Chapter One

"When's he arriving? Huh? When?" Buffy pestered her mother as she set out the Iced Tea and platter of sandwiches. Among them was cucumber, Spike, her stepbrother's, favorite.

Joyce gave her an impatient look, "Buffy, will you calm down? He's going to
be here any minute now."

"Well I'm excited! I mean, I haven't seen the guy since I was sixteen. He
turned nineteen and poof! Gone. It's been four years and I've missed him."

Joyce smiled. "I'm sure he's missed you too."

Buffy rolled her green eyes, "Yeah, right. He's been too busy with. . . stuff."

"Now don't go bringing up his divorce. He's still raw from it," Joyce
warned.

"Told William he shouldn't have married her," Giles, Buffy's stepfather and
Spike's—or William as was his real name—biological father added as he
stepped in and scoffed a cucumber sandwich from the platter. Joyce
swatted him.

"And what kind of wedding was it anyway? Oooh…a judge. Bo-oring,"
Buffy grabbed a PBJ off the platter and earned a glare from her mother,
causing her to dutifully put it back.

"He should have known something was off when the woman flat out
refused to have a ceremony that involved family and friends," Giles went
on, munching away. "She wanted to make him like her. A babbling recluse
talking to dolls and planning her day around what the ‘stars' told her."

"I'd like a judge's ruling on this—the stars? I didn't hear that one. Or much
of any of them. He never wanted to talk to his bratty little sister. He
wanted his mommy," Buffy said dryly.

Joyce smiled, "Even macho men want their mommy's when something
goes wrong."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, he sucks for not wanting me around.
You know there were times when I really could have used my big brother.
But no, he was too busy helping the mentally insane Drusilla."

"Our hearts don't use reason when it comes to love. The heart wants what
it wants," Joyce told her wisely.

Buffy shrugged, "Whatever. It just seems to me that if you know there's a
possibility you're going to get screwed out of the deal, why go for it? I'd
rather have both eyes wide open than completely shut, or even half
massed."

Joyce patted her arm gently. "Someday Buffy. Someday you'll love and
you'll see how wild and intense and passionate it can be. It'll take your
breath away."

"Doubt it."

"That's because you haven't found it yet."

"Maybe," Buffy said non committal.

"I think I hear the car," Giles said suddenly, straining to hear. Loud music
accompanied by a loud muffler was heard outside. "Yes, it must be him.
Just like our William: Hearing him before you see him."

Buffy smiled broadly and rushed to the door. Flinging the door open she
practically ran outside to greet her big brother. The man she'd set on a
pedestal since he'd moved out; the man who'd been away for four years and
was now back.

Rupert Giles and Joyce Summers had met at an art gallery showing –
Joyce's gallery to be specific. Buffy had been ten years old. Sparks flew for
the couple and it wasn't long before the "I Do's" were exchanged. Out of the
deal, Buffy got a father who was actually there for her and an older brother,
both British. Something she'd wished she had before. She was of the
opinion that all girls needed a big brother to protect them. Spike had fit the
role to a T. Well, he went from that to alternately telling her to get lost. It
was a sibling thing and it hadn't really bothered her all that much.

With his rebel ways and penetrating blue eyes with the bleached blond
locks, William had given himself the nickname Spike and he was a force to
be reckoned with. He felt that his ‘step mum' and Dad were trying to hinder
him too much and he'd moved out the second he'd turned nineteen. He'd
taken off for the east coast and had gone to college there for a while before
meeting the elusive Drusilla and getting married. It'd been a shock to all of
them and it had hurt Buffy to know that he never bothered with her much
anymore, not even to tell her the good news. Their parents had gone out to
visit him a few times over the years, but Spike had never set foot in
Sunnydale again. Taking a silent protest and figuring she wasn't wanted
much to begin with, Buffy had never gone out to see him.

All of that seemed to be somewhat eradicated when she'd found out that he
was moving back home however. She was excited to see him, hoping that
maybe they'd get close again, that maybe he would allow her to be part of
his life. God knew she wanted to show off him off. She'd built him up over
the years into this James Dean like icon. He was to her the epitome of cool.
The fact that he'd taken off to the other side of the U.S., was fascinating to
her—even more that he'd driven there to ‘see more of the country'. And
now, he'd driven back with what few belongings he could fit in the back of
his DeSoto. The rest had been shipped home and was currently in boxes in
his old bedroom. Heaven forbid he should leave the DeSoto behind or skip
out on the chance of not ‘seeing the country again'.

Spike stepped out of his car, his hair still bleached, but his dark roots had
started coming in. His hair was shaggier than she remembered and it was a
riot of curls. He had also acquired a duster it seemed and hadn't quit
smoking as a cigarette dangled from his mouth. She caught a flash of black
nail polish as he took out the cigarette and flung it to the street. He wore
black Docs, black jeans and a black t shirt with a red button down.

"Spike!" she shouted and ran at him, smiling happily.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped for a brief second before grinning
goofily and opening his arms to her.

She flung herself in his open arms and squealed when he lifted her off the
ground and swung her a bit.

"How's my kitten?" he asked, his voice deep and husky.

"I'm so glad you're home!" she exclaimed excitedly. "How was the trip
back? Has the country changed much since the last time you drove through
it?"

He placed her down on the ground and grinned. "Little bit. Don't
remember a lot actually."

"Maybe in another four years you could do it again to stay on top of it."

He smiled, "Maybe I'll take you with me next time."

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, right."

"William!" Joyce exclaimed, rushing up to greet him.

Buffy stepped aside, and met his warm blue eyes as he hugged their mom.
She smiled happily. Things were definitely looking good.
 

Chapter Two

Buffy brushed her long golden hair and stared at herself in the mirror, thinking. There was something definitely different about Spike. She noticed it in the way he carried himself and the way he spoke.

He'd grown up.

And, she was sure, had his heart broken. There was something almost
fragile about him. She wondered just how much damage Drusilla had done
and if his coming back home had a lot to do with her. She felt a surge of
protectiveness shoot through her and her green eyes narrowed with evil
intent. No one hurt her big brother and got away with it.

"Knock, knock."

She smiled and spun around in her vanity chair. "Come in, loser."

Spike waltzed in, a hand over his heart. "Oi, pet. That hurt."

She smiled. "What's up?"

He shrugged and looked around her room. "Hey, you have the Boston Red
Sox hat I sent you," he said excitedly and walked across her room to pick
up the navy blue hat with the red ‘B' on the front she had hanging on a hat
rack. Buffy had always been bit of a tomboy and collected various baseball
caps to shove on her head on days when she just didn't feel like being a
‘girly girl'.

"Of course I do, why wouldn't I?"

He shrugged. "And you finally painted your room blue."

"Think I wanted to live with flowered wallpaper? I think not."

"That's my girl," he grinned and sat down on her bed, facing her. "So, tell
me what's new."

She stared at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Can I be honest here?" she asked cautiously.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he told her.

"You kind of suck ass."

He froze. "What do you mean?"

"Despite how happy I am to see you, you suck for not coming to visit once
in a while and for not ever wanting to call and talk to me."

He nodded and scratched the back of his head. "I know."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I do. Truthfully, I didn't expect you to welcome me back with open
arms the way you did."

She cocked her head to the side. "Then why did you pretty much ignore
me all these years?"

"I don't know . . . I was taking a stand. Getting out on my own and not
wanting to need anyone."

"You always need your family, Spike."

He nodded; his eyes sad. "You're right, you do."

"Did you miss us?"

He looked up and met her eyes. "I did. Very much."

She got up from her seat and sat down next to him. She placed a hand on
his back. "Spike, can you tell me what happened with Drusilla?"

"Not much to tell. She was off her rocker and not very faithful."

"Did you love her very much?"

"Buffy, I don't want to really talk about this right now, if that's okay with
you?"

"You talked to mom about it," she said indignantly. "I'm not the same kid
anymore, Spike."

"I know that Buffy, and I didn't mean it that way. I just . . . I left all that
stuff there. I want to keep it there."

"That's the thing about your past. You can't leave it behind for very long.
It has a way of coming back to haunt you. See you downstairs." More than
a little peeved, Buffy stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut
behind her. Guess some things never changed, she thought.


