Author's Notes: To my fellow Nascar Widows (you know who you are. I figured that if JM raced cars, we'd all watch.) And, to Kumi for allowing me to play on her site, and to suzy, my awesome beta who thinks I'm great, and not a total lunatic. And my BF Heather, who listens to my ideas, and doesn't think I'm a total lunatic, either

Summary: Five years ago, William ‘Spike’ Giles left Sunnydale to pursue his dream of racing stock cars.  He left behind the love of his life, Buffy Summers, who couldn’t deal with the dangers of his chosen profession.  After an accident on the track, that leaves him nearly crippled, Spike returns home to heal, both old wounds and new.  There, he finds Buffy again, and he realizes that he never stopped loving her.  There’s two problems.  One, she’s moved on with her life.  Two, his need for speed still scares her.  Can they get past their fear and find love again?

Spoilers: None, complete fantasy setting. All members of BtVS and AtS are human, and Sunnydale is not a Hellmouth. It's just a sleepy little town in the middle of CA.

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss.

Distribution: Buffy and Spike Central and at Libidinous Desires, anywhere else, email me first, jypzrose@aol.com

Feedback: abso-bloody-lutely.  

Speedway

Jypzrose or Lisa

Prologue

Michigan International Speedway, Michigan/ March 2002

Cruising around the track, doing 150 and in first place by three seconds, William ‘Spike’ Giles was in Heaven.  Just ten short laps away from his first victory of the season, life didn’t get any better than this.

“Spike, look out at the bottom of turn two.  The number 8 and the number 15 got into each other.  There’s a lot a smoke.”  The tinny voice of Rich Sanders squawked in his ear.

“Just get me through it, Rich.”  Spike bit back at his spotter, the accident coming into sight.

“Go straight through the middle.” Rich replied.  Spike slammed on the accelerator, and prepared to just that, when Rich’s voice came back through the ear phone.  “Shit, Spike, go high.  GO HIGH!.  10 Car just got tangled up.  GO HIGH!”  But, it was too late.  Just as Spike veered the wheel, the 10 car came spiraling at him through the smoke.

“Bloody hell!”  He spat, yanking the wheel hard.  The screech of wheels and metal hitting metal, along with the smell of burnt rubber and smoke filled the air around him as the 10 car careened into him.  The car went into a spin, and Spike struggled to regain control.  The last thought he had before he hit the wall was a name.

“Buffy.”

~*~*~

The small group gathered in the Summers living room watched in horror as the crash wiped out fifteen cars.  The announcers were talking rapidly, trying to find out any information they could on the drivers involved.  The yellow flag had come down, signaling the caution, and the other cars that had made it through began to make their pit stops.

But, all their attention was riveted to one car.  The black #29 Grady Hardware car.  The one that was crumpled like an accordion in the wall at the top of turn two.  The one that nobody was getting out of.  The one surrounded by ambulances and rescue workers.

Buffy sat on the couch, eyes riveted to the screen, hands clamped over her mouth as her mind screamed NO, over and over in her head.  This was why she let him walk away.  She couldn’t take the fear slamming into her, the tears threatening to spill, or the scream raging to be released.  Her attention was focused solely on the tv, her brain not registering the feel of her sister’s fingers digging into her shoulder, or the stunned faces of her friends.  Giles sat in the recliner, terror clawing through his chest as they peeled the hood of his son’s car back in a desperate attempt to get him out before it exploded from the gas leak.

He prayed silently, begging God to listen.  He’d already lost his wife, please not his son, too.

They watched silently as the unconscious figure was pulled from the wreckage, and his helmet removed to reveal his ever present spiky, white hair.  Blood stained the pale locks on the right side of his head and across the sharp planes of his face to mingle with the soot covering his handsome features.  The black clad figure was then placed gingerly on the stretcher, then hurried to the ambulance.

As the medical vehicle sped off the track, Giles pushed himself up from his chair and walked to the phone to find out where they were taking his son.

Buffy, Dawn, Willow, and Xander continued to stare silently at the screen as the race was red flagged so they could clear the debris of the track.

~*~*~

“‘ello, Dad.” Spike said, his voice a little slurred from the painkiller they were giving him.  Giles nearly staggered with relief as his eyes searched his child’s face.  Aside from the bandage covering the whole right side of his head, and the scar in his eyebrow from a wreck five years ago, his face was perfect.  The crystal blue eyes were foggy with medication and pain, but, there was no sign of trauma in them.

His body, however, hadn’t fared to well.  Thick, white bandages encircled his chest, securing his three broken ribs.  A cast covered from his wrist to just above his elbow on his right arm, and his left leg was similarly encased to immobilize the crushed limb.

Giles removed his glasses, and began rubbing them furiously, the nervous habit causing Spike to smile.

“How are you feeling?” Giles asked carefully, his voice controlled.  Spike looked at his father, finding comfort in his usual stiff British ways.

“A bit of alright.” He said with a ghost of his smirk.  Truth be told, he hurt like hell.  The meds they gave him only half controlled the pain, and they wouldn’t give him anymore before their little charts told them to.

“Well, that’s. . .er. . well, you bloody well don’t look alright.  You nearly got your foolish self killed.  And for what?”  Giles lost his hold on his fear and anger.  He pushed his glasses back up on his nose, his hand gripping the railing of the hospital bed.  He had brought his son to this country in hopes of a fresh start after the death of Rosemary.  Not so the little git could get himself killed racing a car around a track.

Anger flashed in Spike’s eyes at his father’s outburst.  This was the same old tune, just sung by a different person.  Buffy had said something similar to him before he left Sunnydale.

“Don’t start.”  He said through clenched teeth, the action making his head throb.

“Why not?  You want to kill yourself, why don’t you find a less flashy way of doing it.  You scared me.”  Giles finished quietly, averting his eyes when they started to swim with tears.  “I’ve already lost your mother.”  Guilt sliced through Spike with a crippling force, and he had to close his own eyes against tears.

“I’m sorry.  There was nothing I could do to get out of the way.”

“I know.”  Confusion marred the younger man’s face at that.  His father NEVER watched him race.  Thought it was undignified and uncivilized.

“How’s that?”  Giles looked back at his son, a look caught between pride and shame crossing his face.

“We usually get together to watch.” He admitted.

“We?”

“Willow, Xander, Buffy, Dawn and myself.”  Spike flinched at the sound of Buffy’s name, and smiled at Dawn’s.

“How’s the Nibblet?”

“Scared to bloody death if you must know.  She was crying her eyes out when I left the house to catch the plane to get here.”  Spike’s jaw clenched yet again, and he looked away.

“Yeah, well.  You can go home and tell ‘em I’m fine.  Be right as rain in a few weeks.”  His voice was thick as the face of his friends swam through his memory.

“Why don’t you tell them yourself.  Come home.”  Wide blue eyes met older, lighter ones at that.

“Go home?  Why?  There’s nothing there for me.  Plus, I’ve got to make sure those wankers fix the car properly.  And, they aren’t going to let me sit on my arse forever.  Don’t get paid for warming the sheets in a hospital bed.  I get paid to win races.”   Giles had looked away during Spike’s speech, his heart constricting at what he had to tell his son.  He had talked to the doctors before coming in, and the prognosis was not good.  “So, thanks for visiting.  Tell them all I said hello.”  The blond finished.

“William, I am afraid that I have some bad news.”  He began, taking off his glasses once more.  The younger man’s eyes narrowed in to slits, and he felt his heart start to pound painfully in his chest.

“Wha?”  He didn’t want to know, he could tell by the look on his father’s face.  His whole world was getting ready to crumble.  Heaving a sigh, Giles moved around the bed and gently sat on the edge.  He refrained from reaching for Spike, as the boy didn’t feel any more comfortable with affectionate displays than he did.  Spike eyed him warily, blinking to try to clear the fuzz out of peripheral vision.  Deciding that the best course of action was just to tell him, Giles began.

“The doctors told me that it will take close to a year for your leg to heal properly.  They had to reconstruct the bone, and there are five pins holding it together.  But, I am afraid that is not the worst.    The bump to your head damaged some of the nerves behind your eyes and your vision has been permanently altered.  You will never be able to see clearly in your peripheral again.”  Spike stared stoically at his father through the whole report, never blinking, never grimacing.  No expression whatsoever crossed his face until he was done.

“They’re wrong.” He said quietly, taking deep breaths, fighting the tears again.

“Will, I know. . .”

“You know nothing.” He spat, jerking his head to the side.  He stared blindly down at the cast on his arm, the names of his crew covering the surface.  They blurred as he looked at them, one lone drop falling to splash on the plaster.

“William, I am sorry.  They were very specific.  The chances of you ever racing a car again are slim at best.”  Giles told him firmly.  He softened once more as he watched his son struggle with the information.  He hated to be the one to crush his dreams, but, he figured that Spike would take it better from him, than any one else.  Save Buffy.  But, they had burned their bridges long ago.  “Come home.  We have some of the best rehabilitation centers in the country, there.  Come home.” He said again, hoping his voice didn’t sound as pleading to Spike as it did to his own ears.  Spike’s eyes never returned to his father, they stayed, staring at his arm, his jaw clenched tight, his entire body shaking.  When the tears refused to be stopped, and slid down his face despite his attempt to control them, Giles hazarded pulling Spike to him.  As soon as he felt his father’s arm around him, the blonde just gave in.  The room filled with the sound of grief ridden sobs, and soft whispers as he broke down, everything he had ever wanted falling from his grasp.

