Chapter 1:

“So what do you think?”

Parker squinted, examining the blonde carefully from head to toe. “Definitely worth a fuck. Not girlfriend material, though.”

“I don’t know,” Connor said thoughtfully. “I heard she’s from LA and totally loaded.”

“In that case, I call dibs,” Angel said, looking the girl up and down and licking his lips. “She’s one hot piece of ass, and if she’s rich, why not?”

“Think she’ll be any trouble?” Parker asked. He couldn’t have cared less if Angel got his ass pounded by one of Daddy’s minions, but if Angel went, then so did Parker’s popularity.

“Let’s find out,” Angel replied, a cocky grin firmly intact as he sauntered toward the girl.
*
Buffy Summers watched the boy approach with mild trepidation. His stature and letter jacket declared him to be a jock—one of the school’s most popular, according to her friend Anya Jenkins. Since Anya had been stuck in Sunnydale her whole life and Buffy was only just arriving, she was relying on Anya’s advice.

God, why am I here? She knew the answer, of course. Mom was gone, St. Mary’s didn’t want her, and Daddy…she shivered slightly. Not thinking about that, she reminded herself. In the spirit of her sudden non-thinking, she shot the boy a winning smile.

“Hey, cutie,” he said. “Name’s Angel. What’s yours?”

Her smile faltered slightly. Was this guy for real? Who in the world acted that…ugh, was there even a word for that sleazy attitude? “It’s Buffy,” she said. “I’m new here.”

“Well, that’s obvious. Someone as hot as you couldn’t go unnoticed long,” he said, his eyes roving up and down her body.

Anya saved her from the unfortunate necessity of responding by hopping out of her car and trotting over. “Buffy, is My-Penis-Is-As-Tiny-As-My-Brain bothering you?”

Angel’s eyes narrowed. “You know her?” he asked Buffy.

“Yeah, I’m staying with her family kinda indefinitely,” Buffy said.

“Well…in that case…see ya around.” A much deflated Angel slunk away.

Buffy turned to Anya. “What was that all about?”

“Angel’s a bastard,” was the blunt response. “I hate him. So do all my friends. I wouldn’t be his friend if you paid me…and you know what that means for me,” she added with a grin.

Buffy smiled back. Anya’s money-loving ways were infamous. “So, wanna give me the grand tour?”

“Sounds good. We’ve got about a half hour before schools starts. I’ll outline the basic cliques, and you can decide that this school sucks and hang out with me and my friends.” Anya linked her arm with Buffy’s, and together they walked into Sunnydale High School.

~*~

An hour later, Buffy’s head was spinning. There were more cliques and sub-cliques than she’d ever encountered in St. Mary’s. Anya was definitely right when she’d said that the school sucked. The various tales of backstabbing Anya had cheerfully related were, to Buffy, patently depressing. Now she slumped in her chair in AP Psychology and tried to concentrate on the fact that lunch was only one period away instead of dwelling on the number of people staring at her and whispering as they waited for the tardy bell to ring and class to begin. The only actual class she had with Anya was 1st period, English, but fortunately the school was small enough that lunch was the same for everybody. Sitting at a lunch table all alone would have been a nightmare.

“It’s Buffy, right?”

She looked up, startled. A rather attractive redhead hovered in front of her, a nervous smile on her face. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry—it’s Willow. Anya told me about you, and, well, word gets around in a town as small as this, so I knew what you looked like and your family history and your blood type before you even came here, and I’m blabbering aren’t I?” Willow’s face turned as red as her hair.

Buffy smiled. “No, it’s fine. I was just a little startled, is all. I’m not used to the small-town stuff, I guess.”

“I’d bet not, being from LA and all.” Willow took the seat next to Buffy’s and pulled out her book. “So, were you in Psych at your old school, too?”

Buffy nodded. “You’ll probably be a bit ahead of me, since you’ve been in school for two months and I took time off to move,” she said, “But I really liked the class at my old school.”

“Then you should like it here,” Willow said. “Just don’t get in an argument with Dr. Walsh. It’s dan—oh, hi, Dr. Walsh!”

“Indoctrinating our new student in the ways of Sunnydale High, Willow?” Dr. Walsh asked dryly. Actually, everything about her was dry, from her hair to her voice to her pinched expression. Buffy decided right then that she didn’t like her.

“Oh, no, I was just telling her how wonderful your class is!” Willow said brightly.

Dr. Walsh gave her a look that seemed to say, ‘Oh, sure’ before turning to Buffy and saying, “I would like to see you after class, Ms. Summers. We need to get you caught up so that you can pass my class.”

“No problem,” Buffy said, smiling brightly. As soon as the teacher walked away, Buffy raised an eyebrow at Willow. “Evil bitch-monster of death?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Willow said with a grimace. The bell rang, and class began.

“Janice Appleby.”

“Here.”

“Melissa Beaufort.”

“Here.”

“William Calendar.”

Buffy looked up from where she was doodling in surprise. Damn, Dr. Walsh had practically spat that name out.

“Here—unfortunately.”

Buffy looked over at the origin of the voice, and immediately understood why.

He lounged in his chair as though it were an over-stuffed recliner. His clothes were all black, and he wore a black duster that, though it would have looked completely ridiculous on most of the guys in school, somehow worked for him. It was his face that captivated her, though. Bleached white hair that worked just like the duster, a scar across one eyebrow, sharp cheekbones and some of the prettiest baby blues she’d ever seen on a man all added up to—

Oh, yeah. Definitely the sexiest guy I’ve seen yet.

“And it’s Spike, not William,” the boy continued, oblivious to Buffy’s scrutiny.

Yummy, Buffy thought as Dr. Walsh glared at William/Spike and continued with role call. Sexy AND with a hot British accent.

“Buffy Summers.”

“Here.”
*
Spike’s attention, which had previously been fixed on Freud and how he was going to argue with the Dr. that the man had been a complete moron, focused abruptly on the blonde sitting a few rows away. Buffy Summers, had that been what she’d answered new? That must be the new chit Red had been telling him about.

And God, but she’s a beautiful one. Generally the birds at Sunnyhell High bugged him, but this one…

This one he could take a go at.

Unfortunately, his lustful thoughts had to end, because Dr. Walsh had begun class, focusing, as he’d known she was going to, on that idiot Freud.

“God, you’re not going to harp about him, are you?” he snapped.

Dr. Walsh turned and fixed him with a glare. “I believe we’ve already established that his studies were relevant and perfectly applicable to our current lessons,” she said in an icy voice.

“Maybe you did,” Spike countered. “I sure didn't. Freud was a bloody idiot.”

“Freud was a genius.” This came not from Dr. Walsh, but the blonde he’d been admiring a few minutes ago.

He smirked slightly. Out of your league here, pet.

“And what, exactly, makes you say that?”

“His research into the human mind was groundbreaking. No one had ever taken that viewpoint on our psyche before.”

“What, the viewpoint that everythin’ we do is governed by lil unconscious urges? There’s a good reason for that, luv. It’s an idiotic theory.”

“How so?” Dr. Walsh interrupted.

Spike sighed. “’S like this,” he explained. “We don’ make our decisions b’cause of some sexual thing deep down in our skulls. We make ‘em ‘cause that’s what we wanna do. ‘M not gonna believe that everything I ever did was done ‘cause I subconsciously was urged to.”

“Okay, put like that it sounds a little wonky, I’ll admit,” Buffy said, “But that’s not the point, is it, Dr.? The point is that he thought about things differently.”

“Exactly, Ms. Summers. Thank you.” Dr. Walsh’s voice rang with satisfaction. “Now, Spike, can you please let me teach?”

Realizing that he was thoroughly outnumbered, Spike sank down into his seat. “Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, and the class continued.

As soon as the bell rang for class to end and Willow walked out, Spike was out of his seat and towering over Buffy’s. “So, you’re the new chit in town,” he said.

She blinked at him. Hazel eyes. She had hazel eyes so clear, so pretty, that he was about to drown in them. God, man, concentrate. You’re tryin’ to tell her to bugger off, not write a bloody poem!

“That’d be me,” she said cheerfully, grabbing her books.

“Yeah, well, back off,” he snapped. “’Ve got enough problems without you arguing with me in front of Dr. Walsh.”

“What?” Disbelief and anger filled her face. “You pig! If I want to disagree with something you’ve got to say, then I’ll—“

“Keep your mouth shut,” Spike finished for her, fully aware of the fact that he was being a ponce and not really caring. For some reason, the fact that the little blonde had bested him at something really grated at him.

“Listen, Spike,” Buffy said, taking a step forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. “I’ll say what I want to whom I want, and you’re not gonna try to tell me different again. Got it?”

Spike blinked. Her breasts were just barely touching his chest, her eyes were staring into his with a hard, implacable expression in them, her lips were glistening moistly and she was just about the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

Also the most annoying. He scowled and, for the second time that hour, shoved the thoughts aside. “An’ the same goes for me, Bunny,” he informed her.

“It’s Buffy,” she spat. “Learn it.”

He smirked, his lips curling at the edges. “Right. Sure.”

“Good, then,” she said, slightly breathless. Her eyes were wide, and in them Spike saw something that looked a lot like fear. His smirk widened. “Be seein’ you around, luv,” he said, and walked past her to the door. He could smell her perfume as he passed her, but it didn’t really affect him. She was too bloody annoying to be attractive. Even when she was all little and hot and mad and—

Down, boy, he cautioned himself as he walked toward the lunch room, eager to meet up with Red and Oz and the rest. Buffy Summers equals a hell of a lot of trouble. Spike’s lips twisted. Fat chance he’d ever end up forgetting it.
*
Damn, he had a nice ass.

