can't see you on your birthday, I've got a business meeting. Gee honey, tell Dawn I'm sorry. My schedule is just swamped," she said bitterly, feeling the tears start anew. Sympathy welled up inside of Spike, but he didn't know what to do. They had kissed a couple of times, but that didn't mean he was free to go with his urge to gather her up in his arms and let her cry her misery out on him. He didn't want her to go looking for her frying pan again.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," he said, the words sounding lame to his own ears. Buffy shrugged a shoulder, looking down at the hands clasped in front of her.

"I should be used to it by now," she mumbled. "I guess we'll be around for the summer, now." She didn't sound too excited. Fighting another wave of tears, she leaned her head against his shoulder. Spike decided to try looping his arm lightly around her shoulders, heartened when she didn't stiffen.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, not thinking there was.

"Can we just sit here for awhile?" Hope filled her words, making him smile.

"For as long as you like, pet." Forever if you want.