**********************************************************
Buffy poked at her dinner as her family chatted around her. They'd all piled in the car together, and Buffy had barely said two words to Spike the whole way to the restaurant. It was the Giles/Summers welcome home dinner for Spike. Buffy just wasn't in the mood to be celebrating. It wasn't like it mattered to him if she was there or not. To him, she was just his stepsister. There was only three years separating him, but the way he treated her it might as well be ten. She didn't get it. He adored her mother, loved her to bits and depended on her. A large feat for Spike considering how he'd loved his real mum before she died a few years before Giles had met Joyce. So with the closeness he had with Joyce, how was it that Buffy got the short end of the stick?

"Are you going to poke at it all night or eat it?"

Buffy looked up, meeting Spike's eyes. She looked around the table.
"Where'd mom and Giles go?"

Spike pointed to the dance floor in the middle of the room. "Having a
dance."

"Oh." And she went back to poking at her steak.

"Care to dance with me?" he asked hopefully.

She eyed him warily. "You don't have to do that. I know you don't want
to."

He pushed his chair out and stood, holding out his hand. She noted how
handsome he looked – the black on black gone and its place were neatly
pressed dress pants, a light blue button down that matched his eyes, and a
tie. His hair was even slightly slicked back, taming his wild curls.

She looked at his hand and then up at him, not relinquishing her hold on
her fork and making no move to take his hand.

"Buffy, come on. Don't make me look like a jackass standing here with my
hand out like this," he nearly pleaded with her.

She sighed heavily and pushed out her chair, dropping her fork noisily onto
the plate. "Well, you are a jack ass," she said huffily, "So it wouldn't matter
much to me if you looked like one."

"I deserved that," he said as he followed her to the dance floor.

"You're damn right," she replied and turned.

He took her in his arms carefully. "Do you want to lead or shall I?" he tried
teasing.

She gave him a look. "Don't."

"Buffy, I'm sorry. I'm a bad, rude man."

"Yeah, you know what? In some circles that might be a good enough
excuse, but with me it doesn't cut it."

"Can we start over? What can I do to make it up to you?"

"You can start with not treating me as if I'm just . . . there. We used to be
close and then you take off without so much as a backward glance and
barely make any effort to keep in touch with me all these years. You're my
brother, Spike."

"Step brother," he corrected.

She detangled herself from his arms. "What does it matter?"

"Buffy, don't make a scene, please."

"Whatever," she snapped and walked away, leaving him on the dance floor
alone. She headed towards the table where she abruptly told Giles and her
mother that was calling her friend Willow and going there for a while.
Heading towards the bathroom, she stayed in there and called Willow,
staying there until her red headed friend arrived to collect her. On her way
out, she peeked over at the dinner table and found Spike looking forlornly
at his plate. Good, she thought smugly, now he knows what it feels like to
be left and ignored.


*************************************************************

Buffy climbed into her room later that night. She had no intention of staying the night at Willow's, she had just wanted to get away for a while. She wanted to avoid getting reamed out by Giles and Joyce for having left the way she did.

"So, you're still making good use of that tree," a deep voice rumbled in the
dark.

Buffy nearly fell the floor and just barely managed not to scream in fright
as she toppled to the floor. The light flicked on and she looked up to see
Spike standing there with his arms crossed, frowning at her.

"You know I don't like the idea of you walking the streets this late at
night," he told her.

She climbed to her feet, glaring at him. "You can't tell me what to do and
you can't start acting like you care all of a sudden."

"I do care. You do realize you're acting like a spoiled brat, right?"

"Kind of like the way you did when you moved across country and never
invited us to your wedding?"

He pursed his lips together. "What happened to this afternoon when you
were happy to see me?"

"I was happy to see you, but I can only contain my rage at you for so long.
It really hurt getting the shaft all this time, Spike."

"I know. I am sorry, Buffy, you don't know how much. Especially since I
see how you've grown . . . I did miss you, you know."

"You had a funny way of showing it."

"Listen Buffy, I can't change anything right now. It is what it is. I did what
I did and I can't change it. The only thing I can do now is make it up to you.
Will you let me try? Will you let me in your life?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Will you let me in yours?"

"Yes, Buffy, I can do that."

"So you will tell me about Drusilla?"

"I'll try. That's all I can promise right now."

She stared at him for a minute and then flung herself in his arms, hugging
him tight. "I missed you, you stupid jerk."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her just as tight, if not tighter.
"I know it didn't seem like it Buffy, but God, I missed you too."

There was something so real, so honest and so raw in that confession that
Buffy had no choice but to believe him.
 

Chapter Three


Buffy perched on the stool next to Spike at the kitchen counter and peered at him inquisitively.

He closed his mouth, stopping himself from shoveling the wad of pancakes on his fork
into his mouth and placed the fork down. "What?" he asked.

She smiled, "What are you doing today?"

He cleared his throat. "Looking for a job, why?

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh."

The corners of his mouth tugged into an amused grin. "Not what you were wanting
then?"

"I was hoping we could hang out."

"Well sweets, we can surely hang out afterwards. I promised Dad I'd look for
employment."

"Like what?"

"What?"

She rolled her eyes, "What kind of employment?"

He shrugged. "Not sure yet."

"Well, what did you go to school for?"

"I didn't finish school Buffy, you know that."

"But I figured even if you didn't, you'd want to do whatever it is you went for."

"I went for English. And pretty much without a degree, I'm serving up fries."

She wrinkled her nose again. "Ew. Don't do that."

He chuckled, "I'll try not to."

"Do you have a resume?"

"Sad state of affairs it is, but yes."

"All right, well, I'll catch up with you later then. Good luck!" and she slid off the stool.

Spike grabbed her arm, "What did you want to do today if I had been free? Anything
special?"

"Thought we could grab lunch, swing on the swings—"

He laughed, "You still do that?"

"Of course! A worldly woman such as myself still finds time for trivial things such as
that," she said haughtily and then giggled. "Plus, I wanted you to meet some of my friends."

Spike grinned, "I'd like that, kitten. However. . . "

"I know, I know." She sighed, "Maybe later."

"Definitely."


**********************************************************


"So when do I get to meet this brother of yours? The way you talk about him, I feel like
we should roll out the red carpet for when he comes home," Doyle, Buffy's best guy friend
joked as they half watched TV in her room.

She punched his arm playfully and he stroked the spot she hit. Buffy rolled her eyes.
"You'll get to meet him."

"Did you yell at him? Tell him what an ass he was for not bothering with you all this
time?" Doyle asked, peering up at her with bright blue eyes, framed by dark lashes.

"Yeah, we worked it out. . . he said he did miss me."

"Believe him?"

Recalling the passionate words and tight embrace from the night before, Buffy nodded,
feeling a shiver of something course through her.

"Uh-oh. What are you thinking about?"

"What?" she asked innocently.

"Something's up. You've got pensive face."

She scowled at him, "I don't like that you can tell what I'm thinking like that."

Doyle shrugged, "It's a cross I have to bear, being sensitive to your moods. Spill."

"Something's different about him."

"I imagine being married and then divorced so quickly to a ‘psycho' as you put it, can
put a strain on a man."

"How would you know?"

"That's it Summers," Doyle bounded up and tackled a giggling Buffy to the bed. "I
know where to get you!" he exclaimed and began digging into her sides.

Buffy was laughing and shrieking so much, she could barely breathe. She really was
trying to grab Doyle's hands away from her, but he was too quick.

"What the bloody hell is going on in here? What are you doing on top of my sister?"

Doyle froze, Buffy froze. Buffy tilted her head to see Spike in the doorway, red-faced
and menacing.

"Tickle Fest, 2005. No worries," Doyle said gallantly and climbed off Buffy, brushing his
dark locks out of his face. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Doyle. You must be Spike."

Spike's eyes narrowed and he stared at Doyle's hand as if it were a sickness Doyle was

trying to give him.

Buffy got up and fixed her clothing. "Spike, he wasn't hurting me. Doyle's kind of a
sissy."

Doyle mock glared at her and she giggled again.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me," Spike grunted and walked out of the room.

Doyle raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, something is definitely up with him."

"You can tell?"
"You'd have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to see it!"

"Any clue what it is, Oh Omnipotent one?"

Doyle shook his head, "I'm not at liberty to say."

"Yeah, because you don't know," Buffy snorted.

