Chapter Four
Process of Reintegration

"Wow!" Vern exclaimed, looking up as Joyce put the finishing touches on the ceiling. "The room--and ceiling, of course--looks great!"

"You have 'but' face," Buffy frowned.

Vern nodded, a tiny, apologetic smile coming to his lips. "But we still have a lot of work to do."

Buffy groaned. "I knew you were gonna say that. I just knew it."

"Of course you did. But do you know what we still need to do?"

"A lot of things," Joyce put in, coming down from the ladder. Overhead, starting in the middle of the ceiling, a large, swirling cloud of "stars" spiraled toward the corners of the room . . . Not that it could be seen at the moment, but it was there, nevertheless.

"We just don't know anything specific."

"Well," Vern smiled. "I guess I'd better remedy that. Buffy, you remember the lamps you painted yesterday?"

Buffy nodded as the designer continued.

"Well, most of the 'normal' light in the room will be from the window, and the desk--or table--lamps. The standing lamps will have black-light bulbs in them, and will focus on the ceiling while the other lights are off.

What I want to do now," Vern got to the point, pulling something from behind his back, "is put this lantern-type light in the very center of the ceiling, with a black-light inside it, right where Spike's fan used to be.

And that, Ladies, is your task for the moment--lighting."

A little while later, while the women were screwing the top of the lantern into its designated position, Joyce broke the silence with another question.

"So, how's Willow?" the older woman asked. "I haven't seen her in a while."

"Well, you know," Buffy shrugged. "All those college-level classes, she hasn't had much time between studying for her finals. I think she's planning on hanging with the gang on Friday, though."

"Where at?" Joyce inquired, the way a good mother usually does.

"Probably the Bronze," the teen responded. "I heard Xander talking about going earlier this week."

*****

~Two Years Ago~

"Hey!" The brunette teen kept walking when he heard Willow's voice calling him. "Hey, wait! Stop!" he heard her calling over the "clip-clop" of her trendy, plat-formed heels on the school's linoleum.

She caught up with the young man and put a hand on his shoulder, startling him.

"Hey, you . . ." she panted, "Stop. I need to . . . talk . . . to you."

He turned, a questioning look plastered on his face. "Why," he chuckled, "would Willow Rosenberg, sidekick to the all-important Buffy Summers, speak to a lowly minion such as moi?" His tone went from curious to mocking in the space of less than a second.

The answer provided was rather unexpected to the brunette.

"I know about you and Cordy," the redhead began, careful to speak quietly since she wasn't one to gossip behind her best friends' backs.

Xander hid his surprise well, after the initial shock, of course.

"Yeah, so?" the teen challenged.

"Nothing, really," Willow started to stutter. "I just thought that, you know, since Cordy obviously likes you, then you must be a nice guy and all, and I thought, well, since I already know about the two of you, it might be a good thing if I got to know you. Y'know? Be supportive?"

Xander was almost struck speechless. As it was, he had trouble closing his mouth far enough to be able to speak coherently. "Uh . . . Um . . . Okay."

Willow smiled, genuinely happy with the brunette's response.

"Great!" You ever been to the Bronze?"

<PALIGN-"CENTER"*****

"The Giles/Wirthington duo starts Day Two a little more enthusiastically than the Summers women, I see," Paige spoke as the group watched Frank walk up to the two Brits.

"Alright then," Frank walked in, noticing the two British men debating over a few paintings and sculptures leaning against the wall. "Looks like everything from yesterday is done, so let's start some more!"

Spike merely looked at Frank as though he had two heads. "Right. Uh . . . What would that be again?" Giles just scrubbed his glasses at his nephew's insolence.

Frank chuckled. "It would be good for me to tell you, wouldn't it?"

"Quite," Giles chirped Britishly as he replaced his glasses.

"I'm still waiting on a cabinet from Ty, so we can obviously hold off on painting it for now, but let's see what we can do about this artwork, shall we?"

"Oh, William," Giles remarked absentmindedly, once Frank had left them to their own devices again. "I meant to ask you, do you think you could ask Willow to come take a look at the computers this weekend? The one in the study is being quite cantankerous."

*****

Anya, Xander, Willow, Tara, Angel, and Cordelia watched as Ty crossed the screen, carrying the aforementioned cabinet. Secretly, the women--besides Willow and Tara, of course (although, if they admitted it, they could appreciate a fine male specimen)–drooled over the carpenter's lean, muscular physique. They stared even harder when the man's shirt rode up, revealing a perfect six-pack to their hungry, teenaged, hormone-drowned senses.

