Summary: AU – Buffy has been abused through much of her life, first by her father and then by Angel. When her parents divorced, she left all her friends back in LA: Faith, Xander, Willow, Oz and her half-brother Pike. Upon moving to Sunnydale, her mother opened a gallery and eventually remarried, Rupert Giles. The rest unfolds from there.

“Buffy!” her adolescent voice shrieked before rapid footsteps led her straight down the stairs and into Buffy’s arms. “Buffy, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!”

“I can’t Dawnie. I don’t know if you believe me about what happened or not.”

”Of course I believe you. He always creeped me out,” the teen exclaimed. “That and I’ve read your diary. I know what he did to you.”

“Dawnie, listen. I don’t have a lot of time. Mom will be sending Giles to pick you up for the party any minute.” She waited until Dawn nodded before continuing. “I’m going away for a while, to London. I need to heal Dawnie. I need to find me again. I have an agent in LA who’s been selling my work under an assumed name, my new name. Anne Elizabeth Winters.” Dawn smirked at that. “Lorne, my agent, will handle all correspondence for me here. If there are any problems, get in touch with him If there are any problems, anything you need, get in touch with him immediately. I’ve set up an account for you. I’ll keep in touch, I swear. Now, promise me that you’ll steer clear of him. Of both of them.”

“This is important Dawnie. I’ve tried to shield you for so long, but you’re getting to the age when both of them are going to stop seeing you as a little girl and see you as fresh meat.”

”I promise,” Dawn said more vehemently, shuddering at the images her sister presented.

“I packed earlier, and I left your Christmas presents in your room. Don’t open them around Mom sweetie, she’ll get mad. One of them is a cell phone for emergencies only.” Buffy said, hugging her sister tightly to her.

Dawn squeezed back just as hard, “Do you know anyone in London? Can’t I go too?”

“You’re only thirteen Dawnie, if I take you, I can be arrested for kidnapping. And I’m staying with Pike and Faith in London until I get my own place.”

“Pike? Faith? But they’re the reason Mom threw you out,” Dawn exclaimed, pulling away.

“She was wrong Dawnie. I didn’t run in to Pike and Faith until the night she threw me out. I was sitting on the park bench next to the cemetery when they pulled up next to me. Pike had come to say goodbye. He and Faith are moving to London permanently with their bandmates. I followed all of Mom’s rules, and it wasn’t good enough. I was never good enough,” Buffy finished bitterly. A car pulled into the driveway and panic struck Buffy’s eyes.

“Dawnie, I’m going to go out the back. Some not so nice surprises are being delivered by Lorne at the party tonight. Just know they aren’t meant to hurt you, it’s the only way I can think of to make them see that they’re wrong.”

Buffy and her sister hugged one last time before Buffy bolted towards the kitchen just as Giles opened the door to find Dawn’s tear filled eyes.

Everyone turned and looked at the audaciously dressed man who entered the gallery, which had been closed to the public for several hours. Behind him were a couple of average looking delivery men.

Giles approached him, “I’m sorry sir, and we’re closed. This is a private party.”

“Sweetie, don’t I know it,” the stranger declared. “Now, which of you lovely people is Joyce Giles?”

“Just a minute!” Giles interrupted, moving to stand in front of the stranger.

“Oh my heavens! I completely forgot to introduce myself. The name is Lorne, well that’s what everyone calls me at least. I represent an absolutely amazingly talented young artist, cute as a button to boot. You might know her. Name of Buffy Summers,” the stranger, Lorne, said with a flourish.

Joyce pointed to her office without speaking a word. The delivery men set their loads down and began arranging it as Joyce, Giles, Dawn and Lorne entered the office and closed the door, leaving their guests bewildered.

“Now, what is this about?” Joyce demanded in a hard tone. How dare Buffy go behind her back and get representation? How dare she do this without consulting her?

“Well, as I mentioned, I represent Buffy, have for a while now. Not the mawkish, clearly suburban induced dabblings you have on display here, but her real work. Her passion, her pain, her angst, her joy… though there’s not a whole lot of those. And they tend to center around this little cherub,” he finished, tapping Dawn lightly on the nose.

“And she sent you here to do what exactly?” Giles demanded. “Forgiveness? She must learn the consequences of her actions.”

“Dear me. Well, she warned me that you would be stuffy. Well, I think I’ll start from the beginning. And then, you can see what else I brought with me. Her ‘Christmas Surprise’ to this gallery.”

Lorne sat himself in Joyce’s chair and waited expectantly until the other three were seated as well before launching himself into his narrative. “Well, last year, horribly rainy day, this bedraggled blonde bit of fluff comes into my office carrying a portfolio case larger than she was. And her work… is beyond words. To say that she is talented doesn’t do her justice. She explains as little as possible. That’s she’s just seventeen but needs someone to represent her.”

“Well, since she’s shivering, poor thing has even less meat on her bones now then she did last year, I pour her a cup of coffee and decide to look at her work, not expecting anything spectacular. Well, that work blew me away. And I had three of the seven sold within a week. The remaining four ten days later. Cleared her an easy million and a half.”

“Well, we’re talking terms and she moves her sodden hair off her neck, which is when I see it. I’m not as young as I look, and I have seen my share of bruises. Comes with the territory of working with bohemians. But I have never seen anything as shocking to me as the finger bruises on her neck.”

Dawn sniffled, remembering the entry in her sister’s diary that told of her first encounter with Lorne.

Lorne spared her a soft smile before continuing. “Over the next few months, she learned to trust me. I recommended her to a doctor who wouldn’t ask too many questions. And every time I saw her, there was some fresh bruise. Finally, she was with me one night and in horrible pain I rushed her to the doctor who had some rather startling news.”

He waited until both Joyce and Giles were looking at him. “She was in the middle of a miscarriage. And it wasn’t her body rejecting the pregnancy. Someone with rather large fists had beaten her belly into a solid black mass to make sure she didn’t stay pregnant.”

Joyce began to tear up, her hands covering her mouth in shock. “The doctor said that wasn’t the first time either. It had happened at least once before. And from the scaring and bruises elsewhere, he determined that any intercourse was non-consensual.”

“She said you might not believe me,” Lorne barreled on when Giles would have interrupted. “So she provided the doctor with a notarized letter giving you permission to ask any and all questions as to her care and health. She also had this prepared,” Lorne pulled out a bound notebook and thumped it on the desk. “Her entire medical history since moving to Sunnydale.”

He waited again for Joyce and Giles to make eye contact, the jovial expression wiped from his face entirely. “It makes for interesting reading. Especially right around the time she began dating a man named Liam Rayne.”

