Speedway (continued)

Chapter 22

Dawn slammed through the door with Buffy hot on her heels. This time, instead of letting the girl disappear upstairs to her room and headphones, she gripped her sister's arm and spun her around. Angry, hazel eyes clashed with equally angry, blue eyes.

"You. Sit. Now." Buffy said, staring holes into the seventeen year old. Dawn hesitated for a second, then turned on her heel with a disgusted huff to flop on the couch. "Don't fucking move," Buffy warned, turning and stalking into the kitchen. If she didn't get away from that brat for just a few seconds, she was going to do something that she would regret. She walked in circles around the kitchen, running her hands through her hair, barely resisting tugging it out by the roots. *Of all the. . .* her mind started, conjuring up the scene that had played out barely a half hour ago.

When Buffy had walked into the office at Sunnydale High School, the first thing she saw was Dawn, sitting in the chair outside of Snyder's office, looking decidedly guilty. She looked up at Buffy for the briefest instant, before finding something on the toe of her shoe extremely interesting. The second thing Buffy saw, was Connor McKenna. Younger brother of one Angel McKenna, ex-boyfriend extraordinare. If it weren't for the fact the Buffy actually LIKED Connor, she would have been even more pissed than she already was, and that was a considerable amount.

"What the hell did you do?" the blonde hissed at her sister, after telling the secretary who she was. Dawn just clenched her teeth so hard, Buffy could practically see the dentist bills in her head. Connor looked extremely guilty, ducking his head, so his longish dark hair covered his face from her view. Buffy looked between the two expectantly, waiting for ONE of them to answer her.

Connor had glanced over at Dawn, and then up at Buffy, opening his mouth as if to spill. Just then, the office door swung open, and his parents stormed in. James and Darla McKenna strode straight past the sputtering secretary as if she were invisible and came to a stop next to Buffy. The older Summers had a hard time keeping the look of annoyance at the children on her face, now that she had to deal with the parents of her former boyfriend. She glared at Dawn for good measure, even though the girl had yet to look at her. Connor had also gone back to brooding at the floor, his face set in a hard mask of teenage rebellion.

"Should have known she'd be involved," Darla sniffed, looking down her nose. Buffy turned and stared openly at the older woman, a gold brow arched into her hair line.

"Excuse me?" she asked, her face daring Darla to say that again. James glared at everybody in the small group, not caring who was the responsible party. He just wanted to get back to work. You don't get paid if you don't work.

"Darla, don't start," he said, turning his dark eyes to his wife. The blonde woman didn't even acknowledge that he had spoken, but she didn't say anything more. So, there the group sat, waiting for Snyder, a tense silence weighing heavily on them. Buffy kept stealing glances at the people who sired her ex and her sister's partner in crime, wondering how two such different people had managed to meet and marry. It was no wonder where Angel and Connor had gotten their dark, handsome looks. They were both the spitting image of their father. But where Angel took after their mother, with all her haughty, hoish ways (it was no secret in town where she spent her Wednesdays, when she was supposed to be playing bridge. She was over at the butcher's shop, playing hide the salami in the back room. That's why Buffy only shopped at Safeway.) Connor was more like his father. Quiet and almost shy, he rarely talked unless asked a direct question, and even then, it was usually monosyllabic. He didn't play football, like Angel did, and he didn't cater to his mother's every whim like his brother did either. He had his own plan, even though nobody knew what it was. And he and Dawn had been best friends since freshman year. Buffy had almost laughed at the irony.

"Mr and Mrs. McKenna, Ms. Summers. Please, come in," Snyder said when he walked out of his office a few minutes later. Buffy wondered who he was trying to fool with his congenial, 'hey, we're in this together' demeanor. Certainly not her, who had only escaped his reign of terror a few short years ago.

After they were all seated in his office, and the teens in question were standing against the back wall, Snyder sat behind his desk, and rested his chin on his steepled fingers.

"I'm afraid I had to call you today, because Connor and Dawn were caught smoking on school grounds," he began, Darla immediately began to sputter, insisting that it was mistake. HER son would never have such a filthy habit. Buffy barely managed not to roll her eyes, allowing them to drift close so she could prepare herself for the rest. James just sat in his usual stony silence, anger plainly written across his features.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. McKenna. It is not a mistake. They were caught, together, by the janitor. But I am afraid that even as serious as this charge is, it was not enough to call you for." Snyder was almost giddy as he said this. Buff had never seen a man so happy to get kids in trouble before. She pushed away several violent thoughts and waited. "You see, they were caught in the boys room on the second floor. Now, where that is a place for Connor, I can assure you, we do not allow our girls into those areas, Ms. Summers." He looked directly at Buffy, his eyes a font of disapproval.

"Maybe the girls room was full," she offered before she could stop herself. The sharp intake of breath to her right, let her know that Darla didn't appreciate her humor. *Oh well, bitch,* she thought nastily.

"That's neither here nor there Ms. Summers. The point is, she had no business being in there. And the only reason we can come up with as to why, is that they were going to engage in something more. . .inappropriate than smoking." Buffy's mouth dropped at that. Just what was that troll implying?

"We so were not," Dawn protested, her slim body shaking with rage. She'd only slipped in there so they could have a smoke. The bathroom was empty, and it wasn't her fault her best friend happened to have a penis. And it was either there or the girls room, but Connor had some weird fear of 'girl spaces'.

"We were only talking," Connor added, saying the most that Buffy had ever heard him say at one time.

Snyder glared at both of them, silencing them, before turning back to the adults.

"Now, seeing just how serious this is, we are going to have to suspend them." That sent Darla off into another tizzy, her annoyingly shrill voice grating on Buffy's last, barely hanging on, nerve.

"Why does our son have to be punished because she's a slut?"

"What the fuck?" The older Summers spat, turning to glare daggers at Darla McKenna. "Who do you think you are? My sister is NOT a slut. Troubled, yes. But not a slut." Snyder had been struck silent by the vulgar word that had fallen from Buffy's mouth, and Darla's mouth had snapped shut with a clack. James didn't react at all, feeling that his wife's assumption about Dawn was wrong.

"Ms. Summers, you will refrain from using that language in this office."

"Or what? You'll suspend me? Sorry, I graduated already," she snapped, sitting up straighter in her chair.

"I expect that sort of talk from Dawn, not her guardian, who is supposed to be an adult." Buffy just looked bored at that, anger simmering just beneath her skin. She was so going to kill Dawn for making her deal with this stupid crap. Snyder blew everything out of proportion, getting his jollies off making kids squirm.

"Oh, I am an adult, Mr. Snyder. Which is why I can speak however I want. How long is she suspended?" She was tired, and wanted to get out of here, before she was tempted to smack him over his balding head with his brass nameplate.

