Ch. 8: Seaspray

"So you remember that promise about being my own personal model?" Buffy asked coyly, blowing on her hot coffee. They were sitting in a booth at a diner, enjoying really greasy food and each other's company. After their pleasant walk on the beach, they had both been thrown into a flurry of responsibilities that took them away from the comfortable beach home and their newfound affection. Spike had helped Angel and Dru buy a new condo together in San Francisco where Angel had just landed a new job, which had ended up taking a little over a week. Buffy had visited her sister Dawn, who was doing a summer session at UCLA in hopes of completing college early to eventually join her sister in New York City; she had postponed seeing her mother because of this trip, which had also delayed the completion of her photo portfolio. Through phone calls and emails and IMs they were able to keep in touch fairly frequently, further cementing their rapport, but this brunch was the first time in two weeks that Buffy and Spike had been able to see each other again.

Spike paused mid-bite to cock his eyebrow at Buffy. He swallowed the large portion of pancakes and sausage before responding. "What's that now? Modeling?"

"Yeah. That day we first met you said you'd let me take more pictures of you. You did promise," she said, starting to pout just a little but not too much, saving herself for possible later coercion. She was enjoying their physical flirting, since most of their teasing for the past weeks had been through words and not actions. Buffy had gotten used to finishing the night by talking to him, telling him all about her day and her various tasks. They had shared favorites, memories, future plans, dreams...It amazed her how comfortable she felt with him. It felt good.

"Now that is just wrong," he said, grinning at her obvious machinations to convince him. "Are you just trying to get me naked?" he purred.

"It's not about nakedness. It's about art," Buffy said firmly. "But yes. Naked is good."

She squealed as he poked her in her side, squirming to get away from his tickling fingers. "No, no, that's cheating! Stop!" she said, starting to lose her breath from the laughing and attempts to elude his fingers. She was still clutching her side and trying to grab his fingers when the waitress came by to check on them, not amused by their somewhat vocal antics.

"How is everything?" she said, clearly trying to interrupt them.

"We're fine, luv. If you could just bring me another cup of coffee, that'd be great, Sally," he answered, reading her name off her tacky coffeecup nametag. Spike smiled broadly, which became a grin when he saw the waitress faltering under his gaze, despite the fact that his arms were completely wrapped around another woman.

Buffy watched the scene in amazement--until he began his tickling once again. "No, stop! No!" she gasped, trying to punch him in between holding her body.

Finally, he stopped, an amused smirk on his face. "There are other ways to get me naked," he said seductively, sucking pancake syrup off his finger.

Buffy speared one of his sausages and erotically licked syrup off of it, deciding to play his game. "I wasn't sure you'd be into that kind of voyeurism, but I'm up for videotaping and photographing if you are," she purred. "I can have a friend come over, maybe even join us, if you'd like." She smiled slowly and then burst out laughing when she saw the glazed look flit across Spike's face.

Hearing her laughter, Spike blinked and then groaned. "Oh, that is just cruel. I was really starting to imagine the possibilities." Buffy's laughter went higher in pitch, and Spike shot her an evil look. "Just for that, no naked model for you." He began pouting.

As Buffy's giggling subsided, she wiped some tears from her eyes and calmed herself down. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You have to do this for me. It's for my portfolio, seriously. I'll make it up to you," she said in a singsong voice before gazing at him, wide-eyed and pouting.

He tried to look stern and unwavering, but Buffy's lips called out to him, and his feigned resolve--since he had every intention of modeling for her--finally crumbled. He pretended to sound reluctant, hoping to garner more favors. "Alright. I'll do it. But only because I love--the way you look when you beg." Spike caught himself before he completed what seemed natural to say, which surprised him. He was not one to profess his love so early on--nor was he the kind to use such powerful words all the time. The slip intrigued him, making him realize how much he felt like they belonged. The thought scared him but also filled him with warmth. He smiled as he observed her excitement and glee over his consent to model for her. Buffy hugged him tightly.

"Thank you so much. It'll be fun. I promise. And I'm sure you'll look great on camera. You'll be amazed. And then we can look at it together so you can see what I do. And then maybe I can show you some of the other pictures I--"

He silenced her with a kiss. Her surprise quickly ebbed and turned into desire as she tasted the sweet syrup mixed with the musky taste that characterized his sharp, masculine persona so well. Spike pulled her closer and began rubbing her back and sides, subtly brushing up against her breast. She moaned into his mouth and began her own exploration of his chest, feeling his heart beat and his skin burn with pleasure, till--

"Ahem. Excuse me. Excuse me!" The waitress loudly spoke, attempting to interrupt what had escalated into a rather intense kissing experience.

Buffy and Spike slowly looked up, still caught up in each other's heat.

"Can I take these plates? And offer you the check? And suggest that you go somewhere else?" Sally asked politely, though her flushed cheeks showed her slight sarcasm and slight arousal at their public display of lust.

Buffy blushed and moved away from Spike's arms. "I'm sorry. Yes, we'll take the check and be on our humiliated way." She reached for her purse but was outdone by Spike, who handed the waitress a few twenties.

"Thanks. Keep the change. We'll be going now." He grinned sheepishly and began to move out of the booth.

"Thank you. Come again," she said brightly. Sally watched them leave the diner and then muttered, "If only I could come again." She sighed, envious of the couple's heat and harmony, and then began cleaning up their dishes.

***

"God, I can't believe I totally made out with you in the diner. I never do that kind of thing!" Buffy said, quickly walking away from the site of her embarrassment.

"Buffy, slow down. It's not a big deal. It's not like we flashed anybody or did anything illegal. That we can do later," he said sexily, sticking his tongue out to tease her.

"Spike! You're so bad! Seriously, I always hated those people who couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. I just can't believe I'm one of them." She kicked a random stone in her path.

Spike chuckled and turned her around to face him. "Isn't that a good thing? An indication of how good we are together?" Spike spoke tenderly, caressing her face. "I personally can barely keep my hands off you." He caught her punch and kissed her fist. "Even if it gets a little violent. Sometimes a little hitting and slapping can really get my blood pumping." He grinned as she began to curl up her fist again. "You're so cute when you're mad."

"You are not making me feel any better. Am I one of those people? Am I a ho?" she said despairingly. She yelped as he suddenly picked her up and twirled her around.

"Better not be. Only mine." He kissed her, his lips only increasing the dizziness she felt. "I don't care if people watch. They'll just envy us for knowing that we fit." He softly kissed her again.