~*~*~

Buffy stared out the kitchen window, and into the night drenched back yard.  Her hands were still emerged in the soapy water she had been washing dishes in.  She had just hung up the phone with Giles, and her world had just been spun on its axis.  He was coming home.  With Spike.  It would take a couple of months, the doctors wanted to casts off before they would clear him for travel, but, the prodigal son was returning.  She didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Buffy?” Dawns quiet voice broke her from her thoughts, and she pulled her hands out of the water, turning to dry them.

“Hey.  What’s up?” She asked her sister, plastering on a false smile.

“What’s wrong?” Dawn demanded, the look of sixteen year old petulance on her face.

“Nothing.  Why do you ask?”

“Don’t give me that.  I know that was Giles on the phone.  He’s coming home, isn’t he?”  The younger girl asked hopefully.  She missed Spike, and she had never quite forgiven her sister for breaking up with him.  Sighing, Buffy put the towel down on the kitchen table.

“Yeah, he’s coming home.  But, Dawnie,” she started, talking loud to be heard over the sixteen year old’s delighted squeal.  “He’s not going to be the same.”

“What do you mean?”  Worry marred the young face staring back at her.  Quickly, Buffy told her the extent of his injuries.  Horrified blue eyes locked with sad hazel ones as the seriousness of the situation sunk in.  “Oh, God.  Poor Spike.” She breathed.  Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of what he must be going through.

“So, when he gets back, you might want to give him some time.  This is not going to be easy for him.  Let him decide when he wants to see you.”  Dawn looked like she was going to argue, but, she just shook her head, her long, shiny hair slipping off her shoulder.  Nodding herself, Buffy gave into the urge of wrapping her sister in her arms, heartened that the girl didn’t stiffen or turn her away like she had been doing since their mother died the year before.  After a few minutes, she did pull away to give Buffy a watery smile, then turned and walked away.  Watching her go, Buffy let out a sigh, and turned to check that the house was locked for the night.  She wearily climbed the stairs, her young body to tired for a girl her age.  She was twenty two years old, and raising a sixteen year old alone, with a crap job.  At least they had the money from her mother’s gallery coming in.  And thank God for Giles.  Without him, she would have had to sell it, and watch her mother’s dream die.  Just like Joyce had.  Dawn seemed to be interested in art, so, maybe one day, she could take it over, and continue where her mother had left off.

Stretching her tired muscles, she went into her room and closed the door, stripping to her panties as she walked.  She picked up her nightgown from the bed, which was really just an oversized t-shirt, she slid between the sheets, and flicked off her light.  She moaned in frustration when her tired mind kept conjuring up images of the crash.  That was all it could seem to do, since Saturday.  Over and over, she would see the spin out, the impact, and the vision of his limp body being pulled from the tin can that was once a race car.  Her heart had nearly pounded out of her chest when the phone had finally wrung tonight.  She’d been so scared at what Giles was going to tell her.  And even though she knew she didn’t have any right, she still worried about him.  Hell, she still loved him.  It was her own fear that drove them apart.  A fear that had been validated with the crash.

Tossing restlessly, Buffy tried to get comfortable, memories of another time swooping in to torment her now.  Tears leaked from her eyes as she gave into them, her heart breaking once again.

Chapter 1

AN: Blast from the past. The first part of the story will be written in the past.  Also, the sculpture that Dawn is admiring in the beginning of this chapter is an actual piece that I saw on display at the Smithsonian Museum of Modern Art during a field trip my senior year of high school. I don't remember the name, but I do remember the price tag being ridiculous for the rusty bunch of metal. Just goes to show what people will pay for. *g* Lisa

Sunnydale, 1996

“Mom!” Seventeen year old, Buffy called, walking into her mother’s gallery. She glanced around the large showroom, ignoring the elaborate pieces of art around her, looking for Joyce.  Dawn moved around her, rolling her large blue eyes at her sister, and moving to study one of the new pieces.  It was a weird one.  A large, rusty motorcycle frame was poised on it’s back wheel, a small, and equally rusty oil can perched on the top.  The title was “Surreal” and the price tag was in the eight digit range.  Buffy hated it.  Dawn thought it was cool.

Buffy wove her way through bronze statues of horses and gods, displays of Native American pottery, and other modern art pieces.  Exquisite still lives lined the walls along side of paintings that looked like the artist just threw the paint at the canvas.  Buffy just ignored the beauty around her, not noticing the value of any of it.  But, Dawn lost herself in it.  She was a lonely child, forever feeling as if she was in her older, prettier, more popular sister’s shadow.  Not that Buffy ever made her feel left out.  In fact, except for a few things, she often allowed Dawn to tag along with her, Angel, Willow, and Xander.  She had found it hard to make friends when they made the move from L.A. to Sunnydale after the divorce.  Even Buffy herself, had been shut out of all the tightly formed cliques that she had dominated in her old school.  They had both had to adjust, and only Buffy had made it look seamless.  The divorce, and the subsequent loss of luxury, had forced them all to stop worrying so much about THINGS, and focus more on each other.  Not in all, a bad thing.  But, it was sometimes hard for them to be outcasts, instead of the ones everybody envied.

“MOM!” Buffy called, again, leaving Dawn to wander on her own.  She through the open doorway on the other side of the gallery, that led to the back.  She moved past the storage rooms filled with crates, and undisplayed art, to her mother’s office.  The door was closed, so, she knew her mother was in with someone.  She knocked softly, instead of barging in like she normally would.

“Come in.” Buffy swung the door open, her smile stalling on her face.  Her mother was sitting behind her huge, over piled desk, her current ‘painting of the week’ hung on the wall behind her.  Her honey blond hair was done up in a sleek twist, her make up only slightly faded.  Her rose colored suit accented her still trim body, as well as complimenting her skin.  A open file sat in front of her, and she had a pen poised in her hand.  “Hi, honey.  Buffy, I would like you to meet Rupert Giles, and his son, William.  Mr. Giles will be taking over Betty’s job.”

“Hi.” Buffy managed to get out to the older man, her eyes barely registering the sandy, brown hair, the sad, tired blue eyes, to the face that carried lines of worry.  Her hazel eyes were had met and stuck to the most fiery set of blue eyes she had ever seen.  William sat next to his father, a stark contrast to the proper looking gentleman.  White, blonde hair spiked out from his head, stubbornly curling in a few places.  Dark eyebrows topped the bottomless orbs of his eyes.  Sharp, razor like cheek bones slashed out, hollowing his cheeks and making them seem chiseled.  His nose would have been straight, save for the slight bump that indicated a prior break.  The strong line of is jaw led to a square chin, which one, long fingered, black tipped hand was cupping.  His full lips were set in a hard line, and he had a well practiced bored look on his face.   A long leather duster covered most of his body, except for the faded, tight, torn blue jeans that hugged his thighs and calves.  A pair of scuffed, black combat boots adorned his feet.

Joyce watched her daughter blatantly study the good looking boy in front of her, and tried to hide her smile.  She couldn’t say why, but she preferred the troubled young man in front of her to Buffy’s current boyfriend, Angel.

“Buffy, is it?  How do you do?” Giles began, rising to shake Buffy’s hand. She tore her eyes away from the bleached blonde and shook his father’s hand, offering him a wide smile.

“Fine, thanks you, Mr. Giles.  Nice to meet you.”  He gave her a small, tight smile, released her hand and turned towards his eighteen year old son, who was still staring at Buffy, an almost hostile curiosity in his eyes.

“William, can’t you say hello to Ms. Summers?” Giles asked, his voice stern.  William rolled his eyes, sighed heavily, and shifted in his seat, the movement causing the duster to fall open to reveal a Rob Zombie t-shirt.

“‘lo” He forced out, returning his eyes to the spot on the wall behind Joyce’s head that he had been studying.

“William!” Giles snapped, embarrassed by his son’s rudeness.

“Wha’?” He turned petulant, stormy eyes back to his father.  “I said hello.” Buffy arched a brow, but said nothing.  It wasn’t too long ago that she was the new kid in town, and by the sound of their accents, they were pretty far from home.

“Did you need something, honey?” Joyce asked, trying o draw attention away from William.  Buffy looked over at her mother, her brain finally reminding her what she had come in here for.

“Oh, yeah.  Can I go to the Bronze tonight?”

“Buffy, it’s a school night.” Joyce reminded her.  A pretty put appeared on Buffy’s lip, and despite himself, William found himself staring.  “Pretty little chit.* he thought.  Her long, golden hair hung in waves past her slender shoulders.  Hazel eyes sparkled from underneath dark honeyed eyebrows.  She had a lightly rounded face, with a nose that tipped up at the end.  Her wide, full mouth was slicked with some sort of glass that made them a shiny pink.  A dark blue, spaghetti strapped tee and tight jean shorts hugged her slender curves and exposed her perfectly tanned limbs.  Open toed sandals showed off her tiny toes polished bright red.

“I know.  But Angel’s got to go back to school this weekend.”  Joyce barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes.

“Are Xander and Willow going to be there?” She asked, feeling herself start to cave.

“Yeah.” Buffy tried not to sound to excited.

“Good.  Why don’t you take William with you?  That way he’ll know some kids when he starts school on Monday.”  Giles looked gratefully at Joyce, but, the reactions of the teens was a little less than enthusiastic.  Both of their faces were comical.  Buffy recovered first, her mind coming up with a multitude of reasons ‘why not’.  Then, she remembered again what it was like to be the new kid.

“Sure.” she said, sounding less than enthusiastic.  William got up in a flurry of black leather, a scowl crossing his handsome face.

“Don’t need charity.”  He spat, brushing past Buffy with enough force that he nearly knocked her over.

“GOD!  Rude much?” She snapped at his retreating back.

“Ms. Summers, allow me to apologized for William.” Giles stammered, mortified by his son’s lack of manners.  He pulled off his glasses and began to rub them furiously with a handkerchief.  “Ever since my wife. . .” he took a deep breath, faltering over the word.  “Well, I’m afraid he’s been a bit of a handful.”  He finished, his voice tired.

