**

"Oi! That quiz isn’t 200 questions long! I’m not gonna be stuck here all night."

"Huh?"

He frowned and pointed to the test in her lap. "Hurry it up, would you. It’s half-past two in the bloody morning; I do want to sleep tonight, you know."

"Oh," Buffy muttered tucking away the list she’d scribbled on a spare sheet of paper. The forgotten quiz she’d finished almost thirty minutes ago now back on top of her notebook; she studied her answers closely, erasing where necessary. Can’t have them all right -- I do have an image to protect…

Erasing the right answer, she quickly scrawled ‘A signal for ships’ underneath the question, then shoved the quiz into Spike’s impatient hands.

"Bout time."

"You know, if someone had utilized the Bronze’s parking lot instead of parking six blocks away, then that someone wouldn’t be stuck at my house at…" she leaned over, looking past him to catch a glimpse of the clock, and sneered, "2:40 in the morning…"

"Did you really want to be seen driving away in a Volvo?"

That sneer quickly disappeared. "Point taken."

Spike snickered. "Never underestimate the depths of your shallowness - or your stupidity," he paused and pulled a face holding up the quiz, "a ship signal?"

She shrugged.

"And I had no idea that Tom was completely fascinated by Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus," Spike said snidely and Buffy quietly giggled. That had been her favorite answer…

"You’re completely hopeless," he sighed, rubbing his eyes with a frustrated growl. "Buggering hell…"

"What?" she asked. "Pretend I care."

"Damn contacts," another growl, "itch like hell…"

Shaking her head, Buffy grabbed her purse, furiously rummaging through it until she pulled out a small, white bottle and pushed him back against the mattress.

"What the fuck…"

"Oh, shut up, you big baby," she said straddling his waist. Expertly, she leaned over, golden hair draping his face, and propped his left eye open with one hand, while the other held the drops at ready.

Rain-washed, deep ocean, midnight blue - Buffy stopped herself from thinking up any more unnecessary adjectives to describe the color of his eyes. She didn’t remember them being that color. Must’ve been one of those things that faded over time as they grew farther and farther apart. She just assumed they would be brown or a dull gray, like the rest of Willie used to be…

But this isn’t Wee-Willie…

She lightly squeezed the bottle. "Didn’t know Freshlook made ‘em that blue," she prattled absently, moving her attention to his right eye.

"These are clear."

Two more drops. "Oh," Buffy muttered. Pulling back on her knees, she tucked her hair behind her ears and held the bottle of drops in front of his face. "Re-wetting drops; essential for any contact lens wearer. I suggest you stop by Walgreen’s and pick up a bottle of your very own."

Spike hesitated. "Thanks."

"No problem, stepbrother," she chortled.

"Yeah, about that…" he sighed, brow furrowed, "I actually didn’t mean for that to come out of my mouth - wasn’t a part of some grand scheme or anything."

"And you expect me to go along with the lame charade?"

"I just - I couldn’t let Cecily know who I really am, Buffy. This is a clean slate," a smile slowly crossed his lips. "You saw her, I would’ve never gotten that smile if she’d known she was talking directly to William Hall. I have a real shot at getting close to her this way."

"There’s still Riley."

"All the more reason why you shouldn’t be worried about me winning."

"I’m not worried."

He snorted. "Right, luv."

She pouted. "I’m really not."

"Uh-huh."

"Cecily and Riley have this whole ‘tortured teen romance’ act going for them," she informed him. "They fight, they fuck; it’s an endless mess they drag all of their friends into but at the end of the day, they’re still together. He’s still all she thinks about. No makeover is going to change that."

Spike trained his eyes directly on hers. "Maybe its time she had something other than White-bread," he said curtly.

Buffy’s gaze just as hard, she leaned closer to his face. "And maybe its time you stopped crushing on someone you can’t have."

Spike took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly, as if he were pulling himself together, and let his lips curl up into a nasty sneer.

"How’s the view from the top, pet?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Wha--?" Turning nine shades of red the second she realized she was still straddling him, Buffy silently rolled off and clung to the end of the opposite side of the bed as far away from Spike as humanly possible.

He snickered. "Don’t tell me little Buffy’s gotten shy all of a sudden."

"The last time ‘Little Buffy’ was on top of you like that, you were in Darkwing Duck pajamas," Buffy glared, "and it was for Mr. Gordo rescuing purposes only…"

"I loved those pajamas," Spike smiled, staring up at the ceiling. "Made my package look big."

She laughed a loud, genuine laugh and he found himself flashing her his pearly whites. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that in years…

"Do you think Cecily will like my package?"

