Buffy Summers walked down the crowded hallway, books clutched closely to her chest. Her white turtleneck, that was two sizes too big for the petite blonde, hung loosely off of her small frame, and a long denim peasant skirt graced the floor. Her golden hair was swept up and held in place with a few bobby pins, and a small pair of glasses were set somewhat crookedly on her makeup-less face.

When the bell rang for fourth period, Buffy cursed softly under her breath and broke into a run. As she turned the corner, she plowed right into the one person she hated most. Blushing furiously, she bent down to pick up her fallen books, while the platinum blonde just stood before her with a smirk dancing across his perfect lips.

"You should really watch where you're going, love," he purred, finding much amusement in the young girl's misfortune.

Buffy stood up, her papers a scattered mess in her hands, and shyly swept an unruly strand of sun-kissed hair behind her ear. "I - I'm sorry," she muttered, sheepishly.

He just chuckled, rolled his eyes, and proceeded to his fourth period class, leaving an embarrassed Buffy behind. She sighed sadly, and did the same.

Mr. Giles greeted her at the door to history class, a bit surprised that his favorite student was late. Deciding not to give her a hard time, since he was almost positive she had a good excuse, he just smiled at her and waved her to her desk.

Buffy took a seat next to her best friend and plopped down with a sigh. Willow glanced over in the blonde's direction and mouthed, "what happened?" to her.

With a dramatic roll of her emerald eyes, she scribbled down two words on a small piece of paper and handed it to the redhead. Willow opened it and read it's contents to herself.

Spike McAlister.

* * *

"So he didn't even help you pick up your books?" Willow inquired, walking with her friend to lunch.

"Nope. He was all with the just standing there," Buffy confessed, color rising to her cheeks at the remembrance of her little run-in.

"Jeez. What a jerk."

"Tell me about it. And to think I was actually friends with him. Kinda sad," she sighed.

"Well, that was a long time ago. You weren't responsible for your five year old actions."

"Fourteen."

"What?"

"We were friends until I was fourteen. Then high school came along, he became gorgeous, and I became a pronounced loser."

"Aww, Buffy, you're not a loser," Willow offered.

Buffy just looked at her friend.

"Well, not to me anyway."

They both sighed simultaneously, and entered the cafeteria, eyes searching for their two friends. When they spotted Xander and Tara sitting together at one of the vacant tables, they proceeded towards them.

"Hey, guys," Buffy greeted.

Tara smiled shyly and Xander gave them a dramatic wave, eyes focused on a nearby table. There sat the Quad Squad and their fellow followers.

"God, that Cordelia is so hot," Xander mused, staring open-mouthed at the big chested brunette. She sat there, flipping her hair and giggling, as her boyfriend, Angel, kept leaning in and nuzzling her neck.

"Yeah, and she's also the bitch of all bitches. Besides, how can you be lusting after the same girl that depansed you everyday during freshman year?" Buffy asked him, her brow crinkled slightly.

Xander had the decency to turn an awkward shade of red at that and turned his attention away from Cordelia Chase.

Buffy glanced over at the table, that today, featured the four regulars, Angel O'Connell, Cordelia Chase, Harmony Kendall, and Spike McAlister, and a few others trying their best to fit in. It was senior year and popularity was still top priority. It made Buffy sick. When Spike caught Buffy staring at them, she blushed for the millionth time that day and focused intently on the deli sandwich that Tara had bought for her.

"That geek is like staring at you, Spikey. Make her stop," Harmony whined, her voice the exact replica of a dying cat.

Spike looked up to find little Buffy Summers with her eyes focused in his direction. Although as soon as he spotted her, she lowered her head and stared at her food, as if it were God's gift to nerds. Angel and Cordy then turned in their seats to eye the peculiar blonde.

"I hate that girl," Cordy confessed, not having touched the bagel she bought.

"Me too," Harmony agreed, just to agree.

Spike rolled his eyes and stood up. "I'm goin' to the bathroom to have a smoke," he announced and disappeared out of the cafeteria. Angel took the opportunity to steal a few of his fries.

"Hey, Angel, go over there and do something to her," Cordy told him, rubbing his knee and flashing him a pearly white smile.

"Baby, I've got better things to do."

"Like what? Look nervously around the cafeteria after you steal one of Spike's french fries, just to make sure he didn't see you?"

Angel just growled and pushed the basket of fries away from him.

"Please?" she begged, batting her eyelashes.

"For God's sake, Cordelia, what do you want me to do?" he asked.

Cordy and Harm shared a smile and whispered to the handsome jock their plan.

Meanwhile, Buffy and company sat silently at their table, when Willow nudged her friend in the ribs.