"Oh, I know," Doyle said cryptically. "I know enough to give you some time together
now."

Buffy looked at him oddly. Doyle merely pecked her nose and climbed out her window.

Running down the stairs, Buffy nearly collided with Spike who was standing at the
bottom, staring at her. He caught her in his grasp and steadied her.

"Did you find a job?" she asked, finding her balance.

"Where's your friend?" he asked, his hands gripping her arms.

"He left."

"I didn't hear – or see—" H frowned. "Out the window?"

Buffy nodded. "Yep, out the window."

"That ends now, or I tell Dad and Mum," he said harshly.

Her eyes widened. "Mom and Giles already know about Doyle—they even know that
he climbs in there—that I climb in there. Spike, I know you haven't been around for oh, four
fucking years, but I am twenty years old now. A legal adult. I have no restrictions and Mom
and Giles don't ground me anymore." She yanked herself free from him.

"They let you just sleep with him in the house?" Spike shouted in outrage.

Buffy's jaw dropped, "Sleep with—you mean sex?"

"Don't play dumb with me Buffy."

She couldn't help it, she started to laugh. "Sex with Doyle. Now that is funny."

"You two sure looked cozy back there," he said accusingly.


"I don't sleep with Doyle like that. I don't have sex with him. I don't turn him on that
way, Spike."

"You've got a lot to learn about men, Buffy," he told her darkly.

"I know enough about men to know that when they're gay they don't find women
alluring or arousing in that way," she spat.

He was making like a guppy. "You mean he's—"

"Gay? Yes."

"I feel really dumb right now."

Buffy patted him on the back, "Yeah, marinate in that feeling for a while since you just
embarrassed me and made an ass out of yourself in front of my best friend."

"Buffy," he started, following her to the kitchen. "I'm sorry for exploding like that."

Turning to him and leaning against the counter, she eyed him. "That stuff probably
would have been more effective if I were still sixteen. But you left remember?"

"How long am I going to be made to feel guilty for that?"

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, Spike. I'm stating fact. You left for four years
and I grew up. I'm twenty, you're twenty-three. Hell, you got married and divorced in all that
time. I don't go to high school anymore, I go to college. Things aren't the same anymore and
you can't expect to come back here after four years and think things are going to be the same as
how you left them. I really wanted my big brother all that time, but I have to tell you. . . I got
used to you not being here and not ‘looking out' for me."

"I want to look out for you now," Spike said earnestly. "I want to be here . . . for you."

"You can be, just not the same way anymore. Now instead of just siblings, we can
explore what it's like to be friends on top of being related to one another. I'd like to get to know
the person you've become, not the person you were when you left. And I'd like you to get to
know me, as I am now, not the person that was left behind."

"Buffy—"

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty Spike. Someone is always left behind when
someone leaves. It's not always a bad thing. Don't you like it better this way though? I'm not
following you around like a puppy like I used to, right?"

He nodded, looking down at the floor, "I didn't mind too much when you did."

"Yeah, ok. So all those times you told me to ‘get lost' were just because you felt it was
your brotherly duty to tell me that?"

He grinned slightly, looking up at her. "Something like that."

She shook her head and smiled. "Well, as part of getting to know each other now,
maybe we could leave that stuff behind?"

"I'm always going to want to protect you, Buffy," he told her sincerely. "Always."

"You didn't for four years while you were gone, what's the difference now?"

"I'm here now."

"I don't need protecting."

Sighing heavily, Spike ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the curls. "Can we start
over? Let's pretend I just got home, okay?"

This time, Buffy sighed heavily. "All right, fine."

"Hi Buffy, I'm home now. Would you like to hang out?"

She smiled, a genuine smile. "Yes, I'd like that."

 

Chapter Four



"So, tell me about Drusilla," Buffy said casually and popped a fry in her mouth, leaning back in the booth of the restaurant they'd decided to stop in at.

Spike swallowed. "Don't waste any time do you?"

She shrugged, "Did I ever? Some things never change."

"I told you already."

"Okay, let me try something else. Why don't you tell me what you would tell mom
when you called?"

"Buffy, no."


"Why not?" she pouted.

"You're adorable," he blurted out. Their eyes met and there was a moment –something
not easily defined, but more FELT. It hung there in between them, and time stood still for a
minute. It was as if someone pressed ‘pause' on a movie. Then, as quickly as it came, someone
pushed ‘play'. Buffy shivered and Spike looked down at his plate, nervously scratching the
back of his head.

"What I told Mum, that's all in the past. Dru is in my past."

Buffy reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "Do you still love her?"

He stared at their joined hands. "Who?"

"Drusilla."

"No. I feel for her, there's a difference."

"Because she was crazy?"

He nodded.

"Mom said she was in an institution."

"That's right, she is. Bloody had to drive her there."

Buffy squeezed his hand. "Spike, I'm so sorry."

Curling his fingers so that their hands were now entwined, he squeezed back.
"What was it? What did it? Or was it something she always had?"

"Something she always had. . . at varying degrees. Got worse as time went on."

"Did you love her very much?"

"I thought I did. I thought I could help her. I think I made her worse."

"How is that possible?"

"Buffy, can we get off this now, please?" he asked and met her eyes.

She nodded, "Yeah, I'm sorry. If you don't . . . you don't have to. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, pet. Just something I left there and don't care to revisit."

"Spike I just want to let you know that you can talk to me if you ever need to."

He gazed at her warmly, "Thank you."

She pulled her hand back and cleared her throat, "So, that was intense. Moving along
now."

He grinned. "Tell me about Doyle."

She broke out in a huge smile. "He's great. The best guy ever."

Spike arched a brow.

"Aside from you of course. Doyle's just . . . He's always got my back. He's affectionate
without trying to cop a feel. He's sweet without the hidden agenda and truly thoughtful."

"Sounds like you almost have a crush on him."

"I did actually. He didn't come right out and say he was gay and he's not
every…effeminate a lot of the time. So when we first started hanging out I did have a crush on
him. I think he figured it out and he let me know then that he was gay. I think he didn't want to
embarrass me in case I ever tried for anything."

"Would you have?"

"Tried for anything?"

Spike nodded.

Buffy shook her head, "No. I'm not good at stuff like that. I had always assumed that
Doyle was just shy like me and that was fine because I was shy too. If he had never initiated
anything, I probably would have been perfectly content to wait for him to."

"You shy? Come on, I have a hard time believing that."

She blushed under his teasing. "I am when it comes to that stuff."

"So you've never--?"

Her eyes widened and she hit him on the arm, "Spike! That is none of your business!"

"You're right, I'm sorry. I just assumed that – You know, I'm just going to stop talking
about that."

"Thank you," she said softly, cheeks blazing. What a mortifying conversation to have
with her brother of all people. She looked up at him meekly.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, kitten?"

"Is it a bad thing?"

"What? Being a –"

"Yeah."

His eyes widened, "God, no. Buffy, no. I think it's –it makes you all the more special."

"And guys love that sort of thing, don't they? Bagging a," her voice lowered, "virgin?"

"If that is how some guy perceives it, then he is not worthy to lick your boots never
mind . . . Buffy, it's a rare thing these days, but there is NOTHING wrong with it. It's
refreshing."

"It is?"

He nodded. "When Mum and Dad were growing up, staying uh, ‘pure' was something
that was just done. They were told to wait until they were married. When Dad gave me the
‘talk', he started it out with the standard ‘when two people love each other' spiel. I waited until
I was in love with someone before I lost mine. I took that to heart. It meant something."

"I always thought you were going at like a rabbit."

Spike chuckled. "No, princess, I wasn't. Being a ‘bad boy' is about the image. As long as you can
talk the talk, you don't always have to walk the walk."

"Faker!"

Spike shrugged, "What can I say? There were some things Dad taught me that I held onto. I j
ust didn't let him know that."

"I can barely stand to talk to half the guys I know—aside from Doyle—so I can't even imagine—ew."

Spike grinned.

"Was . . . was Dru your first?" she asked cautiously, fiddling with her napkin.

"Yes," came his quiet reply.

"Now we're definitely moving on. This conversation has gone from uncomfortable to
creepy and back to uncomfortable."

Spike chuckled, "You're right it has."

"Did you find a job today?"

"I did."

"Care to elaborate?" she prodded.