Buffy shook the thoughts from her head as she watched him stalk out of the classroom. He may have had a nice ass, but he was also an arrogant jerk who didn’t deserve another thought from her.

Even if his eyes went several shades darker when they fought. Even if all she wanted to do was grab him and…

No, Buffy. Not gonna go there. You and bad boys? Very un-mixy.

Determination settled into her features, and she practically marched to the lunchroom.

It wasn’t too difficult to find Anya, since when she saw her friend she leapt up and yelled, “Buffy! Over here!”

The boy sitting next to her winced and yanked her down. “Ayn, are you ever going to stop doing that.”

“It’s doubtful,” Anya said, grinning. The boy rolled his eyes.

“Hey, Anya, Willow,” Buffy said, grinning nervously as she walked up to the table. The cafeteria was small and comfy, but she felt like all eyes were on her. “You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?”

“For God’s sake, Buffy, I walked in on you naked a few days ago,” Anya said. “Of course you can eat lunch with me.”

“Anya!”

“Well, I did. She was changing,” Anya defended herself.

“Sit down and ignore Anya,” a pretty, dark-haired girl advised. “That’s what we all do.”

Buffy smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “Who are you?”

“Oh, that’s right, you don’t know us,” Willow said. She smiled slightly and said, “Well, you know me. And Anya. Everybody?”

The dark-haired girl who’d just spoken said, “I’m Cordelia Chase, daughter of Melvin Chase, who as you probably know owns three businesses in town.” This declaration brought sighs and eye rolls from everyone else at the table, but everyone was grinned fondly.

“I’m Oz,” the boy sitting next to Willow said. “I go out with Willow.”

“And that,” the boy sitting next to Anya said, “Is about as eloquent as he’ll ever get. I’m Xander Harris, by the way.”

“And I’m Faith,” said the girl sitting across from him. She was dark-haired like Cordelia, but her clothing was more sultry than sweet. Buffy wasn’t sure whether she liked her or not. “By the way, B, has anyone ever told you you’re fucking insane for leaving LA to hang in Sunnydale?”

“Not fucking insane, no,” Buffy said coolly. Something about Faith definitely grated on her nerves. The girl was way too forthright, she decided. That was it.

Willow’s eyes focused on someone behind Buffy. “Speaking of insane,” she muttered, before raising her voice: “Spike, I thought you’d said you wouldn’t bait Walsh anymore!”

Buffy whirled around. Spike was walking toward them, and as she watched, stunned, he slid into the seat next to her. “Hey, Blondie,” he said with a wink.

“Spike!”

He gave a beleaguered sigh. “Look, Red, I know I promised,” he began, “But c’mon, she treats Freud like he was the second bloody coming, and—“

“Wait. Hold on. You guys know Spike?”

Faith laughed. “I don’t just know him, I’ve slept with him.”

Spike shook his head. “And I’m the one Red calls insane,” he muttered. “Buffy, that’s Faith—‘m twin.”

“Your twin?” God, could this town get any more bizarre? “Bull,” she accused. “Your accents are different.”

Faith laughed. “She’s smart,” she said to the table at large. “But wrong. Our parents divorced when we were five,” she told Buffy. “Dad got Spike, mom got me. Dad moved to England, but now he’s on a lecture tour for a book of his, so Spike’s here for now.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, slightly disappointed that she hadn’t been able to catch him lying. “Okay, then.”

“Poor Summers,” Spike drawled. “Can’t prove me wrong to save your life, can you?”

“Excuse me, I believe I won our previous argument,” Buffy informed him snidely.

“In your subconsciously-driven head, maybe,” Spike retorted.

Buffy rolled her eyes and turned back to the table. “Would anybody mind all that much if I just killed him?”

“Well now, I dunno. I am his twin. Lemme think about it,” Faith said. She paused briefly and shrugged. “Nah. Go to town.”

Spike slumped down in his chair. “Stupid bint,” he snapped, glaring at Faith, who only laughed.

“God, Spike, even your twin doesn’t love you.” Buffy grinned evilly. “Hey Faith, what about his mother?”

“Well, I don’t really know,” Faith replied. “Y’see, every time he walks into a room, she walks out.”

This announcement was met with howling laughed from every member of the table—except the object of their mirth.

“Bleeding, sodding, buggering—“ Spike’s face turned slowly red before he stood up so quickly that his chair crashed onto the floor behind him. “All of a sudden, ‘m not all that peckish,” he snapped. “’ll see you wankers later.” He whirled around and stalked out.

Buffy watched him leave, eyes wide. He was damn sexy when he was mad, true, but his eyes had been truly hurt. “Is he—is he gonna be okay?”

“Don’t worry about it, B,” Faith said. “He was dishing it out, he oughta be able to take it. He’s tough. He’ll be fine.”

Buffy frowned and picked at what looked like steamed vegetables on her plate. The rest of the table was silent as well. They hadn’t realized it before, but no matter how much they all talked, their conversations were usually driven by Spike. Now that he was absent, no one had anything to say.

“So, Buffy.” Xander finally broke the awkward silence. “Why’d you come to Sunnydale?”

Buffy cringed. She had a reply formulated, of course, but she knew the truth of the matter, and it hurt. Damn, did it hurt. “I just wanted a break from stuff. And Anya here gets extra points in Sociology if she hosts an out-of-town student.”

“So, what are you leaving behind—aside from truly great shopping, I mean?” Cordelia asked, wide-eyed.

“Again, not much,” Buffy told her. “A boyfriend and my sister is all.”

“What about your parents? Are they cool with it?” Faith inquired.

“Her mom’s dead and her father doesn’t give a damn about her,” Anya provided helpfully.

Willow winced in sympathy. Buffy decided right then that she’d have to be careful around the redhead. She was the most perceptive of the group. “That must be rough.”

“Um…yeah…yeah, it is,” Buffy said. Anya’s words about her father had brought back all the memories she’d been working to bury. Now the room felt too small, and the table’s gaze on her was too much to bear. “Look, I’m, um, not too hungry, so I’m going to, um, go to the bathroom and…go. See ya!” She practically ran out of the room.

The gang watched her go with worried eyes. They didn’t know her too well, but they all liked her and didn’t want to see her hurt.

“So…what’s she hiding?” Oz asked.

“I have no idea,” Anya said fervently. They all picked at their food, silent once more.

A/N: Review plz, even if it sucks! *smiles*
 

Chapter 2:

Buffy leaned against the wall outside the girl’s bathroom, breathing deeply. Emotions roiled inside her, but her face was set in an empty mask. Over the years, she’d learned to hide her feelings in such a way that no one could tell she was upset.

“Miss Summers? What are you doing outside of class?”

Buffy’s head shot up. Miss Calendar, the computer teacher at her school, was standing in front of her, arms folded disapprovingly. Instantly, Buffy straightened. “I’m sorry, I had to—go to the bathroom.”

Miss Calendar’s face softened considerably. “It’s fine, Buffy. I’ve got ‘skip duty’ for lunch today. They make me act like a correctional officer.”

Buffy grinned slightly at that. “They have you patrol the halls for people who skip lunch?”

“What can I say? Principal Snyder thinks lunch time is good for learning.” Miss Calendar raised an eyebrow. “Now, didn’t you say you were going to the bathroom?”

“Oh—right! Yeah, how could I forget?” Buffy smiled wanly before ducking into the bathroom and locking herself in one of the stalls.

God, she hadn’t wanted to come in here. As long as she was around other people, she could keep herself under control. But when she was alone, she broke down.

Her face screwed up in a desperate attempt not to cry. She buried her head in her hands, shutting out everything but her own grief.

Why was she doing this? It had been one harmless comment, coming from a friend. She shouldn’t be breaking down over that one little thing Anya had said. “Get a grip, Buffy,” she muttered.

As she returned to her senses she heard footsteps approach, followed by voices. She grimaced when she realized it was some of the local Goths, ‘skipping’ lunch for a smoke.

“Gimme one,” a voice said as they entered the bathroom. Hurriedly Buffy unlocked the stall and ran out…just in time to see one pale, pierced girl hand another a joint.

The receiver of the drug’s eyes widened. “Shit! You said no one came in here!”

“I didn’t think they did!” the other replied with wide eyes.

“For God’s sake, don’t piss your pants,” a third drawled. “She’s just that new prep. She won’t tell anyone. Will you?” she added menacingly, narrowing her eyes at Buffy.

Buffy rolled her own. “Believe me when I say I have better things to do.”

“Good. Run along.” The girl with the joint flapped her hand lazily. Buffy was only too glad to obey.

Now…where to go? She really didn’t feel like facing any of Anya’s friends after her major wigginess, so back to the lunchroom was not an option. She needed someplace out of the way, though, since teachers were prowling the halls. An empty classroom, maybe? No, Sunnydale High was small enough that there weren’t any unused classrooms. Buffy sighed. She hadn’t wanted to go outside—the Goth girls smoked in the bathroom, the Goth guys smoked outside—but it looked like that was her only option.

Looking around cautiously for teachers, she wound her way to the back of the school and slipped out the door. The fresh air assaulted her instantly. “Ahh,” she breathed, inhaling deeply. If there was one good thing about Sunnydale, it was the clean air.

“What the bleedin’ hell are you doing out here?”

The company, however, left something to be desired. Buffy turned slowly, her mouth already twisted wryly, knowing what she’d see. She was right: Spike was leaning against the building, glaring at her, a cigarette dangling out of his mouth.