"Okay, Frank," Ty called to the balding designer. "Here ya go!"

"Great!" Frank smiled. "Let me know about the couch columns when you get to that."

"Will do," Ty called over his shoulder as he walked away.

Just then, one of the men walked up, ready for something to do.

"Ah, Spike," Frank called. "Since you're here, would you please paint this white?"

"Sure, Frank, no problem," the teen accepted the task, turning toward the workbench to fetch the required can of paint and brushes.

*****

"Ty is on a roll," Paige's voice-over remarked. "He's got Vern's closet system done as well, and is headed over now to install it in Spike's bedroom."

"Well," Ty remarked, dragging a rather large piece of furniture toward the Asian-American designer. "It took a while, but it's finished.

"Wow!" Vern approved. "It looks great! Thanks! But do you think I could get you to make a bookshelf for me?"

"Sure," Ty acquiesced. "I've just got one small project left for Frank, but I should be able to squeeze in a simple shelf today. How big do you need it?"

"Just big enough to sit over a desk. When you're ready, just come on over, and I'll show you the desk so you can take the necessary measurements." Ty nodded at the Asian's words, and walked away as the older Summers woman made her way to Vern.

"Ah, Joyce," Vern smiled on his way back to the Giles home. "Since Buffy's working on the lights, would you be so kind as to paint this that lovely red?"

"Sure, no problem, Vern." Turning back to get the necessary supplies, Joyce gladly went to work.

*****

As the projects piled up on the screen, the suspense in the Giles living room piled ten-fold. None of the three originally-oblivious couples could take their eyes off the screen, for fear of missing some small detail in the work. They couldn't wait to find out how the rooms turned out, but all the same, they dared not tear their eyes from the screen long enough to get up and look for themselves.

"Okay, Spike," Frank began, later that morning. "Could you please paint the table, and these column pieces with the white we've been using? You can leave the table's legs bare, since we're just going to attach the false columns over them."

"Sure, Frank." The teen got to work on the table, while Giles finished another project nearby.

"William," the young man's uncle called, a question in his tone.

"Yes, Uncle?"

"I don't mean to pry, but what really happened with Drusilla? I know she had to go back to England, but it just seems that there's more you're not telling me."

"Yeah, Rupes," Spike sighed, then continued. "There was more."

*****

~One and a Half Years Ago~

"Dru?" Spike did his best to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat at the sight before him. He had come around the building to get to a class in one of the portables, and found his girlfriend of a year and a half making out with none other than the nancy-boy wanker, Scott Hope.

The culprits pulled apart, only a little guilty.

"Spike, I can explain," Drusilla begged, noticing the peroxide blonde's clenched fists.

"Don't bother," he gritted through equally-clenched teeth. Swiftly, he turned away, coat billowing behind him with every angry step.

"We need to talk," Spike threw over his ex-girlfriend's shoulder as he came up behind her a few days later.

"I know," Drusilla replied, turning around. Looking down at her hands, she spoke clearly. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Then why did you do it, Dru?" he pleaded.

"Because you did it first." Spike was obviously confused and dumbfounded by her reply, so Dru plugged on. "You've been so distant, and every time you're with me, all you're thinking about is that Summers girl, I can tell. The way you look at her . . . Why don't you look at me that way anymore, Spike?"

Moved by the tears he saw building in the brunette's eyes, he pulled her into a hug.

"Oh, Dru," he apologized. "I'm so sorry. Do you think we could ever try again?"

He felt her head shaking "no" against his chest as she spoke.

"No, Luv." It was her turn to be wise. "It would hurt too much, knowing we both want someone else, and I go back to England at the end of school this year."

Hugging his dark beauty one last time, Spike nodded.

"I understand." He gave her a light peck on the cheek. "Friends then?" She managed to muster a watery smile as his hand passed lightly over the same cheek.

"Always, Dear William, always."

*****

"Looks like crunch time is coming early in the Giles' residence. Vern seems to be making sure he has time to get everything he wants just right," came Paige's voice.

"Okay, Ladies," Vern chirped. "It's time to decide where exactly we want everything. I know not everything is finished, but we can place that as it's done. So, take a piece of furniture, and move it around until you think you've got it. But, try to keep in mind that Spike needs this space for at least three separate purposes. Sleep, entertainment, and study."