"Construction. Not exactly the best job ever, but it's money and I'm thinking I'll apply
to University of Sunnydale in the meantime and hopefully get accepted for winter registration.

"Hey! We could drive in together!" Buffy said excitedly.

"That we could, kitten."

She smiled, "Have I told you how happy I am that you're home?"

Spike smiled warmly. "I'm happy too, Buffy."







He couldn't sleep. He stared up at the ceiling feeling anxious. He didn't know what to
do with himself. He could hear Buffy's TV in her room going. Glancing at the clock, he noted it
was midnight. She no doubt fell asleep with it on. She'd been knackered by the time they'd
gotten home from walking practically all of Sunnydale. It was nice to just walk and talk like
that. And at the restaurant when she'd reached him and held his hand. It warmed his heart.
Just to have that contact with her, just a simple hand on him—it meant everything to him.

It was also dangerous.

Spending time with her like that led to thoughts that would no doubt send her running.

It'd sent him running after all, didn't it?

He shook his head and sat up against the headboard. The sheet fell down around his waist and he used the light of the moon trickling in from the window to guide him as he lit up a cigarette.

Expelling the smoke, he wondered what the bloody hell he was doing back here. He could have gone anywhere, but no, he chose to come back home. Back to Buffy. Back to his SISTER. Well, his step sister as he was so quick to point out last night. It didn't make it any less confusing or wrong however knowing there was no blood between them. For Christ's Sake, her Mum was like his Mum…he called her Mum. His Dad was hers . . . He felt dirty. Felt like he was committing incest for even thinking of the Golden Goddess in the next room. How she gazed up at him with trusting eyes. Eyes that spoke of adoration. She didn't know how he felt and he still felt as if he were exploiting her innocence. She couldn't even begin to know what it meant to him to learn she was a virgin still. His whole being had sung at that piece of information. His Golden Girl, his Buffy, his Princess was untouched. When he'd seen the boy on top of her on her bed that afternoon, he'd had to talk himself out of ripping his head off and shoving it up his ass. The thought of Buffy having sex, of being touched . . . Great. Good job. Now you're harder than nails, Spike berated himself. He refusedto release the tension. Refused to touch his betraying member. He wasn't supposed to have these thoughts of Buffy. It was wrong and it was dirty and God . . .

Hadn't he learned when it drove Drusilla insane?
 

Chapter Five


Buffy munched on her cereal the next morning and idly glanced at the
clock. It was eight. Spike had to be to work at nine and she'd heard
neither hide nor hair of him yet.

Should she wake him?

Well, it was either that or he be late on the first day and that
would be bad. Giles had been so excited that he'd found a job the
night before, he'd broken out the champagne. She thought it was a
little much, but she understood the gesture just the same. Giles was
excited his son was home again. Taking a job meant he was there for
possibly a very long time. She smiled as she remembered Spike teasing
her when her cheeks had flamed red from just a few sips of the
liquor. He had a really sweet smile. She didn't remember him ever
smiling much before. Not unless he was laughing at her.

8:15.

She slid off the stool. She was waking him.

Running up the stairs and to his room, she halted and knocked on his
door. Nothing.

"Spike, you need to get up," she called through the door.

She took a deep breath and hoped he didn't yell at her for this. She
pushed at the door and it swung open to reveal Spike on his back, one
arm draped over his head, the other at his side. The sheet was
bunched up his waist and covering his `naughty bits'. His legs were
bare, his chest was --- Did he work out?

She gulped, tearing her eyes from his torso and up to his face. She
smiled gently. How adorable was he? He didn't look so. . . haunted.
He was at peace. She had the urge to touch his face; to feel his
peace.

His eyes flew open. "Buffy?" he croaked, "Am I dreaming?"

"No, I'm sorry but you have to be to work in," she glanced at his
alarm clock, "forty minutes. I don't want you to be late on your
first day. I could um, make you something to eat while you shower if
you want."

"Yeah, that'd be great uh—"

She held up her hands. "I'm gone!"

She nearly flew down the stairs, images of his nakedness running
rampant in her mind. She felt like sticking her fingers in her ears
and humming really loudly like she used to when she was kid and
didn't want to hear anything. Maybe the simple act would dispel it
all from her mind and stop the blush she swore was originating from
her toes. She leapt to the phone and dialed Doyle.

"'Ello?" a groggy voice answered.

"Sorry Doyle. Go back to sleep."

He hung up. She started singing the theme song to The Brady Bunch to
get it all out of her head.

She was still doing that ten minutes later when Spike sauntered into
the kitchen.

"What the bloody hell are you on? I could hear you all the way
upstairs," he said as he grabbed the plate of cinnamon toast she
handed him. "Thanks."

"Would you prefer Gilligan's Island?"

"Buffy, I had to take one bird to an institution; I really don't want
to have to take you too."

She couldn't help it, she laughed. An almost crazy laugh.

"Buffy?"

"I got up much too early," she told him.

He smiled. "It's okay. I always knew you were strange."

She smiled brightly, "Good luck today. Mom was so gay and packed you
a lunch. It's in
the fridge."

"Okay, great."

"Yeah, okay. Bye!" and she breezed up the stairs intent on waking
Doyle's ass up NOW.




"Take him his lunch, Buffy," Doyle urged.

"No."

"Do it."

"No."

"Seriously, do it."

"No."

"You're going to let the poor man starve?"

"Yes!"

"And why is that?"

She glared at her best friend who sat in the chair opposite her as
she reclined on the
couch. "We've only spent the whole morning going over it."

"Because you think he's, how did you put it? `Yummy'."

"Doyle! You weren't supposed to say it out loud!" She huffed and
placed an arm over
her eyes, shielding him.

"Ah, we dare not speak its name," he said in a fake Italian accent.

"Right!"

"Even if it's just us that knows?"

"Right!"

"Buffy, he's not really your brother."

She flopped her arm back to her side. "Doyle, he's been my `brother'
since I was ten."

"Yeah, since you were ten. Not since birth. He's your STEP brother.
No blood."

"It's still . . . gross!"

"Definitely not gross. Have you SEEN him?"

She gave him an incredulous look.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Why don't you just step on my head while I'm drowning?"

"Oh stop being so melodramatic."

"It's wrong Doyle, it's . . . "

"Kinky."

She eyed him warily. "You'd know all about that wouldn't you?"

"I'm gay. I've got the kink built in."

She giggled.

"See, you're not sounding like a foghorn anymore complaining. You're
giggling now."

"So, Freud, what's the prognosis?"

"You are a female and Spike is a male—very much a male by the way.
You saw his
naked flesh –which, so jealous by the way—and you reacted as a female
would to a male she
found attractive."

"Are you going to get to the part where I shouldn't have done that
and it was wrong
and incestual?"

"No. Come on Buffy, what do you expect me to say? That you deserve
to kneel on rice
and say five Hail Mary's? I'm not going to do that and if you expect
me to, then march yourself
to the nearest Catholic church."

"I don't think you're understanding what this means Doyle."

"It means you're attracted to Spike. Who is a man that is NOT your
REAL brother.
Buffy, you spent four years without him as your brother. Did you not
see `Clueless'?"

"Oh great, so what you're saying is that I'm Alicia Silverstone and
he's Paul Rudd?"

"Exactly."

"Except NOT. Our parental units are still together. He's always been
referred to me as
my brother."

"We're talking in circles now. Are you going to bring him his damn
lunch or not?"

"Yes," she hissed and bounded to her feet. "But you're coming with
me!"

"Finally!"





She was his oasis. That was his only thought as he saw her trudging
across the open site
to him. He couldn't stop himself from staring, wiping the sweat from
his face as he watched
her. She had on loose gray capris and a tight white t-shirt. On her
head was the Red Sox had
he'd bought her, her hair spilling out underneath it. She held in her
hand a paper bag. Doyle
was a few steps behind her, trying to keep up with her.

He took off his hard hat and stood there, grinning like an idiot as
she approached.

"Who's that?" Xander Harris, his work mate and site manager asked
him, coming to
stand next to him.

"Buffy."

"Girlfriend?"

"Step sister."

"She's hot."

Spike glared at him. "That's my step sister, mate. Back off."

Xander held up his hands and backed away, "This is me, over here,
backing off."

"Hi," Buffy said, finally reaching him.