What she hadn’t expected was to be so completely tongue-tied. Yeah, the guy was hot, but she wasn’t in the least bit attracted to him.

Really.

Which was why she glared at him and shot back, “You’re one to talk. You know those things’ll kill you, right?”

He smirked. “Watchin’ out for me, now, are you?”

She sneered. “On second thought, please, smoke five packs a day. I’ll foot the bill.”

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

“At least I’m not a juvie punk-wannabe.”

“Hey! There is nothing wrong with—“

“Wearing leather all the time, bleaching your hair so much it’s dry and ucky, and acting like an asshole? ‘Cuz newsflash, those are not attractive attributes.”

Spike narrowed his eyes. “Which is why you were checkin’ me out the second you saw me, right, pet?”

“First off, I’m not your pet. Second, I was not ‘checking you out.’ I was wondering why the hell Dr. Walsh hated you so much.”

“’ve got more brains than she does and she knows it is why.”

Buffy laughed out loud. “Wow. Did I mention you were delusional. ‘Cuz really, if you th—“

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Buffy Summers. I should have known you’d take the first chance to break the rules and run with it.”

Buffy whirled around and barely restrained a groan. If fighting Spike wasn’t enough, she now had Principal Snyder to deal with.

Oh, please, a sly little part of her mind snapped, like you weren’t enjoying fighting with Spike.

Buffy forcibly suppressed her thoughts and turned to Principal Snyder. “Um, hi, Principal.”

“Just give me your excuse so I can give you both detention, Summers.”

“Detention? Is outside off limits?” She purposely made her voice airy and bright—the perfect ‘dumb blonde’. Behind her she heard Spike stifling a laugh.

“Of course it’s off limits!” Snyder’s attention turned to the guffawing Spike. “What are you laughing about?”

“Blondie knew it was off limits,” Spike said, smirk firmly in place. “We just came out here for some snoggin’, is all.”

“What? We did not!” Buffy protested.

“Really? Now, why don’t I believe you? Oh yes, because I would dearly love to suspend you both. Unfortunately, your mother wouldn’t like that too much, Calendar. So I suppose I’ll have to give you detention. With Mr. Giles,” Snyder added, practically beaming. “Now, get inside, both of you!”

“But Principal—“

“ Now, Summers!”

Buffy and Spike slunk back inside and began walking toward the lunchroom. They walked on opposite sides of the hall, fury resonating between them. As soon as they reached the lunchroom Snyder left to find other students to torture...and all hell broke loose.

“What the hell is snogging?” Buffy hissed, clenching her fists.

“It’s talkin’. Friendly talkin’.”

“And the earth is flat, right?” Buffy scoffed. “Dammit, Spike, you just made me get detention on my first day!”

“ I made you? Oh, that’s rich! What were you doing out there, anyway?”

Buffy’s sadness, momentarily pushed away in light of her fury, came back again. She barely restrained the tears in her eyes. “None of your Goddamn business,” she snapped, wishing that she could take a fork and stab his eyes out. She settled on turning her back to him and staring at the reddish wall.

“Fine, then. See you in detention.”

“Fine.”

Buffy waited for him to walk away, but he didn’t. They both stood completely still in their corner of the cafeteria. One of us should go... Buffy thought dimly, but she couldn’t move a muscle. Apparently Spike had the same problem, since she still didn’t hear him move. Thank God the lunchroom was built so that they had some privacy.

They stood there, together yet apart, silent yet enraged, for a full ten minutes. Then the bell rang and they both departed, trudging off the class with furious minds and confused hearts.
 

Chapter 3:

Buffy’s next class was English, a subject she hated almost as much as history. She slunk in with hunched shoulders, fully prepared to sit in the back and watch the clock.

“Buffy!”

Buffy looked up. Willow and Oz were seated right next to her. Their hands were linked. She smiled slightly at the sight.

“Hey, come sit with us!” Willow said eagerly.

Buffy hesitated. “I don’t want to be a third wheel...”

“Then be a fourth wheel,” Cordelia interjected, sitting down next to the happy couple. “Thank God you have this class, too,” she continued. “Willow and Oz are, like, completely gushy most of the time. It’s gross.”

“I’ll bet it is.” Buffy grinned and sat down next to Cordelia.

“So, what was the deal with you running out of lunch?” the brunette asked. “No offense, but you looked majorly freaky.”

“Um, yeah, about that...my family’s kinda—complicated,” Buffy said, wincing. “I’m sorry.”

“No big deal. Almost everybody at that table is a spaz,” Cordelia said cheerfully. The bell rang overhead. “Damn,” she said. “Here we go.”

The teacher walked in as everyone sat down. He was middle-aged, with glasses and a truly unfortunate tweed suit. “That’s Mr. Giles,” Cordelia whispered. “He’s from England and completely uptight about the whole grammar thing.”

Buffy winced; like Cordelia, her grip on grammar was tentative at best. “Is he a total Nazi?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty bad. But don’t worry; he’s also fair. I mean, I’ve had way worse teachers,” Willow reassured her. Great, Buffy thought. I get to have detention with a grammar Nazi. When I get my hands on that no-good bleached idiot...

“Settle down, class.” Mr. Giles stood at the front of the room. Buffy noted with surprise that he had a refined British accent. Wow. Sunnydale must attract English guys like Michael Jackson attracts lawsuits.

“As you all are most likely aware of, we have a new student joining us from Los Angeles. Buffy Summers, welcome to Sunnydale High.”

The class clapped politely; apparently Mr. Giles’ speech was one they had heard many times before. Buffy smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Would you care to say anything about yourself, Buffy?”

“Um—actually, there’s really not much to tell.” Buffy prayed that he wouldn’t ask her to give a bio, or anything. She hated talking about herself.

Her prayers were answered. Sensing that the new student was feeling less than chatty, Giles said, “Right then. Let’s begin the lesson, shall we?” He turned back to his desk and picked up a stack of booklets. “As we have finished our unit on novels, I have decided that we should try a little poetry.” A flurry of groans met his announcement. He smiled slightly. “Come, come now. I know that most of you find poetry dull or unfashionable, so I have decided that we will focus on material written by your peers.” He held up the booklet.

“Oh, my God,” Cordelia whispered. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“The Sunnydale High Songbird,” Mr. Giles announced. “A forum for poets of all disciplines. I have obtained permission from the authors of these poems to use them in our classwork.” He began passing them out. “These copies are yours to keep, so please put your names on them. After that, turn to page five.”

Buffy sighed and obeyed, wondering what they’d be forced to read. In her experience, high school poetry was even more idiotic and overblown than poetry in general.

A girl at the front raised her hand. Mr. Giles nodded to her. “Yes, Kennedy?”

“Are you kidding me? We’re supposed to read poems written by a bunch of druggies and Goths? You’re out of your mind.”

Mr. Giles’ eyes glittered. “And you are out of my class, Kennedy. Go to Principal Snyder’s office for the remainder of the period.”

Kennedy sneered at him, but she obeyed. Buffy was impressed. She hadn’t figured the man to be that...mean. She gulped. What was he like to kids in detention?

“Today we are going to read ‘A Moment’, one of my personal favorites in this book. Read it silently, and in five minutes we will discuss it.”

The class fell silent as everyone began to read. Buffy stared at the page with consternation that faded slowly into admiration as she read more. The poem said:

It only took a moment
It only took a word
It only took a single look
To say what I hadn’t heard—

It only took a moment
Before it fell apart
It only took one piece of news
To again shatter my heart—

It only takes a moment
To tell you who you are
It only takes a single second
To let you know you still have to go far—

It’s not the moment that kills you
It’s the after, not the event
That determines if you stand and fight
Or sit down and relent—

We are only human
Not gods, nor lords, nor kings
And though we can try to predict it
We can’t control what tomorrow brings—

It only took a moment—
It only took a frown—
It only took that phrase—
it’s over—
To turn my world upside down.

“Damn,” she whispered when she was finished. The poem wasn’t signed, but whoever wrote it had had some serious talent.

Willow was staring at the page intently. Buffy wasn’t sure, but she seemed to be almost choked up. Why was the poem affecting her like that?

“Is everyone finished?” Mr. Giles broke into her reverie.

At the class’s murmur of assent he said, “Excellent. Now: poetry is about feeling, about capturing the human experience in a flow of words. A truly good poem speaks to every individual. Interpretation is the center of poetry, because poems endeavor to interpret the world around us. Does anyone have any thoughts on what this poem might be about?”

Oz raised his hand. Mr. Giles nodded to him. “Change,” Oz said. “The moment that you know nothing will ever be the same.”

“Excellent observation, Oz. Let’s try to pry deeper, class, look beyond the surface. What could the author have been talking about? Buffy?”

“Maybe death?” Buffy volunteered hesitantly. “I mean, it’s kinda a gloomy poem, isn’t it. And ‘it’s over’ could mean, you know, that life is over for someone.”

“Yes, yes, it could be...”

“It’s about breaking up,” Willow said, not raising her hand. She was staring off into space.

“Pardon?” Mr. Giles focused on her. Willow was not usually this intense.

“It’s about breaking up,” Willow repeated. “I know the author. The poem is about a break-up.”

“Interesting theory, Willow. Are you saying that ‘it’s over’ refers to the termination of a relationship?” Willow nodded.

Buffy watched Willow with concern. The redhead looked truly upset about something. Had she herself written the poem? No, that was impossible. Willow was a lot of things, but she didn’t seem to be the poetry type...