"Maybe, we could sort of 'divide' the room that way, then?" Joyce suggested. "Maybe, have his bed and clothes against one wall, the desk and shelving against another, and a third space along one of the remaining walls to put his stereo and guitar?"

"Sounds good to me," Vern nodded. "Buffy? Any ideas?"

"Nope. Sounds good."

A couple hours later, the women finished their latest projects, laughing about old times.

*****

"Looks like Ty's finished the shelf system Vern requested. And in record time, too," Paige's voice penetrated the fog of shock in the Giles' living room a little better than before. They watched the carpenter install the piece of carpentry onto the teen's old desk.

"Here's the shelf, Vern," Ty carefully set down the monstrosity he'd made on top of the desk it was built to fit, fastening it securely.

"Anything else you need just now?"

"Not that I can think of, but I'll let you know," was the reply.

"Would you like me to paint that the same color as the desk, Vern?" Joyce queried, walking up behind the designer.

Vern jumped imperceptibly.

"Joyce!" he laughed. "You scared me!"

"Sorry," she giggled, a bit embarrassed.

"It's alright. Why don't you go ahead and paint this, like you suggested? I'm sure I can find Buffy something to do while you work out here."

*****

The ten friends, six who were speechless, and four who were mentally giving themselves pats on the back at their sneakiness, watched as Spike and Giles both sat in the living room, and paced the screen, hanging artwork in the Summers living room, at the same time.

"One thing still puzzles me," Giles remarked as he straightened the painting he'd just hung on the living room wall.

"What's that?" his nephew asked as he drove a nail in to hang another painting.

"The eight of you could barely get along more than two years ago, and now you're all the best of friends," Giles mused. "How would you explain such a situation?"

"Well," Spike stalled, unsure how to answer, himself. "I guess, once Xander and the cheerleader came 'out of the closet,' and Red became all supportive, it just got harder to see who belonged to which group. So, we all just hung out together, I guess."

"Hmmm." Giles pondered that thought for a moment, until Spike spoke again.

"All except one, that is."

*****

~One Year Ago~

"Hey, Buffy," Willow greeted her best friend one night at the Bronze. "Hi, Scott," she also greeted the blonde's long-time, on-again, off-again boyfriend. Must not have gotten the memo, she thought to herself about the incident earlier that school year with Drusilla.

"Hey, Wills." The blonde was obviously having a good night, if the hundred-watt smile she gave the redhead was any indication.

"Xander, Cordy," she nodded to the now-not-so-clandestine couple. "What's up?"

"Not much," the brunette male answered, his arm around Cordy's waist. "We were actually just stopping by on our way to Spike's house. Wanna come?"

Buffy rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"We've been neighbors since we were a month old. Why would I want to spend more time with that loser?"

Xander shrugged. "Your loss." He turned to his girlfriend and the other two girls at the table. "Will? Dru?"

"Sure, I'm in, if Dru's okay with it."

"You go on ahead, Dearie," the raven-haired beauty encouraged her newest friend. After Xander and Cordy had become public, the two groups had found themselves mixing a bit more than they originally had. "I'll join you later; I have the sudden, inexplicable urge to dance."

*****

"The women seem to have everything in hand as they break for lunch," Paige's voice came over the screen.

"Why do you always push Spike away?" Joyce dropped a bombshell on her daughter while they reminisced about life, the universe, and everything.

"What are you talking about?" Buffy's face scrunched up in a mixture of confusion, and something else Joyce couldn't identify.

"I mean, you and Will used to be the best of friends. Now, all you ever seem to do is insult him. What happened?"

Thinking of Jenny, her parents' divorce, and William's self-isolation, Buffy replied as her eyes focused on something far away in time and space.

"Junior High, Mom. Junior High happened."

Wondering what the blonde teen had been talking about, the six friends sat back for the commercial break.

Author's Notes

Okay, I KNOW that they don't usually show such personal conversations on Trading Spaces, but this is my fic-world. And becides... I've got an explanation for that:

It's not actually everyone watching these moments of the show. The parts of the show where the four are talking to one another is their MEMORIES of the taping of the show itself (except for the last scene from this chapter, pretty much). The parts with just the designers and Ty are the actually show being watched by the entire gang. :)

Chapter Five
Repairing Humpty Dumpty

Author's Note: For those of you wondering "What happened in Junior High?" GO BACK AND READ THE FLASHBACKS! It's ALL there. :) If you still don't know by the time you've finished reading this fic, then I'll tell you.