He smiled down at her, "Hi luv. What brings you out here?"

"You forgot your lunch," and she thrust the bag at him.

"Hi Spike," Doyle greeted him, grinning.

Spike nodded, "Hey Doyle. Wanted to apologize for my behavior
yesterday."

"Don't worry about it. I'd freak too if some strange good looking
man was on top of my
stepsister."

Buffy shot him a look. "You don't have a stepsister."

"That's why I said `if'," Doyle said as if she should have known
that.

Spike started to laugh. "Funny bloke, can see why you like him," he
told Buffy who was
scouring the site with her eyes. He was really hoping she wasn't
actually checking any of them
out.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you look at me, pet?"

Her eyes rolled to meet his. "What?"

He smiled and felt his insides constrict at the sight of her lovely
green eyes. "There she
is," he murmured.

"So, uh, yeah, your lunch. I put an extra water in there for you.
Are you drinking water
here?" she went back to looking around.

"Yeah, there's a bubbler and a fridge in the trailer full of water."

"Okay, good. You don't want to get dehydrated."

"Worried about me, kitten?"

"Well, yeah. I mean you are my brother. Wouldn't want anything to
happen to my
brother because you're my brother. You know what I mean brother?"

"Hey Buffy, is Spike your brother? Or STEPbrother?" Doyle
interjected.

"Stepbrother," Spike answered him, keeping his eyes on Buffy. She
was acting strange.
Fidgety, nervous. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" she asked, squinting up at him.

"You're acting funny. You all right?"

"Yeah, I uh, I think it's the heat, I just need to –"

"Christ Buffy, you worry about me getting water?" he grabbed her arm
and started
dragging her with him to the trailer. "Let's get some water."

"Spike—"

"Have you eaten?"

"Spike—"

"I'll wait out here!" Doyle called cheerfully and waved.

Opening the door to the trailer, Spike noted it was empty and he
trudged across it to
open the fridge. He let Buffy's arm go as he grabbed a bottle, opened
it and handed it to her.

"I really have to learn to think before I speak," she muttered.

"What?"

She shook her head and chugged some water. "Nothing," she said when
she swallowed.
"Kay Dr. Giles, I think I'm all set now."

"I'm glad you came by," he told her softly. He was, he really,
really was. No matter how
wrong it possibly was. He'd been thinking of her all morning,
thinking of how he wanted to
take her out after, treat her to dinner so they could `bond' some
more. That was the thing about
his feelings for her; he had to feed the addiction. Couldn't stop
himself from feeding the
addiction. How could he be a sinner if she was his angel?

"Well, I couldn't let you starve. Doyle was actually pretty adamant
about that."

"Do you have plans later, Buffy?"

"No, why?"

"Maybe we could hang out?"

"Uh, sure."

Her scent was invading him, surrounding him and driving him wild.
Did she know
how gorgeous she was? She wasn't like any girl he'd ever come across.
She was real, never
fake. She didn't put on airs; she didn't try to be anything she
wasn't. She just was.

He reached out, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. She watched
him with wide eyes
and he found himself drowning in her. She had to go before he did
something he'd regret. "You
better get back to Doyle," he said softly.

She nodded. "Yeah, I better." She practically sprinted out of the
trailer and he stood
there, hard, aching and left wanting. Always left wanting when it
came to her.

"I must be as crazy as Dru."
 

Chapter Six

“Mom, can I ask you a question?” Buffy asked later that afternoon before Spike and Giles had arrived home and long after she had left Doyle. She sat on the bed in Joyce’s bedroom as her mom unloaded some laundry.

“Sure, honey, what is it?”

“What exactly happened with Drusilla? I mean, I know she went crazy, or rather
already was crazy, but what was it exactly?”

Joyce stopped what she was doing and stared at her daughter. “Has William told you
anything?”

“Some things. Just that she was crazy, he had to drive her to the institution and that she
had been unfaithful to him.”

Joyce nodded, “Well, yes, that is the sum of it.’

“Do you think he feels . . . responsible? I mean, I really think it troubled him a great
deal. Hence him coming home and the marathon phone calls he had with you.”

“Honey, it’s hard when you love someone and they become ill. She wasn’t of sound
mind and your brother spent a lot of time caring for her. I know he does feel that he could have
done more for her, that if he had maybe she wouldn’t have become so ill. He knows though
that there was nothing he could do.”

“So they don’t know what it was?”

“’Fraid not honey. That’s why she’s getting help now. To find out.”

“Has he said anything about it? Is he torturing himself?”

“He hasn’t said anything really. Just an overall sense I get from him.”

“Well, you always were very sensitive to William and his moods.”


“Yeah, I guess I was. Kind of forget the little things like that.”

Joyce patted her arm. “I remember.”

“Mom, can you not tell him that I was asking about Drusilla? I don’t want him to know that I was snooping. I told him I’d leave it alone.”

“Won’t say a word.”

“Say a word bout what?” a voice drawled from the doorway.

Both heads snapped to find Spike in the doorway dusty and with a sheen of sweat on
his forehead.

“I was just telling mom how I really think there’s no hope for your geekiness. She
agreed, but we were planning on keeping it on the down low.”

Spike chuckled and shook his head.

“How was the first day, honey?” Joyce asked, smiling at him.

“Good. Hot, tiring. . . but not bad. Hey Buffy, do you want to go to The Bronze tonight?
Xander, my boss invited me to hang out and play some pool. I figured if you wanted to get
some of your mates together, we could all go together, make it more fun.”

Buffy stood, “Oh I see. Because hanging out with your baby sister all alone is not fun
enough,” she teased as she started toward him.

His eyes widened. “No, Buffy, I didn’t mean it like that. I just remember—“

She looked up at him, “God, you’re easy.”

He gave her a look. “Brat.”

She smiled cheekily, “I know! Are you hungry? I was thinking we could order a pizza.”

He smiled warmly, “Sounds good luv.”

“I’ll order,” and she bounded down the stairs.

“Will honey?”

Spike looked over at Joyce. “Yeah?”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering. Mom’s worry.”

Spike nodded, “Everything is just. . . peachy.”





“I’m just saying, what was wrong with what you had on earlier?” Spike asked as he and
Buffy entered The Bronze where they’d agreed to meet their ‘mates.’

“Spike, I was dressed like a bum. I’m not coming here dressed like a bum,” Buffy told
him.

“You didn’t look like a bum.”

“Okay, a tomboy.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with this?” she asked, gesturing to her outfit.

Nothing if you want me stay hard all night, Spike thought as he gazed at her jeans that
flared at the bottom, but hugged her ass like it was a second skin. Then there was the low
dipped, sleeveless white top. The boots she wore completed the look and God, she was
gorgeous.

“Do you dress like this for school?” he asked casually.

“No, Giles, I don’t.”

“Hey, no need to get cheeky, luv.”

“I see Doyle and Willow,” she said and waved, gazing at table across the room. Doyle
was waving madly at them.

They made their way to the table, Spike glaring daggers at all the tossers who dared
ogle Buffy on the way. She, of course, was perfectly oblivious. He was beginning to wonder if
Doyle’s friendship was a shield so that she didn’t have to deal with interest from the opposite
sex. She had yet to mention any boys she was interested in and when he’d asked Joyce over the
years about what Buffy was up to, she had never mentioned her dating anyone. Thank God.
Just the thought had his mind reeling. Even across the coast, he’d had to fight his jealousy. It
was positively unreal what she did to him without even realizing it.

He felt torn. He wanted to fight what he felt and yet couldn’t stop himself from seeking
her company. It was just like when they were kids. She always wanted to be with him and he
would allow it for a time until being around her and not being able to act on how he felt
became too much. Then he’d tell her to ‘get lost’. He knew she always wondered what she’d
done to make him angry, but it was himself he was angry at, not her. It was he whom he
blamed for . . . He wanted to scream, he wanted to tell her, tell her so she’d tell him he was the
one who was crazy and tell him to ‘get lost.’ If she gave voice to it, then maybe it’d sink in. But
when she looked up at him with those expressive green eyes all full of tenderness and
adoration. . . he was helpless. Of course its adoration, you git, you’re her older brother.
BROTHER. The voice in his head was good about reminding him when he got just a little too
close to her.