"Ow," she complained. "What was --"

Her voice trailed off though, as she knew just what Willow was implying. There was Angel O'Connell making his way in her direction. Her heart started to pound furiously in her chest and butterflies suddenly grew within seconds in the pit of her stomach.

"What do you think he wants?" Buffy whispered.

"M-Maybe he's not coming over here..." Willow tried, but her theory was so shot down when Angel smiled brightly at Buffy and proceeded to sit down next to her.

Buffy just gawked at the football player sitting within inches of her.

"Don't I get a hello?" Angel asked, as if they talked on a regular basis.

"Oh! Um, h - hi," she stuttered, cursing inwardly at how dorky she sounded.

"You see, I was just wondering what color your eyes were."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Well, Spike over there says they're blue," he explained, pointing at Spike who had just returned and was watching the display from afar. "And I said they were green."

He then reached out and plucked the tiny eyeglasses from off her nose. Buffy sat completely motionless, wondering if this was all a dream.

"Well, well, well. I guess I was right," he said.

But before he gave them back to her, he "accidentally" dropped them and they shattered into a million pieces on the tile floor.

"Whoops," he told her, innocently. He then picked up the broken glasses and placed them back on her face. And with a wink he was gone.

Tears rushed to Buffy's eyes, as she watched his retreating form. His entire table was in an uproar of laughter all at her unfortunate expense.

"Oh, my God, Buffy. I'm so sorry," Willow tried to comfort her.

Buffy just held her hand up, holding in her tears, and stood up from the bench.

"Excuse me," she whispered, meekly, and ran quickly out of the cafeteria, uncaring that all eyes were on her.

* * *

After spending all of sixth period sobbing in a bathroom stall, Buffy finally emerged with her tear-stained face and proceeded to the last class of the day. She ignored the snickers and giggles in the hallway all directed at her, and sat down at her computer, waiting for Ms. Calendar to arrive.

Unfortunately, one Spike McAlister just happened to sit right next to her in computer class and it was something she was just so not looking forward to. He jogged into the classroom almost a minute after the bell had rung, smiling apologetically at the teacher, and throwing his backpack down next to Buffy.

Buffy usually ignored him the entire period, but today she looked directly at him and glared daggers. Spike just raised an eyebrow, unthreatened.

"So, pet, where are your glasses? Haven't seen you without them since junior high."

Buffy looked away, her bottom lip quivering and fire spitting from her eyes. She could kill him. She really could.

"You know, it's rude not to answer when being spoken to. I know for a fact your mum taught you better."

"At least I have a mom," she mumbled under her breath, immediately regretting it the moment it slipped out.

Spike's eyes went wide and his mouth snapped shut. He ignored the dull ache that pierced his heart and wanted nothing more than to wring the little blonde's neck. Instead he just nodded his head and turned back to his computer screen.

Buffy closed her eyes, cringing inwardly at her tactless comment. She glanced back over at him, trying her best to look apologetic. She noticed that his jaw had tightened and his eyes were glossy.

"Spike, I --"

"Save it," he ground out, turning towards her. "Just because we were playmates back in the day, doesn't mean you know me. You know nothing. You ARE nothing. So just go back to the land of rejects where you belong and keep your pretty little nose out of other people's business, got it?"

Buffy's face remained emotionless, trying her best not to let his words hurt her.

"And for the record, Harmony just put a wolf spider in your hair."

Eyes wide, Buffy brought her hand to her head and screamed when it came in contact with the large furry spider from the science lab.
 

After experiencing the worst day of her life, all Buffy wanted to do was bury herself in her blankets and listen to some Kenny Chesney. Xander always said that country music was the music of pain, and she had to agree.

Buffy entered her house, hoping her mom was nowhere to be found. She had a motherly knack for being able to tell when Buffy was having a crappy day. And Buffy was almost sure she had "crappy day" radiating off her in intense vibes.

Silently opening the front door, she stepped quietly inside... but was beyond disappointed when she saw her mother and Mr. McAlister conversing over coffee in her kitchen. Buffy rolled her eyes and gave up the silent act, slamming the door behind her.

"Buffy! You're home, honey. Mr. McAlister just stopped by to discuss the gallery."

"That's great, Mom," she replied, although her tone suggested otherwise.

"Is something the matter?"

"No, no... everything's fine. Peachy. Couldn't be better. I mean, it's not everyday you get a spider put in your hair. Very few have such luck."

"Oh, sweetheart. Are they picking on you again?"

"Again? Like it ever stopped?"

Joyce gave an apologetic look to Scott McAlister and rose from her seat at the kitchen table. Buffy just shook her head, letting her mother know that she would be alright. Joyce nodded and sat back down.