“Well, now its time for her Christmas Surprise,” Lorne announced, standing and throwing open the door to the office.

Silently, Joyce and Giles followed him, Dawn shoving past them to stand with Cordelia, the girls’ wrapping their arms around each other in understanding. With a flourish, Lorne whipped off the velvet cover from a small statue, an angel made of concrete. With a click of a remote, a small digital device in the base lit up and haunting lyrics filled the room. Lyrics meant to drive home a fact few ever accepted about their ‘Sunshine Girl’. Song after song driving home their blindness and neglect.

The lyrics don’t belong to me. As footnoted, they belong to: 1 – Martina McBride, 2 – Janet Jackson, 3 – Aerosmith, 4 – Christina Aguilera, 5 – Alanis Morisette, 6 – Nickelback

It wasn’t a simple statue of an angel, but one that would be provided for a grave marker, like in one of the songs. And Buffy had left her mark on it. Chips had been struck out of the figure all over the place. A deep crevice sat low on her belly, two small infant figurines resting inside. One arm had been severed and refastened, a blood red scarf slung like a sling to hold it in place.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is the final work of Buffy Summers,” Lorne said with finality. Ignoring the shocked gasps around him, he walked to Dawn and Cordelia, bowed formally and left with the same suddenness as he entered.

Meanwhile, on British Airlines transatlantic jet in the first class cabin, Buffy Summers stared out the window watching the runway speed by as her plane lifted off. As she heard the landing gear be pulled up into the plane, she whispered, “Goodbye Buffy Anne Summers, I can’t say I’ll miss who you became. Maybe… maybe we can be better friends in the future.

Buffy sat in front of the computer screen and sighed. She had kept a journal for as long as she could remember, but that had always been on paper. She wasn’t sure if she could pour her heart out to a machine. But, she had promised Dawn in her letter that she would email her faithfully on everything that was happening. And her plan was to simply email her daily journal to Dawn.

Ten days. That’s how long it’s been since Mom threw me out. But it was a longer time in coming than that. To be honest, it started just before Halloween, when I finally thought I’d found the strength to break free of Angel. I never dreamed he’d turn on Cordelia. It’s all my fault that he did though. If I hadn’t forgotten her earrings at his apartment, Queenie never would have gone there.

But that’s not entirely true either. I never thought he’d turn on Queenie, but I knew someone else would be his next victim. I just wish I had warned her that he wasn’t the salty goodness she lusted after at first sight.

I was lucky to get her message telling me that she was going to stop by and grab them. We both were. It could have been so much worse for her if I hadn’t come. Not to say that his raping her isn’t a nightmare all by itself, but he was angry and drunk. And I know from experience that whatever female target is nearby in those moods is a potential victim.

When I finally got her out of there, waiting for her to blame me; hate me, she just kept apologizing to me. After taking her to LA to see Dr. Flutie, when we were back on our way to Sunnydale, she broke down. She’d been so silent, almost in shock. She had suspected what I was going through almost from the beginning. She had seen the bruises and knew they couldn’t be from cheerleading. Of course the captain of the squad would know better.

She wasn’t to blame for that either. I am. I didn’t scream when it was Dad doing it, and I never tried to stop Angel either. Though for different reasons. With Dad, the one time I did protest, he took it out on Mom. She didn’t leave the house for a week. After that, I couldn’t bear to see her bruised, and I made no protest to his touching me. At the time, I was grateful he never wanted more than to touch me. He never tried to have sex with me, just wanted to see my body.

With Angel, when I protested, Mom told me that I was just rebelling against the divorce and that I was crying wolf. She so wanted to be proud of me, especially after what I did to the gym. So I stayed. I didn’t want to be a disappointment to her again.

But I am. I let her down. I let Angel beat and rape me weekly. It’s my fault that he raped Queenie. It’s my fault that she’s pregnant. I swear though, he will never hurt Dawnie. And Dad won’t get near her either. Even if I have to go back and do it all over again. I would give everything I have and everything I am to keep her safe.

As I said, it’s been ten days since everything changed. Angel came crying to Mom. Snyder visited the art school where I’ve been taking my extra classes to check up on me and found me missing. But I couldn’t let Queenie go to the doctor alone. She was terrified even though she would never admit to it.

So Mom assumed I was back with the bad influences on my life. The people who cared for me, who helped me find a way to cry out against Dad. The people I dropped as quickly as Mom demanded it so that she could have a perfect daughter. And I couldn’t tell her why I hadn’t been in class that day. It wasn’t my secret to tell and Queenie hadn’t decided what to do yet.

As I sat there in the rain that night, I thought that maybe I should just find some way to die. To make it better for everyone to get on with their lives. But that would have hurt Dawnie and Queenie. And it would the easy way out. Angel would have won. He would have destroyed me. I barely noticed the DeSoto pulling up next to me until Faith was dragging me into the car.

Of all the people who have ever touched my life, I have never been so grateful as I was right then that I had Pike and Faith in my life. That they still cared after I abandoned them. That they understood.

Faith explained that too. Everyone had been hurt when I ignored them, but Pike knew what was happening. Mom had hated that Dad had been cheating on her their entire marriage and Pike would always be a reminder of that. But to me, he was everything I could have ever asked for in an older brother – even if it was only three months older. Pike had vehemently defended me to them all, and eventually, they’d understood.

I still need to apologize. They were what kept me alive in LA. They were the one’s who loved me unconditionally. I need to let them know that they were the memories I drew my strength from in the dark hours of the night when the pain was too bad.

Its fitting that they started a band together, Faith, Pike, Xander and Oz. And some guy named Spike. A Pike and a Spike in the same band? They swear left and right that I’ve met him. I think I’d remember that name though. And Willow. Though she’s not in the band, she and Oz are together. Shy, sweet, loyal Willow. And where did they ever get the name Slayer from?

Back to the topic. Faith and Pike rescued me from the rain and a night out on the streets. I didn’t even have my purse, so I had no access to my money. They had come to find me anyway and wasn’t I lucky to sit on that bench. They took me back with them to their hotel room. I had forgotten about the bruises.

I had gone out with Riley at Mom’s insistence two days before she threw me out. Another guy just like Angel. When Angel saw us together he went nuts. They fought like mad dogs. And neither of them were shy about sharing the punishment with me. I just barely got away. Lucky for me, Riley is ROTC or something and he had a deadline to catch a plane. Good riddance. I hid from Angel

That encounter gave me a sprained wrist, broken ribs and a few bruises. And I’d forgotten they were there. How stupid is that? Both of them were shocked and angry. So angry. Pike wanted to know why I never went to the cops. That’s the funny thing isn’t it. Who would have thought a nice English gentleman like Ethan Rayne could possibly have affiliations with the mob? Who would ever suspect that he almost owns the police department. There was never any safety there for me. I wouldn’t have been touched, but Dawnie and Mom… They would never have been safe.