He needed to get just a little pissed and focus on something else. He’d keep his
brotherly distance and let her have her fun, and, if some git tried to make a pass at her, he’d let
them. If only to drive the point home that Buffy wasn’t his and never could be his.





“Hey Spike?” Xander waved a hand in front of his face.

Spike blinked and looked at him, “Yeah?”

“Where are you, man? I’ve been trying to get your attention to tell you to make your
shot. What are you looking at?”

“Nothing, I just—Does that guy look like he’s about to put his grubby paws on Buffy?”

Xander raised a brow. “Uh, seeing as he’s standing with his hands IN his pockets, no.”

“They’ve been talking for a long time now.”

“And?”

“And . . . My shot you say?”

Xander stared at him. “Stepsister you say?”

“What?”

“Spike, you’ve been watching your ‘stepsister’ all night. When you haven’t been making
comments about the guys that have come around her, you’ve been watching her as if you’d like
to devour her. What’s going on?”

“You’re off your rocker,” Spike huffed and focused his attention back at the pool table.

“Am I? Or am I sensing some lusty feelings for her?”

Spike glared at him.

“Listen, I’m not here to judge. . . Well, not much anyway. I’m just saying that you better
figure that shit out. I mean, you live in the same house with her right?”

Spike nodded slowly.

“And you’re all a happy nuclear family right?”

Spike looked down.

“It’s a little . . . gross.”

Spike wouldn’t look up. He stared at the pool table, ashamed.

“I’m not saying that I wouldn’t—“

Spike looked up and glared daggers.

“I’m just saying that. . . You know it’d probably be wrong of you to do something
right?”

Spike looked down again, feeling suddenly that he wanted to cry. And hide.

“Maybe you should, I don’t know, get a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, they’re just lining up for me, Harris. Got a string of em’. Did you not hear me
when I said I just got divorced not too long ago?” Spike snapped at him.

“I’m just saying that maybe instead of ogling Buffy and being all overprotective, maybe
you should be checking out the buffet of women here tonight. I’ve noticed quite a few looking
your way.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed, “Like who?”

“Oh, like that one,” he pointed to the bar to a brunette, “the red head across the room
and the—hey, the blond that looks like she’s on her way over now.”

Spike’s head whipped to where Xander was pointing and watched as a blond, with long
flowing locks much like Buffy’s sauntered over with a smirk on her red heart shaped mouth.
She eyed him like he was prey. Spike wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The smoldering look
she was giving him made him uncomfortable—which was saying a lot.

“Hello gorgeous,” the woman purred at him, running a hand down his arm. “I’ve been
watching you.”

Glancing over at Buffy who was still talking to white bread, and then to Xander who
was giving him a thumbs up, Spike took a deep breath and smiled. “Hi, I’m Spike. What’s your
name?”

“Harmony. Care to dance?”

Spike smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His heart was just not into this. His heart
was into . . . Well, it was into someone he just couldn’t have. Xander was right; if he planned to
shake this obsession with Buffy, he should start by finding someone he COULD have. A
healthy relationship, yes, that’s what he needed.

But was it healthy to choose a girl that sort of looked like Buffy?







“Buffy, is that Harmony Kendall draped over your Spike like a second skin?”
Doyle asked and pointed to the dance floor.

Buffy’s attention immediately piqued, looked toward the floor and stared at the
spectacle of Spike and Harmony entwined together on the dance floor. She gulped, a feeling
foreign to her bubbling up inside. It made her skin hot, it made the room spin and it made her
want to yank the slut off of Spike.

“Yeah, it appears that way,” Buffy murmured.

“Doesn’t that make you just want to claw her eyes out?” Doyle asked in her ear.

“Nope, not at all,” she said turning to Doyle with her arms crossed.

“No?” Doyle pressed. “Not even a little?”

“If I did, which I don’t, it would only be because he is my brother and Harmony is –“

“A barracuda?” Doyle supplied.

“And I wouldn’t want him to get hurt. Or contract an STD.”

“Well, hold on to your hats gentlemen because it looks as if Slutney of Sluttown is
moving in for the kill,” Doyle observed.

Buffy turned in time to see Spike in a heavy lip lock with Buffy’s long time nemesis. Her heart dropped to her toes.

“Doyle?” she said in a small voice.

“Yeah honey?”

“I wanna go home.”

“Do you want to claw her eyes out yet?”

“I – I just want to go home.”

“All right, Buffy, let’s go home.”
 

Chapter Seven

Buffy lay in the darkness of her best friend's room after she settled in his bed. Buffy had decided she did not want to go home in case Spike did try to bring Harmony there. She really did not want to hear or see anything. She didn't even want to know about it. If she could strike herself ignorant to what she'd seen, erase it completely from her memory and stop replaying it over and over in her mind, she'd happily do it.

She'd called her mother and told her she'd be staying at Doyle's that night, which, of course was no big deal since Doyle's home was like her second home.

"Is Spike still out?" Joyce had asked, her voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, mom, he's still out. I was getting really tired and –"

"Was he drinking a lot Buffy?"

"No, mom. Plus, Xander, his friend from work was with him. Spike can be pretty responsible, mom."

"I just worry about you two."

"Well, I'm here and I'm fine. Just tired," she yawned for effect. "Night mom."

Doyle hadn't said much about what they'd seen. Didn't let anything on to what she was
feeling. He knew better than to badger her. She'd come clean in her own time.

"Doyle?" Buffy asked, disrupting the deafening silence of the room.

"Yeah?" Doyle asked back from the fold out couch in his room as Buffy had the bed.

"It bothers me."

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to make me spell it out aren't you?" she sighed.

"Buffy, you know as well as I do that I can't ‘make' you do anything. I think it'd help
though if you said out loud. Sometimes when you keep things in like that, it's almost as if they
aren't real and don't exist."

"Then that would actually benefit me to make it not real."

"Except that keeping things in like that will just torment you until you give voice to it.
Being able to work through it is the best way to go."

"You just want the gossip."

"Buffy, I just want you to be happy."

"Okay, okay, okay. . . It bothered me to see Spike making out with Harmony."

"Why?"

"Aside from the fact that she's a tramp and is the bane of my existence?"

"Yes."

Buffy was quiet for a minute, mustering up her courage. "I didn't want him kissing
her," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Argh! You're doing this on purpose."

"Just say it out loud Buffy. Give voice to it so it doesn't beat you up."

"Because I wanted him to be kissing me. It's crazy, Doyle. Tell me it's crazy."

"Why would I tell you that?"

"So that it doesn't beat me up anymore!"

"But it's still there isn't it? If I told you that it was crazy and sick, it would still be there."

"But it's WRONG!"

"We've been over this Buffy. He's not really your brother!"

"Yeah, but—"

"Buffy, were you ever attracted to him before?"

"I," she started and then stopped, thinking. After a minute, "I don't think I'd ever
thought of it . . . I mean, yeah I'd noticed him. But I never put much thought into why I . . . I . ."

"Put him on a pedestal? Wanted to be around him all the time? I've heard you talk
about him Buffy. I've seen the look you get on your face. Some part of you, whether you
recognized it or not was attracted to him beyond sibling love. However, you were just a child
then. And then he left.
Cut to four years later. You've barely had any contact with him, you've had separate lives and you've grown up. Which, you told him as much too. You've built him up in your head more, and yet at the same time, demoted him a few notches because of how he ignored you all this time. You've felt protective of him, possibly even jealous of his marriage—"

"I never—"

"I said possibly. He's not the same anymore and neither are you. You're both adults. . . well, to some extent you are."

That earned a pillow being flung across the room and knocking Doyle off the side of the head.

"Case in point," he teased. Then sobered. "You saw him as a man today Buffy. Your reaction to him was of one of a woman reacting to a man. Despite what society or your parents might tell you about your relationship to him, he is not really your step brother and some part of you is aware of that. So aware that it caused you to become jealous over Harmony.
It's not wrong Buffy. He's not really your brother so it's not really incest. Telling yourself how ‘wrong' it is and how ‘dirty' it is, will only drive you crazy."

"So then what do I do now? Do I tell him I'm having these . . . reactions to him? I mean, I don't know that they are feelings so much as reactions at this point."

"I think you need to give Spike some time."

"What do you mean ‘give him some time? What are you talking about?" Buffy demanded.

"I'll let you know when to tell him."