She sighed into the kiss, finally allowing herself to let go of the slight shame she had felt. "Okay. You win. All yours." She moved in to kiss him again and then wound her arms around him tightly, burying her face against his chest. "But I'm not about to go make out with you again in the middle of the street, so we'd better get going." She grinned up at him and then skipped away. "Can you catch me? AAHH!" she yelled out with glee when she saw him sprint after her. They ran home, laughing and teasing each other the whole way.

***

"I want you to dress in jeans and a black t-shirt with your Speedos on underneath," Buffy said firmly. "I'll meet you out back in 10 minutes. I just have to gather all my equipment." She leaned in and kissed him quickly. "Isn't this exciting? See you in a bit." She opened her door and ran in.

"How does she know I have Speedos?" Spike wondered aloud. He quickly unlocked his own door and went to his room to get changed.

Ten minutes later they walked out towards the beach. Buffy had her large bag and was quickly shooting out directions.

"There's a large flat rock a little ways ahead. I'd like that to be the site. It's fairly private, and there's a lot of room to move around for different angles and things. We'll start out with you fully clothed, and then we'll move to the Speedos," she said succinctly.

Spike grinned as he noted the change in her persona, her professional tone and precise directions such a change from her somewhat rambling style of conversation. He was about to comment on it when she stopped abruptly.

"This is where I'm going to set up. I'll leave all the stuff on a blanket, and we can move around without kicking up sand on it. Go ahead and start walking slowly down the beach. Pretend I'm not even here. Think about something as you walk, something profound and not amusing. I don't want any smiles just yet." She squeezed his arm and then pulled out the blanket to place everything on the ground. Spike grinned again, watching his girl at work, and then began his stroll down the beach.

He soon heard the clicking of the camera and tried not to let the sounds affect the way he was walking. He tried to think about something and inevitably began to think of her, of the way her face lit up when she smiled, of the way her hair swirled around her face, of the way her body moved so easily, so comfortably. He smiled in thinking about how much he loved being with her. And then, of course, he began thinking about Joyce and that situation. He wondered if it was even necessary to tell Buffy, if she would feel differently--or rather, how much she would feel differently. He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his face. If he could get the timing right, maybe he could tell her the whole story and she wouldn't get too freaked out. The last weeks, despite not actually seeing each other, had been wonderful. He felt they had a connection, beyond the physical attraction that had initially drawn him to her. He felt like he had found a best friend--a soulmate, even. She had to feel that connection.

"Spike? Can you take off the shirt and jeans?" Buffy's voice pierced his thoughts, and he flashed her a grin. Deciding to play a little, he turned and began stripping slowly for her. Bending over, he lowered his jeans while keeping his ass up in the air for her approval. He glanced back at her, winked, and then threw his clothes onto the ground. He stretched out his chest muscles and flexed for her.

"Please. You don't exactly have a bodybuilder image," Buffy said, snorting behind her camera.

"Ouch!" Spike hugged himself and acted hurt. "If you don't like my body, I can just--"

"Oh, I like your body all right. Now go and strut it for me so I can take more photos. Go along the beach and climb up that rock. Then dive in, swim a little, and then walk around in the water a little."

She lifted her camera to her eye again, signaling the end of their brief break. He grinned again at her attitude and began to walk. The sun had already begun to beat against his skin, for which he was thankful, since the water tended to be pretty damn cold. Rubbing his hands against his chest, he prepared himself for the cold. He let the sun warm him for a little longer and then gracefully dove into the waves.

Buffy paused for a moment to wipe the beads of sweat that were forming on her brow. The sun was high, but her rising temperature was more due to the beautiful body in front of her than nature itself. She was eager to see how these pictures would come out; seeing him through the lens was becoming rather erotic for her, her inner voyeur indulging in the sensation of watching and capturing his gorgeous movements. It thrilled her to know she'd have these photos always surrounding her, revealing his features, his emotions that so clearly washed over his face. It also thrilled her to think about how he was hers; it sounded so possessive, but that's how she felt--that they belonged. When his head emerged from the water, she began shooting again.

Spike swam in the ocean, subtly watching Buffy take pictures from the shore. The wind whipped around her, causing slight undulations in her pretty dress. Her hair was starting to come out of her ponytail, and he watched her brush it back, trying to keep it out of the lens' way. He began walking out of the water, and the sun's rays combined with the cold water felt electrifying. As his eyes raked over Buffy's body, he began to feel his cock push against his Speedos, even with the cold ocean pressing against it. Continuing towards the shore, he watched as Buffy looked down at her camera, finally pausing in her work.

"I'm out of film. Let me just put in more and we'll continue." She turned to walk quickly towards the blanket. Spike followed swiftly, waiting for her to put the camera on the ground.

And then he pounced.

"EEK!" Buffy shrieked as his wet arms came around her, lifting her off the ground. "What are you doing?"

"I'm making you take a break. You've got me all hot and bothered with your demanding tone and professional control, all 'Do this' and 'Show me that.' I have to have you. Now." He placed her on the ground long enough to kiss her deeply. She moaned and leaned in more, but he moved again, suddenly scooping her into his arms and running towards the ocean.

"Spike! Spike! What are you doing?!? Put me down!" she screamed.

"Okay. If you insist." He dropped her into the water with an evil cackle.

She emerged from the water with her hair all stuck to one side, sputtering for air. "You are soo gonna get it." She tried to pull him under the water, but he easily evaded her.

"I'm sorta hoping for that," he leered cockily, ducking as she splashed water towards him.

She abruptly went underwater, throwing him off. He looked around and then suddenly felt something around his thighs. Before he could move, he was submerged. He gasped for air when he finally came above water and searched for her. Buffy was a couple feet away, laughing and smoothing her hair out of her face. He started laughing as well, and they giggled together while nearing each other. Buffy's dress was completely wet, and her nipples were reacting to the cold water, pushing against the thin fabric. Spike leaned forward to suck its ripeness through the fabric.

Buffy gasped at the warmth of his mouth against her shivering skin. She ran her fingers through his wet hair and pushed her body against his. Pulling his head up, she kissed him, thrusting her tongue against his. All her sexual energy that had built up during the photo shoot coursed through her, sending vibrations against her skin. As she cupped his ass, she maneuvered his erection in between her legs, wanting to feel his hardness against her.

They both moaned, frantically touching each other and pressing themselves closer together. Using the water, Buffy let it hold her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist, making their position even more intimate.