Buffy was distracted for the rest of the class. She only came back down to Earth when the bell rang and Mr. Giles gave them a homework assignment: analyze ‘A Moment’ in a one-page essay.

“Ugh,” Buffy whined, grabbing her bookbag. “This day just keeps getting worse. Who does he think he is, giving us so much homework?”

“I kinda understand why he did,” Willow said hesitantly.

Everyone else just looked at her.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m a geek.”

“We’d noticed,” Buffy said, but she was grinning.

“Well, Willow’s not as big a dork as some people in this school,” Cordelia said. “Wait
till we introduce you to Andrew. Now there’s a guy who could use a makeover.”

Buffy was laughing as she walked out of English.

~*~

The rest of the school day passed uneventfully. Buffy was feeling a lot calmer about her classes then she had that morning. They were all tough, but she’d be able to pass them.

Her mood plummeted, however, when she walked into Mr. Giles’ classroom. Spike was already slumped in one chair. Buffy stood stock still in the doorway, glaring at him, until Mr. Giles spoke.

“Ah, Buffy, you’re here. I trust you brought along work to do?”

“Yep. I figured I’d work on writing that paper you assigned.”

“Very good. Carry on,” Mr. Giles said. He was sitting at his desk, attempting to use the computer. Buffy smiled slightly. He was obviously distracted. Maybe he wouldn’t notice if she slipped out early...

She sat down in a desk as far away from Spike as she could possibly get and pulled out the booklet. She scanned the poem again, searching for meaning that she could use in her essay.

“What poem’re you reading?”

Buffy ignored him. She wasn’t in the mood for socializing with anyone, much less a puffed-up Brit with a penchant for leather. Leather that looks really, really—down, Buffy!

“’Ello? Blondie? I’m talkin’ to you!”

She couldn’t take any more of it. Spinning around, she looked over at him and hissed, “And I’m not going to talk back, so shut the hell up!”

*

He was a bloody masochist.

That was the only explanation for what he was doing just then. Either that, or Walsh was right and some part of his subconscious reeeeally liked getting yelled at by the tiny blonde.

Whatever the reason, Spike only smirked at her when she ordered him to be quiet. “Since when did I obey your orders?”

“Since now, if you enjoy having all of your parts. If you want me to cut of your extremely tiny dick, just keep on talking.”

“Bleeding hell, Summers, all I wanted to do was help you out a little.” That was a lie, but no need to let her know that. “Cut a fellow some slack.”

“No freakin’ way.”

“Spike. Buffy.” Giles’ voice cut through their bickering. “You are supposed to be working, not bickering childishly. Buffy, begin work on ‘A Moment’. Spike...do something, I don’t care what, but keep your mouth shut.”

‘A Moment’? As in the poem ‘A Moment’? “Giles, what in the world are you doin’ using my poem in class!” For it was indeed his. He’d written it right after Dru broke it off with him. He’d sent it to the magazine on a whim, never really expecting to get it published.

“I obtained your permission to use it in teaching.”

“Yeah, but that was before...”

“Before what?”

He’d been about to say ‘before I knew Buffy Summers was going to be in your class’, but he stopped when he realized how incredibly stupid he would have sounded. He gave a beleaguered sigh. “Never mind. Jus’ surprised is all.”

“Then I suggest you stay quiet so Buffy can analyze your poem.”

His poem. Spike stole a sidelong glance at the girl who was rapidly becoming a thorn in his side. All of a sudden, he really wished he’d never published it. Poems were far more personal than prose, and Spike just knew that the first chance she got, she’d be rubbing it in his face. If the bint says one thing, I’ll bash her sorry face in, he vowed as he pulled out a battered book and began to read.

Minutes passed in relative peace, as Spike read and tried hard not to look at Buffy, Buffy wrote and tried hard not to look at Spike, and Giles fiddled around on the computer and tried hard not to curse in front of impressionable young people. However, the peace was shattered when Giles pounded a fist on the desk and said, “Damn thing won’t work!”

Spike glanced up. Odd, he’d never seen the old man quite this incensed. It was an entertaining sight. “Problem, Giles?”

“The grading program is being problematic.”

“D’you want me to go get mum?” Spike knew that Giles fancied his mother, the computer teacher. If he hadn’t known that Giles knew nothing about computers, he might have suspected that Giles had deliberately caused the computer to malfunction.

“Yes, please do. Lord knows I can’t fix it.”

“Wait a sec.” Buffy had put down her pencil for a moment and looked confused. “Who’s your mom?”

“Jenny Calendar, the computer teacher.”

Buffy cocked and eyebrow. “Wow. She’s a nice lady. What did she do to deserve you?”

Spike opened his mouth to respond, but Giles cut in first. “That’s enough, Buffy.”

Spike glared at him. “I can take care of m’self, you know.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about. Now go get your mother.”

Spike spared a glance for Buffy before obeying. While he walked, his anger increased. He couldn’t say a single word without her going in for the kill about it! “Irritating lil brat,” he muttered, turning the corner into his mother’s classroom.

“Who’s irritating?” His mother asked, looking over her shoulder from where she was hanging students’ work and smiling at her son.

“Buffy Summers, the biggest bitch in Sunnydale.”

“William! Buffy is a very nice girl. I talked to her today.”

Now his mother was siding with her? That was really too much. “Mum, she can’t say a single sentence without insulting me!”

“And you, of course, have never insulted her,” she said wryly.

“Well, I’ve—“ He stopped, clenching his jaw. She’d won. There was no way he could say that he hadn’t given as good as he’d got.

“I thought so. What are you doing down here? I thought you had detention.”

“I do. Giles is havin’ trouble with his computer again.”

Miss Calendar rolled her eyes as she followed her son out of the classroom. “I swear to God, that man is hopeless.”

“Oh, come on, mum. You fancy him.”

“I do not!”

“Uh-huh.” Spike grinned as he and his mother slipped back into their easy banter. They had never been close before, since Spike had grown up in England, but since returning to the States, he was finding it easier and easier to talk to his mother. It was nice, this closeness. His father Quentin was a good guy and all, but not big in the conversation department.

The first thing Spike saw when he entered the room was Buffy. She was sitting at the desk she’d chosen. Her head was bent over the poem in the booklet—his poem, he remembered. For a second, just a second, he wanted to go over there and talk it over with her. Listen to her opinions on it, her ideas. Her praise, if he could.

But the impulse vanished when she looked up. Nothing was in her eyes but contempt, and Spike felt himself respond in kind. He nodded to her as his mum walked over to help Giles. “Summers.”

“Spike.”

Her voice was cool. He rolled his eyes, sat down, and yanked out his book. The clock glared at him from its spot on the wall. He had almost an hour to go.

*

It had to be the slowest hour of Buffy’s life. She hated writing essays. Writing them when she knew that Spike was sitting only a few feet away was even greater torture, since she couldn’t stop imagining what his face would look like if she stuck her pen in his eye.

And worse, she was writing about his poem. Buffy remembered her feelings of admiration with disgust. How could anything written by Spike be good? Yeah, it was interesting, and reasonably well-written, but it couldn’t possibly be heartfelt, because Buffy was sure that Spike didn’t have a heart.

Too bad she couldn’t put that in her essay...

So she was more than relieved when Mr. Giles looked up from his newly fixed computer and said, “You both may leave. Report back here tomorrow at the same time.”

Buffy heaved a sigh of relief, shoved her essay into a handy binder, and stood up, ready to shoot out the door. She paused when she realized that Spike, too, was standing and about to leave.

“Ladies first,” the bleached blonde said with a smirk, holding out his hand and indicating the door.

Buffy rolled her eyes at him-- see? his blue eyes and nice body don’t affect me at all and flounced out the door. Though she tried to block it out, she could hear him following. His footsteps were quiet, but somehow purposeful, like they knew exactly where they were going and what they wanted to do and—

Damn, she had to stop this!

She screwed up her face and concentrated on how she was going to get back to Anya’s. Knowing her friend, there was no way in hell that she’d would have waited. Anya was nice, but not exactly selfless. So she’d have to walk home. Wonderful, just what she needed—not.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that when she exited the school, it didn’t quite register that six people and three cars were waiting for her outside the school.

It was only when Spike halted behind her and said, “Well, we’re free—for today at least,” that she realized that Willow, Oz, Faith, Anya, Xander, and Cordelia were all standing and waiting for the two prisoners.

“Hey, B. Way to get in trouble on the first day,” Faith said with a grin.

“Hey, Faith, way to be incredibly insulting,” Xander shot back. Faith rolled her eyes at him.

“Get a life, Xander.”

Buffy grinned. So she wasn’t alone, after all. “What are you guys all doing here?”

“It’s tradition,” Anya explained. “When one or more of us gets detention, we all wait for them to get out. And since you and Spike both hate each other and had detention together, we figured it would be fun to wait and speculate on how bad you’d tear each other apart.”

“Well then, I’m ‘fraid you’re destined for disappointment. Giles shut us down,” Spike explained.

“Obviously, since the school’s still standing,” Cordelia said with a wink.

“I wouldn’t have torn the school apart!” Buffy protested. “Spike, maybe, but not the whole school.”

Faith laughed. “Sure, B, we believe you.” She slung an arm around Buffy’s shoulder. “So, ya wanna go Bronzing tonight?”

“Bronzing?”

“Local club. Dingoes plays there sometimes,” Oz said.

“Dingoes? OK, now I’m confused,” Buffy announced.

“It’s the local club,” Xander explained, taking pity on the newcomer. “Dingoes Ate My Baby is the band Oz is in. It’s a cool place, even though yours truly can’t dance for beans.”