"Three days. And she will not be allowed to make up the work. She will have to take the zeros. And I am afraid that will not bear well with her already sagging grades." That one sentence let Buffy know just what he thought of her parenting skills. She set her chin, and arched her brow at him, staring him down until he looked away. "The same punishment will be applied to Connor as well," he told the McKennas. Darla surged to her feet, her blue eyes snapping with indignation.

"I will be calling the school board, Mr. Snyder. I will not have my son's reputation sullied because of some trampy orphan." *That's it,* Buffy thought, shooting out of her chair.

"Do you believe the stuff that rolls out of your mouth? Or do you just not care? My sister is not a slut, a tramp, unlike some people in this town, or an orphan. And it might do you good to remember that, before you start hurling insults around." The innuendo that Buffy's statement produced was enough to have Darla snapping her mouth shut. Her eyes shot electric sparks as she glared at the younger woman. Buffy smirked, and turned back to Snyder.

"Fine, three days. No makeup. Got it. That all?" Snyder's eyes narrowed at her flippant attitude, his distaste for the woman complete.

"Yes, that's all. Another incident, however, and she could be removed from this school permanently," he warned.

"That won't happen," Buffy promised, turning on her heel and storming out of the office, never questioning that Dawn would be behind her. The car ride home had been done in silence, Buffy too mad to speak, and Dawn too busy acting uncaring.

And now, here they were. Dawn on the couch, waiting for her sister to come back in and let her have it, and Buffy was in the kitchen, fighting the nervous breakdown that was inching closer by the second.

With one more push of her hands through her hair, she took a deep breath and went back into the living room to face her sister.

~*~*~

Dawn sat on the couch, waiting for her sister, trying to keep the look of bored disdain on her face. She knew she was up shit's creek without a paddle, but showing fear was not an option. The fact that she hadn't even been smoking wasn't even brought up. Connor was, as he listened to her tale of seduction gone wrong, trying desperately not to laugh in her face. He got in a couple of "I told you so's" before the janitor busted them, and dragged them straight to Snyder's office.

She could only imagine what Buffy was going to say. She'd royally screwed up, twice, in less than twenty four hours. This wasn't going to be fun. Then again, nothing had been fun between them since their mother died. Dawn had gone straight into 'poor me' mode, making life harder on Buffy than necessary. She knew it, and no matter how many times she had tried to curb it, the pain would make her lash out again, and she would get in trouble once more. She had a feeling that this was it, though. Buffy wasn't going to put up with her crap anymore. She just didn't know how far her sister would go to prove it.

Dawn looked up when Buffy walked in the room, the fury radiating off of her in waves. Giving a large huff, she shifted, and slung her jean clad leg over the other one, looked away, fighting the fear that clawed at her chest.

"Dawn. Look at me." Buffy's voice was calm. Dead calm, and that sent another rush of apprehension through the young girl. Forcing an eye roll, she looked over at her sister, and arched a brow.

"What?" she snapped, hoping she still looked bored.

"Don't 'what' me, little girl. You are in so much trouble right now, you're going to need a forklift to get out of it. I've tried to be understanding, Dawn. I really have. But, now, I'm done. There is no more understanding. You have been acting like a spoiled, self centered little brat since Mom died." Grief lanced through both of them at the mention of Joyce, but Buffy pushed past it and went on. "This is not the first time you and Connor have gotten busted doing something stupid, and I'm tired of it. Yes, our mother died. It sucked. And we both miss her. But, Dawnie, life doesn't stop because someone dies, no matter how much you think it should. Maybe you should have asked Spike about that last night instead of trying to play grown up and sleep with him." Dawn's face flamed at that, and she looked away. Tears burned behind her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to get rid of them. "I'm not going to ask what you were thinking with that little stunt, because I know what you were thinking. I hope you realize now how wrong you were, and that you could have possibly destroyed a very special friendship." She waited a beat for an answer, not really expecting any. Sighing, she started to pace, gearing up for the big guns.

"There's going to be some changes around here," she began, using her fingers to tick them off. "First, you will start helping around the house more, and cooking dinner at least twice a week. I have a full time job, plus I have to help at the gallery when Giles needs it, so you need to start doing your share. Second, homework is to be done, and shown to me every night before you even think about getting on the phone. That is, when I decide to give you that privilege back. Third, if your grades don't start to show improvement by the next report card, you can forget about Prom." Dawn started to protest at that, but the words died when Buffy leveled her livid hazel eyes at her. "And, finally. If you ever pull another stunt like the one you did last night, or get in trouble at school one more time, I will call the social worker myself." Dawn's eyes widened to comical proportions at that.

"You wouldn't," she gasped, her lip starting to tremble. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Buffy would willingly send her to foster care? Impossible.

"Try me. I'm tired of this Dawn. And maybe I'm not the right person to be raising you if you hate it here so much. It's up to you." There, she was finished, and she had actually gotten the threat out. She had started to waver on it, before the call from Snyder had come in. Now, she knew it was needed. Dawn had to be let in on the fact that she couldn't do whatever she wanted and not pay the consequences.

"I hate you," Dawn spat, tears leaking from her eyes. Buffy merely tilted her head to the side, and regarded her with cool eyes.

"And I'm all you've got," she said simply, the truth hitting Dawn painfully in the heart. She was right, she knew, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow.

"Fine," she spat, pushing up from the couch and stalking upstairs, needing to get away from her sister. Buffy let her go, feeling the fight drain out of her. She hadn't meant to be that harsh, but dammit, that girl had to learn. With a tired sigh, Buffy went over the couch and sank down into the soft cushions, wondering just when life got so complicated.

~*~*~

"Well, er, Anya. I was wondering i-if maybe, you would like to join me for dinner after work," Rupert asked his reflection in the tiny mirror in his office. He scowled at his trial run, wondering why he sounded like such a git. *Because you are a git, old chap,* he told himself. He couldn't believe that he was looking at his reflection, and practicing asking a woman out on a date. No, not date. Just dinner between co-workers. That's all. Right.

Giles was feeling like a foolish old man. He hadn't done this in years, and the last time eye had gone out with a woman, had been with Rosemary. There had been nobody since, and he had been relatively sure that there would be nobody after. But then, Anya had started making her intentions known. Nothing overly obvious. Just a brief touch here, or a well placed word there. He did find her classically beautiful, and she was witty and smart. They often had conversations about the art that filled the gallery, and he found her knowledgeable. He didn't know why, but he felt comfortable enough around her to tell her what he had done to his son that morning, and they had shared a chuckle over it.

The only thing that Giles was still having a problem with, was their age difference. He was almost forty six, and she couldn't be much older than Will. He felt like a dirty old man when he allowed himself to entertain thoughts of the romantic nature, and he didn't know if he would ever get over it. Not to mention, he was terrified of what his son might think about him dating another woman. They had never talked about the possibility, both believing that it would never come up. But now that it had, Rupert was afraid that his child would turn on him.