With a despondent sigh, Buffy headed up the stairs to her bedroom, but stopped when she heard Spike's name come up. Her curious seventeen-year-old ears just had to eavesdrop...

"I'm sure Spike didn't have anything to do with it," Joyce assured the man.

"I don't know about that, Joyce. My son can be quite the ass."

They shared a laugh and Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Well, maybe he's just rebelling? It must be hard knowing that you're not going to graduate senior year."

Buffy froze at this. Spike wasn't graduating?

"Well, it's his own damn fault," Scott insisted. "If the boy would stop partying every night and actually study, this wouldn't be an issue. If only he were more like Buffy. She's such a good kid."

"Yes, she is," Joyce agreed. "Maybe she could help tutor him? They used to be best friends."

"That's true. I guess I can talk to Spike about it."

Oh, my God! Tutor Spike! This must be stopped. Buffy stormed down the stairs at full-speed, hands on her tiny hips.

"Really not tutoring Spike!" she exclaimed, a tad of begging in her voice.

"Honey, he may not graduate and --"

"So? Why should I care? All he's ever done is make my high school life miserable. I owe him nothing!"

"Calm down, dear. It's your last year. Maybe you two can make amends?"

"I don't think so," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Then suddenly, she heard the start of a lawn mower and glanced out the window. Her jaw dropped at the sight of a half naked Spike mowing her front lawn.

"What the hell is this?!" she demanded, gesturing to the display outside.

Joyce cleared her throat.

"Well, he needed a job. So I told him he was welcome to mow our lawn for us and I would pay him."

Buffy just stared between her mother and Spike, wide-eyed. Then she flew up the stairs mumbling something about impossible mothers and naked Spikes.

* * *

"I just can't believe it, Will. They want me to tutor Spike. TUTOR him! Spike! Can you believe it? Or am I the only member of the non-believing club," Buffy rambled out, holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she changed into something more comfortable.

"I'm a member," Willow offered. "Pretty crazy stuff. Are you going to?"

"What? No! How could you even ask me that?"

"Well, I don't know. You're usually, like... nice."

Buffy audibly snorted at that.

"Whatever. No more miss nice girl. I'm so not tutoring him. He can repeat senior year until the end of time for all I care."

"Wow. I'm impressed, Buffy. Is this really the same girl that did the entire biology project, just so Cordelia could go to the Bronze that night?"

Buffy cringed, as she pulled her sweat pants up to her waist.

"Maybe," she admitted.

Just then the lawn mower stopped and Buffy made her way over to the window. Spike had left it in the middle of the yard, and was now nowhere to be seen. But the sound of her front door opening and closing gave her a good idea of where he was.

"Buffy? What is it?" Willow questioned, after her friend grew silent.

She sighed.

"Spike's here. Like really here. In my house here."

"Yikes. I'll let you go then."

"Okay, Will. I'll call you laters?"

"I'll be here."

"Bye."

"See ya."

Buffy set the phone back down on the receiver and finished changing before she went down to "greet" her guest. She took the bobby pins out of her hair and then proceeded to pull the huge white turtleneck over her head. Just as she tossed it onto her bed, her bedroom door whipped open and she stood there in her bra, looking like a deer in headlights. Spike just stared, his mouth hanging open. When the initial shock finally subsided, Buffy grabbed a pillow off her bed to cover herself.

"Spike! Get out!" she shrieked, her face flaming.

"Oh, uh, right. S-Sorry," he stuttered, and then quickly exited her bedroom. "Bloody embarrassing," he whispered to himself.

Buffy, her heart pounding, reached for a stray t-shirt and pulled it over her head in record time. She flattened down her static-y hair and took a deep breath, before leaving her room. Spike was standing outside her door, trying to look casual, but she could tell he was a bit flustered.

"Sorry 'bout that," he apologized.

"Yeah, well, it's called knocking," she replied, surprised at how calm her voice sounded. "Now what was it you wanted?"

Spike straightened and looked to be back to his regular self.

"Just to let you know that I won't be needing any charity from you. I can graduate without your sodding pity."

"What makes you think I was planning on helping you?"

"Figured you would jump at the chance to help out a fellow student."

Buffy laughed out loud, but tried to cover it up with a cough. Spike raised an eyebrow, surprised by her aggressive manner. She was usually so shy and submissive.

"Something funny, pet?" he inquired.

"Yes, actually. How the hell do you suppose you're going to graduate on your own? You can't have much time between getting drunk and fucking the newest bimbo in town."

Buffy froze. Since when did she talk like that?

Spike froze. Since when did she talk like that?

Joyce's voice broke the freeze frame.

"Honey, can you come down here?"

Buffy cleared her throat, keeping her eyes anywhere but on Spike.