“That’s okay, Mr. Giles.  It can’t be easy moving to a new country, and all.  I know it was hard for us, and we only moved two hours.”  Buffy assured him, smiling.

“Buffy, I want your homework done before you go out to night.”  Joyce interjected, feeling sorry for the obviously flustered man.  “And home by ten.”

“Mo-om.”  Buffy started to whine.

“Want to try for not at all?”  Buffy quickly shook her head, deciding, wisely, to take what she was given.

“No.  Ten’s fine.  Thanks mom.” She hurried around the desk, gracefully dodging the boxes littering the floor the brush a kiss across her mother’s cheek.  Giles watched the action, a faint trace of jealousy hitting him at the easy affection between the two women.  It had been like that between William and his wife before she died.  Afterwards, well, nothing had been easy.

“Send Dawn in here, before you go home.  Let her know that it would be nice if she would remember on her own to say hello to her poor old mother.”  Joyce told Buffy as she left the room.

“‘kay.” Buffy called over her shoulder.

“Again, Mrs. Summers, I am sorry about Will’s behavior.”  Joyce waved a hand, dismissing it.

“Call me Joyce.  And don’t worry about it.  Buffy wasn’t exactly a joy to be a round after the divorce.  But, then we moved here, and she met Willow and Xander.  Things will work out, just give him time.”  She gave him a wide smile.  “Now, let’s just finish up this paperwork, and you can go home, and finish getting settled.”

~*~*~

William stomped through the gallery, his footsteps echoing loudly through the large space.  He didn’t see the wide eyed, brown haired girl peeking around on of the statues, her gaze owlish.

*Stupid little, bint.* he cursed inwardly, pushing through the glass doors to stomp outside. *Thinking I need her to introduce me around like some kind of git.* He scowled again, slumping his lean frame onto the bench outside, and digging in his pockets for his forbidden cigarettes.  Striking a match, he touched it to the end, not noticing the little girl that had followed him outside.  It wasn’t until he had inhaled the first greedy puff, and had flung his arm over the back of the bench that he saw her.  She stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the doors, hands clasped in front of her, one scuffed tennis shoe kicking at the ground.

He sat back, and smoked his cigarette, studying her the same way she was studying him.  Openly and without guilt.  He guessed her to be about ten or eleven.  Tall for her age, and awkward with it.  She was all arms and legs, and skinny to boot.  She had long, shiny brown hair that was as straight as a pin, and wide eyes that were bluer than his own.  Her jeans hung loosely on her bony frame, as did the white Disneyland T-shirt.  She’d probably be a looker if she ever filled out, he decided.  As it stood now, she was cute.

“Why’s your hair that color?” She asked, bluntly.  His lips quirked into the closest thing to a smile he had worn in a year.

“Got in fight with a bleach bottle and lost.” He answered flippantly.  She snorted at that.

“My name’s Dawn.” She offered, looking at him expectantly.

“Spike.” He returned, shortly.

“That’s a funny name.”  She shifted on her feet, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m a funny guy.”  A smirk curved his lip, and her eleven year old heart tripped din her chest.  She had never seen a guy as cute as him before, much less had a conversation with one.  She thought she was doing pretty good.

“You’re English.” She said proudly, happy she could place the accent.

“British.”  Spike corrected without thought.  The reminder of his home didn’t cause any sadness to cross over him.  He had been glad to shake the dust of the rain drenched streets of London off.  The picture of his mother that floated through is mind, did.  Scowling again, he slumped further into his seat, and took another drag from his cigarette.  Watching the glowing orange tip, he barely registered that she had moved to sit next to him.

“Oh.  Sorry.”  She mumbled, noticing the change in his mood.  “So, what are you doing in California?”  He waved a hand towards the gallery.

“Father’s getting a job.”  He answered shortly.

“Oh, then we might see each other. My mom own’s it.”

“Maybe.”

“Dawnie?”  Buffy came flying out of the gallery, her eyes worried.  Dawn’s face twisted sourly when her sister appeared, sure that her conversation with the cute stranger was done for now that her gorgeous sibling had appeared.  When all Spike did was shift, and look away, her young heart expanded with hope.  “Dawn, you know better than to leave the gallery.”  Buffy admonished.  When all she got in response was rolled eyes, Buffy shook her head in disgust.  “Mom wants to see you.  Says it would be nice if every once in a while you remembered that she was here, as well as the art.”   With an exaggerated sigh, and a second rolling of the eyes, Dawn pushed up from the bench, and turned towards Spike.

“It was nice to meet you Spike.” she said, smiling.  Buffy’s brow popped up at what her sister called him.

“Yeah.”  He replied.  “You too.  Go on before your mum worries.”  He urged, flicking the cigarette down and snuffing it with his boot.  With a shy, but still radiant smile, the pre-teen turned to shoot up the steps, a smug look on her face.  Buffy watched her sister fly up the steps, her feet seeming to never touch one.  A soft smile curved her mouth, and Spike found himself again, staring.

“Well, you’ve certainly charmed her, Spike.” She said, before turning around to face him, a touch of laughter dancing in her eyes.  She suddenly found it hard to breathe, as she became entranced in the bottomless orbs of blue.  Her mind screamed at her to remember Angel, and finally she did.

“She’s a cute kid.” Was all he said, shrugging a shoulder.  He looked away, not liking the way his brain was pondering the smooth curve of her throat.  They stayed like that, the uncomfortable silence swirling around them until Buffy thought that she would scream from it.

‘Hey, look.  I really don’t mind if you come tonight.  Willow and Xander are great.  And Angel, my boyfriend.  He won’t care.”  She lied.  Actually, Angel would probably seethe with jealousy, but, it would serve him right.  He would know how she felt every time she talked to him on the phone and he mentioned his ‘friend’ Julie, or the girl in his class, Suzanne.  Spike looked back at her then, barely restrained contempt making his eyes turn sapphire.

“Don’t need to take pity on the new boy.”  He practically growled.  Her eyes shot sparks as she felt her temper shoot up to meet his.

“Don’t be such a jerk.” She snapped back.  “I’m not.  I just thought you might like to get to know some of the people you’ll be going to school with.  Or, would you rather stick with the ‘I’m a bad ass, don’t fuck me’ attitude?”

“What the fuck do you care?”

“I don’t.  Be an dick, after all, you’re so good at it.” She shot at him, turning to storm up the steps.  “And by the way, the Billy Idol look is sooo eighties.” She got out before storming back inside.  A true smile split his features as she disappeared.  She sure was pretty when she was mad, he thought.  Maybe he would find out where this Bronze was, and make an appearance.  Couldn’t hurt.  Taking out another cigarette, he settled back to wait for his father, thinking that maybe Sunnydale was a little more interesting than he had first believed.

~*~*~

“Mom?”  Buffy started, slicing a tomato for the salad.  She was sitting at the island table in the kitchen, helping he mother while she cooked dinner.

“Yes, honey.”  Joyce said, stirring her spaghetti sauce, and checking the noodles that were boiling.  The kitchen was filled with the scent of spiced tomatoes, and garlic bread.  The smell always made Buffy think ‘home’.

“What happened to Spike’s mother?” She asked, dumping the tomato into the salad bowl.

“Who’s?” Joyce turned confused hazel eyes to her daughter.

“You know, William.  From earlier?”

“Oh.  Yes, why did you call him Spike?” she asked, turning back to the stove.

“Well, that’s what he told Dawn to call him.  Guess it’s some sort of nickname.  Suits him.” She said, wondering why she cared.  “So, what happened?”

“She had cancer.”  Was all Joyce said, and Buffy felt an immediate surge of sympathy rush over her.

“Oh my God.  That’s terrible.  When . . .” She found that she couldn’t finish the sentence.

“About a year ago.  I don’t know exact details, but, it was hard on them.”

“Of course it was.  No wonder he was such a jerk.”  She finished, almost to herself, grating cheese into the bowl

“Buffy!” Joyce snapped, dumping the pasta into the strainer in the sink.

“What?” She shrugged, waving the block of cheese and the grater in the air.  “He was.” She defended.  Her mother softened a bit.

“Well, he was a bit abrupt.  But, this is a lot for a young man to deal with.  His mother passed away, then he has to move to a new country.  Not to mention, he seems to be going through some sort of rebellion.  What with the hair, and the name.”

“I like the hair.”  Dawn said, coming into the kitchen and snatching a cucumber out of the bowl.  Buffy whacked her fingers with the grater.  “Ow!” the adolescent whined, popping the stolen treasure triumphantly into her mouth.

“Girls, stop.”  Joyce scolded, scooping noodles into bowls.  Dawn walked over to help her mother.

“I like the name, too.” She finished, dropping Buffy’s bowl with a clatter in front of her.  The blonde glowered at the younger girl.  Suddenly, a smile lit up Buffy’s face.

“I think somebody has a little crush.” She exclaimed, delighting in the blush that crept up her sisters neck.

“I so do not.”  Dawn objected a little too vehemently.

“Oh, yes you do.  Look at that blush.  Mom, Dawnie’s got a thing for an older man.” Buffy teased, evilly.

“Buffy, leave your sister alone.” Joyce took her own bowl, and joined her daughters at the table.  Dawn waited for her mother to look away before sticking her tongue out at her sister.  “I saw that Dawn.  Stop bickering and start eating.” She demanded, eyeballing both girls with her ‘I’m the mom and I said so’ stare.  Both girls bowed their heads, and dug their forks into their bowls.

“Sorry, mom.” Buffy said, before shoving her mouth full of pasta.

“Yeah, sorry.” Dawn mumbled, doing the same.