Buffy snorted. "Yeah, if it called itself ‘Riley’."

He turned on his side, facing her and propped his head up in his hand. "You really know how to shit on a fellow’s parade, you know that?"

"I’m just being real."

"Well, allow me to get a little ‘real’ for a moment here, pet. You and Captain Forehead have been dating for what? Four years now…?"

"Yeah…" Buffy said slowly, pursing her lips, "your point?"

Spike gave her a venomous smile. "I’m just saying - four years, that’s a long time to go without…" He let his eyes roam over her form lecherously, "prying apart those dimpled knees. How do you know your over grown choir boy isn’t shagging some other bint on the side then running back to you, virtue fleeting?"

"Angel wouldn’t do that." Her voice wavered and for a moment Spike regretted saying those things. But it was her fault! If she wouldn’t specialize in cutting him down every five seconds, then he wouldn’t have to unleash and feel something like remorse for hurting her precious feelings…

"Of course he wouldn’t."

Buffy glared at him before crawling across the bed towards the pile of books. She picked up his notebooks and the paperback and without hesitation threw them at Spike’s head.

"Lesson over," she said harshly, ignoring his cry of pain. "Get. Out."

"Oh, it’s fine for you to play ‘Kick the Spike’, but the Princess can’t take it when the heat’s turned on her!" he growled, clutching his throbbing head as he rolled off the bed.

"That’s not playing - that’s…"

"What?! I cross a line? Did I hit a nerve, sweetheart?! Cause, the way I see it, you’re the last person on the sodding planet who should be crying about having her feelings hurt!" Spike angrily stuffed his belongings into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Suddenly you become gorgeous and I become a prominent member of Cordelia’s ‘Know and Recognize Your Loser’s’ list and I guess in the insane troll logic of Buffy Summers, that makes it O.K. to turn your back on your best friend. What I said doesn’t even come close to four years of hurt feelings! So, call up the boy toy and moan to him about what ‘Big, Bad William’ said to you; cause I don’t take it back."

There was never a time, in all of her eighteen years, that Buffy had ever felt more low.

Underneath the glaringly white hair, the black tee and black jeans was William. Sweet William who’d camped out at her house for a week straight, just because she thought there were monsters in her closet. Who bought her a Barbie card (cause he knew it was her favorite) and a little box of those conversation hearts, every Valentine’s Day. This was William who’d held her tight and let her cry herself to sleep the day her dad finally decided to leave…

"You hungry?" she asked suddenly.

He cocked his head questioningly. "Huh?"

"I said, are you hungry?" Buffy repeated, moving towards the door. "I know it’s like three in the morning, and I’m breaking all kinds of dietary rules but I could really use an omelet. Do you want one?"

"Sure…" Spike said slowly, putting the backpack down on the bed. A scientific team really needs to be assembled to study this chit’s train of thought…

A small smile. "Good."

"You know, Mystery Science Theater 3000 is on," he said casually, following her out of the room.

"Shut up!" Buffy cried in disbelief, "That still comes on?!"

"Re-runs anyway." Spike grumbled, "Blighter’s canceled it. Didn’t know what a good thing they had, I suppose."

"We so have to watch that!"

"Right," he chuckled, "and we will. As soon as you cook me breakfast."

"Who said anything about me doing all of the cooking…"

TBC…

Chatper 10, (Part 1)

Disclaimer: I’ve tried everything to make him happy, but no matter what I do, Joss is still pissed at me! You would think after running out to Vickie’s Secret and buying nearly every piece of naughty undergarments in the friggen store, telling my readers that the characters in this story belong to him and him alone, and then running home to put my Jossie a Swanson in the microwave (what man doesn’t love a Swanson), that he would stop being so pissy with me! But Oh, No! I don’t care anymore! Whedon can be mad at me until he’s blue in the fucking face - cause there’s no way in hell I’m tattooing “Property of Joss’ SINEP” on my ass

Author’s Note: Stuck at school until Friday - and then yay, finals next week! *passes out* I’ve been working on this chapter for a while now, well, when I got the time to anyway, and I hate not delivering an update to you guys, so here’s the deal: I’m posting the first half of this chappy in my LJ (because I don’t have a disk, and I don’t want to save this to the lab computer), and then I’ll have the rest of the chapter this weekend. It isn’t much right now, but, at least it’s something right?

“Did you know “sinep” is “penis” spelled backwards?”

Willow stirred around the ultra lumpy mashed potatoes on her tray and sighed heavily. “Huh?”