“On a school night?”

“Only for a few hours,” Cordelia assured her. “And it’s fun. Salty goodness galore. Maybe you could pick up a guy, or something.”

“Boyfriend,” Buffy reminded her.

“Back in LA,” Faith pointed out. “C’mon, you gotta go.”

“Well...all right.” She was a little nervous, since she and alcohol were really not compatible, but these were her new—her only—friends. She wanted to spend time with them.

“It’s settled, then,” Willow said. “We’ll meet at the Bronze at, say, eight?”

“Sounds good,” Xander said. “Now, let’s get off the campus before Snyder decides to give us all detention.

Everyone laughed, albeit nervously, and climbed into their cars. Spike and Buffy shared a glare before she got into Anya’s red convertible and he climbed into his beat-up DeSoto. Buffy couldn’t help but think spitefully, God, his car is ugly!

“So, aside from Spike, whom we all know you hate, do you like it here?” Anya asked as they drove back to Anya’s house on Revello Drive.

“You know?” Buffy said, staring out the window at the building flying by. “I think I actually do.”

A/N: I know that Buffy’s first day at school is moving VERY SLOWLY. I’m going to speed things up after the next chapter. I’m kind of feeling my way along, and I want to set a solid foundation before I plunge into the angst and Spuffyness and heaven only knows what else. Don’t forget—revile, rejoice, review plz!

Chapter 4:
“Well, I’m pretty sure he hates me, too,” Buffy said into the phone as she held a black miniskirt and a red shirt up to the mirror for inspection.

“Are you sure?” her sister asked. “I mean, he did hang around you at lunch, right?”

“Get real, Dawn! He did that because—well, actually, I’m not sure why he did that,” she admitted, “But it wasn’t because he cares about me, that’s for sure. You should have heard him. He was downright venomous.”

“But you were, too,” her thirteen-year-old sister reminded her.

“I know, I know...” Buffy sighed and put the outfit down. “Hey, would I look like a total slut if I wore the black mini and red halter?”

Dawn giggled. “Probably not, but Riley would have a fit!”

“Which thrills you, of course.”

“Damn straight. I don’t like the guy.”

“Dawn...”

“Buffy, he’s boring . I mean, come on, the guy’s from Iowa.”

“What’s wrong with Iowa?” Yeah, she’d definitely go with the mini and halter. Not that she thought anybody would really appreciate it—and even if they did, there was Riley to consider—but she felt like looking pretty. And it wasn’t all that revealing.

“Buffy, do you even know where Iowa is?”

“Yes! It’s...um...”

“Ha! See, you don’t. Now, getting back to Spike: that was his poem you read, right?”

“Yep. I couldn’t believe it. Spike’s majorly mean, but the poem was soooo sweet.”

“Aw, that’s cute. The poet behind the bad boy.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, though of course Dawn couldn’t see her. “You know, Dawnie, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were the one with a crush on him.”

“I never said you had a crush on him.” Sly triumph reigned in Dawn’s voice. She’d been playing psychologist/relationship expert for Buffy for three years now, and she loved tricking Buffy into admitting she liked a guy.

Buffy gritted her teeth. “For the last time, I do not like him!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“I don’t!”

“I believe ya, sis,” Dawn said in a teasing voice. “Anyway, go with the halter. It’ll look cute, and the sooner you break up with Riley, the better.” Yelling intruded in the background. Dawn groaned. “Listen, I gotta go. Dad’s hollering about something or other.”

“Dawn.”

The urgency in her voice made Dawn pause. “Yeah?”

“Is everything okay with Dad? I mean, he’s treating you—okay, right?” Inside Buffy was berating herself for even asking. She didn’t need to foist her problems on Dawn, but she had to know that her little sister was okay.

“Except for being a grumpy bastard, everything’s fine.” Dawn’s voice was puzzled; this was the third time Buffy had asked about their father and how he was treating her. “I’ll talk to you later, right?”

“Definitely. I love you, Dawn.”

“Love you too, Buff. See ya.” Dawn hung up.

Buffy put the phone down and sighed before again holding the outfit up to the mirror. Dawn was right about one thing, she mused. She wouldn’t look exactly slutty, but she definitely wouldn’t come off as a saint. Oh, well. She felt like having a little fun.

She slipped on the outfit and reapplied her makeup. She was touching up her hair when a knock sounded on her door. “Come in,” she called.

“Are you done making yourself slutty so that Spike will notice you?” Anya asked as she entered.

“What!? You did not just say that!”

“Did so. And it’s true, too.”

“It so is not! I hate him!”

“Exactly,” Anya said, sitting down on the bed. She was smiling and clearly enjoying Buffy’s distress. “Sex is a weapon, and you want to use it on Spike. It will work, you know. He’s very sexually attracted to you.”

Buffy shook her head. “Anya, has anybody ever told you you’re completely insane?”

“Every day,” was the cheerful reply. “But I’m right. I love you and Spike like you’re family, and I know you both really well. There’s a definite sexual attraction.”

“Bull. There is not.” There was, of course, but Buffy would be damned if she’d let Anya know she was right.

“Oka-ay,” Anya sang, hopping off the bed. “Are you finally ready?”

Buffy gave herself one last going-over in the mirror. “Yep, readiness is me. Let’s go!”

They arrived at the Bronze only a few minutes later. Buffy cocked an eyebrow as they paid and walked inside. It looked nondescript on the outside, but on the inside it was part bar, part dance club, part bordello...and all fun.

“This place is neat,” she yelled to Anya over the pounding bass of the guest band.

“Yeah, we’ve been coming here for years,” Anya called back. “Here’s our table.”

Cordelia, Xander, Willow, and Oz had already arrived. Buffy smiled at them and took a seat.

“Hey, Buff,” Xander said. “It’s great to see you could make it.”

“I’m always up for some fun,” she said perkily. “This is a great band.”

“They’re one of my favorites,” Willow said happily.

“Wow. I wouldn’t have thought of you as a rocker, Wills,” she said.

“Oz got me into it,” Willow replied, nuzzling her boyfriend. Buffy smiled indulgently.

“God, you two never leave off with the PDA, do you?”

Buffy turned to face the new voice, a determined smile on her face. “Hi, Spike,” she got out, before the smile fell away and was replaced with a glare.

Because he looked hot—more than hot, he looked practically eatable. His duster was gone, to be replaced by a blood-red shirt that somehow made his eyes seem even bluer. Buffy had felt an instant surge of attraction, and that infuriated her: hence, the narrowed eyes.

“Summers.” Spike’s voice was equally cold.

Everyone else exchanged worried looks. Like Anya, they all loved Spike and were coming to love Buffy. They didn’t want to have to take sides in what seemed to be an all-out war.

Faith’s voice broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence. “Damn, Buffy, you look hot. Who ya tryin’ to seduce?”

Buffy’s whole face turned bright crimson. “I’m not trying to seduce anybody. There will be no seduction! I just wanted to look nice!” Wonderful. Now she sounded all panicky. Though she refused to look at him, she just knew Spike was wearing a smug little smirk.

Faith herself was also amused. “If you say so, B.”

Buffy stuck her lower lip out and slumped on the table. Dawn being able to read her was understandable, since they were related and all. Even Anya seeing her ulterior motives wasn’t all that surprising, considering how long they’d been friends. But when an almost-stranger could read her like a book...well, that meant that she was being transparent.

The music changed abruptly, going from a fast song to a slow, heavy-sounding ballad. To everyone at the table’s shock, a new boy approached the table.

“Buffy, would you like to dance?” Parker asked.

Everyone else’s mouth was hanging open. The group wasn’t exactly a clique, but the approach of a ‘popular’ kid doing anything but mocking them was a truly novel experience. What the hell? was the thought running through pretty much everybody’s heads.

Buffy, however, only smiled at him and said, “Sure, I’d love to, um...” she trailed off when she realized she didn’t know the guy’s name.

“Parker,” he supplied with a smile.

“Parker,” she said, flirting back shamelessly. He took her hand and they headed out to the dance floor.

*

Spike watched her go on the dance floor with a definite frown on his face. What the hell was she doing? Was she completely off her bird? Parker had a reputation she had to have heard about!

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Cordelia asked.

“I have no idea,” Oz said, shaking his head in a way that said, ‘but I don’t like it’.

“Okay, I don’t really know her, but that didn’t seem like Buffy,” Xander remarked.

“That’s because it wasn’t,” Anya told him.

Spike growled low in his throat, causing everyone to turn to him with surprised looks. “I don’t like him,” he said.

“Uh-huh...and here I thought you hated her,” Xander said with a confused look on his face.

“I do hate her,” Spike said impatiently. “That’s the point. ‘Ve got a lot of respect for her, and I don’t like Parker at all.”

Damn, he was a good liar. He almost had himself convinced...

Uh-uh, he warned himself. Not gonna go there. Buffy equals annoying chit you hate, remember?

“So, should we pull the fire alarm, or something? I mean, if Parker’s got a bad reputation, we don’t want Buffy with him, do we?” Willow seemed nervous in the face of Spike’s animosity and the rest of the group’s confusion.

“Or we could just let Spike loose on him. He looks ready to kill anything that looks at him sideways,” Cordelia remarked.

Spike didn’t bother responding; he’d found more interesting things to think about. Every time he looked over at Parker, his vision turned red at the edges. It was really a remarkable phenomenon.

Faith’s hand on his shoulder brought him out of his fantasy world, where he was currently prying Parker apart limb by limb, and back to reality.

“Song’s over, Spike. You can relax now.”