"Um, yeah. Just a minute."

Cheeks burning, she sighed and quickly made her way down the stairs. Spike followed close behind.

"Yeah, Mom?" she asked, meekly.

"Buffy, Mr. McAlister and I decided that it would be for the best if you tutored Spike."

"What?!" Buffy and Spike both asked, incredulously.

"I'm serious. It's very disappointing to see two kids that used to be practically joined at the hip, now barely on speaking terms. It's your last year together, and you should make the most of it."

"I can make the most of it without spending not-so-quality time with the bleached wonder here."

Spike rolled his eyes.

"As much as I hate to say it, the chit here has a point. We've gone four years without pallin' around with each other and so far so good. People move on."

"I understand that, son," Scott agreed. "But our decision is final. Buffy will be tutoring you every Tuesday and Thursday. And until I see your grades improve greatly, no going out on weekends, unless it's here to study with Buffy."

As much as Buffy hated this turn of events, Spike's face was priceless.

"Dad! We're going goin' Bronzing this weekend!"

Joyce and Scott exchanged a knowing glance.

"Alright, you can go," Scott told him. "As long as you take Buffy with you."

Joyce Summers would give anything to have a camera at this moment, for the looks of complete dread that passed over their faces would surely add the perfect touch to the family photo album.

* * *

Buffy's cousin, Anya Jenkins, was in the flustered girl's bedroom the next evening curling her luscious locks. She wondered why Buffy always wore her hair up, because if it were hers, she would certainly show it off.

"Thanks for doing this, Anya. I just couldn't tell a curling iron from a toaster."

Anya smiled.

"Well, that could cause a problem. And it's no trouble. Your neighborhood beautician is always here to help."

Buffy let out a deep breath. She hated the fact that she would be tagging along with the Quad Squad that evening, but since her mother had threatened her within an inch of her life, she didn't have much of a choice. Spike was less than thrilled, and she just new he would ditch her the moment the stepped inside the ever popular Bronze. Buffy had never been there before, but Tara told her it was nothing to brag about. It was basically just a hang out for all the cool kids in town. And Buffy was certainly not cool. She knew she would end up making a fool of herself.

"You're all set," Anya told her, breaking into her train of thought.

"Oh, God..." Buffy muttered, nervously. She then stood up from her chair and took a hesitant step towards the mirror. She had to blink twice to make sure the reflection she was seeing was in fact her own.

It was.

"What do you think?" her cousin asked, expectantly.

Words suddenly became an issue with Buffy. All she could think about was how unreal this was. Her long golden strands of hair cascaded over her petite shoulders in flowing waves and curls. The makeup she wore made her face glow, and the emerald shadow brought out her sparkling green orbs. The outfit was slimming against her small frame and emphasized each and every curve on her tanned body. Her off-the-shoulders shirt was a pastel green and the long flowy sleeves fell just before her newly manicured nails. She wore a short black skirt and a pair of mint colored flip-flops to finish off her mouth-watering ensemble.

"I think you're my new best friend," Buffy breathed, still in shock from her transformation.

Anya clasped her hands together excitedly.

"Well, you look absolutely gorgeous. Go knock 'em dead, hun."

Buffy just nodded.

"Buffy! Spike's here!" her mother's voice called.

"I'll, um, be right down," she replied. She then gave Anya a delighted hug and proceeded down the stairs. Nervousness flooded her and she suddenly wasn't sure if she'd be able to do this. Willow told her not to think about it. Just pretend your one of them and you'll do fine. But Buffy wasn't one of them. She never would be.

She sighed in apprehension when she reached the landing and walked into the kitchen. Spike sat at the table in his usual all black attire, his hair a tousled mess, and a cigarette between his fingers. When he didn't notice her standing behind him, she coughed awkwardly and he finally turned around.

"Finally," he started. "Now let's get this bloody over w--"

He was cut short by the girl he saw. This couldn't be the Buffy Summers he remembered. This girl was gorgeous. The other Buffy was... well, Buffy-ish. He couldn't stop himself from staring holes into her.

Buffy blushed under his scrutinizing gaze. Spike had never looked at her like this before. It was both disturbing and somewhat exciting.

"Well, you two have a good time. Buffy, be back by eleven."

She broke eye contact away from Spike and faced her mother.

“Right. Eleven. I’ll be here.”

Spike then stood up, cleared his throat, and headed towards the front door, seemingly trying to get away from this tantalizing vision. Buffy followed him out the door and into the crisp night air.

“You look alright,” he told her, under his breath.

Buffy looked up at him, half pleased for the positive statement, and half insulted by the nonchalance of it.

“Thanks. Anya made me up. I don’t think I’d be able to put mascara on without poking one of my eyeballs out,” she replied.