They also chewed me out for how skinny I am. I really didn’t notice that I was too thin, but they’re right. I used to have curves. I used to look like something more than a walking skeleton. But Angel had wanted fashionable, and that meant the anorexic look. He weighed me everyday. I got a slap for every pound over 100 I weighed.

We stayed up all night talking. And they helped me plan what I chose to do. And it was my choice. Buffy Summers was going to disappear. And Anne Elizabeth Winters will be no one’s victim, no one’s punching bag.

I will never, ever be that weak pathetic excuse for a human being who jus let things happen to her to try to please people who can never be pleased.

The next day, we waited until everyone was gone from the house and I got some of my things. Not enough for the family to notice, but enough for me to get by the next few days. I finally went to the cop that Dr. Flutie recommended. Whistler. Bad accent. Worse taste in clothes. But he was amazingly helpful. He helped me get a quickie name change and a less than legal passport in that name. He also had me get statements from Dr. Flutie and the Sunnydale ER doctors about how many times I’d been in and what their suspicions were.

Next, I talked to Queenie. Told her what was happening. Told her that she could always rely on me. And she proved that she is stronger than I ever have been. She was staying right there in Sunnydale and was keeping the baby. Her folks had been less than pleased that she was pregnant, but apparently she’d also told them the circumstances, they were more than supportive. They are buying the old Crawford Estate from Doyle Crawford. Daddy Chase is turning it into a spa for his little girl to run. And its part of Chase Enterprises, one of the few large companies in Sunnydale not controlled by the Raynes.

Next, I saw Lorne. He was thrilled. He got the supplies I needed for my Christmas Surprise for the Summer’s Gallery. I always did a Christmas piece. This time, it would be what I wanted, not what Mom needed to see to keep her happy. Then we shopped. It almost felt like old times with Faith and I running around the mall spending too much money and giggling at the last minute shoppers.

I bought luggage, enough to bring my life to England with me. And leather. Somehow, Faith talked me into trying on some leather pants and I loved them. I talked myself into buying four pairs. And nothing I bought was anywhere near the height of fashion. I went on instinct. I don’t think I bought anything that could be considered pastel. And white. Angel hated me in white. Mom hated me in black. I think those are going to become key colors in my wardrobe in the near future.

I also found a beautiful locket for Dawnie. Mom may think its too much for a thirteen year old, but I know its just right for Dawnie.

The next day, I locked myself in his studio space and worked all day on it. Lorne was so proud.

The next day was the Gallery party. I stole into the house again with Pike and Faith and packed my things. Not the trappings of Joyce’s daughter or Angel’s girl. My things. The things that meant things to me. The hideously fashionable clothes I wore to keep up with the crowd Mom approved of were put into a box that we took to Goodwill.

I left my gifts for Dawnie in her room. My gifts for Mom and for Giles under the tree. Faith said I should have just trashed them. I couldn’t. I still love Mom. I still like Giles. Besides, I was going to hurt them enough that night.

I took a lot of the pictures, mostly of Dawnie and me, from around the house. I took my art supplies. Before those got packed though, I fixed the family portrait I’d done. Subtly, I put the discoloration of fading bruises on the exposed skin of my painted figure. It needed to be accurate. For some reason, I couldn’t leave until it was.

Then we were gone. Faith and Pike were anxious to leave town, but I couldn’t leave my Dawnie without saying goodbye. I couldn’t just abandon her, no matter what Mom had demanded.

And now, we’re here. In London. The house is amazing and absolutely gorgeous, but I can’t impose, no matter what Faith and Pike say. As soon as I can, I’ll find a place of my own, set up my studio and begin to work again. Lorne’s associate, Clem is going to handle things in London for me.

I would love to stay here though. There’s a room that Pike said was the conservatory that would be perfect to work in. The light is great all the time and there’s a wide tile floor.

I’d like to see William again while I’m here, and Dalton, but I don’t dare. I wouldn’t want them to feel obligated to tell Giles where I am. I doubt Giles will tell them anything about why I left either. Appearances must be maintained after all.

I will learn to stand on my own two feet though. I will be strong and I will survive and get Dawnie out of Sunnydale as soon as I can.

Buffy saved the file and quickly sent a copy of it to Dawn’s email account. Shutting down the computer, she went upstairs to the room Faith and Pike assured her she could use, though she could tell it was someone else’s. Pike had sheepishly admitted that the guest room was full of equipment that he’d move in a day or two. The room’s normal occupant, that Spike guy, was with his family until just before New Years, so there wasn’t any problem with her using it.

Changing out of her clothes and pulling on her yummy sushi pajamas, she crawled into his huge four poster bed and grinned. He definitely had decadent taste. The sheets were blood red satin and felt luxurious against her skin. A scent she guessed to be his cologne or aftershave and a lingering waft of cigarettes clung to the bedding, and she found the combination very pleasant.

Laying her head down on the pillow, she allowed the exhaustion of the past two weeks to claim her. She was asleep in minutes.

She slept so soundly that she didn’t hear the heavy boots pound up the stairs and storm into the room. She didn’t stir when a leather duster was tossed onto the bed, hitting her feet. The bathroom door slamming didn’t even penetrate her mind.

Spike hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights when he stormed to his room, furious with his father and step-mother. Livid with his mother. He hadn’t needed the lights. He was tired from his long drive into town and was just going to crawl into the bed he paid for in the house that he bought. He came out of the bathroom in the buff and threw himself into bed. Rolling on his side to grab another pillow, his hand came into contact with human hair.

Shaking his head, thinking he was imagining things, he felt a bony shoulder and sat up, cursing, “Bloody hell Drusilla! I said we were through!” Turning on the light and expecting to see raven black tresses and pale as moonlight skin, he was surprised to find a stunned blonde with wide hazel eyes staring at him like he was some sort of illusion. Those hazel eyes belonged to a face he recognized too.

Buffy closed her eyes, only to have them pop open a second later as she shook her head, trying to clear the sleep. “William?” she said, still staring at him like he had a third head.

And he remembered she hadn’t ever seen his Spike persona. The last time she had seen him was when her mum had married his step-mother’s brother, Rupert Giles. He and his brother had hidden behind their glasses and brown curly hair, and it was only with much prompting by his step-mother that he had gotten to know Buffy at all. And he had been grateful he had.