He looked over at the couple on the floor. Parker still had his hands on Buffy’s waist, and he seemed to be trying to persuade her to do something...but to Spike’s immense relief, she was refusing. Politely, and with a smile on her face, but she was definitely shaking her head in a way that meant ‘no’.

But Parker didn’t let go; if anything, his grip became harder. Buffy’s face went from smiling to annoyed and slightly nervous when she reached down and tugged at his arms. He began to walk toward the door, pulling her with him.

The rest of the gang had been chatting amiably, so Spike’s hand slamming down on the table was a bit of a surprise. “Pack up,” he said. “I’m gonna go get Buffy away from that wanker, an’ then we’ll be going.”

“We’re not staying...why?”

Spike just looked at Oz. “B’cause after I’m done with Parker, the bouncer’s gonna kick me out.”

Faith nodded. “Good plan, bro,” she said. “But ya might wanna get him before they leave.” She pointed. Parker had almost reached the door.

“Right,” Spike said. “See you, then.” He shrugged off his red over shirt—he liked it, and blood wouldn’t come out of it easily—and stalked over to Parker and Buffy.

As he neared, he heard them talking. Buffy was protesting. “Parker, are you deaf or something? I said no. As in the ‘thanks, but I’m going to go back over to my friends now’ kind of no. What are you—hey let go!”

Parker had yanked them into a dark corner. “But we’re having so much fun,” he whispered. His hand slid up from her waist, nearing her breast.

Spike had seen enough. With a low growl, he pulled back his arm, ready to render the bastard unconscious—

When Buffy’s arm shot out and knocked him back three feet. “I said NO!” she screamed at the now bleeding Parker.

“Holy shit, Buffy! That was my nose!”

“Yeah, and this is my body,” she yelled back.

Spike still just stared at her. Her hair and clothes were disheveled, and her face was red. Her eyes were puffy and she looked to be on the verge of tears.

He thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

She spoiled the thought when she caught sight of him, though. Her slumping shoulders drew back up, her eyes became colder and more composed, and she mouth set in a straight line. “Hi,” she said. her eyes flickered to his right and she smiled a bit.

He realized that his fist was still in the air. Well, he wouldn’t need it now. “Sorry,” he said, lowering it. “Was all ready to play the part of rescuer when you clocked him good.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but the bouncer had arrived. “What’s going on here?” he asked, a scowl on his meaty face.

“He tried to feel me up after I told him to let me go,” Buffy said, pointing at the moaning Parker. “I hit him.”

The bouncer’s eyes widened. “ You hit him?” he repeated, looking Buffy up and down.

“My thoughts exactly, mate,” Spike said with a smirk. Now that the danger had passed, he could feel his animosity toward the little blonde rising once again.

“Hey! I’m not that small!” Buffy protested.

“Oh, no. Five feet is practically a giant.”

“You’d know. Parker was what, three feet taller than you?” Buffy shot back.

That stung. Spike knew he was a bit on the short side, but the bint didn’t have to rub it in. “See here,” he began, but the bouncer again interrupted. “Can you two take this elsewhere?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Spike said. He stalked back over to the table that held their avidly watching friends. “I’ve got to go,” he announced, grabbing his shirt.

“See ya,” Willow said with a slight smile. He nodded back at her. Good old Red, always trying to smooth things over. Too bad he and Buffy had to mess it up so often.

“Yes, please leave,” Anya said. “The UST in here is making me want to puke.”

“Anya! There is no UST!”

Spike chuckled at Buffy’s reaction. She was right, of course, and inside he was half-panicking too, but seeing the girl lose her cool was more than a little amusing.

Now Buffy was glaring at him. “Spike, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Keep your shirt on, pet, I’m leaving.” Still grinned, he sauntered out of the Bronze.

*

Buffy watched him go with an exasperated look on her face. She wasn’t sure whether she should be more annoyed with him because he thought she needed a rescuer, or thankful that he’d come when he had. Since it was Spike, she settled on annoyed.

“All I’m saying is, you might want to back off with the talk about sex,” Xander was saying to Anya.

“Why?” Anya asked. “It’s not like people ever think about anything else. Why do you think they say sex sells?”

“Because it does, Ayn, but that’s not the point. See, when you talk about sex—“

“It drives everybody at the table completely nuts,” Cordelia finished.

“Yeah, it even freaks me out, and you know what that takes,” Faith said with a grin.

Buffy couldn’t take it anymore. It was the same as in the lunchroom—the easy banter did nothing to dispel the feelings that were fast overwhelming her as she remembered what Parker had tried to do.

His hands on hers, propelling her toward a dark area. A desire to scream, but the knowledge that she didn’t dare. Rough fingers pushing her clothes aside, hungering for something she didn’t want to give...

“Buffy?”

“Wah?” She snapped out of her trance to find Willow staring at her worriedly. “Sorry. What?”

“A-Are you okay? I mean, I know what Parker did wasn’t too nice, but...”

She knew what the redhead was going to say: ‘but it wasn’t that big a deal’. It made her mad, but not at Willow. For Willow, it wouldn’t have been that big a deal. For Buffy, it was.

She couldn’t stay there, not right after what Parker had done. She knew storming out again would look weird, so she just smiled at Willow and said, “It’s not Parker. I was trying to get him to let me go so I could walk home. I’m really tired—long day and all that.” The lies slipped off her tongue like butter.

“I can drive you if you want.” Anya wrinkled her nose. “Although I really hope you walk, since I’m having fun here, and I don’t want to leave.”

“You’re in luck, then,” Buffy said with a slight smile. “Right now, fresh air is of the good. I’ll see you later.” She picked up her jacket.

“You sure you’ll be all right?” Oz said.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Really.” She pasted a smile on her face. “See?”

“Okay...” Oz shrugged and turned back to the band.

“Um, I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

“Take care of yourself, B,” Faith said. Her voice was softer, less flamboyant, than usual, and her eyes were intent as she looked at Buffy. Could Faith read her even better than Anya? Scary thought.

“I will.” She grabbed her jacket and put it on. She was in no way dumb enough to go walking dark streets in nothing but a mini and a halter.

Thank God California was warm, she mused as she began the walk home. A slight breeze played with her hair, but other than that, she was alone. The streetlights created pools of light that she avoided, opting instead for the endless darkness surrounding them.

No car came, no birds chirped. Just her, with her heels clicking on the sidewalk, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to smother her tears. Just her, walking frantically towards a home that wasn’t hers.

Just Buffy. Alone.

*

He had meant to go home, smoke a fag, then go to bed. ‘Course, it was abominably early, even for a school night, but the tussle with Buffy had drained his energy. Getting into his car and leaving the Bronze, all he wanted to do was relax on his bed.

But the balmy night air streaming in through his open window made him rethink his decision. He couldn’t sleep right now, anyway, and Red was always telling him cigarettes would kill him. He’d go for a drive, clear his head.

He went slowly, rolling along the empty streets. That was one of the nice things about Sunnydale. In London you couldn’t have found an empty street to save your life, but here the street was desolate.

Kinda lonely, actually, he thought as he turned onto the street that held Sunnydale High School. Would hate to be a pedestrian right—what the bloody hell?

He sat up straight and peered out the windshield. Someone was walking on the sidewalk about fifty yards away. He couldn’t tell if he knew them or not, only that it was a female with a remarkably short skirt. “Do we have whores in Sunnydale?” he wondered aloud. Sluts, yeah—his twin came to mind—but whores?

“Hey,” he called, coming alongside the girl, “Are you all right?”

He really should have been surprised when Buffy looked up at him with her tear-streaked face, but somehow, he wasn’t. A long silence passed between them. Spike was going to say something, preferably something snarky, but the look in her eyes stopped him. He sighed and leaned over, opening the passenger seat. “Get in.”

She obeyed silently.

Spike began to drive again. “’M gonna drive around for awhile. You okay with that?”

“Yeah. That’s cool.” Her voice was quiet—very un-Buffy, he thought, and he’d barely known her for a day.

He didn’t want to ask questions, though. He knew enough about women to know that when they weren’t talking, no one else was supposed to either. So they drove in silence.

He darted glances at her every now and then. She was resting her head on the window, and though her eyes were closed, he could read pain in her face. His hands tightened on the wheel. No, Parker hadn’t been all that out of line, but some girls reacted really strongly to even the slightest bit of violence. Buffy seemed to be one of them.

Thank God she’s got her jacket on, he thought as they passed Sunnydale High for the second time, else I’d be tempted to...down, boy.

The silence seemed to get thicker and thicker till it practically buzzed in his ears. When was she going to say something? If she kept up this eerie quiet, he would go completely off his bird.

Silence.

“A’right, that’s it,” he announced when they again passed Sunnydale High. “I can’t take it anymore.” He stopped the car and turned off the ignition.

Buffy opened her eyes wearily and stared at him. “Can’t take what?”

“This! The silence! Would you just talk already?”

Personally he’d thought his tirade was pretty impressive, but she just closed her eyes again. “Don’t feel like it.”

“Arrrg!” He leaned back in the seat, clenching his fists and fighting to not lash out at the infuriating blonde next to him.

An idea came to him. If she wasn’t going to talk in the car, maybe she would somewhere else. “Fine then.” He opened his door and got out of the car, ignoring Buffy’s protests.

“Hey! What are you—“

He silently tugged her out of the car as she pounded his arm and cursed him. He tried hard to block out her protests, but it was difficult, as some of them were truly creative. Could you really yank someone’s intestines out without killing them?