“Anya? She’s your cousin, right?” he asked, unconsciously opening the car door for her.

“Yeah. She’s a beautician now, if you wouldn’t have guessed. Remember when you were taking a nap and she decided to make you a princess?”

Spike snorted, as he started the engine, not fond of this particular memory.

“I was bloody six years old then,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, but it was still pretty funny. I think I still have the pictures,” she told him with a threatening grin.

“You wouldn’t,” he said, almost pleadingly, as he took off down Rovello Drive.

Buffy just settled back in her seat, the grin never leaving her face.

“Oh, I would.”

 

"Ice!" Buffy yelled, storming into her house and slamming the door behind her.

Joyce looked up from her magazine, surprised to see her daughter home an hour early.

"Is something wrong, dear?" she inquired.

Buffy just ignored her and ran quickly over to the freezer.

"Hand. Pain. Ice."

She sighed in relief, as she pressed a cool ice pack over her burning hand. A smile crossed over her lips in remembrance of decking the asshole straight in the face.

"Buffy?" Joyce emerged from the living room, taking in her daughter's disheveled appearance. Her makeup was running, her hair was all over the place, and her hand had definitely seen better days.

"Spike," she simply said.

"He did this to you?"

"Of course, Mom. His stupid face got in the way of my lead fist. Not my fault."

Joyce sighed.

"You punched him."

"Kinda," came the sheepish reply. "But he so deserved it. He told the whole group embarrassing things about me."

"Violence is never an option, Buffy. You know that," her mother stated. "Is he alright?"

"God, what is wrong with you?!" the younger Summers suddenly blurted out.

Joyce froze at her daughter's dangerous tone.

"Excuse me? You watch your tone, young lady."

Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Please, Mom. I wouldn't even be in this mess if it weren’t for you. You made me go to that stupid place, and then when things get royally screwed up, you ask if Spike's alright. Well, you know what? I don't care. I could have left him dead on the sidewalk and guess what... I. Don't. Care."

"You used to be friends, Buffy."

"USED to be! Why can't you understand that?"

The elder woman sighed, thinking maybe she had been pushing this Buffy/Spike thing a little too much. She just hated when friendships were lost over silly popularity contests.

"I'm sorry," Joyce apologized. "I'll stay out of you business from now on. You don't have to see Spike anymore."

Buffy smiled, grateful. Very grateful.

"Well, I think I'm gonna go to bed. Long night and all," she told her mom, heading up the staircase.

"Oh, and Buffy?"

She turned around.

"Make sure you're ready by three o'clock on Tuesday. Spike will be here for tutoring."

* * *

Three days and much Willow bonding and chocolate ice cream later, Buffy sat on her bed, staring ruefully at the clock. School hadn't been as bad as she thought it would be, considering the Quad Squad didn't seem to have spread the horrifying tales of her past to anybody. She only managed to run into Spike once, but no words were said between them. Just an icy glare that made their blood run cold. Willow had been support girl and apologized nearly a thousand times for not being there to back her friend up. Buffy of course understood, but only pretended to forgive her when she bought some triple fudge ice cream from the local Dairy Queen.

Now here she sat, dreading each passing moment. Each passing moment that brought her closer and closer to Hell. And it really would be Hell. Buffy honestly couldn't think of a more terrible way to spend her Tuesday evening.

When the doorbell rang, Buffy didn't even flinch, and instead closed her eyes, hoping to open them and find that this would all be a dream. No tutoring. No Spike. Especially that last part. Then she sighed dramatically, skipped down the stairs, and boredly opened the front door. Spike stood there, obviously not wanting to be within a hundred miles of her.

"You made it. How unfortunate," she said, dryly.

"Really don't fancy bein' here either, you know. But it was the only way I could get to go out every other weekend."

"Funny how your luck becomes my suffering."

Spike just rolled his eyes and pushed past the infuriating blonde, who was dressed in a white tank top and gray shorts.

"Let's just get this bloody over with, alright? It's pretty clear we both hate each other and really don't want to be here, so how about you just write all my papers and let me go home."

Buffy laughed.

"Right. And I wonder why I didn't think of that."

"You're not as smart as me is why."

"Yeah. I'm just gonna be quiet for a moment so you have time to think about who's tutoring who here."

Buffy had to suppress another laugh as Spike looked to be actually thinking about it.

"Sodding hell," he grumbled. "Come on."

Buffy followed him up the stairs, a depressed look on both of their faces. As soon as Spike entered her room, he plopped down onto the bed and pulled out a cigarette. Buffy just stared at him in horror.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked, incredulously.

"Takin' a bath," he quipped, with a roll of his dark blue eyes. "What's it bloody look like? I'm havin' myself a smoke."