"Rupert?" Giles spun around guiltily, and watched her enter his office. She looked stunning in her peach suit, her hair done up in a twist, and her makeup done with a light hand. She knew how to enhance her beauty, without making it look overdone.

"Er, y-y-yes, Anya. What is it?" he stammered. She smiled at the nervous habit, and handed him a clipboard. She was hoping he'd get over his shyness soon and ask her out. She didn't think that he would survive if she took the initiative.

"I need you to sign off on the new shipment of Incan pottery," she told him, raising her eyebrows expectantly, when all he did was stare. Giles blushed when he realized what he was doing, and immediately looked down at the clipboard in his hand, fumbling for a pen.

"Of course." He quickly signed the paper and handed it back to her, their fingers brushing during the transfer. Their eyes locked at the surge of electricity that shot up their arms, and they stared for a long moment.

When it became apparent that he wasn't going to say anything, Anya gave him a smile and turned to walk away. She vowed to herself that she would give him another week, then she was going to ask him out herself.

"Anya?" he called, not allowing himself to think. She turned slowly back to him, the discreet slit in her skirt exposing her leg up to her thigh. She smiled when she saw his eyes drop to study the limb before looking back up at her.

"Yes, Rupert?"

"Would you have dinner with me tonight?" he asked, amazed how easily the question flowed from his lips. Her smile spread wide, taking his breath away.

"I would love to." She gave him a long, lingering look, then turned to leave to the office. Giles stood watching her, his own smile curling his lip.

Chapter 23

Spike sighed heavily, running a hand through his newly shorn, and recently bleached locks.  Part of Cordy's plan was to get him looking 'human' again, and she had dragged him out of the house and straight to the hair salon.  She had even decided to have the rather large, very gay hair dresser, Rolf, dye his hair.  But not just pure white, like usual.  No, she had him dye the roots a darker gold, giving his hair highlights.  Spike hadn't been too sure about it, but he could admit that it looked pretty good.  Not as harsh against his skin, which wasn't as tanned as it usually was.  Months of hiding in doors had given him an almost pasty look.

Next thing she did was hand him a paper and told him to find an apartment.  Nothing was as uncool as a guy who still lived with his father.  He'd rolled his eyes, but smiled at the soft barb, and started looking.  The third thing she did was take him to lunch (well, actually, he took her.  She picked the place.) And reminded him of just who he was before the wreck.  That he was still that person, and that's who Buffy had fallen in love with.  Not the racecar driver.  Then, she had told him, all he had to do to get the girl was be there.  When she went to work, show up and take her to lunch.  If she was at home, stop by 'just to say hi'.  She told him to basically be annoying, and Buffy would take him back just to get him to shut up.  He hadn't taken too kindly to that, but then he had noticed the mirth dancing in her eyes.  Even Jazz had laughed at him, sharing a very feminine look with her mother.

Then she had turned serious, looking him dead in the eyes, and saying, "just remind her of all the reasons why you two fit, and it will be an easy decision for her." He could see that she wasn't just talking about Buffy.  He'd smiled, and patted her hand, nodding his understanding.

The their amazement, and Cordy's amusement, their day out hadn't gone uninterrupted.  Several times through the day, Spike had been stopped.  Fans wanting autographs and wanting to give him support had recognized him and stopped him.  Cordy watched as he signed papers, bags, and shirts, anything they had handy.  He talked directly to each of them, looking them in the eye as he spoke, flirting shamelessly with the girls, no matter what they looked like.  He would then move on, making the whole process look seamless, and natural, and leaving the person or persons with a smile.  He really was great with the fans.

He would then give her a sheepish smile, and they would continue walking, until the next person came up.

Cordy could tell that he loved it, and was humble enough to appreciate the people that liked to watch him race.  Granted, she never would have put the words humble and Spike together, but it was nonetheless true.

After lunch, and she had watched him to make sure he ate every bite, he had kissed her cheek and told her to go on without him.  He would walk home.  She had smiled, and told him to come to dinner on Friday.  He'd said he would, then swept Jazz up in his arms for a final spin and kiss, then put her in her seat in the car.  He'd watched as the car pulled away, staring at it long after she'd disappeared down the street.

Now, an hour, and at least ten autographs, later he was standing in front of All Auto Repair.  He looked into the open bays, seeing the men in standard mechanic's uniforms running around.  The only one he didn't see was Xander.

"Can I help you?”  Spike jumped when a voice erupted from the side of him, his blind spot making it impossible to see the man that had walked up to him.  He scowled, but turned to look at him.

"Yeah, I'm looking for Xander Harris.”  The short, dark haired man looked at him, a flicker of recognition passing through his murky, brown eyes.

"Hey, aren't you Spike Giles?" he asked.  Spike put on his best smile, feeling a little worn out from all the recognition.

"Yeah," he answered simply, taking the hand that had been thrust out at him.  He then fished for his cigarettes, lighting one as the other man looked at him.

"Wow, this is so cool.  You know, I knew Xander knew you, but I never expected you to actually show up here.”  The man with the name tag of Harry beamed at him.  "Man, I saw that accident.  That sucked.”  Spike nodded in agreement, hoping that he would tell him where Xander was soon.  "Is it true you can't see?”  Harry asked bluntly.  Spike huffed out a plume of smoke, his mouth setting into a grim line.

"I can see.  Just not to the side of me.  Can you tell me where Xander is?" he asked again.

"Wow.  Guess that makes it hard to drive.  You think you'll ever get back in a racecar?”  Harry asked, as if he hadn't heard Spike.

"I dunno.”  Spike took another drag, trying to reign in his building anger.  The other people he had met today hadn't been this pushy.

"Well, sorry to hear that.  You were damn near the best," the shorter man finished.

"Harry, how's that transmission coming?”  Spike turned towards the sound of the familiar voice, and watched as Xander came into view around the old Buick that was up on the lift.  He looked up from the papers in his hand to look at Harry, and stopped dead when he saw Spike.

"Spike."

"Hello, mate.”  Spike dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it out with his boot, then walked over to the brunette.

"Hey.  What're you doing here?" he asked, taking in the changes in his friend.  He didn't know that Spike looked decidedly better than he did that morning, he just knew he looked like shit right now.

"Can't come and see a friend?”  Spike's tone was just a shade of hurt.  Xander snapped out of his surprise and managed a smile.

"Hell yeah.  It's good to see you, man," he said, holding out his hand, his smile becoming wide and genuine.  "You look like shit.”  Spike snorted, and took the proffered hand, grinning himself.

"Yeah, Cordelia already told me.”  Xander's smile faded the second his wife's name was mentioned, and he dropped his eyes.

"You've seen Cordy?" Spike studied the bent head, wondering why Xander was putting himself through so much pain.