Buffy couldn’t help but stare. The face was the same, with the except of a scar cutting through his eyebrow. Those intense blue eyes that she remembered were no longer covered by bookish glasses, and his charmingly curly brown hair had been replaced by short, bleached blonde spikes. ‘He looks so different with his hair in spikes’ she thought… ‘Oh my god, he’s Spike!’

“Um, pet, not that I mind, but what are you doing here?” he asked, making sure the covers were fully covering his lap.

“Um…” she began, dropping her eyes. When she noticed the bare chiseled chest in front of her, her eyes popped back open. Not in surprise this time, but in an overwhelming feeling of awe which was followed quickly by fear. She started pulling back, putting distance between them. She slammed her eyes closed and crawled out of bed, slowly backing up until her back hit the door.

Spike was confused, but used the opportunity she presented with closed eyes to dash to his closet and grab clothes.

She was breathing heavily when he hurried back into the room, almost hyperventilating.

She whimpered when she felt him near her, but heard him click on the lights and back away. Her eyes shot back open when he yelled at the top of his lungs “BLOODY HELL!”

Pounding footsteps came down the hall and she was propelled forward as the door was thrown open to admit Faith and Pike. Spike caught her, trying to be gentle. The dark bruises on her skin had thrown him for a loop and his rage had been instinctive. She was shuddering and he wrapped his arms around her making soft comforting noises.

He stared at Faith and Pike as he did so, feeling hot tears penetrate the fabric of his shirt. Faith, in an uncharacteristic show of emotion, had tears in her own eyes as was huddled in Pike’s arms. They all remained silent for a while, waiting for Buffy to calm down.

December 22, 2005

Anne sat down in front of her computer in the area that had been dedicated to the ‘bloody annoying things’. She had never moved out of the formal old London townhouse. After the rest of the band had returned from their Christmas holiday, there had been a three-hour discussion ending in a unanimous decision that she would stay.

It turned out, everyone had just moved in, so they were learning the nuances of living with each other. Willow had quickly claimed the library as her sanctuary, setting up a bay of computers so that no one would need to wait for access. The only person who still avoided them like the plague was William.

Though she had adjusted to using the name Anne, even in her own mind, she still couldn’t reconcile William into Spike. He in turn refused to call her Anne and abbreviated her middle name, calling her Lizbeth.

Logging into her email and messenger programs, she was going through daily barrage of nonsense, gossip and flamboyant affection from Lorne when a message popped up.

Summer-Morning: BUFFY!

Chosen-Winter: Dawnie! Why aren’t you at the gallery?

Summer-Morning: The Rayne’s might be going to the party and Mom forbade me to leave the house. Queenie and Jasmine are coming over. Apparently, Doyle needs to set up her Christmas surprise. We worked it out so that she just thinks she’s doing Mom a favor while Doyle covers things at the spa.

Chosen-Winter: Tell Queenie hi for me sweetie. How is everything else? Did Lorne deliver the Christmas presents?

Summer-Morning: Yeah, but Mom won’t let me open them until tomorrow morning. She was psyched when Lorne brought the slide sampling of a few new artists he represents. I was there, and she didn’t even realize that the presentation of ‘Anne Elizabeth Winters’ was you. I about laughed my head off.

Chosen-Winter: What did she think?

Summer-Morning: Well, she said she didn’t think it would ever sell. The people of Sunnydale tend towards what is safe and all that crap. She loved this one piece though, where everything is dark and violent, but on the horizon there’s a hint of the sun.

Chosen-Winter: Yeah, it’s called ‘Darkest Before the Dawn’.

Summer-Morning: That’s what I thought of immediately. Like the sun was pushing away the evil.

Chosen-Winter: You mean the dawn

Summer-Morning: I may have made a comment like that to Giles.

Chosen-Winter: Are you still mouthing off to him?

Summer-Morning: Well, he kind of said it was painted by someone clearly disturbed, who wouldn’t recognize anything pure or good to save their life. And I told him that people who have had trouble will cling to and rely on the best thing they have. Like you did, to protect me.

Chosen-Winter: I’m guessing you’re not telling me your exact words.

Summer-Morning: Not exactly. You know me when I’m ranting, I never remember word for word what I say.

Chosen-Winter: Yeah, and what’s the punishment this time?

Summer-Morning: Well, Lorne gave me $100 for being astute and having a good eye.

Chosen-Winter: What’s the punishment sweetie?

Summer-Morning: I have to help with inventory after New Years.

Chosen-Winter: *chuckle* That’s not so bad.

Summer-Morning: Yeah, I know. But I would never let Giles know that. He’d think of something incredibly boring for me to do.

Chosen-Winter: Probably. How’s school?

Summer-Morning: Over for the holidays. I don’t want to go back.

Chosen-Winter: I never did either.

Summer-Morning: I miss you Buffy

Chosen-Winter: I miss you too Dawnie, more than I think you’ll ever know. I love you.

Summer-Morning: Love you too sis. Though, I think we’re better friends now than we ever were when you lived here.

Chosen-Winter: Oh, yeah? What makes you say that brat?

Summer-Morning: Now, we don’t hesitate to tell each other things. You don’t shield me from what could happen if I’m not careful, but you let me make my own choices.

Chosen-Winter: I’m only trying to do the best I can from far away sweetie.

Summer-Morning: And you do great Buffy.

Chosen-Winter: You do know you’re the only one who still calls me that? Even Queenie uses… Well, she’s started using Lizbeth like William. Actually, Faith still calls me B.

Summer-Morning: Yeah, well, you’ll always be Buffy to me. I don’t want to call you anything else.

Chosen-Winter: I wasn’t complaining Dawnie.

Summer-Morning: How’s the band? Have they settled on a new name yet?

Chosen-Winter: You will never believe what they chose. Dingoes Ate My Baby

Summer-Morning: Say what?

Chosen-Winter: I think my reaction was just like that.

Summer-Morning: Let me guess… Xander?

Chosen-Winter: Actually, Oz.

Summer-Morning: You’re kidding. Crap, gotta go. Giles is back.

Anne smiled. She and Dawn chatted as often as possible, but still never let their parents know of it. She heard the door open behind her and caught the faint whiff of cigarettes and leather that could only mean one person.

And she was right. Spike threw himself into the chair next to her, straddling it and staring at her profile until she turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re being bloody stubborn ‘bout this Lizbeth. I’m sure if you explained this to Da he’d keep it close,” he began. It was the same argument he had been using for the past month.

“Do we have to go through this again William? Your father would believe the proper thing to do would be immediately telephone Giles and let him know. And then you can bet he and Mom would be on the next plane,” she said exasperated.

“Pet, you have to face those demons sometime. If you just let it linger like this, it will haunt you. It will control you,” he said. This time he wasn’t looking at her, instead picking at the black polish on his fingernails.