“Alright.” Joyce began eating herself.  “I wish he had decided to go with you tonight.  It might have been good for him.”  Joyce said, a touch of regret in her voice.

“ I asked him again, when I went to get Dawn.  He said no.” Buffy told her with a shrug.  “Maybe he’ll come by anyway.”

“Maybe.”

“Do you think he’ll be at the gallery a lot?” Dawn asked, trying not to sound to hopeful.  Buffy snorted, then tried to cover with a cough when Joyce sent her ‘the look’.

“I don’t know, honey.  I hired his father, not him.  He probably likes to do other things besides hang around a stuffy old gallery.”

“It’s not stuffy.” Dawn said, pouting a little.  “I like it.”

“Oh, I know, honey.” Joyce quickly said.  “It’s just, a boy his age, might like to do different things.”

“Yeah, I guess.”  Joyce made a mental note to talk to Dawn later about her crush.  It was okay to have, she just didn’t want her youngest to get her hopes up.   William was eighteen, legally a man, and she hadn’t even reached puberty yet.  He was a senior in high school, and she was in fifth grade.

“So,” she started, looking to change the subject.  “How was school?”  They finished the meal on this, each giving her a play by play on their day.

~*~*~

“So, what was he like?”  Willow Rosenberg asked for the third time, speaking up to be heard over the din.  It was no cover night, and the place was packed.  “Was he really cute.”  Buffy rolled her eyes, and sipped her drink.  Her best friend leaned close, the long ends of her red hair brushing the table.  Her wide, green eyes were curious, and she was chewing on her bottom lip.

“I guess.”  She answered, in a non committed tone, still a little unnerved by her struck dumb reaction to him.

“You guess?  How can you NOT know for sure?”  Willow asked, gesturing with her hand.

“Willow, need I remind you that I have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, and that little malady has turned you blind all of a sudden?”  Willow gave her a ‘yeah, right’ look.  Buffy ducked her head, thankful for the dim lighting in the club.

“Alright, fine.  He was hot.” She admitted, sending them both into a peal of giggles.  Xander Harris walked over to them, slipping into the chair next to Willow.

“Dare I ask what’s so funny?”  He inquired, leaning into the table.

“Buffy was telling me about the incredibly hot guy she met today.”

“Willow.” Buffy said, exasperated, waving a hand to tell her to hush.  Willow just smiled.  Xander turned his dark eyes on her, brows shot up in mock astonishment.

“YOU noticed somebody other than the great Angel Connor?  Somebody call the paramedics! She’s sick!” He declared, slapping a hand against the table.

“Would you stop it?!” Buffy huffed, fighting the smile tugging her lips.  “He wasn’t all that.”

“That’s not what you said, you said he was hot.”  Willow reminded her.  Buffy stuck her tongue out at her friend, eliciting giggles from the red head.  Suddenly, her eyes widened once more.

“What?” Buffy asked, glancing over her shoulder.  There stood Spike, looking around the bar, an unlit cigarette dangling in his mouth.  When his eyes came to rest on her, a slow, wicked smile spread.

“Is that him?” Xander asked, pointing to the blonde.  Buffy nodded her head.  He let out a groan as he watched Spike light his cigarette.  “Oh, great, he isn’t only hot, he’s cool!” He cried in dismay, thumping his head on the table.  Willow giggled again, the sound nervous as Spike prowled towards their table.  And that’s how he moved, like a large predator, every sense tuned into his prey.  Right now, it seemed his prey was Buffy.

“Hi,” She managed, smiling.  She really didn’t like the way she reacted to him.  Like she didn’t have a boyfriend.  Like she wasn’t in love with said boyfriend.

“Hello, luv.” He purred.  His entire attitude seemed to have changed since that afternoon.  Gone was the snarky, bitterness.  In it’s place was smooth charm.  Willow blushed furiously when he turned his sea blue eyes on her, his disarming smile still in place.  His attire had also changed.  Gone was the duster, and Rob Zombie t-shirt, although the jeans and boots were the same.  In their place was a black button down, tucked into his jeans.  The first few buttons were undone to exposed a smooth expanse of chest.

“Uhm, Spike.  This is Willow Rosenberg, and Xander Harris, my best friends.  They go to Sunnydale High, too.” Buffy stammered, finally finding her voice.

“Hello.” he said, offering them a salute with his left hand, smoke curling around him head.

“Hi.” Willow breathed, blinking her emerald eyes.

“Hello, and welcome to the land of women who can barely speak in sentences.” Xander said, holding out a hand.  Spike took it, after putting his cigarette in his mouth.  “Ow!” He exclaimed, when Willow kicked him under the table.  Rubbing his shin, he looked back at the smirking Spike.  “Take a seat, come share in the abuse.” Xander pulled out a chair, glaring at his best friend of forever.  Spike folded his long frame into the chair, tapping his cigarette out.

“Buffy says your from England.” Spike nodded to Willow’s question, hand tapping lightly on his knee to the beat of the music.  “What part?”

“London.” He answered.

“Ooh, I’ve always wanted to go there.  What’s it like?”

“Foggy most of the time.” He chuckled a little at her disappointed look.  “It’s alright, if you like your day interrupted every time the Queen Mum splits her knickers.”  Buffy snorted at that, picking up her drink.

“What do you think of our fair burg?”  Xander asked, thankful to have another male around to bond with.

“The weather’s good. The girls are pretty.” He slid a smile in the direction of the two at the table.  They both blushed, giggling despite themselves. *He’s flirting!* Buffy realized with a sudden clarity.  Too bad she didn’t know who with.

“Buffy!” She turned toward the sound of her name, smiling as she watched Angel make his way over to him.  She bit back the urge to yell at him for being late, not feeling arguing in front of Spike.  She got up and rushed over to him, moving into his open arms.  Xander sneered, and rolled his eyes at Spike, who snorted in response.  His gaze returned to the embracing couple, picking up the instant dislike he felt for the brunette hulk that was dwarfing the tiny blonde woman, and running with it.  Something about Angel made him bristle.  Buffy slid out of his arms and took his hand, smile never faltering as she led him back to the table.

“Angel, I would like you to meet Spike.” She said, when they reached the small group.  The two men eyeballed each other, like fighters vying for a prize.  Xander, being the other male at the table, picked up on it immediately, and found himself silently rooting for the peroxide blonde.  He’d detested Angel from the first second Buffy had brought him into the group.  All the girls in school had panted over him when he was a senior, and the star quarterback.  Once he had chosen Buffy, they hadn’t stopped, and he basked in the attention.  In Xander’s opinion, he always seemed to treat Buffy like he was doing her a favor by being with her.

“Spike, huh?  What kind of name is that?”  Angel sneered, taking in the blonde.

“It’s not a poofter name like Angel.” Spike returned pleasantly.  Buffy rolled her eyes and shared a glance with Willow at the amount of testosterone that was coating the air.  Xander barely covered the laugh that erupted from him at Spike’s comment.  He was seriously starting to like the Brit.  Angel’s eyes narrowed, and just as he was getting ready to say something, Buffy interrupted.

“Let’s dance.” She said, pulling him away from the table.  Angel smirked as he let her pull him away.  Spike watched them go, a look of hostility plain on his features.

“Wanna play a game of pool?” Xander offered.  He felt like commiserating.  “I’ll give you even more reasons to hate him.” He said, lowering his voice to a more conspiratory level.

“Why not?” Spike answered, rising to follow the brunette.  “Care to join us?”  He asked Willow.  She looked flustered, and ducked her head.

“Oh, I. . .I don’t know how to play.” She admitted, looking apologetic.  Mock outrage crossed his face.

“Pish posh.” He said, exaggerating his Britishness.  “Come on, then.  I’ll teach you.”  He held out his hand, blue eyes imploring.  He didn’t want to leave her sitting at the table all by herself, looking like a wallflower.  Her green eyes widened slightly, and she worried her lip before taking his hand.

“Okay.” She said, and she let him move her in the direction Xander went in.

Out on the dance floor, things weren’t going so well.  Buffy was trembling with anger as she listened to Angel explain why he was late.  Apparently, a girl he had graduated with last year had cornered him at the gas station, and had proceeded to talk his ear off.  The problem was, he didn’t sound to upset.  The other problem was, it was his ex girlfriend.  The one that he had broken up with before asking Buffy out.

“So, I finally got her to shut up long enough to slip away.  Told her I had to come spend my last night in town with my girl.” He finished, waiting for her to gush about how considerate he was.  When all she did was murmur “uh huh.” he got angry.  “If I’d known you would be like this, I wouldn’t have made the effort.” He ground out, turning stiff in her arms.

“Maybe you shouldn’t of, since it seems that you didn’t want to, to begin with.” She snapped back.

“Oh, whatever, Buffy.  Who found who with a strange person tonight.”  He asked, glaring down at her.  She glared right back, stopping her movement.

“Don’t even start that shit.  He’s new in town, and I was just being nice.”

“Yeah, real nice.  All blushy and giggly.  Didn’t think I would see that when I came in?  You were flirting.” Her jaw dropped at the accusation.

“I was not.  You were the one having a conversation with your EX girlfriend, while I was sitting here, waiting for you to show up.  If any body should be worried about any flirting that was going on, it should be me.” She spat, pulling away from him.  Angry brown eyes clashed with equally angry hazel.

“Oh, really?  You don’t trust me?”  He stared down at her, his eyes incredulous.  “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to look at other girls if my girlfriend, who supposedly loves me, would quit holding out.”  Buffy’s cheeks flamed at the turn of the conversation, and at how many people were getting interested in it.

“Shut up!  Not here.” She hissed, glaring furiously at Angel.  Crossing her arms over her chest, she started to storm away, crying out when his arm banded around her bicep.  He whipped her around to face him again.