"Not in this room you're not. Girl's rooms smell pretty! Not like ashtrays."

He sighed and put the square away.

"Fine then. Tutor me already," he groaned.

"Fine," she replied, reaching for her backpack and pulling up a chair. As she opened up her History textbook, nervousness suddenly overcame her. She'd never tutored anybody before. What was she supposed to say?

"Umm..." she started.

"Umm is the equivalent of 3/4 and is directly related to the cause of the United States entering World War I. Bloody fantastic. Bronze, here I come," Spike said, rising from his place on the bed.

"Oh, no you don't," Buffy scolded, grabbing his arm and sitting him back down. "And FYI, .75 is the equivalent of 3/4 and the Zimmerman note and continuous German attacks on our ships is why the United States entered World War I."

Spike shrugged and resisted the urge to pull out another cigarette. Buffy just sighed, flipped her ponytail over shoulder, and thumbed through the pages of her many textbooks. She didn't even know where to start.

"Are you reading Gatsby?" she finally asked.

"Say what?"

"The Great Gatsby. A book. Are you reading it?"

"No, why would I?"

"It's required in English III."

"So?"

Buffy counted to ten.

"So, you should be reading it."

"Well, I'm not. Oh well. Moving on."

With a raise of her eyebrow, she snatched his book bag and searched its contents. There, a crumpled mess at the bottom, was the book. She pulled it out and tossed it at him.

"Oh, right," he admitted. "Kinda hard to know the title without the cover."

She just shook her head and took a seat next to him on the bed.

"Read chapters 1-3 by Thursday," she told him. "I'm gonna quiz you."

"Three chapters? Are you your off your bird?"

"Not so much. And get used to it if you wanna graduate."

He frowned in disgust, and tossed the book aside.

"Anything else, teacher?" he questioned.

"Well, there's trig, chemistry, history... take your pick."

"I choose "D". None of the above."

"Sorry, not an option. How about "E". All of the above."

"Bloody hell."


- Two Hours Later -

This was a nightmare. Worse, actually. More like a nightmare within a nightmare.

"Do you ever stop yammering?" Spike asked, lying on her bed, a bored expression on his chiseled face.

"Shut up. I'm trying to read. Have you even listened to a word I've said?"

"No, not really. Somethin' about Walt Disney."

"Walt Whitman," she frowned.

"Whatever. Same difference."

Buffy slammed the book closed.

"God, you're dumb. You literally put a cement block to shame."

Spike sat up at that.

"I'm not dumb, you little twit."

"Oh, really? So I'm being forced to tutor you for what, my health?"

He just scowled and stood up from the bed. But before he left in a fit of fury, a photograph on Buffy's mirror caught his eye.

A smile curled on Buffy's lips, as the childhood memory popped into her head. Spike must have remembered too, because instead of storming out the door, he glanced at her, a slight grin replacing the scowl. He stepped towards her dresser and plucked the small picture from off of her mirror. After studying it for a moment, he turned to Buffy again, a full-fledged smile lighting up his face. Buffy was taken aback by it.

"I didn't think you would remember," she told him, almost sadly. "You know, one of those memories you purposely forget."

Spike shrugged and put the picture back in its place.

"Well, I didn't think you would have it on your mirror," he replied. "You know, one of those pictures you purposely throw away."

Buffy smiled sheepishly, and stood next to him.

“Yeah, I know. I guess I couldn’t help but hope…” Her voice drifted and silence hung between them. Spike swallowed, as a wave of bitterness washed over him.

“That what? We’d best mates again? Not likely.”

The nostalgic look in Buffy’s eyes also vanished at his sudden personality change.

“We made a pact, Spike.”

“We were ten years old.”

Buffy nodded, trying to hold back her sorrow.

“You’re right. It’s stupid,” she admitted.

“Bloody right it is.”

Something in his voice had her believing otherwise, but she ignored it and began to gather up her scattered textbooks.

“You should go,” she told him, absently tossing a stack of papers on her nightstand. “I’ll see you on Thurs –-“

But he had already left. Buffy sighed sadly and stepped over to her window when the front door slammed closed. He walked swiftly to his black Mustang Convertible, only stopping once. Hope shone out through her eyes at his hesitation, but it soon passed and he was in his car, gunning it down Rovello Drive.

She turned back around and looked in her mirror, studying the girl he had so quickly abandoned. Fresh tears glistened in her emerald eyes, but she brushed them aside, deciding it was his loss. Besides, she hated the man he had become and figured it was for the best that they went their separate ways.

