Chapter Five

Buffy stepped out of the cab and stared up at the mansion before her.  Her jaw dropped slightly as she looked up at the place.  She had never seen a house this big before, not in person, anyway.  The closest she had ever come to being in a place this big was at her Uncle Martin and ‘Aunt’ Henry’s funeral home up in Seattle when she was a kid, and that didn’t even compare.

The taxi driver slammed the trunk closed once he had removed the last of her bags.  He awkwardly lifted the suitcases and whistled when he got a good look at the house.

“Nice place,” he mused aloud.  Glancing over at Buffy, the scruffy man asked, “Friend of yours?”

The blonde’s face darkened, the awe she felt fading quickly when she remembered exactly why she was there. 

“No,” she said rather coolly.

After paying the man, she picked up her own bags and headed up the walk for the front door, all the while wondering exactly how she got into this mess.  This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.  She was supposed to come to LA, get her big break, and live happily ever after; not have to take a job from a man that she hated, and who hated her in return, just because her friend threatened bodily harm for the both of them. 

Oh, right, Willow was how she got into this mess.  She had to get herself a bass playing boyfriend, who just happened to be in the same band as Buffy’s new loathsome boss, and become friends with his band buddies.  And, Willow being Willow, she just had to feel sorry for the Bleached Wonder, and try to fix both his and Buffy’s problems.

God, why did she have to have such a good friend? 

Why couldn’t it have been Cordelia?  She would have been oblivious to their problems and both she and Spike could have gone happily about their lives; him being completely ignorant to the fact that Buffy was alive, and she hating him with the undying passion of a thousand suns.  Life would have been good.

But no, it had to be Willow, and her good heart wouldn’t let her go about her own business without at least trying to help them. 

Stupid good intentions.

Reaching up, she pressed the button for the doorbell, and listened to the musical chimes echo through the house.  She waited for several seconds before a middle-aged man opened the door.  A pair of wire rime glasses rested on his face, which he used to peer down at the young blonde before him curiously.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his British accent smooth as silk.

“Um, I guess,” she said extending her hand out to shake his.  “I’m Buffy.”

The man continued to look at her, the name apparently not ringing any bells.

“You know, Buffy… Buffy Summers?  The new nanny?”

Giles couldn’t hide the surprise on his face.  From what William had told him, he had expected some crazed, ill mannered woman with wild eyes and hair. But this girl – and he meant girl.  She didn’t look like she was hardly over twenty – was nothing like that description.  She had a warm smile, was well posed, and appeared to be a rather likeable person.

Then, knowing William, he probably did something to the poor thing that caused her to act out.  Really, the boy could drive a Buddhist monk crazy.

“Oh, yes.  Do come in,” Giles said, taking one of her bags before moving out of the way and letting her inside.

Drawing a deep breath, the blonde stepped into the home.

Oh, so this is what the gates to hell look like. There’s even a nice little butler to show you the way to your eternal torment.  How convenient.

The chilling thought of Spike making her wear some black dress, a la Mary Poppin’s style, flashed through her mind before she realized the butler guy was speaking to her again.

“This way,” he said, heading towards the stairs.  Buffy followed close behind, still trying to take in her new surroundings.  “Are these your only bags?”

She didn’t seem like the type of girl to be so conservative when it came to clothing and the such.  However, that question was quickly answered when the blonde started to laugh.

“Yeah, right.  Two bags it?  That’s a good one, Jeeves.”

“My name is Giles,” he said rather coolly, causing Buffy to snap her mouth shut.

“Sorry,” she said.

They stopped in front of a door at the end of a hallway on the second floor, and the man she now knew as Giles turned around to face her.  There was a deep frown etched on his features, which made the little blonde drop her head even more.

“I hope you find your accommodations acceptable,” he said, his tone not giving any indication whether he had accepted her apology or not.

Opening the door, the two adults stepped in.  There wasn’t much to the room; bare white walls, a twin bed, a dresser, and a closet.  There was a window off to the side, which provided much of the light for the room.  All in all, the place reminded her of the guest room back at her grandmother’s house; not at all to the standards that the rest of the home seemed to possess.