“Why NOT here?  God knows I can’t get you alone with out your loser friends hanging around.  So this is as good a place as any.”  Buffy was stunned speechless.  How dare he? Her mind snapped furiously.

“Why don’t you leave the lady alone?” A clipped British voice asked from behind them.  Angel whirled to face the blonde, who was watching the taller man with interest, the pool cue he was holding resting lightly across his body.  A feral smile curled his lip, and his blue eyes were snapping.  Willow and Xander watched from their position by the pool tables, Willow’s face clouded with worry.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?”  Angel shot back.  The dancers around them had formed a tight circle around them, in anticipation of a fight.  Buffy eyes widened with alarm, and she moved forward to place a hand on Angel’s arm.

“It’s alright, Spike.” She told him, her eyes silently begging Angel to ease off.  The brunette looked down at her, his face furious.  With a shake of his head, he started to storm away.

“Why don’t you give me a call when you grow up, Buff.” He shot over his shoulder, leaving the two blondes staring at each other.  Buffy felt the tears rush to her eyes, and she blinked them back, not realizing right away that Spike was talking to her.

“I’m sorry, what?”  She said, her voice thick.  The people around them had gone back to dancing, the entertainment having been cut short.

“I asked if you are alright?”  Spike repeated, stepping closer.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  He’s not really like that.” She began, stopping herself when she realized that she was making excuses.  Besides, he really WAS like that.

“Yeah.” Spike returned, not sounding the least bit convinced.  “Wanna come play?” He indicated the pool tables where her friends were waiting.  She looked over at them, and saw Willow’s sympathetic face, and Xander’s restrained one.

“No, thanks.  I think I’m just gonna go home.” She said.  “I’ll see you at school on Monday, okay?”  He nodded, and watched her walk away, anger at the brunette for making her cry rippling through him.  When she finally disappeared from sight, he sighed, pulled out a cigarette and went back to finish his game.

Chapter 2

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Angel cooed, sincerity coating his voice. Buffy lay sprawled out on her bed, dressed only in her underwear and t-shirt, twirling the phone cord between her fingers. "I got jealous. I hate seeing you with other men."

"I told you. I was just being nice," Buffy huffed, rolling her eyes. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered with Angel anymore. All they ever seemed to do was fight.

"I know. But the way he was looking at you, like you were a piece of candy, made me mad," Angel insisted.

"I can't help how he looked at me, Angel. And that doesn't excuse the comment about me not 'giving it up,'" she reminded him, anger and hurt lacing her words. She had spent the last summer, worrying about that. Angel was going off to school, and it seemed only natural for them to do it before he left. Only, she wasn't ready, and he had said that he understood. However, every so often, he would let her know how he really felt about it.

"I told you I was sorry about that. It's just. . .I want you so much. It's getting hard to wait." A whine had crept into his voice, and Buffy felt herself starting to forgive him. Again.

"I know. It's hard for me, too," she admitted with a sigh. "I'm just not ready yet," she reiterated, wondering if it would ever sink in.

"I understand. I really do," he reassured. In actuality, he didn't have a clue. He normally would have moved on by now, but he never liked to admit defeat. And the fact that she was a virgin. . .well, that was too tempting to resist. Getting tired of groveling, he eyed the pretty brunette shimmying down the hall, a slow grin spreading across his handsome face. When she cast him a sloe eyed glance over her shoulder, he decided it was time to get off the phone. "Hey, Buffy, I've got to go. There's a line for the phone." He managed to inject the right amount of regret into the words, his eyes never leaving the dark haired girl. She had paused by the soda machine at the end of the hall, her gaze continually roaming back to him.

"Alright. I love you."

"Yeah, me too. Call you later." Then, he was gone, the click of the disconnect echoing in her ear. Her face twisted into a 'blah' expression, and she crawled across her bed to hang up the phone. She then flopped back on her bed, her golden hair fanning across the pillows, her mind replaying the last few days. It had been three days since their fight in the Bronze, and she had steadfastly refused to call him. Of course, by Friday night, she had worked herself into such a snit, that when he finally called on Saturday, she'd told her mother to tell him she wasn't home. He had then proceeded to call every hour, until Joyce had tired of the game and made Buffy come to the phone.

After she had gone home Wednesday, an hour early, she had stormed into the house, then up the stairs past her surprised mother and smirking sister. They watched as she flew past them, flinching with the force that she slammed her door with. Neither one of them had dared venture up, deciding to leave her alone to sulk. She had cried herself to sleep that night, and had woken the next morning puffy eyed and cranky. Then, when she had met Willow in the library at school, she'd had to listen to her friend alternate between Angel bashing, and Spike gushing. She had actively participated in the Angel bashing, and had inwardly kicked herself for letting him ruin her evening with her friends, and the obviously entertaining Spike. She ignored the stab of jealousy that pierced her at Willow's description of her game with Xander and the blonde. He had been patient with her, teaching her how to properly hold the cue, and line up her shot. The first time she had sunk a ball, under her own power, he had grinned and cheered her on. He and Xander had then proceeded to clean a couple of college punks out of their hard earned allowance.

Xander had joined them, then, adding his list of praises to the mix, making Buffy's head hurt. He and Xander had apparently hit it off, and he was meeting Spike at his house after school to show him the rest of the town. The petite blonde suddenly felt like odd man out, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

But, by the end of the day, she realized she was being snotty. He had come to her rescue, so to speak, with Angel. And, despite his earlier surliness, had proven himself to be charming. Only brats got jealous when her friends found new friends.

Friday night, Willow had come over with a half gallon of double chocolate fudge chunk ice cream and a slew of chic flicks, prepared for some serious bonding time with her best friend. Xander and Spike had headed out to the track on the outskirts of town, to watch the weekly drag races that were held there. The girls were happy that he had found somebody to buddy with, especially since they hated that crap.

Then, Saturday came, and her conversation with Angel had come and gone. Her relationship was saved from extinction once again. Now, she found herself with nothing to do. Sighing, she pushed herself off the bed and slipped on some jeans, followed by her sneakers. Maybe she and Willow could take Dawn to the mall. Buy her a cd by one of those boy bands she was so crazy about.

Slipping a bra on under her shirt, in a move that baffled most boys, she adjusted her shirt, and picked up her brush. A few strokes, and a quick flip of her wrist, her light tresses were bound in a clip, the ends barely brushing her shoulders. Not wanting to fuss with make up, when all she was planning on was a girls' day, she turned and left the room. She bounded down the stairs, and turned the corner to cut through the living room to the kitchen. She found her mother sitting at the table, a cooling cup of coffee in front of her.

"Hi, honey," Joyce said, sliding her reading glasses off.

"Hi, Mom. Where's Dawn?" Buffy asked, walking to the fridge to pull out the juice.

"Outside, I think," her mother answered, getting up to get a glass for her.

"Mind if we go to the mall? Buy cd's of bands that won't be around in a year, and spoil our dinner with sugary food stuff?" she asked, smiling. Joyce laughed, and shook her head.

"No, go ahead. Just don't be late. I have to go to the gallery tonight and do some inventory. I want you home before then."

"I thought that was Mr. Giles' job now," the younger woman said, sipping her juice. Joyce leveled her daughter with a look, and adjusted her robe to sit down again.

"He just moved here, Buffy. I thought I would give him a couple of days to get settled before dumping a lot of work on him."

"Oh," was all she said, one slim shoulder raising in a shrug.

"Things alright with Angel?" Joyce asked, putting her glasses back on and picking up her pen again. She never looked up from her paperwork, but she was all ears as she waited for Buffy's answer.

"Yeah. All made up." Her mother noted the less than happy tone, but didn't remark. She had to deal with this on her own, but Joyce would be there to listen when she wanted to talk.

"That's good. Is he coming home for summer break?" Buffy scowled into her glass.

"I don't know yet. If not, I'll be in L.A. to see Dad. I'll see him then." Joyce made a non-committal noise at that. She didn't want her daughters to get their hopes up as far as Hank Summers was concerned, but she was determined to let him dig his own grave. Buffy drained her glass, and put it in the sink, turning to brush a kiss over her mother's cheek. "Bye, Mom. See you later," she said, then turned to go in search of her sister.

"Bye, sweetheart. Don't forget what I said," Joyce called after her.

"Alright. Love you." The door slamming was punctuation.

~*~*~

Spike pried one eye open at the sound of the knock on his door.

"Hunh?" he groaned, loud enough for the offender on the other side to hear. Giles pushed open the door, sighing at the pile of dirty clothes that blocked it.

"Will?" He sounded disgusted at his child's slovenly habits. "A Xander Harris called," he finished as he pushed the rest of the way into the room. Boxes still littered the floor and the surface of his desk. The only things seemingly unpacked were the cd player, his collection of cd's, and various posters of bands that Giles shuddered to call music. People with names like Limp Biskit, Marilyn Manson, and Kid Rock graced the wood paneled walls. His clothes were strewn across the floor, the bed, and the dresser. His precious duster was the only thing hung up. One boot was laying next to the bed, the other thrown by the closet.

"Shit." Suddenly, Spike was a flurry of movement, picking up clothes and tossing them on. Giles watched in amazement as his son, who only a moment ago was barely conscious, was now dressed and running a hand through his tangled mass of white curls.

"Might I ask what's the rush?" he asked as Spike breezed past him, his heavy boots thudding against hardwood floors. Giles followed him down the hall, suppressing the sigh at the way his son dressed. His too tight, faded blue jeans had rips in the knees, and his black t-shirt had the sleeves and collar ripped off.

"S'posed to go with Xan out to the mall today. Then later out to the track."