Xander raised a brow. “Nothing - just something I actually learned in chemistry today. What’s with the Willow frown-y face?” He smiled warmly before making a retching sound at the meatloaf covered in gravy the cafeteria lady swore passed for eatable, “You know I can’t stand to see the Willow frown-y face.”

“When’s the last time you saw William?” she asked looking up from her food.

“I just saw him the other…” Xander paused, “last week,” he sighed. “Haven’t exactly heard from him after our mall adventures.”

Willow nodded. “Me either and he hasn’t been at school. Not that he needed to be here anyway, but you know, William wouldn’t ruin his perfect attendance record for just anything.”

The two friends exchanged worried looks before simultaneously turning their attention on the large, round crowded table off towards the back of the cafeteria, both zeroing in on the blonde huddled over her food -

Xander absently took a sip of his milk. “Think maybe the search should center on Buffy’s backyard?”

“Xander…”

He shrugged. “What? It’s possible.” Off of Willow’s look Xander added, “Remember in the third grade when we were all playing at Buff’s and your ‘Suzy Wets Herself’ doll went missing? I’m telling you, the Summers backyard is a gate for unspeakable evil…”

“William’s probably sick.” She rolled her eyes. “We should go by there after school.”

“Or call the police…”

“He’s not buried in her backyard, Xander.”

“Are you really sure about that?”

**

“Ugh, I must’ve had a complete lapse in sanity,” Cordelia made a face as she dramatically slid into her seat at the table and pushed the offending tray in Buffy’s direction. “I dunno why the hell I picked this up - hotdogs make me retch. Mystery meat in a tube? Who’s bright idea was that?” she shuddered, “Buffy do you want?”

Buffy absently stirred around the lumpy mashed potatoes on her tray, head down, seemingly ignoring her friend…

“Hello? Earth to Buffy…”

“Huh?” she jerked her head up, coming face to face with Cordy’s unwanted hotdog.

“Do you want this thing or not?”

Eyes widening, Buffy could feel her cheeks flaming - never before, to her, had a hotdog looked so much like that other thing…

“No thanks,” she replied weakly.

“Whatever,” Cordy sighed, “I’ll give it to Riley, he’ll eat anything.”

“Are we still on for my place after school?” Anya plopped down next to Buffy. “Ooh, hotdog…” She greedily snatched Cordelia’s food and took a big bite.

“After school for what?” Cordy asked, closely inspecting a soggy French fry before dropping it back on her tray with a sigh of disgust.

“Chemistry final study session,” Anya brightly informed her, “oh and Buffy wanted detailed instructions on how to give great blowjobs…”

Cordelia snorted. “She wouldn’t even eat the hotdog.”

“Tact is a completely foreign concept to the both of you, isn’t it?” Buffy glared.

“Tact is just not saying true stuff,” Cordelia handily supplied, a wide grin suddenly breaking out on her face. “So, that’s why Angel was late to first period…”

“As much as I want to see your diagrams, Anya, I have a mandatory study sesh at Spike’s,” Buffy sighed heavily then grumbled sarcastically, “who the hell needs a high school diploma these days.”

“You’re studying with Spike?” Cordelia asked, taking a bite of her salad. “What, did he take over for ‘Wee-Willie?’ ”

“Um, yeah…sorta,” Buffy lied. “And Spike’s just as not fun to put up with.”

“I could come over to Spike’s with you,” Anya beamed. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Yeah, sure Ahn,” Buffy said absently, her eyes roaming back to her food. “I’m not even sure if these are potatoes…”

Cordelia leaned in, dropping her voice to just above a whisper. “You know Willie hasn’t been seen for like a whole week?! I heard some drug dealers were after his insane-o sister and he was killed as a warning.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “That’s not true.”

“I’m just telling you what I heard,” Cordelia said flippantly.

“And his sister’s not crazy,” Buffy shot back defensively. “Sure, she’s been through some stuff, but she’s not…”

“Oh please,” Cordelia cut her off with an eye roll of her own, “that girl’s two Valiums passed functional.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know anything about her Cordy, so drop it.”

“Okay, okay,” Cordelia threw up her hands, “you don’t have to get all unnecessarily touchy. I don’t see what the big deal is, it’s not like you care or anything.”

Buffy angrily stabbed her fork down into her ‘mashed potatoes’; of course she didn’t care! She got over feeling sorry for Spike’s screwed up family unit a long time ago - but that didn’t mean just anybody could talk about Dru…

“You’re right, I don’t care.”