Anne smiled as she realized that this had become his normal mien when he was telling her something she may not want to hear. It never stopped him from telling her. At first, he was the only one willing to confront her on anything; the others trying to give her space to heal.

William had been determined to provoke her though. To get her out of her shell and into the sunlight. Where the others were gentle and overly considerate, he went out of his way to nag and annoy her.

And it had been the most successful method. After the first few times of cowering from him, she had gotten fed up and snapped his head off. Everyone had stared in shock as he threw back his head and hooted in glee. That had been the start and he delighted in constantly provoking even further reactions from her.

“You’re right William, and I know it,” she chuckled when his head shot up in surprise. “But, I still need more time. I can’t exactly break away from who I was if, within the first year, I allow myself to reunite with those who inflicted some of the wounds.”

“But you’ll think on it pet?” he asked, blue eyes shimmering with concern.

“I think about it everyday William. Just because I’m angry doesn’t mean I stopped loving them,” she glanced up at the clock as it struck 3:00. “Shouldn’t you be going? You’ll never make the party if you don’t leave soon.”

“Dalton ‘ll be disappointed. He was looking forward to seein’ you,” he tried again.

“And I’m sure he’ll get over it William. Why are you still pushing at this?” Anne turned to him and felt her heart speed up. How he managed to look so adorable and so arrogant at the same time never ceased to amaze her.

“Well, because the whole gang is going to be up at the Manor and you’ll be by yourself pet. It innit right for someone we care about to be alone at Christmas,” he said, cocking his head off to one side, his blue eyes compelling her to give in.

And, as if someone had dropped the thought in without warning, she knew, “Fred knows doesn’t she? That’s the reason you know your father will agree.”

And damn, if his guilty blush didn’t make him even more adorable. “Dalton spilled the beans pet. He bought you a present and Mum was grillin’ ‘im about who he could possibly have bought it for, and how she was dying to meet his lady friend. And he broke down.”

William shrugged before finishing, “You know Dalton’s never been good at secrets luv.”

She bit her lip, trying to come to a decision.

“Come on pet, Mum’s got Da’s wrapped around her finger. If she says ‘mums the word’ ‘bout you bein’ there, then he won’t crack,” Spike pleaded, looking adorably boyish.

She couldn’t resist. The prospect of a Christmas alone was extremely depressing.

Twenty minutes later, they were in Spike's Bentley and on their way to Pryce Manor. Spike had even snuck one of Anne's smaller easels and some paints into the back seat. The house had quickly learned that when Anne felt the need to work that she became a hurricane of action and emotion.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as they drove and silently compared her to the shattered waif she had been at this time last year. Everything change was for the better, the healthy glow of her skin, her fuller body, her shampoo-commercial hair. He wondered though, how healed she was inside. Life had done a number on her, and he was worried she would never trust again. Never let herself love again. He was desperate to show her that there were good men out there, men who would stand by her, love her, cherish her. That he was one of those men. That he was in love with her. But he bided his time, knowing that she wasn't ready.

"I'm not going to change my mind halfway there William," she said breaking into his thoughts as she sketched something in one of the many sketchpads that she always kept in reach.

"Thought hadn't even occurred to me pet. Was just making a mental comparison," Spike smirked at her, knowing she would take the bait.

"Mental comparison? Not to your latest bed buddy I hope."

"Nope. Actually, I was admiring' how much you've changed since this time last year."

"I can't have changed that much. I still see the same face in the mirror every morning."

"Luv," he began slowly, hoping he wasn't treading into dangerous waters. "When you moved in with our motley group, a light breeze would have carried you out to sea. You were skeletal! Now, you look healthy and are just shy of perfect."

"Just shy William?" she asked with mischief twinkling in her eye. "What do you think would make me perfect?"

Spike glanced at her to gauge her mood before responding jovially, yet with all sincerity, "Why you need a good lookin' bloke, like me, to run around like your slave, treating you like the golden goddess you are."

Anne rolled here eyes before changing the subject to a safer one. Having Spike treat her as he described was a thought she had savored for years, along with many others that included him. Thoughts she kept buried deep inside where the couldn't cause her pain. "A lot has happened this year, you're right about that. Your new recording contract, Willow's thesis winning that award. Faith and Pike getting engaged..."

"You having' the good sense to move in with me," Spike tossed in for effect, emphasizing the last word.

"Faith, Willow and I kicking the sense into you so that you FINALLY got rid of the psycho for good. Though, we may have to repeat the process with your latest bimbo," she snarked back. She was aware she didn't know everything about his relationship with Drusilla, but she hater her on the principle that Spike loved her so much.

Spike took the conversation back where it wasn't eviscerating his love life, "You gettin' your pick of galleries to display in."

"The band choosing an extremely original name."

"Whelp actually goin' through with it and gettin' that bloody tattoo."

"Dawnie placing in her first dance competition."

"Dalton gettin' accepted to Oxford."

"Queenie's spa being a smash hit."

As Anne mentioned things from back in Sunnydale, her voice became quieter until she was lost in her own reverie. Spike, familiar with all her moods, knew that, while reflective, this one wasn't full of self-reproach. Humming under his breath, he gave her space and peace to think.

... Valentine's Day 2005 2:25 am ...

A loud pounding at her bedroom door sent Anne's heart into her throat. She had barely stammered out 'Come in' when Faith tore through the door, dragging Anne from her bed and bouncing around like a toddler on a sugar binge.

"I can't believe it B!" she shrieked uncharacteristically, falling back on her old nickname for Anne. Seconds later, she was pulled a still stunned Anne behind her to Willow and Oz's room and pounding on their door. When Willow peaked out, she was summarily dragged out into the hallway by Faith.

Throwing around both girls and pulling them into a tight embrace, Faith squeezed them tight before releasing them and spinning down the hallway. Willow looked at Anne, confusion clouding her pixie features. Anne mirrored the confusion back at her.

Faith noticed them not sharing in her joy, then smacked herself on the forehead.

"He proposed!" she yelled at them, running forward and showing off a heart-shaped diamond surrounded by garnets set in a delicate rose gold band.

"He woke me up at 2:14 am! And its Valentine's Day!" she continued to bubble excitedly, acting more like Willow hyped up on mochas than her normal self.

And it proved contagious. Soon, all three girls were shrieking and bouncing around in the hallways to a bemused audience of men who would never quite understand how hyperness and emotions were so contagious.

... March 27, 2005 ...

"This is pointless you guys. I'm too old to start learning martial arts. Besides, I'm safe here," Anne protested as Spike and Faith dragged her into the dojo they belonged to. She had finally gotten to a point where she wasn't fatigued after light activity, where she was actually what Pike called 'less skeleton and more human' at a size 4. Her goal was a 6.