Spike's cock strained against his bathing suit, creating a large gap that quickly filled with cold water. The ocean pushed and pulled against him, magnifying the arousing thrusts against Buffy's heat. He kissed her hard and then continued down her body to suck and nibble at her neck and her breasts. Using his tongue, he pushed the wet material away from her nipples and sucked them, hardening them even further.

"Oh, God," Buffy breathed, the sensation of Spike's mouth on her breast and the thrusting of his cock against her clit crashing over her. Her thong was slowly pushing into her, the wet material rubbing against her and letting her feel part of Spike's cock. She desperately wanted more, but she didn't have the energy to move.

Spike devoured her mouth again and gripped her hips tightly, quickening the pace of his thrusts. Their breathing got shorter and shorter until Buffy's whole body tensed up, her arms squeezing around Spike's torso and her legs clenching his waist. She cried out, throwing her head back in ecstasy.

Spike used her movement to suck at her nipple once again and then felt his own surge burst against her.

"OOOHHHHhhhhhhhhhh," he moaned as he felt his cum shoot through him and mingle with the chill of the waves.

They held each other for a while, letting the surf carry them in their boneless state.

Buffy moved first, softly resting her forehead against his. "Wow."

Spike smiled and gave her a soft peck on the lips. "Wow, indeed. I think this is the first time I've ever come in the water."

Buffy giggled. "Me, too. And I think what we just did was illegal."

Spike cocked his eyebrow. "Into that, now, are we?"

She leaned in to kiss him, her tongue tenderly stroking his. "Maybe."

"My daring baby." He nibbled at her earlobe.

"My sexy baby." She tightened her legs around him.

"Your tired baby," they said simultaneously. They looked at each other wide-eyed and then began to laugh, freely and loudly.

"Come on. We don't want anyone stealing your camera. Those pictures will be worth a lot one day," Spike teased as Buffy lowered her body from his.

"They already are," she murmured, brushing a kiss onto his shoulder and intertwining her fingers with his.

Hand in hand, they slowly walked towards the shore.

Ch. 9: Spanking New Confessions

Buffy watched Spike's face and body magically appear as each photo developed and then carefully hung her photos to dry. She worked methodically, making sure the specifics of the photos were exactly to her standards, the time floating by as she worked to finish the entire group of shots. When she was finally done, she leaned back to survey her work.

Spike on the beach. Spike in the water. Spike walking. Spike stretching. Spike smiling. Spike contemplating. Spike laughing. Spike pouting. Spike diving. Spike swimming. Spike soaking. Spike splashing. Spike.

It was fabulous.

She hugged herself, her giddiness bubbling and spilling out of her smile. She was giddy because the pictures had turned out amazingly and because he was all hers. The summer was turning out so perfectly, and she had autumn in New York with Spike to look forward to; she couldn't have scripted a better life.

Her cell phone rang, interrupting her thoughts of contentment.

"Hey, Mom," Buffy said, cradling the phone in her shoulder as she finished up her photo development.

"Actually, tonight's not good. I'm having dinner with Spike. Yeah, he is--exactly. Things are going really well, and I'm kind of excited." She hung the last picture and watched the solution drip slowly. "Okay, tomorrow, then. Yup. Talk to you then."

Hanging up the phone, she took one last look at her work and then left the room.

***

"So, what do you think?" Buffy asked hesitantly. She was showing Spike her entire portfolio, complete with the photos from their morning together. Nervously she waited for Spike to voice his opinion.

"Buffy, they're amazing. You have such an eye for movement and emotion and color. I'm so incredibly impressed. And lucky that my girl is so talented. You're going to completely wow the guys in New York." He leaned over and kissed her softly. "Gorgeous and talented. Now what did I do to deserve that?" he teased, rubbing his thumb on her bare shoulder.

Blushing, Buffy reached out and squeezed his hand. "I'm really glad you like them. I love what I do, but sometimes I wonder if it's all just in my head, the way I see things."

"No, these photos are bloody brilliant. Really. Not just saying that. But I do have a question," Spike murmured, looking again at the photos. He flipped through the pages and stopped at a photo of him perched on the rock in jeans. "Is this the one from before? When you were stalking me?"

Blushing again, she smacked him playfully on the arm. "I wasn't stalking you. You just happened to be there, and I just happened to be there, and my camera just happened to be there. So there," she blurted out, still a little embarrassed. "Anyway, you wanna go to dinner now?"

"Yeah, pet. Let's leave this here, and we can ride my bike to the restaurant." He reached out for her hand, and they walked out of the house together.

***

The wine was making Buffy a little buzzed, a little horny, and a little chatty. She coyly licked the chocolate off her spoon and then licked her lips, savoring the rich chocolate taste. Watching for Spike's reaction, she flipped her hair back and then gently ran her fingers over her collarbone, edging towards her breasts.

She leaned forward and whispered, "I have a confession to make."

Spike gulped, already hardened by her tongue and her exploring hands, not to mention her feet caressing his legs. "Tell, me luv."

"I don't think I should tell you here. You might get a little angry with me, and I don’t want to be spanked in front of all these people." She took the cherry off the top of the sundae and sucked all the whipped cream off of it, letting it bob in her mouth for a bit before pulling off the stem.

"Check, please!"

***

The ride back to Spike's was vibratingly quick, which suited them both. Tongues sucking and probing in the hallway, hands roaming daringly in the living room, they fell onto the couch in a pile of heat and desire.

"So what's this naughty little confession, pet? Do you need to be punished?" Spike taunted in between kisses.

"Maybe. I might need to be punished real bad, because I kept this secret from you for a long time." She straddled him and held his face in her hands, enjoying their little flirtation.

Spike knew she was teasing him, but tiny little alarms were going off in the back of his mind, wondering if this little secret was anything like his. He placed his hands over hers and kissed her again. "You gonna tell me, or are you gonna make me beg?"

"Ooh, beg. I like that," she breathed, squeezing her thighs around his body.

"Yeah, but that might make your punishment worse. Do you want that?" He placed his hands on her waist, brushing up her torso and nearing her breast with each stroke.

"I'm a bad girl. Bad, bad, bad..." she repeated, pulling his head close and filling his mouth with her tongue. "I watched you."

He lightly brushed the underside of her breasts, teasing her and himself. "You did, did you? At the beach? You already told me that. I think you're hiding something from me," he said while nibbling at her ear.

His breath tickled her, and she arched her back in response, pushing her breasts into his chest. "No, not then. Again. Later. At night," she whispered, licking the spot right behind his ear.