**

“Something’s going on with William, I’m sure of it,” Anna Hall whispered dramatically into the phone as she poured her cup of coffee. Manuvering around the kitchen island, cup in hand and phone held up by her shoulder, she grabbed the plate of eggs and managed to slide onto the barstool without missing a beat.

“He claims he’s sick, so I’ve let him stay out of school for three days now, but get this mum, I caught him sneaking in at seven in the morning Sunday - yes, William!” she cried in disbelief, mouth full of food. “And you won’t believe what he’s done to his hair…”

For Anna, appearances were everything. Once upon a time, when her husband made the careless, but tiny mistake of not paying his taxes for the previous five years, all eyes in Sunnydale were on she and her family. They watched the Repo trucks pull up to her beautiful home, stood by as those sweaty workers carted out all of her belongings, and shook their heads in pity when the Hall family was forced to move into a less than swanky home across town.

And then there was Drusilla…

A disappointment of a whole nother color.

“I’m worried about him, is all. Dressing strange and talking more and more like his sister - I won’t let that happen to him. Did I tell you he was accepted to Dartmouth? William’s the only bright spot this family has, and I’ll be damned if I let him end up like Drusilla…”

The sound of the kitchen door swinging on its hinges caught her attention and Anna turned, suddenly finding herself face to face with her daughter.

Dru casually flipped her hair and folded her arms; she’d heard everything,

“Are my eggs ready yet, mummy?” she said wryly.

Anna gave her a patronizing smile. “Yes dear, they’re ready; all nice and fluffy, just the way you like ‘em.”

“Tell grandmummy I said ‘hello’,” Dru called over her shoulder as she casually took down a plate from the cabinet.

“I’ll give you a ring later, mum,” Anna quickly whispered into the phone, “bye.” Painful smile etched on her face, she turned to face her daughter, “Dru, honey, why don’t you run upstairs and see if your brother’s hungry as well, huh?”

“William doesn’t like eggs.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to have eggs,” the older woman sighed, “I can fix him something else.”

“But it’s time for eggs.” Drusilla leaned in close to her plate and sniffed before lightly poking her eggs with a fork. “Thought you said these were fluffy…?”

“Could you do what I ask for once!” Anna shouted suddenly, startling her daughter. “Christ sakes Dru, just go upstairs!”

Plate in hand, and a rather solemn look on her face, Dru gave her mother a tiny nod of her head,

“Yes, mum.”

**

“I’m telling you, Willow, we shouldn’t rule out the backyard…”

“And I’m telling you, Xander, that I stopped listening to you about an hour ago…” Willow smiled sweetly as she flipped between radio stations. Finding anything worth listening to was virtually impossible in Xander’s car - mostly the broken antenna on the back was only good for picking up static; not even the tennis ball Xander had shoved on the end of it ceremoniously helped.

“Doesn’t Buffy have a well?” he asked, giving Willow a sidelong glance.

She gave him a look. “I don’t remember, why?”

“ ‘It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again…’”

“For the last time,” Willow sighed heavily, “William’s not buried in her backyard!”

TBC...

In four years of being friends, Buffy realized she and Anya had never spent time alone. Piled in a car with Riley or Angel behind the wheel, part of the whole when hanging out, sure. But one on one - a trip to the mall perhaps, or maybe an afternoon of 90210 reruns at each other’s respective houses, never happened.

Not that she didn’t like Anya. On the contrary: outside of Angel and sometimes Cordelia, Anya was fast becoming the only person in the group Buffy didn’t throw up a little in her mouth upon the sight of.

But now that she was here, strapped in Anya’s lime green Beetle (with the license plate ‘DEMON’ on the back), Buffy suspected not hanging out with Anya all these years must’ve been an unconscious effort to keep herself alive.

"The finish line is almost heere - and someone softly whispers in my eearr…!"

The blonde’s hand’s clung to the seat for dear life as Anya swerved through traffic while singing loud and off key along to the CD.

"Times like these - are memories - to hold deep down inside of you and meee…!"

A chorus of horns sounded in Buffy’s ear the moment Anya decided to careen from the far left lane, four lanes over to the far right - without any kind of signal at all.

Swallowing the lump in her throat and resisting the urge to cry, Buffy breathed, "Oh, god!"

Turning the CD player down, Anya grinned. "Almost missed the exit."

Buffy nodded dumbly and whipped the sweat from her forehead.

"Why didn’t you tell me Spike lived all the way across town?" she asked conversationally. "I’m gonna need at least ten for gas. Twenty, if I stop on the interstate. Haven’t decided yet."

"Whatever you want." As casually as possible, Buffy glanced over at her friend, wide-eyed. "Ahn, you did know you have the parking brake on, right?"