"Track?" Giles was baffled as he watched Spike pull the milk out of the refrigerator and take a swig straight from the carton. He sighed again, taking his glasses off and polishing them with the hem of his sweater. He'd never understand just where Spike's manners had disappeared to. Probably went the way of the hair.

"Yeah, race track. We went there last night. Never seen anything like it." Spike got a faraway look in his eyes for a brief instant, then shook it off, replacing the carton and pulling out a mug. His father only drank coffee at one time of day, and luckily, it was still warm. Drinking the bitter brew, black, he went in search of something to eat.

"And what exactly was racing?"

"Cars, Dad. Late model American cars." This was said in a dreamy voice. Giles was glad that his son was adjusting to the move so well, and had made a friend so quickly, but he didn't know if he liked the way he was so enamored with the race. "It was done on this dirt track, and it was amazing. There were three wrecks, and one car flipped completely over." Spike's voice was filled with awe. Giles looked shocked that his son found amusement in the endangerment of others.

"Were they hurt?" he sounded appalled. Spike slid his blue eyes over to his father, smirking at the almost prim disapproval.

"No," was all he said, shoving a banana in his mouth. It wasn't much, but it would have to do until they got to the mall. He threw the peel in the trash, then put his empty mug in the sink and walked towards the door when the knock sounded.

"W-w-when will you be back? I thought we might have dinner," Giles stammered, wondering when he had lost control. *Rosemary would know what to do,* he thought numbly as he again watched Spike's retreating back.

"Not too late. Don't wait up." Then, he was gone. Giles blinked back the tears at finding himself suddenly alone in the house, his hopes of reconnecting with his son dashed once more. He made a mental note to ask Joyce about this Xander Harris, since he was one of Buffy's friends.

He wandered aimlessly around the living room, his gaze coming to rest on the picture above the mantel. Rosemary Giles had been a vibrant, life-loving woman. Her light brown hair hung in gentle waves around her shoulders. Eyes as blue as corn flowers were alive with laughter, and her milk and honey complexion radiated almost from within. The same sharp cheekbones that she had given to her son gave her face an angular appearance, her full mouth always set in a wide smile. She had an inner beauty that made the people around her smile. She always seemed to know the right answer, or what to say in a difficult situation. She never would have let William become so unruly, and she would know how to reign him back in.

Rupert had met her during his junior year at Oxford. She had been backpacking through Europe with a small group of students from the states. They were on their last stop in London, before heading home. He had been walking down the street, nose buried in a book as usual, not noticing the small woman in the flowing purple dress until he had almost run her over. He had stammered over an apology, smiling when she giggled at him. They had spent the next three days in bed. By the fourth, they were married. It was the first impulsive thing he had ever done, and he had never regretted a minute of their eighteen years together. Then, she had gotten sick, her beauty never fading even as the cancer ate her from the inside out. Rupert had been too involved in his own grief over losing the love of his life, to see his son was drowning. Mother and child had been inseparable, and her easy affection had been passed down to her son. However, when she passed, that easiness William had passed with her. Almost immediately, he started to get into trouble at the private school he attended. They finally expelled him when he set fire to one of the bathrooms after improperly disposing of a cigarette. The day after they had buried Rosemary, he had emerged from the bathroom with his hair bleached, and his clothes torn. He'd run the streets all hours, mouthing off whenever Giles tried to question him. It was when he was brought home by the police, for breaking the window of a shop, that Rupert decided it was time to leave. He had decided that he would take his son back to the place that birthed the woman that had loved them both. To California. Both her and William had duel citizenship, she had insisted should he ever wish to live there. So, it was an easy decision to make.

He was just afraid that things weren't going to change, and he had no idea how to fix them.

"I miss you," he told the framed portrait of his wife, running a gentle finger over the lines of her face. "I don't know what to do, Pidge. I'm bulloxing it all up. How do I get him back?" he asked the image. Sighing heavily, he gave it one last longing look, then turned to change. Might as well go to the gallery, and see if there was any work to be done, since he wouldn't see Will for the rest of the day now.

~*~*~

Dawn, Willow, and Buffy laughed together as they rode the escalator down to the main level of the mall. Their arms were laden with bags, all three having studiously saved their allowances for just this purpose. Every two months, they would head out to the mall for a shopping spree, blowing their money on all the trivial things teenagers, and one pre-teen, just HAD to have. Dawn always felt special during these times, because they wouldn't treat her like a kid. They would gossip and laugh, eat lots of junk, and sometimes go see a movie, usually one that Joyce would have disapproved of for Dawn. Buffy would take her into the department stores and use the 'try me' display make-up to help her sister feel older. Stupid sister stuff that always made Dawn happy.

"Hey, isn't that Xander and Spike?" the eleven year old asked, liking the way her heart bounced in her chest at the sight of the blonde. Buffy and Willow turned in the direction Dawn was pointing. Sure enough, coming out of the arcade were the two in question, arms flailing as they raved about whatever game they had been playing.

"Xander!" Willow called, drawing their attention. Wide smiles greeted the girls as they walked over to them.

"Well, if it isn't the three most beautiful ladies in all of the Golden state," Xander exclaimed.

"Oh, surely you mean the world, don't you Xan?" Spike corrected, blue eyes sparkling as they came to rest on Buffy, who seemed to be having trouble breathing again. Willow blushed to the color of her hair and giggled, and Dawn smiled in pleasure.

"Oh, absolutely. How could I have been so foolish?" Xander scolded himself, making a great show of dropping to his knees before the girls. Mortified giggles erupted from them, as the other people in the mall started to stare. "Can you ladies ever forgive me?" he asked imploringly.

"Get up you dork," Dawn exclaimed.

"Oh, you wound me," the brunette exclaimed, clasping both hands over his heart as if he had been shot. Spike snorted from behind him.

"She's right, you are a dork, get up before you run the birds off, and I'm left with just you for company again."

"You know, if it wasn't for the fact that you are incredibly cool, and the ladies all swoon over you, thereby making my chances of scoring better since I hang with you, I would take offense at that." Xander replied, returning to his feet.

"Whatever," Buffy said, rolling her eyes. Her gaze had continually locked with and averted Spike's throughout Xander's pathetic display. Just then, a group of four girls strode up to them. The leader, a tall, leggy brunette with the face and body of a model looked down her delicately tipped nose at them. The three other girls looked like your basic followers. One blond, one redhead, and another brunette, each with practiced looks of bored disdain on their rich bitch features. Cordelia Chase stared directly at Xander, the scathing remark she was about to let loose obviously meant for him. Harmony Kendall, the blonde, stood to her left, arms crossed over her chest, trying very hard NOT to stare at Spike. Tiffany Colbert, a medium height redhead, with oriental features glared at the group from Cordelia's right. The last girl, the brunette, almost mousy looking girl, with wide grey eyes stood just behind the taller girls, her look of disdain not quite as solid as the others.

"God, can't you find a better place to put on your little display of patheticness? Somewhere else, BESIDES the middle of all the premium walking space?" Cordelia snapped, glaring at Xander, then pushing forward to practically knock him out of the way. Willow rolled her eyes dramatically, then mimicked the bane of her existence's words. Spike watched the group leave, flashing a winning smile at the blonde as she passed. He chuckled when she blushed, then hurried off to keep up with her friends. Buffy scowled at his actions, shaking it off when she reminded herself that she had a boyfriend.

"She wants you, man," Spike told Xander. The look on the brunette's face rivaled that of a gasping fish.

"Who? Cordy? Yeah, right. Only in my drea. . .er, uh, nightmares," Xander quickly covered. But he didn't quite wipe the hopeful look off his face. One of Spike's brows shot up, a smirk curving his lip. Dawn felt her heart trip again at the look. Buffy caught herself staring, and Willow nearly laughed out loud. She'd known forever that Xander had a crush on Cordy, he just used his insults to cover it up.

"No, I mean it. The way she looked right at you when she was insultin' us. Then, the deliberate knocking into you," Spike nodded, smiling. "Yeah, she's got it bad."

"You think?"

"Nah. But, it was funny to make you think so." The blonde snorted at the glower his new friend directed at him.

"So, what are you boys doing here?" Willow asked, wanting to change the subject from Cordy and her snot brigade.

"Just killing time. Heading back out to the track tonight," Xander told them. Buffy felt her face flame when Spike's eyes came to rest on her again. "What about you?"

"Shopping," the three girls responded with giggles, brandishing their shopping bags like spoils of war.

"We were thinking about going and seeing a movie," Buffy said, when she finally found her voice.

"Yeah, want to come with?" Willow asked. The two males glanced at each other, then shrugged.

"Don't see why not," Spike answered.

"Yeah. As long as it's not some chick flick. Can't handle Fried Green turnips or whatever."

"Steel Brassiers," Spike offered with a smirk. Xander snorted, and the girls glared.

"Could you two be any more juvenile?" Buffy inquired.

"Probably," they said together. The girls rolled their eyes simultaneously, and Spike briefly wondered if you could get brain damage from doing that too often.

"Well, lead on McDuff," he said, giving a grand sweep of his arm. The trio giggled once again as they moved past the two boys.

"How do you DO that?" Xander whispered as they started to follow them.

"Practice, my friend. Practice."

Chapter 3

“I can’t believe that I let you talk me into this.” Buffy grumbled, following Willow down the packed aisle.  There were only a few seats left, and the red head was moving towards them quickly.  “If mom finds out, she’ll skin us both.  You better not get scared.”  She sat down in the seat and leaned forward to glare around Spike at Dawn, who just rolled her eyes.

“Lighten up, pet.  She’ll be fine.  Won’t you Nibblet?” Spike looked down at the girl, smiling.  Dawn nodded happily, glad that he wasn’t treating her like a little kid.  And he had called her Nibblet!  The fact that he had given her a nickname made her stomach tingle pleasantly.  She settled back in her seat between him and Xander, determined no to get scared.