"Well, it's the end of day two, and Joyce and Buffy look confident enough to joke around as they finish up a few last-minute projects," Paige's voice once again came over the television after the commercial break.

"And then," Joyce explained through her giggles. "She walks up, and smooches the poor guy on the mouth! It was hilarious!"

Buffy was confused; she couldn't find "the funny" in her mother's anecdote.

"I don't get it," she frowned, thought lines creasing her forehead, just above the bridge of her nose. "We are talking about the same Tara, right? Tara Maclay, Willow's girlfriend, was kissing this guy? Where was Willow?"

Joyce rolled her eyes as though she were the teen in the room, and opened her mouth to explain, but Vern's speculative comment beat her to the punch.

"Probably hiding somewhere nearby, trying not to laugh, am I right?"

The two blonde heads swivelled to the Asian.

"How'd you guess?" Joyce smiled.

Buffy groaned.

"What's the matter, Honey?" Joyce asked. "Are you okay?"

"You've corrupted her! All of you!" Buffy began to trail off, losing steam as Paige came in the door.

"She was so sweet and shy back then . . ."

*****

~Nine Months Ago~

"Hi, you must be Tara." The school receptionist smiled at the teen standing at her desk. "Why don't you fill out these papers while I get your schedule into the system?" The bubbly woman handed the shy girl a small stack of multi-colored papers and went back to the computer, only to be interrupted by the stuttering blonde.

"C-Can I borrow a p-p-pen?"

"I've got one, Ms. Gallagher," a voice spoke up from a few feet behind the new student. "Hi, I'm Willow Rosenberg. I'm an aide this block," the voice's owner introduced herself to the blonde, handing her the requested utensil.

"Nice to m-m-meet you," Tara took the pen, nodding appreciatively. "T-Tara Maclay." She nervously switched the pen to her right hand, in order to shake the redhead's hand.

"Oh! You have to meet Xander! He's an aide too!" Waving toward the door, where a brunette had just walked in, Willow called, "Hey, Xander, come over here!"

Xander did as requested, and was introduced to the new student as well.

"Alright, you three," Ms. Gallagher interrupted. "Here's Tara's schedule." She handed the aforementioned document to the blonde, continuing. "Would you two please show her where her class is?"

"Sure, Ms. Gallagher," Xander answered, turning back toward the blonde. "Well, Ms. Maclay, what torture does this institution inflict on you for fifth period?"

"M-M-Math," Tara answered after consulting the document in her hands. "With Ms. Stroper."

"Great!" Willow exclaimed with another smile. "Spike, Buffy and Cordelia are in that class. We'll introduce you!"

*****

"Spike and Rupert seem to have things under control at Casa de Summers as well, at the end of day two," Paige spoke from the television screen. "Let's see what Frank has them doing, now that it's crunch time."

The two Brits helped Frank put the finishing touches on Joyce's living room, continuing their discussion from earlier.

"I don't remember seeing that Angel fellow very much before six months ago. Would you care to share how he came to be part of the group?"

"Not particularly," Spike answered. He still remembered Buffy's early crush on the basketball team captain.

"But, since it's you askin', I will anyway . . ."

*****

~Six Months Ago~

"Mmmm . . . Angel," a feminine voice filtered through the air vents in Xander's History class. It was a good thing Xander was the only one who could hear it, since he sat right next to the vent.

Or, it would have been, if he hadn't recognized the voice as his girlfriend's rich, feminine tones.

"Mr. Dukes?" Xander raised his hand. "I don't feel well; can I go to the nurse's office?"

At the teacher's nod, Xander made his way out of the classroom, but instead of going to the nurse's office, he snuck to the broom closet he knew so well.

Call me a glutton for punishment, Xander thought to himself, but I have to know.

On his way to the closet, the brunette ran into Spike - literally, who was an aide that period.

"Whoa! Hey Whelp, where's the fire?" the blonde called after his friend, following the stomping teen.

"Hey! Harris! Where you off to?"

He didn't need an answer, because at that moment, Xander stopped and flung the broom closet door on its hinges, exposing the make-out session inside.

Spike glared at the couple while Xander did nothing but walk away, head hanging.

The blonde caught up with Xander and put an arm around the brunette's shoulder in a friendly gesture of comfort.

"Want a beer?"

The sheer absurdity of the question had the brunette sputtering, trying to hold in his laughter.