Her gaze then landed on the picture that had initiated the conversation. She picked it up and studied it briefly, a small smile grazing her lips. She remembered that day as if it had recently passed. Spike was sprawled out on her living room floor, dressed in a black cape, a pair of hideous plastic teeth taking up his entire mouth. Buffy stood over him, the end of a wooden spoon placed over his heart. They had played superhero that day. Spike was the evil vampire and Buffy was the unstoppable Slayer. Joyce had thought it was so cute that she had snapped the picture when they weren’t even looking. They were so young then. Nothing could ever come between them. But something did and no matter how much Buffy tried to forget about it, it still hurt.

She flipped the picture over and read its contents aloud.

“Best Friends Forever,” she said, bringing the photo close to her heart. Then, with a sad sigh, she tossed it in a nearby garbage can and walked out of the room, officially leaving the past behind her.
 

Buffy sat on her dresser the following day, phone to her ear, dangling her legs over the side.

“I’m sorry, Will, but I just can’t do it. Can you please?” she pleaded, jutting out her lower lip for emphasis.

“Buffy, it can’t be that bad,” the red head replied.

“But… he’s just so stupid! Like seriously. His brain functions on a whole different level then mine. One that is much scarier and hopefully never witnessed again.”

“Until tomorrow.”

The blonde groaned and ran a small hand through her long golden mane.

“You just have to do this for me. He’s the biggest jerk.”

“Nope. You really gotta work this out on your own. You guys aren’t children anymore. Talk it out or something.”

“You mean, like a conversation? I think you’re underestimating the whole “stupid” concept, Wills.”

Just then the roar of an engine echoed in Buffy’s ears, and she glanced out the window. Spike pulled onto the side of the road across from her house at lightening speed. She sighed.

“He’s here. I’m so not in the mood for him right now.”

“It’ll be okay, Buffy. Trust me,” Willow told her sincerely.

“I hope so,” she replied, and hung the phone up. Then she rolled her eyes at the black clad moron, stepping out of his sports car. With one last disgusted look, she flew down the stairs and met him outside on her front lawn.

“What do you want?” she asked, sharply.

“Easy, pet,” he told her, holding his hands out in front of him. “Not here to fight.”

“Oh, really? Is that even possible?”

“It is, actually. Not that you’d know, being the one who brings out the worst in me.”

“So it’s my fault that you’re an insensitive prick?”

Spike’s jaw clenched at that. The girl was just impossible.

“Alright, then. Forget it,” he ground out, turning away from her.

Buffy crinkled her nose, curious as to why he was at her house in the first place.

“Wait,” she said. “Why are you here?”

“I said forget it, Summers,” he called back, now standing in the middle of the street.

Buffy let out a frustrated groan. But before she whipped around and stormed back into her house, she saw something out of the corner of her eye, making it’s way down the road at a dangerous speed.

“Spike,” she warned.

He finally turned around to face her.

“Fine. You really wanna know why I was here? I came over to apologize. But obviously you’re too much of a bint to listen to me, so as I said before, forget it.”

“Spike!”

“Jesus, Buffy. Are you deaf? Because –-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence because in an instant, he was being thrown to the ground, the small blonde girl landing on top of him. A flash of red zoomed by, seemingly unaware of what they almost did.

Buffy and Spike just stared at each other, wide eyed and breathing heavily. They stayed that way for what seemed like hours, before Buffy stood up on shaking legs and Spike sat up on his elbows.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked, her voice barely audible.

He tilted his head to the side as if studying her in great depth. Buffy had never seen that look in his eyes before. She couldn’t even make it out, but she felt almost naked beneath his intense gaze.

“You… you saved my life,” he finally whispered, still staring up at her.

“Guess I kinda did,” she replied, trying to sound casual. In fact, she was scared out of her mind. Spike was almost killed right in front of her eyes. And she had just jumped in front of an out of control vehicle to save him.

Spike finally stood up, the look in his eyes never faltering.

“But after how I’ve treated you…”

“I know, Spike. But you actually think I could just watch you die like that?”

He was torn between wanting to hug her to death and disappearing off the face of the planet. He suddenly felt ashamed for acting the way he had towards her, but at the same time he owed her his life. No matter what he’d done to her, she was just as willing to risk her life for him as she was five years ago.

“Buffy, I –-“

“I forgive you,” she told him, smiling softly.

“How did you know I was apologizing?”

“Well, I knew it was either a “thank you” or “I’m sorry”. Lucky guess is all.”

“Is that so? Because I was actually going to thank you,” he told her with a slight grin.

“Oh,” she replied, looking down at her feet. “You’re welcome then.”

“But I am sorry.”

She nodded.

“I know.”

A comfortable silence then lingered between them, as they stood facing each other in the middle of the street.

* * *


“I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime. Like Saturday night maybe?”