“Oh, great.” A snotty voice carried from their left.  All heads turned to see Cordelia and the snot brigade standing at the end of the aisle, glaring.  “The only seats left are these.”  She told her cohorts, who sniffed.  Willow and Buffy rolled their eyes and leaned back in their seats, ignoring the girls.  Spike watched Xander as he shifted in his seat, trying hard not to look at the knock out brunette.  She stood at the end, her hands on her trim, linen clad hips, her red skirt near illegal lengths.  The simple white shell she wore hugged her generous curves, allowing Spike to see just WHAT Xander saw in her.  He noticed the little blonde girl behind Cordy, sneaking peaks at him from around her shoulder.  Decided to help his friend out, he smiled winningly at the girl.  Sure enough, his plan worked.  Harmony leaned up to say something to Cordy.  The brunette rolled her eyes, but moved to flop gracefully into the seat next to Xander.  He stiffened, and shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, wide brown eyes riveted to the screen.  When the four finally settled, the lights dimmed, and the obligatory no smoking, and these are the exits in case of emergency announcements came on.  Spike shifted to get comfortable, his hand brushing against Buffy’s on the armrest.   A little thrill sang up his arm at the contact, and he stole a look at her in the dim light.  He was struck again by how beautiful she was.  She sat beside him, eyes riveted to the screen, occasionally whispering something to Willow.  With a smirk, he shifted again, this time deliberately touching her knee.  She stiffened, but she didn’t move away, and he left the backs of his knuckles resting against it.  He smiled, then returned his eyes to the screen to listen to Drew Barrymore tell the phone caller what her favorite scary movie was.

~*~*~

By the end of the movie, Spike and Xander were in heaven.  Several times, starting with the hapless boyfriend who was gutted while his girlfriend watched, their desired ladies had buried their faces in their shoulders to hide from the horror on the screen.  Buffy fingers had continually dug into Spike’s arm, moving lower until she linked her fingers with his in a death grip.  Cordelia had managed to forget that she was supposed to hate Xander, and had linked her arms around his, resting her forehead on his shoulder, letting out a little squeal every time something bloody happened, which had been like every two seconds.  The two males shared a look of male pride over Dawn’s head, satisfied smiles in their lips.  Dawn just watched the screen, her attention riveted to the gore, not noticing how her sister, who had a boyfriend, was draped across Spike.  Willow did, however, and she smiled.  She hated Angel/ She had heard some rumors before he left, about his cheating on Buffy, which was the main reason why she had rallied against Buffy sleeping with him.  But, since she didn’t have any proof, she never said anything to the blonde. Just lent her ear when it was needed, and bashed the man every chance she got.

When the lights came up, realization settled on Buffy, and she quickly disentangled her hand from Spike’s, shooting him an embarrassed smile, before making a show of gathering up her stuff.  Dawn caught the action, and a flash of hurt slid through her eyes.  Cordy’s eyes widened in horror when she realized what she had been doing, and she rose quickly to retreat before any one else noticed.  As she walked away, Xander saw the look she cast over her shoulder back at him, and he noticed it wasn’t as full of as much scorn as usual.  Smiling smugly, he rose, and started the slow procession out of the theater.

Willow snagged Buffy, keeping her back with her.

“So?”  She whispered, russet brows wagging.

“What?” Buffy asked, confusion marring her smooth brow.  Willow rolled her eyes an pointed to Spike’s black clad back.

“Getting the warm and fuzzies for a certain British blonde?”  She asked hopefully.  Buffy looked aghast at the suggestion.

“God, Will.  Of course not.  I don’t cheat.”  She snapped.

“I didn’t suggest that you start, either.  You and Angel haven’t been getting along really well for a while now.  Plus he’s so far away.  I was just thinking that maybe you were ready to move on.  He is cute.” Willow told her.  Buffy felt her temper rise.  She didn’t really know why, but she hated it when she heard her own inner thoughts spoken out loud by someone else.  She glared at the bleached blonde in front of her, what ever he was saying to Dawn making her smile.

“Don’t be ridiculous.  I LOVE Angel.  I’m not going to throw that away just cause I think a guy is cute.  If that were the case I would have dumped him along time ago for Xander.”  She huffed, scowling.

“Okay.   Sorry.  Just, don’t settle, Buffy.”  Willow said, a little hurt by her friends tone.  She moved off to fall into step next to Xander, ready to tease him mercilessly about having to sit next to Cordy.  Dawn moved up to help, and Spike slowed to walk with Buffy.

“Great movie, huh?” Spike asked, pulling out a cigarette as they walked outside into the early evening.

“Yeah, if you like the blood, and horror.”  She sniffed, shifting her bags nervously in her hands.  Despite her objections to Willow, she couldn’t’ deny her reaction to his presence.  It hadn’t even happened this quick with Angel.  She didn’t lose her capability to form speech when Angel looked at her the way Spike was.

Spike chuckled, the sound deep and soft, causing her skin to tingle. She looked up into his eyes and immediately felt like she was in quicksand, sinking fast.  They were bottomless, and perfectly blue, seeming to straight through to the very heart of her.

“It’s not real.  That’s all you have to tell yourself.” He said, taking a deep drag.  She thought briefly about telling him her opinion on smoking and second hand smoke, but, he looked so sexy with it dangling out of lips, that she forgot what she was going to say.  Now she understood why all the censors were going nuts about cigarettes being aimed towards teens, cause, in the right person, it did look cool.

“Yeah.  I guess my imagination is just too good.” She said with a little laugh.  He chuckled again as well, then they fell into a comfortable silence.  Buffy found she liked it.  With Angel, she always felt like she should say something, anything to break the tenseness that always seemed to surround them when they were quiet.

About ten minutes later, the small group came to a stop in front of their house on Revello Drive.  “Thanks for the movie guys.  I had a good time.” Dawn said, smiling brightly at Spike.  He returned her smile, and ran a finger down her cheek.

“The littlest one was the bravest of them all.” He said, smiling.  She smiled again, her tiny face radiant at the compliment.  “Goodnight, Nibblet.”

“Goodnight.” She said, turning and running up the steps so she could write it all down in he diary while it was still fresh.  Willow and Xander stood away from them, hoping that the sparks that were flying around the blondes would catch and smolder.

“You know, she’s got a little thing for you.” Buffy told him, turning to face him.

“Yeah.  Kinda hard not to notice, the way she was sending you death looks and all.”  He said, searching her face.  She blushed, and bit her lip, eyes widening comically.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She said, indignant.

“Yeah.” Was all he said, shifting ever so subtly closer to her.

“Uhm, you ready to start school, on Monday?” She burst out, desperate to change the subject.

“Yeah.  I guess.  Can’t be that much different than the schools in London.  Least I won’t have to wear a Nancy boy uniform.”  Buffy chuckled at the image that popped into her mind, of Spike, his bright hair tousled, wearing a dark blue blazer and pants, with one of those little emblems on the pocket, white shirt and striped tie.  The thought was a bit more appetizing than it should have been.

“I. . .I wanted to say that I’m sorry about your mom.” She immediately regretted it when his face seemed to shut down.  His eyes that were dancing only a moment before got a guarded look in them, and his once relaxed posture turned rigid.

“Thanks.” he bit off, digging for another cigarette.

“I didn’t mean o upset you.” She started, only be cut off by a wave of his hand.

“No, I’m sorry.  Still hurts, you know?”  He gave her a tight smile, and took a deep drag.

“I’d like to hear about her, when you feel like talking.  I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to mom.” She said quietly, placing a gentle hand on his arm.  His face softened once again, and he nodded, a more relaxed smile curling his lip.

“Okay.” He told her, turning to face her.  Willow and Xander were still watching, hopefully inconspicuously, each cheering the blonde couple on.

“Do you think they’ll. . .”Willow left the question hanging, as they moved even closer to each other.  Xander shrugged, a smile playing across his features.

“If they quit playing around, yeah.” He answered, watching Spike angle so his chest was flush with Buffy’s.  They didn’t even seem to realize that they were doing it, their bodies instinctively seeking the others out.  Buffy’s hand was still resting on his arm, and they were barely and inch away from each other now.

Buffy looked up into the slowly darkening eyes of the man in front of her.  He was so handsome, her suddenly numb brain thought.  Her hazel eyes drifted to his mouth, a sudden urge to taste those lips, and see if they were as soft as they looked hitting her.  Spike raised a gentle hand to her cheek, gently rubbing his knuckles along the soft skin he found there.  At the last second, before he dipped his head to kiss her, she seemed to jerk awake, pressing her hand flat against his chest.

“Spike, no.  I have a boyfriend.” She whispered, regret tinging her words.  Anger flared briefly in his cerulean eyes, but, he quickly doused it, reminding himself the he was here, while that jerk was in another city, probably shagging every girl that would spread her legs.  He gave her a breathtaking smile.

“Alright.  Friends, then?” He asked, dropping his hand.  Buffy felt a painful stab of regret lace through her, but, she shook it off.

“I’d like that.” She replied, barely managing to stifle the urge to grab him and kiss him stupid.

Willow and Xander let out the breaths that they didn’t know they were holding with disgust.  So close, yet so far, they thought, turning away to pretend like they weren’t looking when the blondes started over to them.

“Ready mate?” Spike asked, looking at Xander.

“Always.  See you ladies later?”  The brunette asked, itching to get to the track now.

“Yep.  Have fun watching the cars go around in circles.” Willow said, turning to go inside with Buffy.  She was spending the night, and planned on using the time wisely, yet sneakily.  Wouldn’t do to get her best friend pissed off because she just happened to hate her boyfriend.