He let go of her once she was out of the car. She continued to pound on him and yell curses. “I am going to kill you! Hear me? I’ll cut your skin off in strips and make you eat it! I’ll—“

He grabbed both her arms. “Buffy?”

She stopped, looking surprised. “Yeah?”

“Shut up and follow me.”

He turned away and set off across the dewy lawn of the school. The elementary school was behind the high school, on another road technically, but he really wasn’t too worried about rules. He needed somewhere to sit down and pry the truth out of her, and if a playground wasn’t the best place to do it, well, it was better than his car.

He hadn’t really expected her to follow; he was planning on dragging her. But to his amazement, he heard her footsteps hurrying to catch up. He didn’t bother looking at her when she fell into step beside him.

When they reached the playground he pulled her over to the—what did one call the circular merry-go-round like things that you held on to and flew in a circle? No matter, it was a flat surface and he was going to sit on it. “C’mere.”

She followed. He pointed to the what-ever-it-was. Carousel? Yeah, that was it.

“Sit.”

She sat.

“Okay, now you’re going to tell me why you’re wandering down a dark street, alone, on a school night.”

She stared up at him. “God, what are you, my dad? I just wanted some time alone.”

“Uh-huh. Which is why you hopped into the car without a second thought.”

“Look, I was getting tired of walking, okay?” She said defensively. “But I don’t want to talk!”

New tactic. “You don’t want to talk? Fine,” he said, and stepped out of her way. “Leave, then.”

She stared up at him with wide eyes. Wounded eyes. Wide, wounded green eyes with tears in them that...he shook his head. Wonderful. Now, because of Buffy and her bloody eyes, he felt like the biggest git in the world.

He dropped down onto the carousel next to her. “Sorry. Bad idea. We can go back to the car, if you like.”

“Why are you being so nice?”

That question gave him pause. “Well, I’m not sure. I guess I just thought that since it seems you’re part of the gang now, I’d try to make amends.”

She stared into space. He would have thought she hadn’t heard him, except he saw her lips move, forming the word amends .

“Not,” he continued quickly, “That I want to be friends. Because I don’t like you.”

“Good. I don’t like you, either,” she said.

“But if you could just tell me what’s wrong...” he trailed off. He really wasn’t sure why he was so intent on getting the truth out of her. Everything he’d just told her was true; he really didn’t like her. But for some reason, he wanted to know the reason behind her grief.

“It’s nothing...well, it is something, actually. Have you ever...had things happen in the past that affect you still? Right now, I mean?”

He closed his eyes briefly as images flashed before his eyes. Dru. Everything she’d said, done, before leaving him. The afterwards, the bottles, cans, anything to help him forget... “Yeah.”

“I left LA because of things I couldn’t escape. When Parker mauled me, they kinda came back.”

When Parker mauled her? That had to mean—“Bloody hell, did you get raped ?”

“No!” Her exclamation was emphatic enough to convince him. “No, not that! I ‘ve just had a rough time it all. Okay? And I didn’t want to impose on Anya, who obviously wanted to stay, so I decided to walk, and it was all nice and quiet out, so I walked some more.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me something?”

“Because you’re a pig who doesn’t trust me.”

“’Cuz of course, there’s every reason in the world why I should,” he shot back, smirking. This, the bickering, was familiar territory. He could deal with this.

“Well, I don’t trust you either,” she said, sticking her nose up in the air.

Ooh, she’s pouting. Look at that lip... He shook his head, reminded himself for the umpteenth time that he was not going to go there.

Of course, it would be a hell of a lot easier not to go there if her lip wasn’t sticking out and her outfit wasn’t so revealing...speaking of which, why was she dressed so skimpily? He’d thought she was a whore at first! If she wanted to avoid rapists and molesters, she ought to be tucked in bed, not out and about!

“C’mon, Summers,” he said with a sigh, standing up. “Let’s get you home.”

“This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, ya know,” she said as she followed him.

“I know, pet. Believe me, I know.”

A/N: REVIEW! Reviews make me happy, and happy author means better, faster updates...ooh, an ultimatum :) Seriously, I want to know what you guys think. Review plz!
 

Chapter 5:
Spike was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling when Faith returned. He prayed that she wouldn’t come into his room—but his prayers went unanswered. Almost as soon as he heard her enter the house, she was leaning against his doorjamb.

“So, what did you and B do?”

“What? How do you know we met up?”

Faith grinned. “I didn’t. Thanks for telling me.”

“God, you can be annoying.” Weren’t twins supposed to have some kind of psychic connection, or something? Granted, he and Faith had been apart for almost all of their seventeen years, but still...

“Right back atcha,” Faith said cheerfully. “So: what happened?”

“Nothing, really. I found her walkin’ about. Didn’t like the idea of her all alone, so I gave her a lift home.”

Faith, damn her, just cocked and eyebrow and looked at him. Silence stretched between them till he started to squirm.

“All right! We went over to the elementary school and talked. Okay?”

“And?”

“ And, that’s all. Nothing else happened. She hates me and I hate her once again.” If the bint didn’t stop harping, he was going to—

“Y’know, you oughta just tell the truth, Spike. I’m gonna find out anyway.”

—throw a rather heavy book at her head, which he did as soon as she finished talking. She ducked out of his room, laughing.

He stared moodily at the walls. Faith was right—his life would be much easier if he could just talk to people. ‘Course, he’d never actually take that advice. He had an image to keep up, after all.

But he had to put his poncey conversation with Buffy somewhere, so he grabbed a battered notebook and began to scribble in it. At first the words were jumbled, with little sense and no order apparent. But then, slowly, as he wrote and scratched out and wrote some more, a poem began to emerge.

As he wrote, relaxation overtook him. This was nice, just him and some paper. No annoying chits who wouldn’t talk—or talked too much—no wankers he wanted to fight, and no problems he couldn’t solve. There was just him, and the paper, and the scratching noises the pen made.

Just Spike. Alone.

He wasn’t thinking as he wrote; he was entirely immersed in the flow of words. He was in his poem, in a way that he could never have explained to an outsider. He was entirely alone, but at the same time he was as happy as he ever got.

This solitude was somehow right, above and beyond anything he had every felt.

When the poem was finished, he put it aside and lay down. He was drained but full, content. And as for what happened between me and Buffy... he smirked as sleep claimed him. Guess I’ll just have t’ wait to find out what happens next...

*

The next days passed as blurs for Buffy. She studied hard, avoided Parker, and bonded with all of Anya’s friends, especially Willow and, surprisingly, Faith. The girl could be annoying, big-mouthed, and slutty beyond all definition, but she was also loyal, tough, and smart. Buffy liked her.

It was Faith’s twin that she tried her hardest to avoid. After that incident in the park, she had no idea how she was supposed to react to him. She’d told him they were still enemies, but to tell the truth, she barely knew the guy. All she knew was that he was infuriating, looked really really good in black, and wrote poetry. Also, that he was the absolute worst ‘detention buddy’ a person could possibly have.

He was impatient, that was the problem, Buffy thought on Friday, her last day of detention. He was always tapping his foot, shifting in his seat, jumping up to throw things away...he never sat still, and frankly, Buffy was getting tired of it.

Well, at least Giles was cool—for a boring old English teacher. He’d even told her to stop calling him Mr. Giles and instead just use his surname. He and Miss Calendar were so sweet together. Buffy smiled slightly as she glanced over at the couple. Miss Calendar was again endeavoring to explain the finer points of the Internet to him, and he was again stubbornly insisting that books were always better.

“Problem, Summers?”

She’d been staring over Spike’s head to look at them, but now she focused on the face that was staring sardonically at her. “No. I was just looking at your mom and Giles. They’re adorable!”

“Bloody hell, it’s not adorable, it’s sickening!”

“You’re only saying that ‘cuz it’s your mom. I think it’s cute,” she said, smiling.

Actually, she didn’t think it was that cute, but for the sake of an argument with Spike ( whose eyes are so blue when he gets mad they make me want to eat him up—stop it, Buffy! ) she was going to argue that they were the cutest couple since Tom and Nicole, though of course she hoped that Giles and Miss Calendar lasted longer.

And now she was blabbering, inside her own head, because Spike’s blue eyes were boring holes in her head. God, she was pathetic.

“Yeah, that an’ the fact that it’s Giles she fancies.” Spike continued the argument, blissfully unaware of Buffy’s fixation on his eyes. “That just makes it doubly gross.”

“If you say so,” she said, glancing over at the clock. Yes! She was free in five...four...three...two...one...as the clock declared it to be 4 PM, Buffy sprang out of her seat. “Gotta run, Giles.”

“Oh yes, it’s time, isn’t it?” Giles smiled at her. “My, you’re eager to be free today, aren’t you?”

“Oooh, do you have a date?” Miss Calendar chimed in.

Giles noticed Spike’s hand tense on his pencil and smiled faintly.

“No, not really,” Buffy said, smiling at them. “See, my boyfriend’s coming to visit for a couple of days. I have to help Anya get the house ready for him.”

“That git’s finally leaving LA?” Spike spoke up.

Buffy turned and frowned at him. The group had heard quite a bit about Riley, but... “Um, Spike, you don’t know him.”

“Don’t need to,” was the response. “’Ve heard enough.”

“Ugh. You are so judgmental,” Buffy whined, before turning back to the two now grinning teachers. “Anyway, thanks for putting up with me, Giles, you’re the best detention teacher I’ve ever had.”

“It was a pleasure, Buffy. I’ll see you in class Monday.”

“Bye!” And with that, Buffy fairly flew out the door.

She was met enthusiastically by her friends when she exited the building. “Free at last,” she declared, grinning impishly.