"Yeah.  She came out see me this morning."

"Why?”  The blonde raised a shoulder, and arched his scarred brow.  "She didn't send you here to talk to me, did she?”  Spike didn't confirm or deny, just slid his gaze to the very interested Harry.  Xander got the hint, and turned to the man, handing him the papers in his hand.  "This needs to be done by closing today.  If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office."

"Yep.  Good to meet you," Harry said, giving Spike a salute before turning away.

"Come on.”  Xander turned and walked through the garage, Spike right behind him.  Once they were in the tiny office, the brunette shut the door, and waved to one of the chairs in front of the steel, over piled desk in the middle of the room.  The clothes slung over the couch under the window, as well as the pillow and blanket sitting on the edge was testament to where he had been sleeping at night.  Spike just shook his head as he sat, leveling his blue eyed gaze on his friend.

"So, what did Cordy say?”  Xander didn't waste any time getting to the point.

"Not much.  Just that you were acting like a wanker, and I should get down here and kick your arse home.”  Spike didn't waste any time either.  Xander scowled and stared down at the pen he was twisting in his fingers.

"It's not that simple, Spike," he started, only to look up sharply when Spike huffed.

"Don't see why not.  She's your wife.  Your daughter's there.  Do you still love em?"

"Don't be stupid.  Course I do."

"So, what the hell are doin' here.  Go home, kiss your kid, make love to your wife, and act like a husband, a father.”  Anger flared through the brunette's eyes, the beginnings of their first argument ever simmering in the air.

"Oh yeah.  And just where have you spent the last six months of your life?  Huh?  Seems I recall Giles calling me a couple a months ago and saying you were living in the bottom of the bottle.  You haven't concerned yourself with anything outside of that for quite a while.  Why start now?”  Spike's eyes narrowed at that.

"Since Cordy showed up at my house this morning asking for my help.  What about you?  Haven't exactly seen you coming out to call on your old pal Spike.  Too wrapped up in your little poor me act, I suppose."

"You don't know a damn thing about it," Xander snapped, fisting his hands in front of him.  Spike merely arched a brow at him.

"I know you're tearing yourself up inside because you nearly hit your wife.”  The sentence hung in the air between them.  Xander hadn't even said it out loud to himself, and to have it fall so casually from Spike's lips angered him more than he could account for.  The blonde watched the fury as it passed over his friend's face, a thoughtful expression on his own.  "Pissed you off, did I?"

"Fuck you," was all Xander could get out.  He was nearly shaking with the raging emotion inside of him.  "What the fuck do you know about anything? You got the life you wanted.  You're rich, and good looking, and all you can see is what's gone.  You lost the ability to drive, not live," he spat.

"I didn't get the life I wanted.  I got part of it.  But not all of it." Spike glared at Xander, then pulled out a cigarette.  The two men stared at each other over the flame as he lit the tip, slapping the lighter closed forcefully.  "You got a lot of room to talk.  Seems you're always looking for a reason to run scared.  And the road always leads back to Tony Harris.  When does he stop running your life for you, man? When do you get to do it? When does he stop being an excuse?" Each question was punctuated by a plume of smoke rushing from Spike's lips as he fought to keep his temper back.  "You're fucking up your life because of something that was done TO you, not BY you.  Get over it, and move on.  Go beat the snot out of something.  Go to a meeting.  I dunno, just get rid of the baggage, and see the good that's in your life."

"GOD DAMMIT SPIKE!" Xander roared, surging to his feet.  "I almost hit Cordelia.  The woman that I vowed to love, honor, and protect.  I raised my hand and almost let it fly."

"You seem to keep missing the word almost.  As in didn't.  And from what she tells me, she never thought you would do it."

"It doesn't matter.  What if I can't stop it next time?  What if I turn into.  .  ."

"Tony?”  Xander nodded, glaring down at his desk.  "Like I said, man.  You gotta stop living in the shadow of what was done to you.  You're not your father.  You almost hit her.  You didn't.  Be thankful that you had the presence of mind to pull back.”  Spike flicked some ashes on the floor watched Xander intently for any sign that he was getting through.  "Do you want your marriage?" he asked finally.  Brown eyes met blue while Xander nodded without hesitation.  Of course he wanted his marriage.  That wasn't the problem.  "Then, instead of running away from it, run to it.  Let her help you heal.”  Spike could see the tears starting to swim behind Xander's eyes, and decided maybe that was enough for today.  He leaned forward and crushed the cigarette out in a can on the desk, and stood.  "Don't throw away your life on a bunch of 'what ifs'.  Go home, take care of your wife and kid, and let go of the crap.  It's been a long time already, Xan.  Don't wait too long.”  The brunette didn't say anything as the blonde stood to leave.  They looked at each other for a long minute, then Spike turned, and headed for the door.

"What about you?  Going to follow your own advice?"

"Wha?”  Spike asked turning back.  A smile tugged on Xander's lip.

"Get rid of the baggage, and see the good in your life.  It has been a long time, Spike.”  An image of Buffy, flushed and willing against the door of his father's apartment flashed through the blonde's mind, and he smiled.

"Yeah.  It has been.  Thankfully, I don't think it was too long.”  With a wave at his friend, he turned and left, thoughts of going home abandoned.  Xander watched him go, thoughts spinning in mind.  Before he could talk himself out of it, he picked up the phone and punched in the number for his house.

~*~*~

Spike strolled down Revello Drive, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.  His plan was to apologize for being such a git the night before, then try to cajole an invitation to dinner.  That was if the fiancé wasn't there.  He'd have to rethink if he was.  He whistled lightly under his breath as he took the front steps two at a time, rocking on his heels while he rang the doorbell.  He was about ready to ring it again when the door swung open, revealing her to his hungry gaze.

"Spike," she gasped, her eyes sliding towards the kitchen.  *Ah, he's here,* Spike thought, forcing a smile.

"Hello, pet.  Just wanted to stop by and apologize for last night.”  He presented her with the bouquet of flowers, smiling at the look of delight that crossed her features.

"Thank you.  They're lovely.  But, you didn't have to.  We were both a little wrong last night," she said with a smile.  "Hey, you got a haircut," she noticed, narrowing her eyes to study the color.  "And is that highlights I see?" her tone was teasing.  She giggled when he glowered.

"Yeah, Cordy's idea," he grumbled, picking at a piece of chipped paint on the door frame.

"Well, I like it," Buffy approved, giggling again at his pleased expression.  The butterflies were having a field day in her stomach, and she remembered what a pleasant feeling just flirting with Spike was.

"Buffy?  Who is it?" a masculine voice called from the kitchen, making Spike's smile fade.

"That him?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction it came from.  Buffy nodded, looking at him apologetically.