"At night? I wasn't at the beach at night." He tried to keep his mind clear enough to hear her words, but her squeezes and licks were driving him crazy; he wanted to rip her panties and thrust into her over and over again. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the lush touch of her tongue on his earlobe.

"Yeah, at night. I was on the sundeck, and I could see inside your room." She ran her fingers underneath his shirt and pinched his nipples. "I couldn't sleep, and then I saw you, angry, horny, full of fire," she breathed, grasping his ass and pressing her heat into his.

Spike hardened even more when he remembered what he'd done that night--how he'd jerked off and spewed all over himself. The thought of her watching made him so hot. "You saw me, did you? And did you like what you saw?" he demanded, pushing up her shirt and licking her nipple through her bra. "Did you want me then?" he asked, using his tongue to pull out her puckered breast.

She gasped at the sensation of his tongue on her skin, and she pressed his head to her chest. "God, yes. I saw you running your hands on your cock, and I pretended it was me, my hands, my tongue. And you know what?" she said, slowly starting to rock on top of him. "I touched my wet, throbbing clit and pretended you were fucking me instead of your hand."

Spike bucked underneath her, and he snarled, grabbing her for a hard, intense kiss. "You are a bad, bad girl, and you need to be right punished." He yanked her t-shirt off and pushed her to the side, making her skirt fly up and her ass protrude sexily. He rubbed it, feeling her heat and her cum starting to moisten her thighs.

"I'm not sorry. I wanted you. I want you." She reached for his belt buckle, trying to loosen his hard cock.

"No, pet. Not yet. You don't get that yet. I need to spank you first." And with a hard thwack, he began slapping her juicy ass.

"Fuck. Oh, god," she cried out, feeling the stinging pleasure of his hand. He kept it up, smacking her ass, hitting her while his other hand rubbed her clit. The harshness of his palm contrasting with the smoothness of his fingers drove her mad. He did this repeatedly until she felt herself flying up, tightening, and then exploding. "Shit, aaaaaaaggggggggggghhhhhhh! Spike," she yelled, her fingers tightening around the supporting pillow. She screamed into the couch and then let her body fall into his lap, exhausted.

Spike pulled her body close and began kissing her face. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" Spike murmured, his hands running through her hair.

"God, no, that was amazing," she said, "but now it's your turn." She pulled at his belt buckle and unzipped him. His cock sprung up, hard and wet with pre-cum. She slid down his legs and knelt before him.

"What are you doing--uuunnnggg," Spike moaned as Buffy slowly licked his cock from base to tip. He tightened his fingers in her hair, loving the feel of her head moving over his cock.

"So yummy," she said, licking and sucking him, swirling her tongue around his slit and tasting him. She skated her lips down his entire shaft and then up again, moaning so that he felt the vibrations.

"Fuck, Buffy," Spike cried out. He lifted his arms as she pulled off his t-shirt and then threw his head back as she resumed giving him incredible head.

"You like," she asked, in between licks, eyeing him coyly from her kneeling position.

He pulled her up and kissed her fervently, thrusting his tongue into her hot mouth. "God, pet, you taste so good."

"You, too," she said with a smirk. She yelped as he picked her up and switched their places, Spike now kneeling in front of her.

He began suckling her nipples, and she rubbed her legs against him, loving the feel of her skin against his. "Oh, Spike. I knew you'd be like this. Knew it'd be hot from the moment I saw you," she babbled, his movements making her crazy with lust.

Continuing his kisses down her front, he tongued her navel. "Wanted you from the moment I saw you. Feeling your hot little hands around my waist. Best bike ride ever." He reached up to kiss her on the mouth again before returning to his attack on her breasts. "Knew we could be great together, that the past wouldn't matter." He lightly bit her nipple.

"Past?" Buffy asked, her voice slightly unsteady because of his sensual mouth. She ran her fingers through his hair and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, bollocks," Spike thought to himself.

Ch. 10: Old, Wounding Confessions

Buffy knew something was wrong for two reasons: one, Spike was no longer sucking her nipple; two, Spike was no longer talking. Both of these things contributed to the dispersal of the haze that had engulfed her, and the clearing made her wonder if she had stumbled onto some hidden field rigged with mines. She looked down at the bleached head leaning against her chest and suddenly felt scared.

Spike was still frozen, completely at a loss for words and actions; his own stupidity scared him. He wondered if he could pretend the words away, forget he had ever said anything, especially in this moment when they were so close. That was it! That was why he'd said it--because the lust had crazed him and made him say things that were never meant to be said. He rubbed his forehead on her belly and breathed in her scent, wondering if he could distract her. Slowly he began kissing her belly again.

"Spike? Wait, stop. Is something wrong?" Buffy asked. She'd become so attuned to him, to his moments of lust and of contemplation, and she knew the latter was at the forefront. Concerned, she lifted his head up to look at him. "Are you okay? All of a sudden you seemed to change or something. Is there something in the past that's bothering you?"

Spike's heart tumbled and collapsed. Her genuine distress at his own slip-up was only making the rocks on the hill sharper. Was there something in the past that was bothering him? "Not exactly, luv." Well, that wasn't a lie. It wasn't him that was going to be bothered. "It's nothing, pet. Don't worry about it." He tried to lean up and give her a kiss, but she stopped him.

"Spike, there's obviously something going on inside. As much as I love how this feels, I also love--" Buffy broke off, her eyes widening a little. Her words had fallen easily from her mouth, and she suddenly reined in her emotions, afraid they'd come out too soon. She tried to cover up her slip by reaching in to kiss him, but he stopped her.

"Love what, Buffy?" Spike asked, cocking his eyebrow. His heartbeat had quickened at hearing her almost-declaration, and he pressed her for more.

"You're trying to distract me, but we're talking about you." She pulled him up off his knees and onto the couch next to her. "Tell me. You can tell me anything. I'll still--" Buffy paused again. Looking down, she began rubbing his thigh in a comforting manner. "You can tell me anything."

Spike's heart warmed to her words, but this time he didn't press her. He closed his eyes, wishing he hadn't allowed his defenses to fall in the height of his lust. He ran his fingers through his hair and then took her hand into his.

"Wait a sec," Buffy said. She reached for her t-shirt and quickly put it on. "I just feel like this is a moment, and I feel silly with my breasts all hanging out." She gave a small grin and then put her hand back into his. "Tell me what's on your mind. What's in your past that gave you such willies?"