"How do you know when—"

"Trust me Buffy," Doyle said firmly.

"But—"

"Just trust me on this. Give him some time."


It was a bad idea. The whole thing was just a bad idea. He knew it from the start. And yet he thought if he just gave himself over to the moment—he'd find some kind of freedom. Like something would snap within him and all those feelings for Buffy would dissipate, cease to exist.

You can't erase six years of longing for one person like that.

And, you can't expect it to happen by pretending its them on their knees with their lips wrapped around your hard member.

You also can't say their name out loud and hope that it falls on deaf ears.

"What?!" Harmony screeched and bolted up from her spot on the floor in front of him. She swiped at her mouth as Spike closed his eyes, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this one.

"Harm—"

"You mack on me out there on that dance floor—" she gestured to where the pulsating music was coming from. "And you tell me you want me and so I bring you here to have me and you call me someone else's name? Not even just ‘someone' either. Buffy Summers!"

Spike's eyes widened. "You know my si—Buffy?"

"That little uppity bitch? Yeah, I know her."

Spike's jaw clenched and he tucked himself back in his pants and zipped up. "She's not an uppity bitch," he snarled at her.

"Please. She's a prude. She thinks she's better than everybody else."

"Everybody else meaning you?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harmony flipped her hair over her shoulder. "At least I know how to have a good time."

"So taking strange men you just met into the backroom of a dance club is your usual MO and Buffy, who would NEVER do something like that, doesn't know how to have a good time? Why? Because she doesn't ‘put out' for the first hard dick that comes around?"

Harmony poked him in the chest with a perfectly manicured red nail. "Like you're one to talk. You were willing to put out for the first pussy that came around."

Spike hung his head. She was completely right. "Look, Harmony, I'm sorry okay? I just—"

Harmony held up her hand. "I don't even want to hear it."

"Can we keep this between us please?"

Harmony rolled her eyes. "Like I want anyone to know I almost hooked up with some pathetic loser."

"You're ever so kind," Spike said dryly.

Harmony shrugged and stalked out of the room.

Spike sighed and slumped against the wall, hitting his head on the wall. How dumb was he?

"Dude?" Xander.

"Yeah?"

Xander came round the corner. "So? How was it?"

"It wasn't."

Xander's eyes widened. "Why not?"

"I don't really want to get into with you right now all right? I just want to get Buffy and go home," Spike said, suddenly feeling weary. He just really wanted to shut his brain off for a bit.

"Buffy's not out there, man."

Spike jerked to attention. "What? Did you see her leave?"

"Well, no I didn't actually see her leave, but I was looking for her. You know, keeping an eye out for her while you were uh—"

"Yeah, yeah—and she's not out there?"

"No."

"Where the bloody—FUCK! She could have left with that bleedin wanker!"

Spike pushed Xander aside in his haste to get back into the club. His eyes devoured the crowd, searching for signs of the wanker she'd been talking to for so long. He was nowhere to be found.

"Fuck! Now I've lost her and I don't have her cell number." Spike reached into his pocket and dialed home. "Mum? Buffy home?"

"No honey, she's at Doyle's."

A wave of relief washed over him. "Thank God."

"Did you two get into a fight?" Joyce asked.

"No, mum. . .Listen, do you have her cell number? I just need to talk to her."
 

Chapter Eight

The ringing of Buffy's cell didn't wake Buffy. Doyle, feeling slightly restless, snatched her phone from the floor before it did wake her.

"Buffy's phone."

"Doyle?"

"Spike?"

"Yeah, hi—Buffy there?"

"She is. She's sleeping."

"Oh."

"How's Harmony?" Doyle couldn't help himself from asking.

"What's her deal with Buffy?"

Doyle sighed. "Oh they hate each other."

"Gathered as much. Why?"

Doyle took a deep breath and stepped out of his room, padding down the hall and shutting the door behind him in his fathers study.

"Doyle? You still there?"

"Yeah, sorry. I left the room so I wouldn't wake Sleeping Beauty."

"Wait. She's sleeping in your room?"

Doyle grinned; he could have fun with this. "Yep. In my bed."

"I thought you were gay!" Spike yelled into the phone.

"I am. I'm sleeping on the pull out couch in my room."

"Oh," Spike said calmly, sounding embarrassed.

"So, Harmony and Buffy. . . Harmony moved to Sunnydale when Buffy was
a junior in high school."

"When did you and Buffy meet?"

"Senior year. This is the story as I understand it from Buffy's mouth."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"Harmony hailed from L.A. and she was popular there. She came here and
knew no one. Buffy felt bad for the ‘new kid' and took her under her wing.
Well, time passed and Harmony realized that being friends with Buffy was
not getting her part of the ‘in' crowd that she so desired to be part of. You
know Buffy, she isn't much of a follower."

"I know," Spike said fondly. "She's a leader that one."

"Yes, well, Harmony is sheep. She is a follower. And, to become part of the ‘in' crowd, she spread rumors about Buffy—some true, some not true. Considering all the so called popular kids at Sunnydale talked trash about everyone, it elevated Harmony to Queen B."

"That cold hearted bitch," Spike swore harshly.

"Exactly. Since then, they've been at each others throats."

"Did Buffy spread any rumors about her to get her back?"

"No. She said she wasn't going to stoop to Harmony's level and was going to
take the high road."

"Not sure I would have been able to do that," Spike chuckled.

"However, now Harmony attends University with Buffy and Harmony still
tries to make her life hell. Just for the fun of it. Apparently she's forgotten
that you're supposed to grow up from high school drama once you attend
college."

"That bloody bitch..."

"So. You can understand why Buffy made with the leaving tonight."

Spike groaned, "She saw us?"

"Fraid so."

"Shit," Spike muttered.

"Virgin ears!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I –"

"I'm just kidding. You can say whatever the fuck you want."

Spike laughed. Then, sobering, "Is she mad at me?"

Doyle pondered how to approach this one. "I don't think she's exactly
angry, but making out with her arch enemy on the dance floor was
probably not what Buffy wanted to see."

"I didn't know that—"

"How could you? You were gone before it all happened."

Spike sighed. "That's it right there. I wasn't there."

"You're here now."

"Yeah . . . I wish I'd never – I'm not with her, Doyle."

"Harmony?"

"Right. I couldn't –she wasn't my type."

"And what is your type Spike?"

"Uh, women first of all," Spike said carefully.

Doyle rolled his eyes. "I wasn't hitting on you, Spike. Although I will be
hitting you up for questions on your friend Xander."

"Xander?"

"That's his name right?"

"I don't think he's—"

"Oh honey, he so is," Doyle chuckled.

Spike started to laugh. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, that was rude of me."

"I don't offend easily."

"So is Buffy—I mean, she's all right?"

"She's fine. Just wasn't happy to see you trading spit with Harmony. She
worries about you, you know."

"I know," Spike said softly. "I worry about her too."

"I know."

"Can you let her know I called?"

"Of course."

"And could you tell her that—could you tell her I'm sorry?"

"I will."

"I'm glad she has you in her life, Doyle."

"Thanks, Spike. Means a lot coming from someone who means so much to
her." Doyle paused, waiting to see if he took some of that bait.

Silence. Then, "I – I mean a lot to her?"

"If I may borrow British slang for a minute—She think you hung the bloody
moon."

"She does?"

Doyle could practically see Spike smiling from the phone.

"She does."

"Doyle, can you tell me what her schedule is tomorrow? I'd like to catch her
at some point if I could . . . "

Doyle grinned, God, he was good at this!



************************************************************

"So, he didn't, you know, hook up with her?" Buffy asked for the
thousandth time the following day.

"I didn't get the impression they fornicated, no. You've only asked me a
trillion times, but what's a trillion and one really?"

Buffy smacked his chest. "Shut up. Stand further back, I want to really practice."

Doyle shook his head and backed up some more. Buffy confided she felt the need to whale on something and figured that it was time to practice her batting as she planned to try out for softball the following spring.

"Does it make me less gay to actually enjoy baseball?" Doyle asked her.

Buffy giggled, "I don't think so, honey."

Doyle pitched and Buffy smiled with satisfaction at the sound of the
wooden bat making contact with the ball. It went flying over Doyle's head.
Good thing he had a pile of balls next to him, no doubt about it that Buffy
was a good hitter.