"B," Faith began, "Martial arts is something that will help you tone, help your CV system - which you need work on, and will give you a way to beat the shit out of any ass who thinks he can bully you again. I won't let you back out of something that could very well save your life."

Then Spike started in, "Listen to the bird 'Lizbeth. She knows what she's talking about. I'll even promise to let you beat up on me for practice," he finished with a practiced smirk and a wink.

Anne blushed, and nodded her defeat. The idea of coming to the dojo terrified her. It meant that she could be in control. That she could defend herself. That she could inflict the same type of damage on other people that Angel inflicted on her. Panic began to seize her.

A few steps behind, Willow added quietly, "Martial arts aren’t all about the violence. It’s about controlling your body and maximizing its capabilities. Just because you may earn the knowledge to incapacitate someone, it doesn't mean that you have to use it. The first thing you learn is defense."

Amazed at how dead on Willow's insights always were, Anne turned around and surprised the red-head with a hug. To date, she had never initiated any sort of physical contact with anyone. As she turned around, she gave Faith and Spike each a small smile and followed them further inside.

Pike was waiting for them at the mat and Buffy sat down to his right as Faith sat down at his left. The sensei, to Anne's surprise, was a middle aged Englishman. Xander stumbled in, plopping down next to Willow. The sensei nodded then, in a stately voice, addressed her, "You must be Anne. I'm Merrick. Welcome to my dojo."

Over the next two hours, Merrick worked closely with her as she went through the preliminary katas, her cheerleading experience lending itself to the flexibility and grace of the movements. She was amazed at how close she was allowing this stranger, but in the back of her mind she couldn't help comparing him to Giles, the educated British voice teaching her, instructing her, pushing her to do better.

... May 31, 2005 ...

"Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins," the pert blonde introduced herself, stretching out her hand to shake Anne's. "Lorne sent me to discuss his business expansion into other areas of Arts Management. And also to introduce you to the man who is going to be taking over the UK Division of Caritas."

"Expansion?" Anne asked. Anya's visit had come right when Anne was in the middle of a huge painting and Anne wasn't exactly in the mood for small talk.

"Yes, Lorne has wisely purchased Magic Box Entertainment Management, at a great profit to me. He has kept me on to tackle what he swears will be the hottest new band to hit the U.S. They have some bizarre name... Anyway, he wanted me to stop in and speak with you about these matters even though it’s a waste of productive time."

"Yours and mine both Anya. I could be painting right now," Anne snapped at her.

"Yes, and as your paintings sell at an average $275,000.00, I thoroughly encourage you to continue. I need to ask one brief thing of you first. Do you know where I can reach William Wyndham-Pryce, Pike Summers, Faith Valore, Alexander Harris and Daniel Osborne?"

Anne blinked then counted backwards from 10. Standing up she walked to the sitting room door, gesturing for Anya to follow her. They walked down the basement stairs to the band's rehearsal area. As was her habit, Willow was sitting in while doing her homework. This time, her homework included a fluffy white rabbit in its final stages of pregnancy ensconced in Willows lap.

Anya walked into the room, beaming a smile. Upon seeing the rabbit, the smile fell and she began screaming her head off, tearing up the stairs two at a time. The last thing the group heard before the door slammed was 'People who keep rabbits are evil incarnate!'

Everyone looked at Anne who was having a very difficult time stifling her chuckles. Who knew someone could have such a fear of something so cute and cuddly.

"So pet, who was the loony bird?" Spike asked, leaning down to pet the rabbit.

"Lorne sent her over to be your new business manager," Anne said before breaking into very contagious giggles.

About ten minutes later, the group made their way up the stairs to find an irate Anya shrieking into her cell phone.

... June 1, 2005 ...

"This is a very nice way to make up for the trauma you caused me. I could have sued. There will be virile men yes? I could use a good orgasm after yesterday's terror," Anya said as the girls entered el Diablo Negro (the Black Devil), one of the hottest salsa clubs in London. The men had all felt that the club threatened their masculinity because no real man would do those fruity movements. Faith laid down 50 pounds that they would all be there within 2 hours, Willow took 3 hours. Anne bet 1 hour. They made the same bet every week on their girl's night out because it seemed the men couldn't find anything original to amuse themselves.

Oz had simplified his defense one evening by saying, "As goes Willow, so goes my nation."

And Anne won. Spike was the first to trudge in, making his way straight to the bar. The girls were all on the dance floor, having quickly adapted to the fast beat and the quick turns. Anne noticed him right away, something about nearly white blonde hair and a man who insisted on wearing a long leather duster were just too conspicuous not to. Or so she told herself because there was no way she would ever admit that she had been waiting for him to come, was looking forward to it. Nope, de Nile was beautiful this time of year.

Slinking away from her partner, she hoped that she was up to par with the women that Spike was used to dating, not that she had any interest in him other than friendship. And she hadn't intentionally dressed in a backless little red halter and flirty little black mini-skirt because she knew he adored that color combination. He smirked when she stopped next to him and grabbed the water he had ordered. Had ordered because he knew she would be coming to him.

Oz was the next in, though Willow remained out on the floor, periodically waving to him. Pike strode through the doors, straight onto the floor, pulling Faith away from her partner. Xander came in within ten minutes, staying very close to Anne.

Anya eventually got bored with her partner, Andrew, as he kept asking questions about the gorgeous blonde with the leather jacket. She was intrigued by the brunette man with Anne, the one with the chocolate eyes and the large manly hands. And, instead of waiting for an introduction, she asked, "I'm Anya. Are you interested in copulating?"

Spike and Anne fell into each other laughing at Xander's fish face.

And desperately tried to ignore the orgasmic cries coming from the bedroom in between theirs late into the night.

So caught up in her memories Anne almost shrieked when Spike shook her shoulder. "We're here pet," he whispered directly into her ear. She stared up at a very impressive English Manor House and suppressed a chill.

Very quickly they were both ushered into the library of William’s father, Lord Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. He was as supercilious as Anne remembered him to be. Every hair was just so, every crease in his clothes perfect. Nothing but what was absolutely proper and elegant and refined. He seemed almost like another piece of furniture, antique and dignified.

William threw himself across one of the chairs that looked to be over a century old as Anne gingerly sat on the other one. She wished she had her sketch pad to capture it right then. William, in his ripped jeans and leather, bleached hair and cigarettes, indolence and insolence should have been alien to the setting, but seemed oddly in place to her.