"Yeah.  Can you.  .  ." she started, taking a deep breath.  Spike looked at her expectantly, tilting his head to the side as he waited.  "Can you give me a few days to think?”  His eyes widened a bit and a smile of electric intensity spread across his face as her meaning sunk in.

"Come out here," he demanded, stepping back so she could do so.

"Spike, I can't.  Riley's here," she stammered.

"You either step out here and close the door so he can't see me kiss you silly, or I can do it right now, with you in full view of the dining room, should he come looking for you.

"Riley, I'll be right back, okay?" she called, stepping outside quickly, a look of panic crossing her face.  As soon as the door closed, she was in his arms.  She put her hand up to still his head as he lowered it to kiss her.  "Spike.  Come on.  This isn't right.  He's right inside," she protested, gasping when his tongue slid out to tease her fingers.

"Just want to give you something to think about," he purred, tightening his arms around her.

"Oh, I have plenty to think about without the help.  Thanks.  Really, no.  I can't do this.”  Spike growled, but unbelievably, understood.  He'd be ready to rip out that poof's heart of he attempted to do the very thing that he was doing now.  Besides, he was confident in what her choice would be.  With a sigh, he brushed his lips across her forehead.

"Alright, luv.  But don't make me wait too long." Her eyes grew incredulous at that.

"Cocky bastard." Spike leered at that, his lip curling seductively.

"You know it, baby."

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better now.  I think.  What brought on the new outlook?" Spike snorted, and stepped away from her.

"I think getting continually kicked in the teeth by everybody over the last twenty four hours, did a good job of rattling my brain."

"Somebody besides me went after you?" she said with a smile.

"Yeah.  Dad had a go, and so did Cordy.  Even Xander got in a few well placed barbs."

"You saw him?" Her face was hopeful for a brief instant, then turned angry.  "Not like he has a lot of room to talk."

"No, he doesn't.  Don't worry, pet.  I gave as good as I got," he assured her.  "Hopefully he's at his house, right now, doing some overdue arse kissing.”  Buffy chuckled at that, and glanced down at the flowers.

"Thanks, again.  I need to get back inside.”  She waved her hand towards the door, and gave him a shy smile.  He returned it, and ran the backs of his knuckles over her cheek.

"Alright.  I'll be off then.  Have to go flat hunting tomorrow."

"Settling down for awhile?”  She tried not to sound too hopeful.  His smile widened into a grin.

"Yeah."

"Good." Buffy dropped her eyes, hoping her face wasn't as bright red as it felt.  When she looked back up at him, her breath was stolen by the intensity in his eyes.  "I, uhm, need to go in," she said, her tongue darting out to moisten her suddenly dry lips.  A deep groan reverberated from Spike's chest at the action.  He managed to restrain himself from pulling her to him, and plundering her mouth, fiancé inside or not.

"Yeah, I think you better, if you don't want to give him a show." He captured his lip between his teeth, and dragged his eyes over her body, making her feel like he could see right through the thin cotton top she was wearing, and the denim capris.  She felt herself flush again at the boldness of his gaze, and backed up a step.

"Yeah.  Uhm, yeah," she stammered, giggling again, and feeling like an idiot school girl.  She hadn't even acted this bad around him in high school.  "I'll talk to you.  .  .  later," Buffy burst out.  Spike chuckled at her, and pushed away from the railing.

"Goodnight, luv."

"Night." With one last look, she slipped inside, closing the door with a quiet click.  Spike trotted down the stairs, a spring in his slightly limping step.  He found himself whistling again as he headed towards his father's, for once, the fuzziness on the edges of his sight not bothering him.

~*~*~

"Was that him?”  Riley asked when she walked back inside.  He was standing in the doorway between the living room and the foyer, his big hands on his lean hips.  She looked at him, guilt flaring bright in her eyes at the thought that she had just been flirting with her ex on the porch, while her fiancé stood inside, waiting.

"Yeah.”  Buffy averted her gaze, finally remembering the flowers in her hand.  "We had a really big fight last night, when I went to get Dawn.  And he was just apologizing," she explained, turning to head towards the kitchen for a vase.  Riley followed her, reigning in his jealousy as best he could.  Never in the last twelve months that they had been together, had he seen the particular look of happiness on her face that she had when she first walked inside.  Again, a feeling of dread started to lace it's way through his heart.

"Well, that was nice," he mumbled, leaning against the door jamb in the kitchen.  Buffy's eyes flicked to him, then away, while she opened cabinets to find the vase.

"Yeah," was all she offered, turning to fill it with water.  She concentrated fully on her task, her mind running on all cylinders as she arranged the flowers in the crystal.

"I love you," he said suddenly.  She looked up at him sharply, hearing the underlying desperation in his voice.  He waited a beat for her to answer, then turned on his heel.

"Riley, wait.”  She rounded the table to go after him, barely catching him before he stormed out the door.  "Riley.”  She looked up at the tense line of his jaw, the angry set of his face, willing him to look at her.

"What, Buffy?" he ground out, pinning her with eyes so cold, they nearly froze her.  "What are you going to try to make me believe?”  She opened her mouth, but found no words would come.  She saw the tears collecting in his eyes, and felt the answering ones in hers.  She'd never wanted to hurt him.  "You know...”  He took a deep breath, looking at the door briefly before returning his eyes to hers.  "I always knew, that if he ever came back, that would be it.  I didn't want to admit it.  But I knew."

"Riley, it's not like that.  .  ."

"Isn't it?”  He harshly cut her off, his clipped Iowa tones becoming sharper.  His body was practically singing with tension as he felt his heart start to shatter in his chest.  "Then what is it?  Are you still in love with him?”  She didn't answer, knowing that whatever she said would be wrong.  Besides, she had no excuse.  He let out a disgusted breath, his hand fisting on the doorknob.  "You never should have said you would marry me," he accused.

"You're right.  I shouldn't have.  I'm still so confused about him.  .  ."

"No, you're not.  That's the thing.  You've never been confused when it came to him.  You just wanted to believe that you were.  He's always right here.”  He tapped a finger against her heart, then against her forehead.  "And here.  There's no way you can be confused.”  Tears slid down her cheeks at the absolute desolation on his face.  How could she have done this?  Buffy looked down at the hand resting on his arm, saw the ring glinting in the light.  Taking the hand away, she pulled it off, looking at it for a long time, feeling his eyes burning into the top of her head.  She didn't look at him as she held it out, feeling the worst form of coward.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she felt him take it.  He looked down at her bent head, his throat closed with hurt.

"I am too," he told her, his voice rough.  She dared to glance up at him then, nearly reeling back from the anger, and the pain, swirling in his eyes.  "Goodbye, Buffy.”  Without another word, he twisted the doorknob and left, the slam shaking the very walls.