She looked so innocent, and for a moment he considered lying. But those hazel eyes staring at him so trustingly made him realize that lying would only make things worse. He took a deep breath, trying to figure out how he speak those things burdening his heart.

"Buffy, I know we haven't known each other for a very long time, but I feel like we have this connection. Do you feel it? It's not just me, is it?" he asked, looking fully into her eyes. Buffy nodded and squeezed his hand in reply. "And I don't know what you were about to say earlier, but I'm not afraid to say it. I love you, Buffy. God, I love you. And maybe it's not right for me to say it so quickly, but I know it. I feel it." His voice was heavy with emotion, and his clear blue eyes gazed at her with sincerity and love.

Buffy sat still, her external body unmoving but her heart running and leaping wildly. She felt the same way, had almost said as much not two minutes earlier, but she was afraid of being so vulnerable. She played with his fingers and then finally met his eyes. "I--I love you, too. I wanted to say it earlier, but I was afraid. I've never met anyone like you, been with anyone who makes me feel like this, who understands me and still wants to stick around." She placed her hands on his lovely cheekbones and kissed him softly. "And is incredibly hot," she teased.

He smiled at her, letting himself enjoy the comfort of her teasing and her beautiful face. He kissed her again, his tongue gently stroking hers in the motion that seemed so natural and right. He took a breath and then began talking again.

"I wanted you to know how I felt, how connected I feel to you, before I shared about my past. I know you say that my past doesn't matter, but I just wanted you to know-- to know that I love you, that I truly care about you." He paused, gently caressing her hand and sending blue vibrations through her body. "When I was younger, I was really nerdy. Insecure, quiet, bookish. Instead of talking to people, I wrote. Poetry, fiction, whatever came to mind. And there was this girl, Cecily. I thought she was beautiful, angelic, perfect." His eyes looked off into his past, remembering. "I was wrong. When she heard of my affections, she humiliated me, rejected me, said I was beneath her." He chuckled, hiding his hurt. "Well, you can imagine I wasn't feeling all that manly. She essentially lopped off my jewels, took away my confidence, my self-esteem, my ability to believe that I was worthwhile. And then I met another woman. Only briefly, but still. She made me feel like I was something. Like I had something to offer this world, that I was a man. I really only spent one summer night by the beach with her, but it was enough. I lost my virginity to her." He hesitated, looking down at their joined hands. "Her name was Joyce."

Buffy waited with patience, trying to figure out at what point in his story she was supposed to understand what had made him so uneasy earlier. His abrupt stop made her wonder, and then suddenly a dark wave of realization threatened to crash onto her. She couldn't accept what he seemed to be implying until he raised his eyes, his pained blue eyes that seemed to cry out with guilt and regret and pleas. Her fingers tightened around his, her knuckles becoming white, and her heart seemed to be squeezed inside both hands.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her voice was uneven. "Spike? What do you--I mean, why are you--huh? Please, explain." She held onto his hand, as if holding him would keep the waves from crashing down on her.

"Buffy, it was a long time ago, and I didn't know you. I didn't even know you existed. Please, don't let--"

"Wait. Just wait. Are you saying you slept with my mother? Joyce, your first, is my mother? My mom? My--" She suddenly wrenched her hands away from his. "What the fuck are you saying? You can't be serious. 'Cause that's just impossible. You can't. Tell me you're not saying what it sounds like. Tell me, Spike." She jumped up from the couch and looked at him with pleading eyes. "Tell, me. Please."

Spike rose slowly to face Buffy, who was now on the other side of the couch. "Buffy, I want to be honest with you, and that's why I'm telling you about this. Not quite how I'd imagined it, but there it is. But it doesn't change how I feel about you. That's just history, just a moment in my adolescence. It was--"

"Just a moment? Oh, sure. No big. You just lost your virginity to MY MOTHER! You don’t think that's a little fucked up? My virginity was lost in the back seat of a car. Very cliché. Very normal. Very teenage prom night. You? You get it on with an old woman? And when? Was that why my mom knew you? Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god," Buffy said, shaking her hands as if trying to rid them of some dirtiness.

"Luv, understand. She was there during a time when I needed some--"

"Some what? Some hot loving?" Buffy interrupted, her voice starting to rise in pitch and volume.

"Buffy, please listen. I--"

"I can't. I can't listen. I just--I need to go. I need to go now. But I can't, because I live here. So you--you need to go. Please. Just--just let yourself out. Now." She ran up the stairs, not even waiting for his response.

"Buffy, please! Hear me out--don't just walk away!" The only response was the slamming of a door. And then he crumpled, his head falling into his hands and the tears welling up. "God, what just happened? Can't believe I fucked this up." He clenched his jaw, walked out the door, and quietly shut it.

He lingered outside the door, glancing up at the Buffy's window. The night breeze floated across his cheeks, its coolness contrasting with the hot tears in his eyes. "I'm not going to give up on this, Buffy. I love you," he whispered in a low voice. With a final gaze, he turned and went inside his house.

Ch. 11: City Counsel

Joyce walked into the quiet home, noting the couch pillows strewn haphazardly on the floor but the kitchen pristine from lack of use. She sighed and began up the stairs, assuming that Buffy was still sleeping at noon.

Buffy's body was tightly curled into a ball, her body clutching the stuffed pig and her leg thrown outside of the comforter. Joyce smiled at the sight, how young she looked in her sleep, and then moved to rouse her.

"Buffy? Buffy, it's time to wake up. Don't sleep the day away. Buffy?" Joyce lightly shook her so as not to scare her.

Buffy gasped and shot up, her mother startling her out of sleep. She looked confused for a little, realized it was her mother, shot her a dirty look, and then fell back onto the bed, covers hiding her face.

"Buffy, don't be childish. It's already noon. You should really get out of bed."

"And you shouldn't sleep with young boys," Buffy muttered, her anger awakening her and reminding her of last night's news.

"Hmm?" Joyce said, unable to understand Buffy's morning mumblings. "Come on, Buffy. I think--"

"You think what? Mom, I can barely stand to look at you," Buffy spat out as she shoved the covers aside and brushed by her mother to the bathroom.

"What? What are you talking about?" Joyce followed her into the bathroom and stood in the doorway while Buffy furiously brushed her teeth. "Don't ignore me, Buffy. You cant just proclaim that you're angry and then not at least tell me why." She crossed her arms, waiting to hear her daughter's explanation.