"Oh, thanks," she chuckled, releasing the brake. "You know what would be cool?" Anya turned to Buffy smiling brightly. "Driving by gesturing emphatically." She took her hands off of the wheel and began gesturing at the road. "Imagine if all you had to do was this…"

"Hands on the wheel! Hands on the wheel!"

**

As he pulled his loveable hunk of junk car into the Hall’s driveway, the almost ungodly sound of tires screeching across the road caught Xander’s attention. Whipping his head around he spotted the Beetle racing down the tiny residential area - straight towards them.

"Holy moly!" he cried out earning a look from Willow.

"What?" she asked turning in the direction he was facing. Her round eyes widened to comically huge proportions. "That’s Anya!"

"Is the DMV just handing out licenses to any psycho these days," Xander exclaimed, "instead of putting them through a slack screening process like the good lord intended!"

The teenagers watched in amazement as the tiny car whizzed by the Hall’s driveway in a speed that must have been mere hairs away from breaking the sound barrier - only to back up, equally as fast and pull in behind them, stopping inches away from Xander’s bumper.

Willow and Xander exchanged worried looks before getting out of the car. The Beetle’s passenger side door flew open, and with one Gucci in front of the other, Anya climbed out nary a, hair out of place and gracefully perched her sunglasses on the top of her head.

Anya smiled brightly and waved. "Xander and Leaves! What are you doing here?!"

"Praying for any human being who finds themselves on the road with you," Xander deadpanned.

Willow frowned. "And it’s ‘Willow’," she said as politely as possible.

"Oh." Anya shrugged. " ‘Leaves’, ‘Willow’ -- I knew it was something to do with trees. Who the hell cares anyway, right?"

Willow pulled her lips into a tight smile and mumbled, "The girl whose parent’s did not name ‘Leaves’."

Finally, the passenger door slowly opened and with one shaky, sneaker clad foot in front of the other, a very pale Buffy made her exit. She swallowed hard and clutched her stomach. At this moment, she didn’t give a damn about riding in a Volvo there was no way she was going back with Anya…

"Great. Guess we picked the wrong day to drop by - looks like we’ve crashed the Princess’s edumacation." Xander’s loud grumble was the thing that snapped Buffy out of paralyzing fear and she realized her two former friends and Anya were staring directly at her.

Meek smile on her lips Buffy took a few steps closer. "Hey, Willow."

The redhead smiled warmly. "Hey, Buffy."

Her attention now on the boy, Buffy nodded curtly. "Hey, Xand."

Xander shook his head in disgust, grabbing Willow’s wrist. "C’mon, lets go check on Wi…"

"Spike!" Buffy shouted suddenly, earning a look from the others.

"I know it’s been a while since we’ve been in one another’s presence, Buff - but did you always have Tourette’s or did this suddenly develop?"

Buffy laughed a little too loudly. "Haha! You’re still so funny, Xander!" She turned to Anya. "They’re here to see Spike - is what he was going to say, before I rudely said it for him. You know, Ahn, I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to be here. You know, I’m gonna be all engrossed with the - the studying, and maybe we should just do this some other time…"

"Nonsense!" Anya chirped. "I promised you diagrams and you will have diagrams today, missy!" Anya punctuated that sentence with a slap to Buffy’s back. "I’m sure that hunky stepbrother of yours won’t mind at all. He can even photocopy a few, to give to future girlfriends for reference."

"Stepbrother?!" Xander looked at Anya as if she were insane. "What the hell are you…"

"I know, it’s easy to forget that Spike’s my stepbrother you guys! What, with us not seeing that much of each other any more," Buffy quickly covered. "Ahn, why don’t you go and knock while I catch up with Willow and Xander."

With a shrug, Anya headed off towards the door as Willow and Xander found themselves being yanked to the side by Buffy.

"I know this makes the kind of sense that doesn’t, but while Anya’s here, Spike’s my stepbro and you don’t call him William," Buffy whispered harshly. "He’ll explain everything later."

Xander crossed his arms over his chest. "Give me one good reason why we should do anything for you?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "This isn’t for me, knucklehead." She huffed loudly, "Can’t believe I’m saying this - it’s for Spike. Play along."

Willow grabbed his arm, dragging Xander towards the door. "You heard her, knucklehead."

**

"What a modest house you have!" Anya exclaimed as Anna let the four teenagers inside.

The older woman looked at the girl oddly and shook her head. This one’s mother must’ve dropped her more than once… "Um, thank you - I think. He’s upstairs, I’ll…"

"I’ll go up and tell him we’re here!" Buffy said racing for the stairs. "You know how much, Spike hates surprises…"

"We sure do, Buff." Xander grinned sarcastically.