“About time,” Cordelia said. “God, that Nazi Snyder could really use some Prozac, giving you a whole week of detention like that. And for just talking to Spike, too!”

“Man’s a bloody monster. It’s his mission in life to make the rest of us miserable,” Spike announced as he exited the school.

“Oh good, everyone’s here,” Anya said. “Now we can get home and prepare the house for Buffy’s orgasm-buddy.”

“Anya!” Six voices said at once.

Buffy’s cheeks were bright red; she just knew Spike was smirking at her. “There are no orgasms! We are very—um—un-orgasm-ey!”

“Then you’re being cheated,” Anya said frankly. Suddenly her face became sly, and she winked at Buffy. “Isn’t that right, Xander?” she asked.

Xander, who had been absorbed in checking out Anya’s rear end, blushed bright red and said, “I dunno, Ayn. The idea of Buffy boinking anyone is gross...”

“Oh, come on, mate,” Spike said teasingly, “Help our Anya prove her point.”

“Orgasms are nice, but will Riley make you breakfast?” Willow asked, nuzzling Oz. “Because that’s a biggy in relationships, let me tell you.”

“Okay, please, just stop,” Buffy said. Her face was as red as Anya’s car. “Riley and I aren’t—we’re not—we’ve never—“

Faith laughed. “Okay, guys, lay off before she has a coronary,” she said. “Relax, B,” she added. “I’m sure Riley would be perfectly happy to fix your lack of orgasms.”

“Ooh, I’m gonna get you now!” Buffy took off after Faith, who ran into the school parking lot, laughing. The rest of the group watched with grins on their faces.

After ten minutes of horseplay they all piled into various cars and drove to Anya’s house. Since Anya’s parents were both into make money and a lot of it, Anya was home alone for weeks at a time. That weekend would fall in the middle of one of the long spells of what Anya termed “complete absence of anything remotely resembling a parental unit” or, as Cordelia called it, “Party time!” Anya was too responsible to throw a big bash, but she was more than happy to host Buffy’s boyfriend for a couple of days.


“Damn, Anya,” Faith said as they walked in. “Do you hire a maid, or are you just OCD about cleaning?”

“Neither,” Anya said flatly. “I keep the house clean so that it doesn’t scare off potential orgasm partners.”

“Is that so? ‘Cause personally, the cleanliness is scaring me,” Xander remarked as he looked around the ultra-clean living room.

“Hush, you,” Anya said, swatting his arm. “Now, let’s start cleaning!”

~*~

Three hours later Buffy was completely exhausted, but the house was clean. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail that matched Willow’s, Anya’s and Cordelia’s. The guys had taken their shirts off, and—

WHOA!

The guys had taken their shirts off—and that included Spike! Yes, there he was, scrubbing the glass doors and looking sexy as hell...

No no no no no, she told herself firmly. He’s cleaning the door because your boyfriend is coming, remember? He is not sexy! He’s—oh my god he has like a ten pack!!!

“Buffy? Can you please stop ogling Spike and wipe the floor dry?” Cordelia said impatiently.

“Cordy, I am not—“

“You so are. Now move!”

Buffy decided it would be useless to argue. Cordelia was a nice person, and Buffy knew that the brunette was sacrificing several potential dates in order to help Buffy clean up, but she was also more stubborn and haughtily sure of herself than Spike.

There it was again. Why did she keep thinking about him. “Riley,” she muttered, wiping up the floor. “Think about Riley. Nice, safe Riley from Iowa...”

DING-DONG

“Either my parents are here early and we’re all about to be eviscerated, or your boyfriend’s come way early,” Anya announced.

“Oh my God, Riley’s here? Now?” All thoughts of Spike—well, most of them—fled from her head when she realized that the boyfriend she hadn’t seen for more than a week was standing on her doorstep and not only did she have no makeup on, but she was also up to her knees in Bar Keeper’s Friend. “Shit!”


“Well, pet, what’re you waiting for? Go answer the door,” Spike drawled, looking extremely amused.

Buffy glared at him. “You stupid, arrogant—“

DING-DONG

“Timing’s really not his strong point, is it?” Spike remarked as he watched Buffy run to the door.

She knew she looked horrible, but there was really no help to be had for it. Besides, Riley loved her. He’d understand her less-than-stellar state.

She flung the door open. “Riley!”

“Hey, baby!” Riley dropped the bag he’d been carrying and wrapped his arms around Buffy. “God, it’s great to see you!”

Buffy tilted her head up to his. “Same with you,” she said, and to the disgust of everyone else in the house, they shared a very long, intimate kiss on the step.

Unfortunately for Buffy, the kiss wasn’t exactly magical. Oh, she’d never seen fireworks when she kissed Riley, but this kiss just seemed...empty.

It’s because I’m tired. I just don’t have much energy.

Riley apparently enjoyed it a lot more than she had, if his tight grip on her waist when they parted indicated anything. Buffy put a smile on her face. “I’m sorry I look so awful. We were cleaning, getting ready for you to come, and then, well, you came.”

“Oh, I interrupted you guys cleaning? I’m sorry,” he said He picked up his bag again and he and Buffy stepped inside.

All six of Buffy’s friends stood up and walked over. Buffy smiled at them while she wrapped an arm around Riley’s waist. “Guys, this is Riley. Riley, this is Anya, Xander, Faith, Cordelia, Willow, and Spike.” Oops, there was that spiteful hate again when she said his name. She hoped Riley didn’t notice.

Lucky for her, Riley wasn’t exactly observant. “So you all are the ones Buffy talks about all the time,” he said with an easy grin.

“Yep, that’s us. Welcome to Sunnyhell,” Faith said.

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you. Hey, what kind of hair gel do you use?” Cordelia asked, the very picture of wide-eyed innocence.

“Um...Super-Strength Manly Hold, why?”

“Just curious,” she said. Her smirk rivaled the one currently in place on Spike’s face.

Riley just shook his head and turned to Xander. “So, what’s your real name?”

“Well, technically it’s Alexander,” Xander said with a wince, “But since I’d rather you shoved me through a meat grinder than actually called me that, Xander’s what I introduce myself as.”

“Yes, he’s quite touchy about his name. You’re very well built. A bit meaty, though. How much to you work out?” That, of course, was from Anya. Her eyes were as mischievous as Cordelia’s had been.

“Oh, just here and there,” Riley said, beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Buffy wanted to step in and drag him upstairs, but she knew the gang enough to know that this was their was of making sure that Buffy’s boyfriend was good enough for her. She just hoped they left enough of him for her to have fun with.

“It must be hard, going from Iowa to LA like that,” Willow said with a sympathetic smile. “I mean, farm boy in the big city...I’d never survive. I’m sure you did well, though, since you’re all muscle-y and anonymous. Right?”

Buffy frowned. OK, that had been just downright mean! But no, Riley wasn’t taking offense, he was just saying that yes, it had been a bit difficult at first, but he’d adjusted.

“So, I’ve been around, but Iowa...wow. Where is that?” Oz asked.

“It’s in the Midwest, near Nebraska,” Riley supplied.

“So, the ol’ boy knows his geography.” For the first time since Buffy and Riley lip-locked on Buffy’s front step, Spike spoke up. Buffy instantly stiffened. She knew that he didn’t like her, that he would in fact do anything to make her life more difficult, and his tongue was a potent weapon. Poor Riley didn’t stand a chance, he was too nice to fight back! But Buffy couldn’t just sweep her boyfriend upstairs. She’d have to sit it out.

“Yeah, I had an excellent teacher.”

“Oh, in a one-room schoolhouse? ‘Cuz, I’ve heard those’re real popular in the sticks—I mean, the Midwest.”

“No, my school was actually pretty modern. Two-story and everything.”

“Of course it was. Y’know, we’re being horrible hosts. D’you want anything, food, drink? ‘Ve heard that growin’ boys need all the food they can get.” His voice dripped in sarcasm. God, Buffy thought as she stared at him, He looks ready to tear Riley apart!

“I’m fine, thanks,” Riley said, still completely oblivious to the nasty tones Buffy’s friends were taking.

“Are you sure? Spike’s right, you look a little peaked,” Xander remarked. “Or is that natural pallor? I mean, LA and all, you can’t have got that much sun.”

“Wow, Riles, you really haven’t seen sun lately, have you?” Faith asked, looking him up and down. “You look ready to drop.” She smiled at him. “I think it’s cute. You’re like an oversized kitten.”

“I thought you hated kittens,” Xander said.

Faith’s smile widened into a grin. “I do.”

“You know, he’s probably tired because he’s been traveling,” Buffy said, shooting all her ‘friends’ an ‘I’ll kill you later’ look. She could barely believe her ears. She’d known that they would probably give Riley a hard time at first, since they were very protective of each other, but did they have to be so mean about it?

Luckily, her boyfriend was more confused than angry or offended. “Buffy, it’s only a few hours’ drive,” he said. “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to—“

“Well then, let’s get you settled in,” Buffy broke in. She grabbed his arm and began to haul him up the stairs. “I mean, if I didn’t get you properly comfy in your room, I’d be being a bad hostess, and that is definitely—um—not good, right? So you should come with me and see your room. Now.”

A very confused Riley was then dragged upstairs by his determined girlfriend.

*

As soon as the couple was gone, the other six broke into identically diabolical grins. Spike walked over to the phone and dialed a number. A second later, he said, “’Lo? Can I speak to...yeah, it’s me. Okay.” He paused, then said, “Hey, Bit. Jus’ calling to tell you—mission accomplished.”

~*~
 

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