"Buffy?”  Dawn's voice came from behind her, startling Buffy.  The blonde turned to look at her sister, the look of anguish in her hazel eye erasing all memories of being mad at her away.  In three steps, Dawn was down the remaining steps, wrapping her older sister in her arms, holding her while she cried.  Whispered words of comfort filled the air, while Buffy sobbed out her guilt over hurting Riley.

Chapter 24

Xander leaned against his car, staring at the brick front of his house. Cordy had been busy the past couple of weeks, planting flowers underneath the windows and along the walk. She always liked color. She must've cut the grass herself, he thought guiltily. He hadn't been here to help her, like he should have been. Sighing heavily, he pushed away from the car and started up the walk, his heavy work boots clumping on the pavement. The door swung open when he was within a foot of it, and a pink clad flurry of curls streaked down the walk towards him.

"Daddy!" Jazz shrieked, launching into her father's arms. He scooped her up in one fluid motion, gathering her close and holding her tight. "I missed you Daddy."

"I missed you, too, baby." He closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck, breathing deep the comforting little girl smell that he had been missing. Her tiny arms wrapped tight around his neck, as she attempted to squeeze the breath out of him.

"Dinner's ready. If you want to eat." Cordy's voice drifted to him, and he opened his eyes, hungrily drinking in her slim form. She leaned against the jamb, dressed in her usual home attire of frayed jean shorts and one of his old t-shirts. Her sleek hair was pulled back in a short pony tail, and she was barefoot.

His eyes never left her as he put Jazz back down and let her pull him up the walk. Cordy studied him as he advanced, resisting the urge to run to him, and never let him go. He had to make the first move. When they stopped in front of her, she glanced down at the little girl who was looking up at her father with adoring eyes.

"Honey, go wash up for dinner," she told Jazz, smiling indulgently at the pout.

"You still be here when I gets back?" she asked her father, worry marring her tiny brow. Xander's heart clenched at the look on her innocent young face, and he nodded, vowing silently to never allow that look to cross her face again.

"Yeah, princess. I will." Her smile was brilliant at that.

"Okay." She let go of his hand and took off past her mother to the bathroom. Cordy chuckled at her daughter's antics then looked back at her husband. He was staring at her with a combination of want, fear and regret.

"Cordy, I'm sorry," he told her, stepping closer. Their bodies were brushing, and she felt a familiar ache start in the pit of her stomach. She remained stubbornly leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed over her chest.

"You should be," she told him, leaning her head to the side. "You hurt us both, badly." He dropped his eyes to the ground, guilt tearing him up.

"I know. What can I do, to get you to forgive me?" She contemplated him for a minute, thinking about her answer.

"Tell me you love me, everyday. A thousand kisses a day, as well as some groveling. I think you need to join one of those support groups, for children of abusers. And finally..." She took a deep breath, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Just don't leave, ever again. Because next time, I'm going to hunt you down and cut off your protruding parts." Xander had the decency to flinch at this, even as a smile crept across his face. He closed the remaining inch between them, and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. They both sighed at the contact, having gone without it too long.

"I promise. Now, let me get started with those first two provisions. I love you." Her hands glided up his arms to link behind his neck, as his head dipped. "One," he whispered before he closed his mouth over hers. What was meant to be a gentle kiss quickly turned ravenous. Dual moans filled the air as they both opened for the other. Tongues battled fiercely as hands skimmed over any exposed flesh they could find. Neither cared what kind of show they were putting on for the neighbors, both just happy to be home again. It wasn't until Cordy felt the gentle tugging on the hem of her shirt that she broke the kiss, her breath coming in heaving gasps, to look down at the upturned face of their daughter.

"Mommy, I'm all wassed," she said, smiling up at them. Cordy licked her lips and joined Xander in his chuckle. She rested her temple against his chin, her eyes drifting closed while she relished the feeling of being back in his arms again.

"Okay, baby. Let's go set the table, shall we?" Jazz nodded and darted back into the house.

"Come on, Mr. Harris. Dinner awaits." She pulled out of his arms and took his hand, pulling him through the open door.

"Right behind you, Mrs. Harris," he answered, swinging the door shut behind the tiny family.

~*~*~

Dawn lay sprawled across her bed, listening to the sound of her sister move around her room. She didn't know how long they had sat in front of the door, Buffy crying in her arms. Her heart had broken for her sister, not even knowing the full story of what had happened. She figured it had something to do with Spike. She had seen him coming up the walk, carrying a big bouquet of flowers.

Dawn had snuck down the stairs, prepared to see a fight, and instead had seen a very devastated Riley looking out the living room window at the couple on the porch. He hadn't seen her when he walked back across the foyer, turning when the door opened. Buffy had looked up when Riley had asked her if that was Spike, guilt written all over her face. Dawn, at the time, had still been mad enough at her sister to delight in the possible blow up that was sure to happen. Then, they had walked into the kitchen, taking their discussion there. The seventeen year old had huffed, and started back up the stairs, only to whirl around again at the sound of Buffy's voice calling for Riley. She'd spun around, nearly losing her balance and falling down the stairs to watch as the engagement imploded right before her eyes.

What Riley had said about Buffy never being confused about Spike had struck a chord in her. She realized the truth of it, and felt her heart break once more. Even though she had vowed to get over Spike after her mortification of the night before, it still hurt to know that, no matter what, he would have never been hers. That had brought on another surge of anger, and she was prepared to hate her sister for eternity now. Until she saw Riley take his ring from her fingers, his look of longing nearly taking her breath away. Then, he had walked out, leaving Buffy to crumple. Dawn's anger had drained out of her at the sight of her sister so upset, and she had called her name, immediately going to her when she saw the misery on the blonde's face.

Buffy had never meant to hurt Riley, Dawn knew that. She even thought that Riley probably knew that. It didn't make it any easier to deal with, but it was truth.

After Buffy had calmed, she had managed a sad smile, asking Dawn if she could handle getting something to eat. Once the teenager had said sure, Buffy disappeared upstairs to the sanctuary of her room. Dawn had gone into the kitchen, squelching the flare of jealousy she had at the sight of the flowers sitting in their mother's favorite crystal vase. Instead, she went over to them, and finished arranging them, making sure the water level was right before taking it out to set it on the table by the door. Satisfied, she had gone back into the kitchen and threw together a sandwich and something to drink, then had gone up to her own room.

Now that she was done eating, she was left to stare up at her ceiling, thinking about everything. She couldn't use the phone since she had gotten suspended, and as much as she hated it, homework would have at least been a diversion. She couldn't watch tv. Buffy had come in right before Riley came over to take out her stereo. The only things she had were her books and art supplies. She didn't exactly feel inspired, and since the night before, the thought of reading a romance didn't settle well either. So, here she was, clutching a pillow to her stomach, bored out of her mind, and dwelling on problems that weren't hers. Life sucked.