“I understand from Winifred that we shan’t be mentioning your visit Buffy,” Wesley stated without greeting either occupant. Without looking up from the correspondence he was dealing with either.

“I prefer Anne sir,” she replied.

Her response threw him for a loop and he actually looked up. Taking in her appearance, surprise filled his features as he off-handedly commented at William, “Sit down like a normal human being William. You have your position to think of.”

Anne waited for him to say something else, and after several minutes in which William began to restlessly toy with his lighter, he did, “Anne then. And how should Winifred and I approach the topic with Rupert should it arise?”

“There isn’t any reason for them to know I’m in England sir. I don’t want them to know. I hadn’t planned to stay here this long, but, I’ve found the ideal place to paint,” she returned, casting a glance to William.

“Yes, but I’m frequently asked if I’ve had word of you,” Wesley commented.

“Da, we’re not putting up with Buffy Summers, college student and valley girl here. We’re graciously extending our hospitality to Anne Winters, one of the world’s hottest new artists. That’s all they have to know,” William growled.

Fred, standing in the doorway, cleared her throat, “Wes, these two have to get ready for the party yet. I told you I would handle Rupert if the topic came up.”

“Yes, but I still feel a certain obligation to let the girl’s parents know that she is safe and well,” Wesley protested.

Anne stood up quickly and moved toward the door, “Sorry William, I knew this was a mistake. I should know by now not to trust a man who puts position before people.”

Fred glared at Wesley as he sat gaping at the retreating girl. William was cursing up a storm as he tumbled out of his chair and moved after Anne.

Wesley was a pace behind him, “Now see here young lady, I resent that implication. Your parents are good decent people who have been terribly hurt by your little disappearing act.”

Anne came to a dead stop and looked over her shoulder at William, “Does he have any clue?”

William shook his head and shrugged at her. Fred, from behind Wesley, answered her more directly, “He didn’t want to hear the sordid details.”

"Lord Wyndham-Pryce, since you refuse to listen to the 'sordid details' of the situation, you have absolutely no right to judge me or my actions," Anne snarled at him.

Wesley gaped at her. Fred stepped in, and in her typical fashion, calmed the situation down.

"Wesley dear, Anne is right. Until you know the full of the situation, you are not qualified to offer any sort of response. It also stinks of hypocrisy. Why don't we let matters lie and wait for Anne to asks us to get involved." As she said this, she gently guided her husband back into his study. When William started chuckling, Fred thwapped him on the back of the head as she made her way to Buffy.

"Care to see your room? I think you'll find it nice and cozy," Fred remarked as she led the angry girl upstairs, babbling about the decor.

Upon reaching the room, Fred dropped the nonchalance and went straight for the kill.

"Please bear with me, I'm only going to say it once and then we'll move on. Your mother and Rupert are very concerned about you and very sorry for their actions. I only learned what happened recently from Dalton and then more from William. After hearing what they had to say, I confronted my brother on what he was leaving out of his side of the story. So, I think I understand the basics. My only advice on the past is to find a way to work through it. Knowing how intelligent you are, I assume you're already doing just that. My advice on the future is to make a small attempt at direct contact with your mother. Coming from someone who is a mother, her heart is probably breaking a little more each day that she doesn't hear from you. I'm not telling you to forgive her, but to give her a chance to apologize and to hear from you directly that you're alright and that you alive. Messages passed through... how did Rupert describe him.. a flaming jaybird... don't quite fit the bill."

"Now, that discussion is over and done with. And don't worry, Wes will not be completely overbearing and judgmental during your visit."

Anne blinked. Fred was the first person who had told her, point blank, to call her mother. Even William would only hint at it, thinking the topic taboo. Before she could respond however, Fred began an entirely different stream of conversation.

"So, I've gathered a very little bit about your stay so far. You've been in England a year now?"

"Yes, I got here around Christmas last year," Anne replied as she looked around at the room. Fred had been right, the room was beautiful, done in a myriad of gelds and accented in emerald green. There was a fireplace against one wall with a big four poster bed opposite it, a mountain of pillows balanced at the head. Two doors were off to one side, Anne assumed they were for the closet and the bathroom. A window was next to the bed and on the floor in front of it were a tarp and an easel. Fred had obviously been anticipating her acceptance.

"How do you like it?"

"Its different. It’s so warm and sunny in California. But it’s not a bad different. The room is amazing too."

"How is it living with the band... what is the name this year?" Fred went on, raising her voice as she went into the hugest closet Anne had ever seen.

"Dingoes Ate My Baby... Its good. Listening to them practice actually helps me work," Anne answered as Faith and Willow came into the room, making straight for the four poster, king sized bed. "It had been so long since I'd been in a place where I felt unconditionally safe, I'd almost forgotten what it was like."

"Oh, hello you two," Fred said as she emerged from the closet. "I fear I forgot to warn you Anne, we girls tend to have ourselves a little gossip session before the dinner whenever the band is down for a visit."

"Gossip like did you see that chickie that was hanging all over Spike the other night B? Total skank material," Faith commented as she picked up Mr. Gordo, Anne's stuffed pig.

Willow nodded, her newly bobbed hair making her look like a sprite, "If her clothes had been any tighter, they would have been painted on."

"And you don't wear your share of tight clothes girls?" Fred asked.

"I guess it’s a matter of degrees," Anne explained looking down at her own snug black leather pants. "As Queenie would say, there's fitted, snug, tight, paint and skank. And that girl was definitely in skankville."

Fred joined the other girls on the bed, the youthful vitality of her appearance making it seem like she was their age, not almost twenty years their senior. Unconsciously, Anne reached into her messenger bag and pulled out her sketch pad and pencil. She began sketching even as they all continued talking, her eyes never looking down at the page, just letting her fingers capture the sisterly bond that was so visible to her.

"Well," Fred inquired, "What made her so bad? I'm sure William wouldn't associate with any girls that would be bad for him."

Anne, Faith and Willow all turned incredulous eyes on Fred. "You have at least heard about Drusilla right?" Willow demanded.

"Goth queen of the whores," Faith chimed in.

"But she seemed nice when I met her. A little off maybe," Fred defended, under the impression that William still carried a flame for his rather dark ex.

"A little off?" Anne demanded. "She's mental. Not all there. Queen of the loonies." Dropping the pad onto the bed, she pirouetted into the middle of the floor and mimed a horrible Cockney accent, "Oh Spike, the stars are speaking to me, whispering their names. They tell me to be bad, deliciously bad and they say you'll forgive me anything. Bleed for Princess."

"Yeah, but he didn't. Especially not after he caught her red handed in a GI Sandwich," Faith sing-songed.