“Women.  No culture.” Xander said, wondering where he had failed in his duty of educating Willow in all things male.

“See you guys later.” Buffy said, sending one last lingering look at Spike before turning to follow Willow.

“Definitely.”  Spike murmured, flicking his cigarette away to watch the way her jeans molded to her butt.  He jumped when Xander’s hand slapped him in the chest.

“Snap out of it.  You have been shot down.” He reminded him as they started to walk away.

“Nah, not shot down.  Just encountered a little speed bump.” Spike countered.

“Man, you work fast.  You just moved here, and you already have your sights set on someone.”  Xander said.

‘Seize the day.” Was all Spike said.  “No need to hedge around what you want.  Just go for it.” That what his mother always told him.  She had wanted his father from the second she had seen him, and she got him.  Spike was just enough of a romantic to want that for himself.  A wicked smile spread across his face as he looked at Xander.

“I noticed one Miss Cordelia Chase was getting awful cozy with you at the theater.” He said, wiggling his brows.  Xander couldn’t quite keep the smile from forming.

“Yeah, how about that?” Awe laced his words at the remembered feel of her pressing tight against his side, and the way her perfume had dazzled his brain.

“Told you she wanted you.” Spike told him with a smirk.

“You said you were just kidding.”  The brunette accused.

“Just riding you, Xan.  She’s looking to go slumming.  Can tell by the gleam in her eye.”

“Hey!”  Xander didn’t appreciate the ‘slumming’ reference.  Spike rolled his eyes.

“Anyone living off of her street is slumming.  Didn’t mean it personal.”

“Oh.  Right.”  Xander couldn’t fault the logic.

“So, seize that day.  She interested, reel her in.”

“Like you did with Buffy?”  He couldn’t help getting the dig in.  The blond scowled again.

“So, some women take a little more work than others.  But, that’s usually the ones that are worth it.”  His eyes were almost dreamy.  Xander snorted.

“I guess so.  But, I’m not really into getting my manhood eviscerated.  And Cordy is good at it.”

“See, just what I said.  All those nasty little barbs, and scathing looks?  Just think of ‘em like. . .foreplay.”  Xander came to a dead stop at that.

“Foreplay?”  The wicked smile was back at his friends shocked expression.

“Oh, yeah.  Foreplay.”

~*~*~

“Rupert, what are you doing here?”  Joyce asked, as she walked into the gallery.  Giles was sitting at the small desk next to the door, looking over a ledger.

“Just thought I’d see if anything needed to be done.  Will went out tonight, and I didn’t want to putter around an empty house.”  He said, giving her a smile.  Joyce felt sympathy flow through her at the very obvious loneliness that permeated the man’s soul.

“Well, lucky for you, there’s inventory that needs to be done.  Come on.” She told him, slipping off her jacket and walking towards the back. He rose to follow her, happy for the distraction from his thoughts.

“Er, Mrs Summers. . .” He began, following her into one of the rear storage rooms.

“Joyce.” She corrected, moving to retrieve the thick book of packing lists.

“Right, Joyce.   I was wondering, what sort of boy in Xander Harris?  He and Will seem to have hit it off, and I just. . .well, er. . .” Joyce smiled as he faltered for words.

“You want to make sure he’s a good influence?”  She finished for him, settling onto the floor next to a small crate.

“Yes, actually.  William had some problems before we left London, and I really don’t wish for a repeat of them.”  He said, settling on the floor next to her to help.

“I assure you, he’s a good boy.  A little immature sometimes, but he doesn’t get into trouble, and he is loyal to a fault.  He doesn’t have it easy at home, but, he doesn’t let it affect him.”  She informed him, not getting into details.

“I don’t mean to pry. . .”  Joyce smiled at the prim tone of his voice.

“No, I understand.  I asked all the same questions.  However, I do not suggest actually going to meet his parents.  You will leave with such a feeling of disgust.”  She pulled out a small statue of an African god, checked it against her list, then set it aside.

“I don’t understand.”  Joyce sighed, and looked up at him, seeing the same parental worry that she lived with daily.

“Xander’s parents are alcoholics, and I’m afraid that they don’t care very much for him.  It was a sort of, oops, let’s get married sort of situation.  They took it out on him.  According to Buffy, the hitting stopped when Xander got old enough to defend himself.  Of course that doesn’t stop the verbal abuse, or his father going after him after he’s been drinking.  Sometimes Xander wins.  Other times. . .”  Giles appalled expression mirrored her own when she had found out.

“Dear lord.  Why haven’t the authorities stepped in.”  His tone was slightly accusatory.

“I was going to call, get him out of there.  But, Buffy found out, and told him.  He came to me, begging me not to do it.  He didn’t have anywhere to go, and he didn’t want to go into faster care at his age.  He’s almost eighteen.  He said he’s lived with it this long, and they usually don’t notice him anymore, since he’s hardly ever home.  So, I gave in.  He’s at my house almost all the time, anyway, only really going home to sleep and change clothes.  I didn’t see any reason to go through with it.  I would take him in in a second, but, he doesn’t want to impose on me.” She smiled a bit at that.  “So, no Rupert, you have nothing to worry about with him.” She finished, then bowed her head back to her work.  Giles sat back, and absorbed her words.

“Poor boy.” He finally said.  He couldn’t comprehend a parent that didn’t love and protect their children in the way that God intended.  They were gifts to be treasured, not tortured.  He silently decided to do all he could to encourage the friendship, and give the boy another safe haven to go to.

“Yes.  Both of them.  I can’t imagine what it must have been like for William, after his mother died.”  She said, handing him a stack of invoices.

“It was a difficult time, for both of us.  I’m afraid that I didn’t handle it very well.” Rupert admitted, finding it good to have somebody to talk to.

“I know it’s to the same, but after the divorce, I was a wreck.  I was so blinded by the grief of my marriage ending, that I couldn’t see what was happening to my girls.  Their grades started to slip, and they became unruly.  Nothing to drastic, thank god, because I snapped out of it in time to help them before they spiraled to far.  Luckily, the move here was just what we needed.  It gave us a fresh start.  They’ve been doing really well, ever since.  Dawn is still a little shy, but, I figure she will grow out of that as she gets older.  And Buffy. . .well, Buffy can adjust to anything.  She was always resilient.  I’m sure William will be fine.  He’s already made a very good friend, from what I can tell, and that’s always good.”

“Yes, I believe your right.  I just. . .sometimes I don’t know how to talk to him.  Rosemary never had problems with that sort of thing.  She was very open.  And William used to be the same way, until she. . .passed.” The word came out as a whisper.  Joyce smiled at him, her heart clenching at the obvious pain he was in, still.

“I’m sure he’ll be alright.  Just be there for him if he needs to talk, and be persistent.  Let him know who the father is, and who the child is, but don’t go overboard.  He is eighteen, and even though he is still in high school, he should be allowed a certain amount of freedom.  Not to much.” She said with a smile.  “He has plenty of time to do all the stupid things young men do when they are out on their own.  Just love him, Rupert.  That’s really what it comes down to.  And never let him forget that you do.”  Giles nodded, taking off his glasses to scrub them.  He knew she was right, but, affectionate displays never came easily to him.

“Thank you Mrs. Summers. . .Joyce.” He corrected at the look on her face.  “I will think about what you have said.”  He then turned away, and went in search of the box with the number that was imprinted on top of the papers in his hand.  Joyce went back to her list, hoping she had helped.

~*~*~

“Sh.” Xander said, touching a finger to his lips as he let them inside his house.  Spike nodded, and followed him through.  “Ill be right back.” He whispered, darting up the stairs.  They had stopped by because Xander forgot the tickets they had purchased the night before.  Spike rocked on his heels in the foyer, not liking the feeling that was settling over him.  This wasn’t a happy house, he could tell.  Dishes covered the coffee table and beer cans littered the floor.  The furniture was old and worn, stuffing popping out from the cushions of the couch.  Unlike his house, there were no pictures littering the mantle or the end tables.  It had an almost cold feel to it, like the house was just a place to sleep, and not a home.

“What the hell are you doing, boy!”  Spike’s head whipped around at the angry voice wafting down the stairs.  He didn’t hear Xander’s answer, but he did hear the sickening thud of flesh striking flesh.  Just as he turned towards the stairs to do what, he didn’t know, Xander came flying down.

“Come on.” He said, throwing open the door and walking outside.  Spike followed, confusion mixed with fear on his face.  Xander just rushed up the street, not slowing or looking back.  The blonde broke into a trot and caught up with him, pulling him to a stop,

“What the hell was that?” He asked, trying to look in his eyes.  Xander kept avoiding turning his face towards his new friend.  He was so stupid, he never should have forgotten those tickets And he sure as hell should have never taken Spike to the house.  But, as his father said, Xander wasn’t long on brains.

“Nothing.:

“That wasn’t nothing.  I heard someone get punched, and I have suspicion that it was you.”  His blue eyes flashed with anger at that.  In all of his eighteen years, he had never been struck with anything other than a open hand on his butt.  Never more than once, and it never hurt.  It had stopped almost as soon as he could understand the lectures his father was so fond of doling out.

“Look, it was just my dad.  I woke him up.  No big.  Let’s go.”

“Dammit, Xan.  Level with me.”

“Fine, he punched me.  Not the first time, probably won’t be the last.  He was drunk, I know better than to wake him when he’s sleeping it off.  Can we drop it now?”  Xander turned to look at him, and Spike saw the dark bruise starting to form on his jaw.

“Xander. . .”

“I said, drop it.  Do you still want to go or not?  We’re going to miss the green flag.” Xander turned and strode away from him, his shoulder set in an angry slump.  Spike stared after him for a minute, his mind warring over what to do.  Finally, he just followed the brunette, deciding to talk to his father about it later.

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