"Nah, I'll be okay. I kinda suspected - she's been kinda weird around me lately - but I knew when I heard it through Mr. Dukes' air vents."

"What're you gonna do?" the blonde asked.

"Dunno," Xander replied. "But one thing's for sure."

"What's that?"

"Cordy and I are now an 'either-or,' instead of an 'and,'" the brunette sighed.

"You're not gonna try to get her back?!?!?"

"Why bother? If she's gonna let her hormones override her faithfulness, why should I force the issue?"

"What about the Wanker? You at least gonna rough him up a bit for stealin' your girl?" Spike asked.

"Nah," Xander shrugged. "Angel's a good guy. Plays a mean game of pool," he answered. "And besides, Cordy'd murder me if I tried."

*****

"And Anya?" Giles prompted as they set the last statue in place. "What of her?"

"Ah," Spike reminisced with a smile as he saw Paige coming to get them for the revealing. "The day I found out the Whelp isn't so dumb after all . . ."

*****

~Two Months Ago~

"I don't get it!" the girl screamed at her tutor. "Why do we need Calculus anyway?"

"Come on, Anya," the tutor replied. "It's not that hard . . . Here, why don't you try substituting all the confusing stuff for stuff you like?"

"Willow?" The blonde cocked an eyebrow skeptically. "This is Calculus, not Arithmetic . . . There isn't much to substitute for derivative problems."

"Er . . . right . . . You're right," the redhead stuttered.

She sighed, and, realizing something, shook her head.

"What?" the sometimes-brunette asked.

"For the first time in my life, I have no idea how to explain something."

"Woah!" a distinctly-male voice spoke up from the next table over. Xander got up from his chair to look over the two girls' shoulders.

"Willow Rosenberg can't explain something?!?!? That's never happened before!"

"Keen observation, Captain Obvious," Willow's student quipped. "If you're not going to contribute to the academic achievement at this table, would you please leave?"

"Well, what are you working on?" The young man craned his neck even further over the girls' shoulders, catching the directions in Anya's math book.

"Derivatives?" he remarked, snorting in a bit of disdain. "Cinch."

Willow was speechless. She'd never been shown up in math . . . especially not by Xander, of all people.

"I've gotta see this," the redhead scooched closer toward Anya, while Xander pulled out the chair on the girl's other side.

"My name's Xander, by the way," the brunette remarked, realizing they hadn't been introduced.

"Anya. Anya Jenkins."

"Nice to meet you." They shook hands, and he grabbed a pencil, beginning his explanation.

"Alright, all you have to do is . . ."

*****

"What happened to Scott?" Joyce asked, fluffing the guitar pillows one last time. "I haven't seen him around in a while."

"Uh . . . Mom?" Buffy looked skeptically at the other woman. "We broke up."

*****

~One and a Half Months Ago~

"This isn't working," Scott startled his girlfriend with the sudden revelation.

"W-What? You're breaking up with me?" Cocking her head, she added, "Again?"

Scott nodded. "For good, this time. It's just not working out, and it hasn't been for a while."

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked.

"You know what I mean, Buffy." Scott took her hands, looking the blonde in the eyes. "It hasn't been working for a while now, and I don't really think it was in the first place. We fight almost once a week - the chess club sets its meetings by them - we've broken up more times than either of us can count, and it's obvious we're not in love - especially to our friends. It wouldn't be fair to keep up the charade . . . to either of us."

"What do you mean, 'We're not in love?' We could be, sometime!"

"No, Buffy," Scott retorted. "If it hasn't happened yet, it's not going to. You've been pining over the basketball team's captain since Junior High, and I think it's time we both stop fooling ourselves into thinking we'll ever want each other that way."

Buffy nodded. "Okay, I guess this is 'See ya 'round,' then, huh?" She deliberately ignored the Angel comment, because she didn't want to deal with having to figure out the real reason she wasn't in love with Scott.

Scott had only used Angel as a scapegoat. He knew Buffy hadn't had a crush on Angel since ninth grade's end - she had just pretended to for far longer - but he didn't think Buffy would react well to his "Buffy's in love with Spike" theory.

"Yeah," Scott sighed, letting her hands go. "Friends?"

"Maybe later," Buffy answered thoughtfully. "I think we both need to sort some things out before we start over, even a little bit."

*****

Epilogue
Lemme See! Lemme See!

As Paige went through the budgets with the designers, the group found themselves - for the first time in their lives - wishing that the show would just hurry up and get over with.