"And what was his ridiculous pet name for her? His ripe wicked plum?" Willow inquired wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"She did this to MY William?!" Fred demanded indignantly.

Anne nodded as she came back towards the bed. "But he's so over her now."

"Yeah Fred, everything's five by five," Faith added.

"How do you know?" asked Willow.

"Well, look at how much he's playing the field," Anne said, flipping a page and resuming her sketching.

"That means nothing except he's horny," Faith said bluntly. "I have it on excellent authority that he's hung up on someone he considers unattainable."

"Who?" Fred demanded, her eyes lighting up like a child's. But Faith shook her head, refusing to say. However, when Anne glanced down at her sketch pad, Faith jerked her head in Anne's direction. All played it very straight faced when Anne looked up again.

"Fine, if you won't tell me who he's interested in, tell me what made this other girl a skank," Fred demanded, putting on quite a pout.

"Aside from the clothes? We know that Spike only just met her, and boy did that girl have fast hands," Willow said, warming up to the gossip.

"Fast? Try lightning. I think even William was put off by that proposition," Anne chimed in, holding up a sketch for the other to look at. The scene was from the club, a caricature of a Spike and a very sleazy looking girl taking up most of it.

"And was she ever bubbly. What was her name... Kitty, Katie, Kathy. She gives Americans a bad name, that's for sure," Willow commented.

"And did you see her mimic routine the minute B arrived?" Faith said, sticking her tongue out at the blonde. "Oh, I love art, I've always dreamed about being an artist. I was a cheerleader in high school too. We must be like total sisters separated at birth or something."

"That's because of William's pet names Faith," Anne commented, her fingers flipping to a clean page and starting to sketch again.

"Pet names?" Fred demanded. She was truly beginning to hate not being an integral part of her stepson's everyday life anymore.

"Yeah... like luv and pet are the more generic one's. I'm Red, Faith is Killer from back when the band was called Slayer, and he calls Dawn Bit. Dru was his Princess and his Ripe Wicked Plum. Heck, even Anya, the band’s new business manager, has one. Demon Girl.," Willow answered with a chuckle.

"What does he call you Anne?" Fred asked, taking in the soft smile playing around Anne's mouth. Taking the initiative, she peaked at the pad to find a sketch of William.

The question caused Anne to frown. "He doesn't have a specific name for me, just calls me 'Lizbeth."

Suddenly, Anne withdrew herself, going over to the window next to the easel.

Fred flashed the sketch pad to Willow and Faith. Both grinned at the plan forming in their minds. "I think he may have one that you just don't know about, B," Faith commented. Anne turned back to them, hope sparking in her eyes.

"Ever since you started in at the dojo with Faith, he's called you Slayer behind your back. Swears you're poetry in motion and that you could probably take on an army of vampires and come out unscathed. Oh, and that positively you're effulgent after a good sparring match."

"Effulgent?" Faith asked before collapsing into giggles which proved contagious to the rest of the room.

Anne's laughter was wearing down as she glanced at her friends sitting on the bed. Feeling a little reckless amongst all the happiness, she made a running leap and landed on top of them, setting off another round of giggles. Which resulted in a pillow fight.

And Spike had never been one to stay away from mischief of that kind. He had followed silently behind his stepmother and Anne to make sure Anne overly upset after the confrontation with his father. He'd taken off when Willow and Faith had approached but couldn't seem to stay away, returning just in time to hear their giggles. And there was no way he could resist peeking in to see what had started them.

With a roar, he charged the bed, grabbing Fred about the waist and falling into Faith. Feet were heard clambering down the hall as the girls changed their targets, each beating on Spike with glee. The rest of the Dingoes and Dalton were soon joined in the battle

Twenty minutes later, Wesley entered the boisterous room perfectly attired for the cocktail party scheduled to begin in a quarter hour. He'd been searching for his wife. What he received was an exploding pillow right in the face. When he managed to sputter past the feathers, he was looking into Fred's guilty face. Anne waited for an eruption of indignation, stammering and eye-glass cleaning that she'd seen both Wesley and Giles do.

And she was disappointed. The shocked looked left Wesley's face and was replaced by one of mischief so like William's, Anne finally saw bits of the father in the son. Without warning, he charged Fred and tossed her over his shoulder, swatting her rump. He turned to face the group and reminded them of the time, carrying his laughing wife off as he left.

William and Dalton looked mortified, which sent the girl's into yet another round of giggles. Everyone quickly ushered themselves out of Anne's room as she rushed to get ready.

She was only a little late, arriving a breath behind Willow and Oz and very happy she'd talked herself into the dark green gown when they had gone shopping for Faith and Willow's.

The Pryce's gave a formal Yuletide Ball every year and it was the first formal Anne had attended where she hadn't been incessantly photographed by her mother and had an itchy corsage attached to her wrist. She only wished she could have brought a canvas and pastels with her to capture it all. The colors, the people, the warm atmosphere. It was something that seemed almost surreal when she compared it to what had happened last year.

She stood in the doorway observing everything, and Spike knew she was trying to commit it to memory. Little did she know that she hadn't observed what he had, that she was standing directly under the mistletoe. On silent feet, he approached her, taking in the lush and lovely picture she made.

She had started eating healthier again and had put on a good fifteen pounds over the past year, filling out into beautiful curves, though she still had a toned and athletic look to her body. She had found the most delectable hunter green gown that bared her shoulders before falling into long sleeves. It hugged her body until about her knees where it flared out softly. Her honey gold locks were in a simple twist, a few stray curls falling around her face.

As he stepped up behind her, he bent slightly at the waist to whisper in her ear, "Caught you."

She turned around, quizzically looking up at him, then followed the direction of his finger as he pointed up. When her gaze returned to hers and he saw amusement instead of panic, he took the chance presented to him. He lowered his head as hers instinctively tilted back. He brushed the barest of kisses against her lips giving her all the time in the world to pull back. Doing everything he could to let her know that she was in control.

And slowly, she took it. That first touch of his lips against hers felt no more threatening than butterfly wings. When he repeated the caress, she leaned in closer, making firmer contact with his lips as goose bumps ran up and down her skin. Moving the few inches required to close the rest of the distance between them, she initiated the next kiss herself, melting in to the sensual caress of his full lips against hers.

A throat clearing next to them broke her out of the slight haze she’d allowed herself to fall into. Hastily, she moved away from Spike and went to find Faith and Willow not even turning back to look at Spike as he followed her progress across the ballroom.

Pike, who had caused the interruption, growled at Spike, “Be careful. She isn’t some disposable plaything mate. You hurt her and I’ll make sure they never find the body.”

Spike sighed and turned his gaze out over his parents guests, meeting his step-mother’s inquisitive look.