"You wanna know?" Buffy spat out, angrily wiping her face with a towel. "I just found out that Spike, the guy I was with last night, the guy that I thought was THE ONE, that I felt was connected to me in some way, was actually already familiar with Summers women, because he slept with you. YOU! Oh my god, I can't think about it," she muttered, closing her eyes as she scrubbed her face, as if rubbing the past away from her skin.

Joyce's face was frozen in shock, and slowly the events began to make sense. Spike, or William, must have let their secret slip. She closed her eyes, trying to figure out how to deal with the sudden onslaught of old memories and consequences. Buffy flew by her in a blind fury, muttering as she moved to the closet to get dressed.

"Don't you walk away from me!" Joyce said, following Buffy back into her room.

"Fine. You don't want me to walk away? Fine. Let's talk. Let's talk about how you cheated on Dad with the boy next door. Let's talk about how you should be arrested for what you did. Let's talk about how you took away his virginity. Let's talk about how you got to be with the one I wanted, the one I thought might be The One. Let's talk about how you ruined my chances by sleeping with him. Talk, Mom. Talk." At this point, Buffy's voice was cracked with hysterics, tears coursing down her face and tightening her body.

"Buffy, I--" Joyce started, moving closer.

"No. No. I can't do this. I don't want to know. I--" She ran out of her room, down the stairs, and out the door, as if she could physically escape the pain of her situation.

Joyce, shocked by her rejection, finally roused and ran after her, only to have the door slammed in her face.

"Buffy!" she called out, searching the street. "Buffy!"

There was nothing, no sight of her daughter and no sounds of her voice, not even her sobs. Nothing. Joyce collapsed on the steps, her body exhausted by the sudden emotional sprinting. She allowed the immensity of the situation crash over her, squeezing her heart and pricking the guilt that had been long in hiding.

"I fucked up royally, didn't I?"

Joyce started at the gravelly voice that had suddenly appeared next to her. She looked up to see a disheveled boy, hands shaking with a lit cigarettes, eyes red from crying. She smiled weakly. "Yeah, you did. What possessed you to tell her?"

"I didn't intend to--at least, not the way it happened. I just, well, I guess I just wanted to be completely honest with her. Didn't want any secrets or anything."

"You really did fuck up." Joyce stood, acknowledging him but intentionally maintaining space between them. "What are you going to do?"

"Not sure." He took a drag from his cigarette. "I just can't think straight. But I know I can't just cut my losses and go. I can't wish away the past, but I can't just give up on the future. I--Joyce, I think I love her." His voice was cut with emotion, his downcast eyes hiding the intensity of his feelings.

Joyce smiled again, if sadly. "I think she feels the same way." She turned to go back into the house. "Give her some time. Let me talk to her."

Spike crushed his cigarette and looked up at her. "You think there's a chance? That Buffy might--"

"I didn't say that," Joyce interrupted. "But I'll try. Just give her some time. And don't give up." She stepped inside and looked at him a final time. "Take care, William."

Spike gave her a last look of desperate dreams. "Thank you, Joyce." They shared a moment of painful hope, and then Joyce closed the door.

***

"Dawn, I'm fine. Yes, I'm fine. I just, well, I need to leave. I'll tell you more later, but right now I just need to get away. I'll come back and get the rest of my stuff, and you can call me on the cell if you really need to. No, don't worry. Mom? Well, I'm sure she'll figure it out. I'm not running away--I'm just escaping for a little bit. Yeah, that's fine. Take care," Buffy said lightly, hiding her shaking fingers and bursting heart. When she finally closed the phone, she fell into the fake leather airport chairs, a loud sigh escaping her lips. She knew it probably wasn't the most mature way to handle the news, but Buffy just needed some time to think, to process all the information she'd been thrown with in the past day. Cordy was expecting her and had a place for her to stay, Mom was wherever she was, and Spike? Well, she didn't know where Spike was, but she didn't feel like dwelling on that.

Moving her bags under her legs, Buffy leaned back and closed her eyes, waiting for the announcement that would fly her away, if temporarily, from the insanity that had recently come upon her life.

***

"You have got to be kidding me. Your mother?" Cordelia exclaimed, ignoring the look Buffy was giving her. "God, I'm sorry if I'm being loud, but it is a little crazy and freakish. Now I get why you flew here like a demon was on your heels. Let's get some more alcohol, shall we?"

Buffy slumped in her chair, her head nuzzled in her elbow as Cordy flagged down their waiter to stock up on martinis. "God, my life is a Jerry Springer show!" she moaned.

"You're right. It is. But tell me about this Spike guy. I mean, is he worth all this? Is he a sleaze?" Cordy asked bluntly.

"No, he's not--that's the problem. I mean, when I was with him--pre-disgusting epiphany--it was great. We were completely comfortable, we connected on a level that went beyond physical--I really felt that he understood me, that we were kindred spirits." Buffy took a large gulp of her drink. "But now I just feel gross because he's been with my mother."

"Well, let's not dwell on that too much, shall we? Because one: ew. Two: we're here to talk about you and get your life fixed. So this Spike, you really liked him?"

"I did. I totally liked him. I know I only knew him for a few weeks, but in that short time I knew more about him than I did Angel, and you remember how long that dragged on. We opened up to each other. It was like he was my best friend--the last person I wanted to talk to before I went to sleep." Buffy pouted before taking another long gulp of her drink. She wasn't wild about the taste, but she desperately wanted something to numb the pain and confusing emotions that were choking her.

"Got it. Friendship good. Now what about the sex?" Cordy asked as she speared her olive to eat it.

"Sex? We didn't have sex."

"No sex? So then, what's the big deal? Nothing was shared, and you're not there anymore, so why are you bent on getting pissed tonight?"

"Becauuuuuse!" Buffy whined, her hand propping her head up. "I thought he was the one. I felt it. I wanted it. I can't believe we didn't have sex, because we basically did everything else under the sun. If he'd asked me to run off with him and get married in Vegas, I would have! That's the problem!" Buffy complained, her voice starting to get shrill with emotion. Her third drink was beginning to dull her senses, and she began talking very loudly and emotionally. "He was the one, and my mom got to him first!" she wailed, banging her head on the table.

"God, Buffy, get a grip. It's not the end of the world." Cordy calmly sipped her martini and pulled another olive into her mouth. "Tell me more about what happened between Spike and your mom."

"Ugh, do I have to?" Buffy muttered.

"Yes, you do. You should pay me for all the counseling I give you." She flung her hair back and winked at the man at the bar who was giving her a smile.