"Alright!" Paige exclaimed, holding Joyce and Buffy's hands to lead them into the living room. "Open your eyes!"

Two gasps filled the television screen as the blondes perused their new living room.

On the window, a large canvas, bearing a colorful geometric painting announced its presence as Paige pulled the drape cord closed. Off to the right, the women saw their television, sitting atop what looked to be two stone columns, and flanked by two more, taller columns. Their couch and coffee table had had face lifts as well, they could tell, and neither woman failed to notice familiar artwork gracing even more columns with its presence.

Belatedly, Buffy and Joyce realized that they were being spoken to, and turned back to Paige.

"So . . ." Paige wheedled enthusiastically. "What do you think?"

"Cooooooool . . ." Buffy's opinion came first.

"How about you, Joyce?" the hostess turned to the older blonde.

"I knew the guys would do a good job, but this is better than even I imagined! They even used the art I'd been trying to find a way to display around the house!"

"Is that why you told Spike where it was, and not me?" Buffy asked, coming out of her shocked stupor.

Joyce chuckled. "Yup."

"Well," Paige spoke again. "I've gotta go and get the guys, so you two sit tight, and I'll come get you once they've seen Spike's room, alright?"

*****

More budget talk was ignored, and the six friends seemed to get more fidgety with each passing moment, as Paige led Spike and Giles across the screen into the teen's room.

"You ready?" Paige asked the two Brits, pulling them into Spike's bedroom.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Spike joked. "Hope it's not too girly."

"Open your eyes, guys."

Both men opened their eyes, gaping at the room's drastic transformation.

"Bloody . . . Hell . . ." Spike whispered.

In the far corner, just to the left of the room's only window, sat his bed, covered in black and red with the two guitar pillows Joyce had made sitting overtop the comforter, crossed at their fabric necks. To the right of said window sat Spike's dresser, with pictures of friends and family sitting on top, along with, he noticed, the lucky guitar pick he'd lost nearly seven weeks before.

In the corner directly to Giles and Spike's right sat Spike's re-painted desk, complete with extra shelving. The men noticed the paint job done on the desk lamp as well, and Spike was relieved to find out Buffy had returned the collar to its home after the lamp had dried. Finally, in the corner, just in front of the bed, sat Spike's music equipment.

Awestruck though they were, the men actually heard Paige speaking to them.

"Does it meet with your approval, Mister Wirthington?" she tried - and nearly succeeded - to imitate a stuffy, British accent.

The men laughed with the hostess.

"It's bloody brilliant!" Spike exclaimed.

"You haven't seen anything yet," Paige said, walking over to open the closet. "Storage space."

The Brits nodded appreciatively. "Anything else I should know about before you lot leave?"

"There is," Paige nodded, "But I'll let the women show you that."

Paige went to get Buffy and Joyce from the Giles' living room, and came back a few moments later.

"So," Spike wheedled, staring openly at Buffy as the cameras rolled. "What's this surprise I hear you've got for me?"

Buffy just smirked as Joyce and Paige walked to the corners, flicking on the lamps, and she switched off the overhead lights.

"I don't get it," Spike mused. "It's dark."

Although no one could see, Buffy rolled her eyes. "Look up, Moron."

As the cameras focused on the design overhead, Xander, Tara, Willow, Anya, Cordelia, and Angel seemed to come alive.

They didn't bother watching the credits. Instead, each of the six looked incredulously at one another, then at their traitorous friends, before bursting into a flurry of action.

Xander, Anya, and Tara went in the direction of Spike's room, playing with the lights, opening the closet's cabinet, and generally just being dumbfounded, while Angel, Cordelia, and Willow ran out the door and through the front yards toward the Summers' house. A few seconds later - after the girls and Angel had seen the contents of the column cabinets - the six friends met in the Summers' and Giles' backyards, babbling incoherently about what they'd seen.

Almost as if on cue from some cosmic puppet master, the two groups split again, crossing to visit the room they hadn't seen.

When the six finally made it back to the living room at 1632 Revello, they noticed the distinct absence of the two legally adult members of the "gang."

And, instead of a bickering blonde duo, the six friends found the most popular blonde from Sunnydale High, sharing a lingering - and from the looks of it, loving - lip lock with the school's resident punk.

Oh, every one of the six stunned friends knew that Spike and Buffy had a history of non-fighty-ness, but they had never believed the stories.

Never, that is, until now.