She had gotten so used to the quiet, that when the soft tapping at her window started, she nearly jumped out of her skin, a squeal of surprise bursting from her lips. She shot up into a sitting position, head cocked to the side as she listened. When it happened again, she slid off the bed, pausing to pull on a pair of shorts over her plain, cotton panties. She moved slowly, eyes scanning the room for a weapon. She spotted a small trophy that she had won in an art contest two years before, and snatched it up, testing it's weight in her hand. Satisfied that it would at least leave a nice dent in Jack the Ripper's head, she continued towards the window, reaching it just as the tap came again, this time more insistent.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached out to pull back the curtain, letting out the breath she had been holding with a whoosh when she saw Connor.

Rolling her eyes, she put the trophy down with a crack, and unlocked the window.

"You scared the shit out of me," she hissed, leaning out the window to make sure her sister's was closed. She then swung her legs out the window, and slid outside to sit next to him on the roof.

"Sorry," he mumbled, pulling out a cigarette. She found herself staring at him when he flicked the lighter, appreciating the smooth plains of his face. She'd noticed herself doing this more and more. Actually seeing him as a guy, instead of her best friend. That was becoming a little disturbing.

The fact they had become friends was almost funny. They had met the first day of high school, since they had the same homeroom. She had disliked him on principle, since he was the younger brother of the guy that had cheated on her sister. However, they had been paired together on a project, and that had made sure that they'd had to work together for a month. By the end of the month, she had come to realize that Connor was nothing like Angel, in fact, Connor actually hated his older brother more than Buffy did. He was always the one who did everything right in his parents' eyes, while Connor always felt like the odd man out. It was no wonder that Angel was the spoiled brat he was, while his younger brother was more concerned with what went on around him.

"S'ok." She pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them, resting her cheek against them. "What're you doing here?" He looked over at her, his expression lost to her in the darkness.

"Didn't want to be at home anymore. Mom and Dad are going at it pretty good," he told her, his voice rusty from lack of use. She knew, by the time he left, it would be smooth and deep. She was the only person he talked to, choosing to stay mostly silent with other people.

"They're still wigging about today?" He nodded, his face illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette. He turned his head away to expel the smoke, not wanting to blow it in her face. Her brow furrowed when he did it, she had the memory of Spike doing the same thing around Buffy. She wondered if she was seeing too much in the small action, not sure whether she wanted to or not.

"Mom's been shrieking since we got home. I just tune her out," he said casually. She knew he wasn't as unconcerned about it as he liked to put off. His mother barely tolerated him most of the time, only really paying attention to him when he got into trouble, which wasn't very often. James didn't quite know what to think of his quiet, younger child, but he at least made more of an effort than Darla did. "Buffy freak too bad?" Dawn shrugged a shoulder.

"Pretty much. Even threatened to call the social worker if I got into trouble again. She told me my grades have to improve or no Prom."

"That's actually fair," he said, chuckling when she huffed.

"What about you?"

"I dunno. Can't see me getting too much. Mom just likes to freak for awhile. Figure by the time I get home, she'll have forgotten all about it." His voice was bitter, and she felt her heart squeeze for him. She had only ever known her mother's love, never her spite.

"Sorry." It was his turn to shrug, as he flicked his cigarette away. He turned towards her again, the moon coming out from behind the clouds to cast his face in shadow. For some reason, Dawn suddenly found herself nervous in the presence of her best friend, and her heart started to thud against her chest. It seemed to her that they were suddenly closer than they had been a minute ago, and she was lost as to how it had happened. Her breath caught in her throat at the intense feel of his eyes on her.

She wondered vaguely where all this was coming from. This was Connor. He knew all her secrets, all her fears. He'd listened for hours while she gushed about Spike, never once teasing her for her puppy love. He was a constant fixture at her house on weekends and holidays. He was the only she would talk to when her mother dies.  What the hell was going on?

"Dawn." Her name drifted over to her on the rusty lilt of his voice. For the first time ever, the sound sent shivers down her spine.

"Yeah?" she croaked, horrified at how she sounded. She cleared her throat and tired again. "Yeah." His eyes never left hers as he seemed to move even closer to her.

"I know it's still a few months away, and you still have to get your grades up. But, will you go to the prom with me?" The fact that he asked stunned her almost as much as the fact that he asked her. He didn't get into that sort of school activity. She stared dumbly at him for a long minute, her brain spinning in a thousand different directions at once. He just watched her, a slight smile curling his lip at her dumbfounded expression.

"Wh. . .What?" she stammered, when she finally remembered to speak. He grinned. That stunned her again. He never grinned. She was starting to wonder just who this guy was, and what he did with Connor McKenna.

"I asked you if you wanted to go to the Prom," he repeated, leaning back on his hand, angling himself even closer to her.

"Like a date?" she squeaked.

"No." She didn't understand the disappointment that stabbed through her. She didn't want to go on a date with Connor. Did she? "I plan on us having many dates before that." Her eyes nearly popped out of her head at that.

"What?!" Her voice was high pitched, and sharp.

"I've been waiting a long time for you to get over your infatuation with Spike. I think he pretty much crushed it last night. Now's the time for me to make my move." Connor's eyes burned into her in the darkness, waiting for her answer. He hadn't been shot down yet, so he figured he was doing alright. Dawn, in the meantime, was having a hard time putting a coherent thought together.

"I-I-I don't understand. You WANT to go out with me?"

"Come on, Dawn. Despite what your grades say, I know you have a brain up there. Yeah. I WANT to go out with you. I've wanted to go out with you since we had to work on that stupid ecology project in ninth grade. But, all you've ever talked about is Spike. Kinda gives a guy a complex"

"Uh. . ." She didn't know what to say. She'd never thought about Connor like that. Then again, she'd never thought about ANYBODY like that. All she'd ever thought about was Spike. But, Connor was right, that little fantasy had to be put to rest now. She lifted her head from her knees, finding their faces even closer. She wondered again how they had managed to get so close together. "I never. . ." she started, only to be cut off by the bold pressing of his lips over hers. Her eyes widened almost painfully before they drifted closed. Her mind completely blanked out as he gently coaxed her mouth into a kiss, her first. Well, her first where there were two active participants that is. The kiss she gave Spike didn't count, since he was too busy panicking to even think about kissing her back.

She felt the light touch of his fingers against her cheek, in the same instant his tongue tentatively tickled her lip. Instinct kicked in and she parted her lips, gasping when he pushed inside. A new, tingly sensation took over her senses when this happened, and she felt a strange twittering start in her stomach. She vaguely wondered how he learned to kiss, when she could count the dates he had been on in the last four years with two fingers. Then again, she had never kissed anyone before, so for all she knew, he could suck at it. However, the feelings he was drawing out of her certainly told her that he was doing just fine.

Her eyes stayed closed when he pulled away, half expecting him to come back for more.