"Feeling any better?" Doyle asked.

Buffy shrugged and got into her stance. "Pitch the ball."

"You're so bossy!"

She grinned and he pitched again. She missed.

"You swing like a girl."

Buffy relaxed her stance and turned to see Spike standing a few feet away,
smiling at her.

She smiled back and then frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm off work and Mum said you came to the park to practice."

"Yeah, I felt like hitting something," she said pointedly.

He sauntered over. "Buffy, I didn't know about you and Harmony."

"How could you have? You weren't here."

"You're right, I wasn't. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, please."

"I'll try," he reached out and brushed some dust off her cheek. He smiled
warmly.

"Sorry, I didn't tell you I was leaving," she mumbled, looking down. Just a
simple touch on her cheek and she felt a tremble run through her.

"I was worried."

"Yeah, Doyle said you called."

"I did. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I was fine. What about you? How was the Public Display of Affection?
Everything you wished for and more?"

He looked down, kicked some dirt. "She's not a very nice person."

"That's a nice way of saying she's a ho. Did you get what you wanted out of
her?"

Spike shook his head. "No. I wasn't thinking Buffy."

"You didn't have sex with her?"

"No, Buffy, I didn't."

"Why were you making out with her like that?"

Spike ran a hand through his hair, "I was upset. I was trying to get over
something that's probably never going to go away and . . . I thought if I just
lost myself in the moment maybe I could forget for a little while."

Buffy bit her lip. "Oh," she looked up him, "Is it Drusilla? Was she on your
mind last night?"

He sighed heavily and looked away.

"You can tell me. You can tell me anything Spike."

He shook his head and she swore she saw tears in his eyes. "No, Buffy. I
can't tell you everything." He turned around and started walking away.

"Spike!" she called after him unsure as to what just happened.

"I'll see you when you get home," he called back, not bothering to turn
around.

"What the hell happened?" Doyle asked, jogging up next to her.

"I don't know. He said he was macking on Harmony to forget about
something, to make it go away, and that it didn't work. I asked if it was
Drusilla and he said no, but that he couldn't tell me."

Doyle nodded knowingly and wrapped a comforting arm around her.

"Did he say something to you last night?" Buffy demanded.

"Not about that which he's trying to forget."

Buffy looked up at her friend suspiciously. "You know something, don't
you?"

"Remember how I said last night that it wasn't the right time to tell him?"

Buffy knit her brows, confused. "Yeah?"

"I think now is the right time Buffy."
 

Chapter Nine

Buffy hated mysteries. She also hated when someone kept something from her because it was best that she ‘find out on her own’. What if she didn’t want to find out on her own? Childish, yes, but she couldn’t help it. Doyle had been all cryptic with giving Spike some time before she told him she was . . . ‘reacting’ to things and now he was being all cryptic on how now was a good time. He knew something and he was keeping it from her.

Not like she was going to say anything anyway for crying out loud. What was she supposed to do? Rush home, corner Spike and say, “I’ve been feeling things for you…” Ri-ight. And monkey MIGHT fly out of her ass.

However, Spike was keeping something from her and
she did want to know what it was. Whatever it was, she felt
it was the key to the Doyle being cryptic, to his behavior with
Harmony and to the feeling she’d been having that he’d
been ‘haunted’ by something. She knew it had to do with
Drusilla, but she was getting the sense there was a missing
piece somewhere. A missing piece she desperately needed
to fit the puzzle together.

When she got home from practice with Doyle, her
dinner had already been put in the fridge. Giles and Joyce
had gone out to a movie and Spike was holed up in his room.

Buffy stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up and
trying to gather her courage. She had to talk to him. She didn’t
necessarily have to tell him anything, but she did want to get
to the bottom of this and dammit, she would.

She jumped a mile when Spike appeared in her view.

“What are you doing staring up at the stairs?” he
asked her.

“I was –What are you doing?”

He thought she was crazy probably. She didn’t much
care. She pretty much accepted that she was. Sort of.

He started his descent down the stairs. “I’m going to
get the paper.”

“Oh? Anything interesting?”

“Aside from what’s new in the world? Apartments,”
he said and walked by her.

“Apartments?” She questioned, following him into the
living room where Giles had strewn the paper on the coffee
table.

“Yeah,” was his short reply.

“You looking to move already? Do you—do you hate it
here that much?” she asked in a small voice, beginning to feel
the strain of separation already.

“Buffy, don’t start.”

Her eyes bugged. “I’m not starting, I asked a question.”

“I don’t hate it here that much, okay? I just can’t stay
here forever.”

“Hello, you were gone for four years. You haven’t
even been here a week!”

“This is one of those times Buffy where I’m going to
tell you to bugger off.”

Oh that’s it. She crossed her arms across her
chest. “Yeah? This is one of those times where I tell you to
shove it up your ass!”

He glared at her, but said nothing. The paper, in his
hand, forgotten.

“I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but I’m
getting really tired of it. You’re sad and you won’t talk about
it—not even with Mom this time around – You won’t talk to me
about it despite how you PROMISED to let me in. You act like
a hornball at the Bronze last night and then you storm off
today when I ask you what’s wrong with you. Now you’re
what? Looking to run away again? I can’t even ask you about
apartment hunting without you foaming at the mouth and
barking at me. So, is it something I did? Is it Drusilla? Mom?
Dad? Work? What the fuck is it Spike? Because you know
what? I’m tired of this secretive crap!”

“I’m 23 years old Buffy, I can’t live with Mommy and Daddy for
the rest of my life!”

“I’m not asking you to do that—I just want to know what’s
going on with you! I care about what happens to you, Spike. I
care about what’s haunting you ever since you’ve come back
and I want to help. That’s all I want to do.” All her anger
dissipated and now she was welling up in tears, desperate
to understand why he kept pulling away and wanting to keep
him close. She was beginning to suspect that Doyle was
right about her feelings for Spike being more than just sisterly
caring from when they were kids. It irked her, and yet at that
moment she couldn’t focus on it too much. She just wanted
answers.

He stared at her, trembling slightly, something lurking in his
eyes that she couldn’t define. “What is it that you want to
hear Buffy? That I drove Drusilla crazy? That I’m dirty and
wrong ---that I hurt the girl because I – “ he stopped, his eyes
brimming with tears.

Buffy moved forward, placing her hand on his arm
gently, “Tell me Spike. Please. It’s okay.”

He met her eyes, his eyes brimming with tears. “It’s you,” he
finally whispered. “You that haunts me. You that I can’t get
out of my mind . . . God help me Buffy, it’s always been about
you.”

Her gasp was swallowed by his lips on hers. His lips. Oh
god, his lips. Smooth and soft, full and so . . . perfect. She’d
never been kissed like that before. Men playing at boys were
all she’d ever had—it was the reason why she’d never given
her heart away, never given her virginity to anyone. She
wondered in the recesses of her mind, if it was because she
was waiting for Spike.

He had her hauled up against him, his hard body pressing
against hers, holding on to her as if he were afraid to let go.
Her hands rested on his biceps and she could feel the
tension in them as he held her tightly. His lips roamed over
hers, tasting her, dipping his tongue inside when she parted
her lips just a smidge. She was aware distantly that she
moaned. He was devouring her and God help her it felt so
good and so . . . right.

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,” he groaned, breaking the kiss, his
breath upon her face.

She stared up at him in wonder, trying to grasp the feelings
coursing through, trying to name just one and put voice to it.

He cupped her face in his hands and closed his eyes. The
sound of a car door slamming jarred them back open.

“Mum and Dad are home,” he said and released her. He
jogged to the door, opened it and left.

Buffy stood there, confused, scared and wondering if she
were even standing there anymore.

“Hey honey, where’d Spike take off to?”

Buffy looked at her mom. “I – I don’t know. He just . . . he just
left.”

Giles gave her a funny look. “You all right? Did you two have
a right?”

Buffy shook her head, “No we definitely didn’t have a fight. I
thought you were going to the movies?”

“We were, but your mother checked the wrong paper for the
times. We missed it.”
“Oh. Well, um, I’m uh, going to go see Doyle,” Buffy said,
heading towards the door.

“Okay honey, have a good time!”

Once outside she pursed her lips together. Okay, she
thought, if I were Spike, where would I have gone?


 

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