Buffy stood shell-shocked in the teenager-infested hallway the next afternoon, almost sure that she was dreaming. Riley Finn was asking her on a date. Rich, cute, popular, athletic Riley Finn. Oh yeah, this was a dream alright. A dream come true.

“You want to go out with me?” came her meek reply. No, Buffy. He’s talking to the locker right next to you.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? You’re smart, you’re beautiful. What’s not to love?”

“Love?” she gulped.

He just grinned at her, waiting patiently for a reply. It would be pretty damn embarrassing to get turned down by the school’s biggest dork.

“So? Saturday night then?”

“Uh-huh,” she told him, enthusiastically nodding her head.

“Great. I’ll pick you up at eight,” he said, before giving her an adorable wink and heading to his next class.

Willow then ran to Buffy, squealing, and grabbing her friend into a huge hug.

“Riley Finn asked you out!” she exclaimed.

“I know, Will. I was there.”

“Aren’t you excited?”

“I think excitement comes after the shock,” Buffy told her. She then waited a few seconds and continued. “Shock is gone. Excitement is here. Oh, my God! Riley Finn asked me out!”

They two girls embraced again, practically screaming in delight. The bell then rang, breaking them apart, and Buffy darted to her class, late once again. As she turned the corner, she crashed into someone… for the second embarrassing time. Like some sort of instant replay, her books fell to the floor and Spike stood before her. Prepared to pick them up herself, she bent over, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Let me,” Spike offered.

Buffy was so shocked by this, that she stood back up quickly, knocking Spike in the jaw with her head as she did so.

“Ow!” they both shouted in unison.

Buffy rubbed the top of her aching head as Spike bent down to retrieve her fallen items. He then cleared his throat and handed them to her.

“Sorry,” he said.

“My fault. And thanks.”

Giving each other a small smile, they attempted to proceed in opposite directions. Buffy went one way, and Spike decided to go the same way. They tried again, but the same thing happened. Buffy’s cheeks flushed at the awkwardness of the situation.

“Go ahead,” Spike told her, stepping to the side to give her space.

Buffy swallowed hard and carefully walked around him, giving him a grateful smile as she passed.

Spike watched her head to her next class, wondering absently why he felt so different around her. Was it because of yesterday? Did they somehow reach some sort of level of mutual… friendship? He sighed, not really prepared to answer that question. Buffy was just Buffy. They hadn’t been friends for a long time now and being nice to one another was both new and strange.

But part of him had always missed her. Sure he used to hate her guts, but being best friends for nearly ten years isn’t just something you can forget. Not easily anyway. And he tried, really he did. But there was something about Buffy Summers that affected him. With her wit and smarts and adorable smile and…

Bloody hell.

Erasing all things Buffy-related from his mind, he ran quickly to next period, preparing himself for some serious sucking up to the teacher.

* * *


As the day progressed, seventh period finally came and Buffy was spinning in her rolling computer chair. Cordelia and Harmony were giggling at her from the back of the room, pointing and making crude remarks like they usually did. Buffy tried to ignore them, but as they continued, fury began to take over the annoyingness of it all.

“So, Buffy,” Cordy taunted. “Got any good stories?”

Both girls laughed, as the bell rang, and Spike came rushing into the classroom just on time.

“Actually, I do,” Buffy replied, smiling confidently at the two snobs. “Riley Finn just asked me out. He’s picking me up at eight on Saturday.”

She didn’t even wait to catch their reactions and just spun back around in her chair, as Spike took his seat next to her.

“You’re going out with that poof?” he asked her, trying not to sound too interested.

“Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering.”

“He’s really great. Doesn’t seem to care if I’m pom-pom waving Prom queen or not,” she told him, still in shock from his invitation.

Spike decided he didn’t like this. He knew he should be thinking that Buffy didn’t deserve Riley, but in all actuality, Riley was the one that didn’t deserve her.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Finn’s been known to, uh… you know, lead girls on just so they would sleep with him.”

Buffy’s head whipped in his direction, immediately going defensive.

“You don’t think I’m good enough for him, do you?” she inquired.

“I never said that. Just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Since when do you care about what happens to me?”

He finally turned his head to look at her.

“Since you saved my life,” he told her, seriously.

Buffy sighed and glanced back at her computer screen.

“Well, you really don’t need to worry about me,” she assured him. “I can take care of myself.”

“If you say so.”

Spike honestly didn’t even know why he cared. Buffy could date whomever she damn well wanted. And if that just happened to be the idiot, Riley Finn, then so be it. He had no right to get involved. It’s not like he wanted her.

With that settled, Spike turned back to his computer as well, trying not to notice the way her skirt rode up the side of her thigh when she shifted in her chair.