Giving the boy a withering glance, Buffy continued on her way up the stairs and called back, "Be back in a sec!"

Once at the top of the stairs, Buffy slumped against the nearest wall and put a hand to her head. If she made it through this evening without inflicting some sort of trauma to Xander’s manly bits, it would be a miracle. And oh, yeah, there was still Anya - sweet Anya, who at this moment, is probably informing Mrs. Hall that she’s here to give a lesson on the finer points of blowjobs while asking if they have a scanner…

With a deep breath, the blonde moved from the safety of that wall just two steps to the right. In front of the slightly ajar door where the sound of Joey Ramone crooning the lyrics to ‘I Don’t Care’ in his faux British glory, were pouring out into the hallway.

Buffy pushed open the door a little more opened her mouth to speak, and stopped cold.

With his back turned to her and face fixed in the mirror on his dresser, stood a very wet, and very naked Spike…

A tiny ‘eep!’ escaped her mouth as Buffy quickly jumped back out into the hall, slamming herself against the wall just outside of his bedroom. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower and by the looks of things was having trouble getting his contacts in - thank god he’s as blind as Ray Charles - she would have been so embarrassed and…

Buffy’s eyes shot up in the top her head at the stupid childish thought her brain had cooked up. She’d seen naked guys! Plenty of naked guys - not in a slutty way, of course - and it wasn’t like she’d never, seen Spike naked before…

But we were five - and he didn’t have an ass like that at five…

Mentally kicking the bad brain for letting that slip into her consciousness, Buffy shut her eyes and tried to regain some sort of cool. As far as nakedness goes, Spike was nothing to drool over…

Liar… bad brain screamed at her.

"Am not!" Buffy whispered aloud to herself, her head turning in the direction of the bedroom door. From what she saw, Spike’s body wasn’t anything to write home about - really… but, to be fair she hadn’t actually gotten a good look, being stunned and shocked with a side of utterly mortified and all…

Slowly of its, own volition her head, peeked around and her eyes found that perfect, little crack in the door. He was still standing in front of the mirror - grumbling, well, she couldn’t hear the grumbling over the gritty sound of clunky guitars, but the body language said ‘grumbling’…

Okay, she had to admit Spike was -

Perfect…? Bad brain offered and she vehemently shook her head. No, not perfect, anything but perfect. Even if he was impossibly lean and muscular, with well-defined arms and legs, and even if she was closely watching a tiny water droplet make its way down his back, heading towards the curve of his -

Buffy yanked herself way from the door and took another deep, much needed breath. "This is stupid," she mouthed, "I have Angel! It’s Spike for Christ sake, pull it together!"

Unconsciously, she straightened out her top and smoothed down her hair as she moved back toward the infamous bedroom door. This time, however, Buffy knocked.

The volume on the music suddenly lowered, and Spike shouted, "What?!"

"Little Tree’s come for her lesson!" Buffy said as sarcastic as possible.

"Uh - alright! Give us a sec, will ya?"

Impatiently tapping her foot, Buffy made sure to shoot him a cross look when Spike finally snatched open the door and stuck his head out in the hall.

"Just got out of the shower," he said, frowning at her as he moved out of the way to let her inside, "it’s not like I made you wait an eternity, Princess. Unless…" Spike grinned at her lecherously, "you’d rather I be naked…"

Only if you wanna be… "As if," Buffy said scrunching up her face before an evil smile broke out on her lips. "Besides, I didn’t bring my microscope."

He cut his eyes at her. "Very funny."

"But, what I did bring is Anya."

"You what?!"

She laughed sheepishly. "She kinda wants to - draw some things for me. You weren’t at school, and she offered me a ride…"

"Are you completely daft!" Spike yelled, "It could blow my cover!"

"Also…" Buffy began with a weary smile, "Willow and Xander sort of decided today was the day to pay you a visit. They’re all downstairs…"

"Buggering hell!" he roared.

"But…" Buffy piped up, "I did a good thing - which you can repay me for later. Willow and Xand are gonna go along with your lame charade. I didn’t tell them the details, figured you could do that, but I did manage to get Xand to stop insulting me long enough to agree to help you out." She shrugged with a rueful smile. "Gotta count for something, right?"

Spike curiously titled his head to the side, regarding her for a moment, before he smiled.

"Thanks."

She smiled back. "You’re welcome."