"Fine. They slept together. He lost his virginity to her when he was, I don't know, 18? 16? Who knows. I think it was 8, 10 years ago and they slept together," Buffy explained.

"Did they have an affair? Or was it a one-time thing?"

"It was a one-time thing. Or so they say," Buffy grumbled. "No, I'm pretty sure it was just once."

"You don't know how it happened, do you?"

"God, no. I mean, my mom started to tell me but I just shut my ears. I don't want to know details! She and Dad were divorcing, and William was living next door, and I guess they just hit it off or something. My mom, with a thing for teenagers."

"Well, did she have a lot of teenage lovers?"

"No, just him. Special? Who knows. Just gross."

"So, it was just him, just once, 8 or 10 years ago?" Cordy summarized, trying to get the facts straight.

"Yes. Yes. You got it. Ding ding ding, you get a prize."

"No need to get sarcastic. I'm just trying to feel out the situation for you, since you're obviously more concerned with getting drunk than with finding a solution."

"Solution? There's no solution; that's why I'm getting drunk."

"I beg to differ. Conflict: you want Spike. Spike slept with your mom. The question is: How can you feel okay about being with a man that's been with your mom?"

"I can't! I can't I can't I can't."

"Broken record, much? Buffy, if you didn't care about the guy, if he were just a quick, hot fuck, then you would be disgusted and move on. But you've been talking about this for hours, and I do literally mean hours. Clearly, you want something to happen, something to change, something to make it okay for you to be with him. That's what I'm trying to get at."

"If only that were true. If only I could be with him. Why does my life suck so much?"

"What were true, that you could be with him? I think it's possible, if you want it enough. I mean, there are weirder things that have happened. I wouldn't go around telling people, but it's not like they had an affair or anything. Honestly, it could be worse."

"How can you say that? How can you be so calm about the whole thing?"

"I'm over it. Surprise element is gone, and I'm left with a weepy drunk Buffy. Totally over it. Taking the first exit off the highway."

"I want to get off. I do, Cordy. Will you help me get off?" Buffy wailed, not noticing the stares of the young men at the table next to them.

Cordy smiled at them and then shoved Buffy gently but firmly. "Well, Buffy, I've always had my suspicions about you, but my getting you off won't get your Spike back."

"But you said you'd help me! You did. You said you'd do whatever it takes. I'll get on my knees, Cordy. Please!" Buffy launched herself into Cordy's arms, begging her.

Cordy stood up as gracefully as possible, pulling Buffy along. "Okay, you know what? I think it's time to go home. Sweet dreams, boys," Cordy called out as she pulled Buffy out of the bar.

When they got back to her apartment, she dumped Buffy's heavy body onto the twin bed set up for her and let her sleep off the alcohol. "'Night, babe. Hope sleep somehow gives you some logic so you're not so weepy when you wake up." She turned off the light and left.

***

Cordy was calmly drinking coffee and reading a magazine when Buffy crawled out of her room looking completely wrinkled and bleary-eyed, her caked eye makeup making her squint and her hair mussed and disheveled. "Well, I hope you're feeling better than you look, which can't be that hard."

"You'd be surprised," she croaked, gingerly feeling her face and body to make sure everything was in tact.

"You're all there, don't worry. You just kicked back a few too many last night."

"And here I was, hoping it was all a bad dream." Buffy groaned a little, trying to rub away the pain. She waddled to the bathroom to wash away the sleep and the lingering aches of alcohol.

Cordelia rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine. Just then, the phone rang.

"Hello? Oh, hey Dawn. Just a sec." She covered the received with her palm and called out, "Buffy? It's for you."

Eventually, Buffy emerged from the bathroom and eased her way into the kitchen. "Hello?" she said groggily. "What? What do you mean? How do you know? Are they sure?" Buffy was jerked into attention, and her eyes began widening as she heard her sister speak. "What? Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that. I'll call you when I get there. As soon as I can. Love you, too." She hung up the phone and slumped into a chair, in shock.

"Oh my god, Buffy. Are you okay?" Cordy asked, her face concerned.

"Mom. She--she had an accident or something--something's wrong. She's in the hospital. I have to go back." Reality hit her, and slowly Buffy crumpled at the table, her sobs wracking her body and squeezing her insides until she folded herself up into a ball, waiting for the pain to subside.

Ch. 12: Mother-Daughter Talks

Buffy closed her eyes and rubbed her arms, attempting to dispel the chills that were part of her life, the worries that were scrambling up and down her body. The past two months had given her new wrinkles, sleepless nights, and unshed tears. She had to stay strong, to be the one who comforted Dawn in her tears--and there was no one to comfort her.

And her mother was dying. Dying! The word bounced off the walls of her mind, reverberating and leaving residual pain with each crash. Her eyes were dry, sucked hollows from the stifled crying and worried rubbing and insomnia that had become familiar to her. She waited patiently for the doctor to finish his examination before spending her daily visit over tea and cookies.

Minutes crept past, and eventually the doctor with his entourage of interns and nurses left the room. Buffy slowly gathered her strength and entered the room.

"Hey, mom. Sleep well?" Buffy asked nonchalantly as she gave her mom a big smile.

"Buffy. I've been thinking that it's time we talked." Joyce smiled wanly as she beckoned her closer.

"What do you mean?" Buffy responded, biting her lip in nervousness.

"We never really resolved our issues--please, don't interrupt me." Joyce lifted her hand in protest when she saw Buffy begin to voice her thoughts. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it, among many other things, but we need to. I need to. Hear me out."

Buffy sat on the chair near her mother's bed and looked down. She remembered first coming back, her thoughts overwhelmed with irrepressible anger at her mom's actions with Spike battling feelings of guilt for not being there when she had taken her first bad spell mixed in with frustration for her own weird relationship and continuing attraction to Spike and topped off with her denial of the possibility that her mother might, indeed, die. She wanted to be the comforting daughter who was supportive and loving, but she couldn't ignore the resentment she still felt towards her mother; such conflicting feelings had been suppressed when, upon arriving at the hospital, Joyce hadn't recognized her own daughter. She'd had to avoid the whole incident and corresponding emotions when she and Dawn had had to deal with the much more serious issue of cancer and its fast spread through her mother's body.

And now, with her mom being much more sound in mind, those jumbled emotions returned full-force, much to Buffy's dismay. She began fiddling with the zipper on her jacket.