"Well, Dawnie. Will you?" Connor's voice was thick with emotion, the graveliness of it making goose flesh pop out on her arms.

"Huh?" She opened her eyes to look at him, the new light she was seeing him in making him beautiful.

"To the prom. Will you go?"

"Uh huh," she breathed. His grin split the darkness around him as he swooped in again. Dawn's fingers came up to tangle in his hair, and she eagerly kissed him back.

"I'll come by tomorrow," he promised when he pulled away again. She nodded, forgetting that he probably couldn't see her.

"Okay," she managed, watching him as he jumped into the tree across from them and shimmied down to the ground. When his feet hit the grass, he turned and waved, before starting off at a trot down the street. Dawn's eyes never left his retreating back until he turned at the corner, out of sight. Then, smiling to herself, she climbed back inside, never noticing the curtain drop in her sister's room.

~*~*~

"Thank you for dinner, Rupert. It was wonderful," Anya said as they walked from his car towards her door. They had gone to a small restaurant in town that served the best chicken parmigiana she had ever tasted. Not to mention the soft ambiance of the candle lit dining room, and the elegant place settings. He may not've set out to impress her, but he certainly had.

"You're quite welcome, Anya. We should do it again sometime," he told her as they came to a stop in front of her townhouse. The porch light shone down on them, glinting off her light hair and giving the illusion of a halo around her head.

"I'd like that," she agreed, smiling brightly up at him. Giles pulled his glasses off and started to rub them, his nerves jumping like they were attached to a power cord. He had the distinct feeling that she wanted him to kiss her, and he didn't know if that was such a good idea. Anya just stood and watched him, wondering if he would rub a whole in the lens before he made his mind up.

"Well, then. I'll bid you good night." He returned his glasses to his nose, and smiled down at her. The blonde barely managed not to roll her eyes, deciding it was time to take matters into her own hands. Just as he was about to turn away and start back to his car, she laid a hand on his arm, stilling him. She saw the look of confusion drift through his eyes before the panic flashed once he realized what she had planned. "Anya, I. . ." he never got to finish. His eyes widened in surprise when her mouth touched his. Her arms snaked around his neck, and she persistently nibbled on his mouth, trying to get him to respond. She moaned when he finally snapped out of it, and did just that. His hands came up to her hips, pulling her flush against him, angling his head to deepen the kiss.

They were both gasping for air when they pulled back, their faces flushed. A slow, feminine smile spread over Anya's wide mouth, making him want to drag her inside and do things he hadn't thought about in years.

"Goodnight, Rupert," she practically purred, extracting herself from his arms, and turning to let herself inside. He stood, staring at the door for what seemed like an eternity, before shoving his hands in his pockets and striding back to his car, a lightness to his step that hadn't been there in a long time.

~*~*~

Buffy sighed as she let the curtain fall back into place, knowing she should be angry with Dawn and Connor, but not really being able to find the energy. She smiled as she remembered being seventeen, and the only thing that had meant anything to her had been Spike. Granted, that had been before the accident, and before the offer that had taken him away from her.

She let memories of that summer wash over her, reliving everything that had been exciting and new. Yes, she knew just how Dawn felt right now, and she didn't have the will to scold her. So, she decided to let Dawn have her little rooftop soirees, as long as they didn't go further than kissing. And Buffy would be making sure that they didn't.

Sighing again, she sat on the stool of her vanity, picking up her brush and pulling it through her hair. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, taking in the red rimmed eyes and the puffy cheeks and lips. After she had gone upstairs, she had thrown herself on her bed and shed some more tears. Even though she was partly relieved that Riley had been the one to break things off, it didn't help the guilt she felt over hurting him. She should have known, a long time ago, that she wasn't ready to make that sort of commitment with anybody. She had been nowhere near over Spike. And when Riley had come into her life, she had still been reeling from his second departure. She couldn't believe that she had been that selfish.

Buffy put the brush down, and rubbed her hands over her eyes, the picture of his angry, hurt face swimming towards the forefront again. He didn't deserve this. He deserved to be loved, and needed. The only one in someone life. She had no right leading him on for this long.

And, in truth, it really had nothing to do with Spike's return. His presence had just forced her to face the inevitable. They never would have gotten married, because Buffy was still holding onto something she had thought she had let go. They would have continued on, as they were, until he had either pressed the issue, or she had finally woken up. Who knew how much time would have been wasted by then?

Buffy stood and stretched, her brain as tired as her body. Even without Riley in the picture, she still had tons to think about. Spike may be who she wanted, but he still wanted to race. She didn't need him to tell her that for her to know. She could see it in the blue of his damaged eyes. If the opportunity ever came up, he would jump behind the wheel quicker than you could say NASCAR.

She knew, in her heart, that Willow was right. Her eyes drifted over the thick notebooks that had been flung in her face just that morning. Lord, had it only been that long? With everything that had happened, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Walking over to the shelf, she pulled one out, laying across her bed to flip through the glossy print ads. Within seconds, she was at her favorite one, the one that she would sit up late at night and look at, when the missing of him got to be too much.

He was leaning against the side of his car, his body positioned so the 29 and the sponsor logo could be seen clearly. He had on his black, form fitting fire suit, and a pair of sunglasses. It was an add for Monte Carlo, and an animated Taz was perched on the hood next to him. He looked so happy in the picture, that she had convinced herself that letting him go had been the right choice. Willow had been right though. She hadn't let him go. Ever.

She wondered, often, what might have happened if she hadn't freaked in that hospital room. Where would they be now? Would it have mattered if she had been there?

She knew, somehow, that it would have. Even though the accident still would have happened, she didn't think he would have been as bad afterwards. She would have been a wreck, but he would probably have been able to deal with it better.

So many years, so much wasted time, and she had been denying the truth. She would forever be in love with Spike. Maybe it was time that she stopped running away, and took hold of what she wanted. Even if he did race again, she could handle it. She had a feeling that if she allowed him to walk away again, she wouldn't be able to survive.

Closing the book and pushing it away, Buffy rolled over onto her back, closing her eyes against the images of the crash that replayed over and over in her head. Why did she keep fighting it? She had still seen the race, she had still felt everything she would have felt if she had been at the track. There was nothing except her own fear holding her back. But, it was that fear that had separated them in the first place.

Buffy wished she knew what to do. Was her fear of racing more important to her than Spike? She guessed that was what she really needed to decide.

Deciding that sleep was what she needed, she got up and put the book away, turning off her light and stripping to her skin. With a sigh, she slid between the sheets, snuggling deep into the bed. Sleep took a long time coming, images of Spike's lean, nude frame intermingling with the one that they pulled out of that car, broken and bloody. The first rays of dawn were starting to shine through her curtains by the time her brain had shut down enough to allow her to rest.

Next