**

"If the man chooses to cum inside of the woman, when she finally gets up, it all runs back out. What I imagine to be not a very pleasant sight for him, and just messy for her." Anya shook her head. "You have know idea how hard sperm is to get out of carpet. Near impossible!"

Seated comfortably on the Hall’s living room couch, Xander and Willow, mouths agape and eyes as wide as saucers listened with full attention to everything Anya was saying. Xander slowly turned to Willow and casually asked, "Do you have any idea how this topic started?"

"I think Mrs. Hall said something about being out of carpet cleaner," Willow answered him flatly.

"Oh, and sex in the shower - sure it looks all sexy on TV, but what they don’t tell you is that you’re just all sticky afterwards and certainly not clean," Anya continued to babble, "and your spendings take on this - this booger-y quality. That’s almost as bad as the carpet…"

"Anya!" Buffy shouted from behind her.

Anya turned away from the stunned Willow and Xander to find an equally wide-eyed Buffy and Spike. She smiled casually at the two and gestured for them to have a seat. "Good, you guys are just in time. I don’t know about you, Spike, but being a virgin, Buffy could definitely benefit from our discussion."

Cheeks flaming, but curiosity getting the better of her, Buffy plopped down into an empty chair and averted her gaze from everyone.

Oh yeah, this is going to be a long, long evening…

TBC…

**

Hand resting against her head, Buffy blinked a few times in a vain attempt to repair her blurred vision. Good ole Walt Whitman just wasn’t agreeing with her tonight…

Turning the page with a sigh she glanced upwards, catching Spike staring at her,

"What?" she yawned

"What, what?" he shot back mildly annoyed.

Her eyes cut upwards once again. "Do I have a zit or some horribly gross, dangly thing hanging out of my nose? Cause you’ve come down with a major staring problem."

Throwing his head back, Spike let out a yawn of his own and made sure to give Buffy a good eye roll the moment they were face to face. "I’m tired and probably more bloody bored than you are…!"

She snorted. "Don’t bet on it."

"All I’m doing is waiting for you to finish those study questions so that I can be rewarded with the sound of my front door shutting as your scrawny ass walks out of it." He smiled sweetly and Buffy gritted her teeth, snapping the book shut.

"Finished," she said with a withering look.

"Liar." Spike narrowed his eyes.

"Ugh!" Buffy groaned and launched her Literature book the direction of his head. Completely unfazed, Spike caught it mid-air and gently sat it down beside him on the floor. Screwing up her face she whined loudly, "I’m sick of reading, okay?! My head hurts and - and what kind of pretentious bastard writes poems about blades of grass?!"

"Fine," he sighed, "we’re done for the day. Get your stuff together and I’ll take you home…"

"There is a god!" Buffy cried with relief as she practically jumped to her feet.

"Don’t see why you just didn’t get Anya to take you," Spike grumbled, snatching his car keys off the dresser and stuffing them in the pocket of his over-shirt.

"Let me put it this way - a ride with Anya is a lesson in appreciating life." Buffy shook her head as she packed her books into the backpack. "Besides, who else was supposed to be my ‘Designated Driver’? It’s not like Xander was going to jump at the chance to whisk me back across town," she paused, frowning, "well, maybe if I were strapped to the hood of his car."

Spike chuckled. "He doesn’t hate you."

"Wow - then that’s some Oscar worthy acting he’s been doing," she said sarcastically.

"The whelp’s slower with forgiveness than most."

Buffy quirked a brow, slinging the backpack on her shoulder. "What about you?"

"Minimal hatred." Spike grinned. "Dislike, really."

That got him smile.

"I wouldn’t worry about Xander; after what happened today he’ll be right back to squirting in his shorts at the sight of you."

Buffy let out a groan in disgust as she threw open the room door,

"You’re such a pig, Spike!"

**

There it was again, the staring.

Buffy impatiently drummed her fingers on the passenger side door while worrying her bottom lip between her teeth all in an attempt to keep from screaming.

Things had been slightly on the awkward side after Anya’s ‘lessons’ ended but that was to be expected. It wasn’t every day you saw something like that unless you happened to be gainfully employed by the good people at Vivid Video.

Anya had packed up her tools and left soon after with a thoroughly embarrassed Willow and a mute Xander following behind fifteen minutes and a promise from the blonde duo to tell them what the hell was going on later. And she and Spike were left alone to finish up Gatsby and begin covering the poetry unit.

Blistering silence was the only sign Buffy needed and she happily kept her mouth shut about what happened during her time with ‘Kong Jr.’.