"Buffy, the last time we had a real talk, one where we were honest and upfront with each other, was right before you took off to New York. Now, you're an adult and have the prerogative to go where you want and when, but we never finished our conversation. And I want to do that now."

"Mom, it's nothing. Really, in comparison to what--"

"No, Buffy," Joyce interrupted. "Just because this, this disease is now in me doesn’t mean that everything else is gone. It's not that simple." She sighed and then looked out of the tiny window of the hospital. "You need--deserve--to know what happened. Not details or anything, but just why. For the record, I didn't cheat on your father. The divorce was simply being finalized, and your father had already moved in with his new woman--I don't even remember her name."

Cringing at the thought of her father's many women, Buffy let out a bitter laugh. She waited for her mother to continue.

"What happened with William was probably not the smartest thing I have ever done--I know that." Joyce sighed, shaking her head slightly. William and I were both in need of some comfort, believe it or not, and it just ended up being that kind of comfort. It only happened once, and though I regret the effect it has had on you, I don't regret that I did it. I needed it, needed some kind of affirmation of who I was, my attractiveness as a woman--and I think he needed it, too, as much as you may not want to hear it."

Reaching out to grip Buffy's arm, Joyce forced her daughter to look at her directly.

"Buffy, I'm human, with faults and insecurities and hopes and fears. All of those things got the best of me that day, and then I moved on, continued with my life--and I'm sure William did, too. I wasn't out to seduce him, but I wasn't trying to stop it, either. Why am I telling you this? Because, to be quite frank, I feel terrible that my indiscretion has left you feeling like you can't pursue him. And this is not some deathbed request or anything--except that I want you to be happy. I understand if you can't get over it or are completely disgusted by the idea, but I just hope that you understand how minor it was, and hopefully how minor it is, in the grand scheme of things. I love you, and I want you to be happy. It pains me to think that I might be hindering that, and so I just wanted to explain it to you. Be mad--don't think I'm so fragile that I can't handle it. I may be frail in body, but I still have that Summers feistiness that seems to be so thriving in you." She tried to smile a little. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I really am. Sometimes we don't realize the consequences that our choices make. But I am sorry." She looked into Buffy's eyes to see her reaction. She closed her mouth, signaling that she was done.

The whole time her mom was speaking, Buffy crossed her hands over her chest and tried to figure out how she wanted to react. Her initial choice was to be angry, to have all those feelings come back and crash over her, lash out at her mom and make her feel triumphant. But as her mom continued to talk, the anger started to leak out of her, making her feel like a deflated balloon.

"You know, if you had asked me a month ago, I would have been really pissed. I would have ranted and raved and accused and cursed." She chuckled softly, as if trying to disperse the tension. "But now? I don't know. Maybe it's because I haven't seen him in over a month. Maybe it's because, in light of things, it's not really that important. Maybe I just no longer think it's that important. Maybe I just don't have the energy to be angry anymore. I don't really know how I feel."

"Buffy, just because I'm sick doesn't mean you have to stop living. You don't have to come see me every day. I know your job in New York begins in two weeks, and I fully expect you to be on a plane to New York to start on time."

"Mom, there's no way I can. I've already asked for a delay in starting, and--"

"Buffy Anne Summers, you better call your boss back and tell him that you're coming in that Monday as planned," she interrupted. "I'm serious. I do not want you changing your life because of me. That means starting on time AND not letting my past get in the way of your possible future with William--not William, Spike. Don't make me feel guilty for getting in the way of your plans."

"Mom, you're not getting in the way of my plans! But I'm not going to travel across the country for work when I can get another job here and be closer in case--" Buffy stopped herself. She had been fairly optimistic about her mother's illness for the first few weeks, but the doctors had met with her last Friday, and the prognosis didn't look good.

"Buffy, that's the other thing I wanted to talk about." She took her daughter's hand carefully.

"Mom, please. I--" Buffy's eyes slowly teared up as she tried to ignore the possibility of her mom's death.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but we have to. Buffy, if I'm going to die, I need to know that everything is settled. I don't want to have you all confused about what to do--I don't want you to have to deal with that on top of everything else." She turned to her nightstand and picked up a packet of papers. "Buffy, this is my will. I just met with my lawyer to finalize changes and make sure everything was in order. Dawn will have to end up with Hank in LA, but only till she finishes school. Then she can go to college. Once she turns 18 she'll have full control of her finances and won't need to stay with Hank unless she wants to. My gallery will be turned over to you in name, but I've talked to a potential buyer this week because it might be easier just to sell if it comes down to it. The house, all my belongings, they'll all go to you and Dawn. I want--"

Suddenly, finally, her calm and composed demeanor broke down, and Buffy was in her arms. They both held each other as Joyce sobbed, her frail body shuddering as she wept for her own diminishing life. Buffy tightly embraced her, her own bawls adding to the mix. They tried to give each other strength and provide an outlet for the barrage of emotions falling in the tears.

The waves of sorrow finally receded, and Joyce pulled away, reaching for tissues.

"Oh, God, aren't I a mess," she said, trying halfheartedly to laugh away her pain.

"I still think you're the prettiest one here," Buffy reassured sincerely, smiling through her tears.

"I love you, Buffy. My life may not have had lots of wealth and fame, but I look at you, at Dawn, and I know I'm leaving behind something wonderful." She reached out to caress her daughter's cheek. "Take care of her for me, will you?"

Buffy's eyes began to well again, and she could only clasp her mother's weak hand in assurance.

"Now, enough of this. Tell me all about things that have absolutely no consequence on my life. Like, I heard that Barbie and Ken broke up? What is the world coming to?"

Buffy laughed, her cheeks tight with salty tears, and they temporarily lost themselves in the world of plastic dolls with movable parts.

***

She died quietly in the night. True to her wishes, Joyce had organized everything so completely that Buffy had very little problem with setting up the funeral or dealing with the paperwork for her will. Buffy and Dawn had spent the night of the funeral together, huddling in her mom's large bed, wishing the warmth of the comforters were their mother's arms. Their father had helped them the best he could, but though he did all that was expected of him, his words of sympathy were belied by his quick departure and the uncomfortable ease with which he handled everything. Dawn was unhappy about her move to her father's house, but there was nothing she could do about it. The gallery was sold, the clothes were given to charity, the house was placed on the market, and Buffy packed everything else to be held in storage until other arrangements were made. All Joyce's plans were completed so smoothly that, too soon, Buffy found herself on a plane, wondering what had just happened.

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