There was no moment between the two of them! She was thinking about Angel the entire time - Spike just happened to be there when she looked up. He was probably mentally superimposing Cecily’s head on her body anyway…

Buffy unconsciously frowned at the thought and shifted in her seat.

"Did your eye go lame all of a sudden?" she snapped and sent Spike a sidelong scowl.

"Aren’t we testy," he snickered.

"I just wanna go home, but please feel free to continue sitting in the driveway completely immobile."

"Why aren’t you driving, Summers?" Spike asked, ignoring her sarcasm.

Buffy gave him a look. "Random much."

He shrugged. "It’s a simple question."

"I dunno - I mean, I passed the class, watched all of the film strips with the blood and the death… I even went for a spin in that drunk - driver simulator car, but mom thinks I’m not ready."

Spike nodded. "Wants to keep her one and only safe and close to home?"

"Well, that…" Buffy smiled sheepishly, "and the dent the size of Canada her ‘one and only’ put in the side of her brand new Escalade also spoke volumes."

Spike regarded her for a moment before throwing open the car door. "Get out."

"What?!"

"Get out," he repeated while moving around to the passenger side.

Reluctantly she did as told. "You have got to be kidding," Buffy mumbled, folding her arms.

"No one’s gonna be carting you around forever, Princess." Spike casually plopped down into the seat she previously occupied. "Drive yourself."

"The bleach’s finally killed off the last of your brain cells, huh, Spikey?" Buffy quipped as she eased herself into the driver’s seat.

He sighed. "You’re not some helpless twit, you can do this. Now shut your gob and start ‘er up."

With a mumbled curse, Buffy turned the key in the ignition and grabbed the gearshift, pulling it to ‘Reverse’.

"Just take your time luv," Spike said in a surprisingly soothing tone as they coasted down the drive. "And remember to watch out…"

Buffy’s cry of ‘Oh!’ and the feel of the back end of the Volvo plunging downwards cut him off, and Spike put a weary hand to his head.

"For the ditch."

**

Ending the call, Buffy flipped the top down on her cell phone and stuck it in her purse. "The cops will be here to tow us out in about twenty minutes."

"Whoopdi - fucking - do," Spike replied dryly.

"Don’t get all grumpy on me Mr. ‘Shut y’re gob and start ‘er up’," she did an awful imitation of his accent. "You’re the one who…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know!" Spike slumped down in his seat, sullen look on his face.

"We could always go back into the house…"

"No, no I wanna sit here and wait. The faster they pull us out, the faster I can get rid of you."

"Whatever."

Silence…

"You really asked Anya to give you lessons in sucking off?" he suddenly asked.

Buffy glanced over in Spike’s direction, lips quirked upward,

"No. Anya runs a dildo business out of the trunk of her car and asked me to help test her product."

Spike snorted. "I can’t believe you, Summers…"

"So it’s a crime to not want to be the clueless virgin?!"

If looks could kill, Spike figured he would be on fire right now. "I didn’t say that."

"Right," she scoffed.

"There is such a thing as instinct," he said haughtily.

She grinned wickedly. "FYI, the bevy of moves you’ve tried out on your right hand might not work so well on Cecily. Girl’s been ‘round the block."

Spike clenched his teeth. "Don’t talk about her that way."

Silence…

"There’s nothing you’re worried about?" Buffy quietly spoke up. "Nothing you’re scared you’re going to be terrible at doing?"

He hesitated, debating whether or not he should share this confidence with her.

"The bleeding kissing," Spike finally grumbled with a sigh.

Buffy laughed loudly. "Very funny."

He glowered. "I’m serious! Worried I won’t be any good at it…"

She let out a very unlady-like snort.

"Mostly because I’ve never done it."

That quickly shut Buffy up. Her eyes widened. "You’ve never."

"Don’t go spreading that around, alright?" Spike sighed heavily, "I’ve kinda liked not having my ass kicked this past week."

"Not even once…?"

"Which part of never is fucking hard for you to understand?!"

Silence…

Buffy unhooked her seatbelt and leaned across the center console - a foreign look devoid of any traces of piss and vinegar marring her features.

Spike curiously quirked his eyebrow. "What?"

"Kissing is pure instinct," she informed him. "When you’re in that moment, don’t think - just feel. When it’s right, the entire world shuts out and it’s…" a small smile curled on her lips, "amazing."

With a sly smirk on his face Spike reached out and tucked an errant strand of hair behind Buffy’s ear and leaned in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"You’re not the only one allowed to practice, Princess." He grinned as he pulled away.

Buffy sat completely motionless, not stunned as much from the kiss itself but from the fact she did not, hear the police knocking on the window.

Chapter 13:

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