And there was no way that all her junk was going to fit in here.  She’d better call Wills and let her know to keep some of it over at her place.

“Servant quarters,” Giles explained, as if reading her mind.  “I’m afraid there is not much to them.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said dryly, crossing the room and sitting down on the bed.  “But you can’t beat the price.”

“No, I suppose not.”  He placed her bags next to the dresser, then said, “The children are down by the pool.  You should take a few minutes, then come down to see them.”

“What about his Great Blondness?”

“Who?”

“Spike.  He with them?”

“Oh.  Um, I don’t know.  He very possibly could be, but it’s more likely he’s somewhere else.”

“Real hands on parent, isn’t he,” Buffy said, standing up from her spot on the bed and walking over to the window. 

She gazed outside and found that she had a view of said swimming pool that was currently occupied by three children.  The two youngest were splashing in the shallow end, while the apparent oldest was laid out in one of the lounge chairs. 

Well, they appeared well behaved enough.  The two younger children looked a bit hyperactive, which would be normal for their age, but nothing she couldn’t handle.  It would be just like babysitting back when she was a teenager, only for a longer period of time. 

“I’m afraid that is why he needs you, Ms. Summers,” Giles said, reminding her of the fact that he was still there.

Turning away from the window, the blonde said, “Please, call me Buffy.”

The older British man smiled politely, like he was just going to humor her request.  “Of course, Buffy.”  He turned to leave, but called over his shoulder, “If you need anything, I will be downstairs.”

“Thanks Giles,” she called as he shut the door behind him.

Once out in the hall, the middle-aged man shook his head. 

That poor girl.  Those kids were going to eat her alive and pick their teeth with her bones.

**********

Spike pulled the door shut behind him as he walked out onto the back porch. 

Tara and Andrew were happily splashing in the shallow end of the pool, careful to stay away from the rope that divided the two halves.  His youngest niece floated in the water, thanks to the help of an oversized, orange inner-tube.  Andrew ran his arms along the top of the water, causing a wave to wash over her and soak her.  She giggled mercilessly, returning the wave with much less power.  He avoided it by diving underwater.

Dawn was lying out in a lounge chair, choosing to spend the warm day baking in the sun.  A pair of dark sunglasses, which were much too large, covered most of her face.  The bathing suit she wore was a two piece, and Spike was grateful for that damn privacy fence that the previous owners had installed.  Dawn was a pretty a girl, but she was still just that, a girl.  And the last thing he needed was for some creepy neighbor to take an unnatural interest in his twelve-year-old niece.  Still, it was a rather amusing sight, a little girl trying to look so grownup. 

Spike had heard the doorbell earlier and knew what that meant; Willow’s psychotic friend, and his new nanny, had finally arrived.  He had left Giles to greet her and show her to her room.  The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with her, but he also knew he needed to be present when she was introduced to the children, if for no other reason than enjoying the show when Dawn sent her screaming out of his life.

Giles came out to join them shortly after.  “She should be down soon,” he informed Spike, careful to try and keep a low tone.

“Who should be down soon?” Dawn asked.

Damn.  The girl had hearing like a dog.

Tara and Andrew stopped their splashing and turned their attention to their uncle.  As they did so, Dawn sat up in the lounge chair, took off her sunglasses, and placed them to rest on the top of her head.  The twelve-year-old watched him suspiciously and waited for his answer.

And he thought Anya was scary.

Before Spike had a chance to answer his niece, the French doors opened, and a young woman trotted outside.  Her long blonde hair flowed down her back and over her shoulders, shaping her innocent-looking face.  The short sleeve shirt she wore clung tightly to her, and the short, matching skirt showed off her nicely toned legs. 

Spike would admit, she really was a beauty to behold.  Too bad she had to ruin the illusion by opening her mouth and speaking.

He watched as Buffy’s hazel eyes scanned over the group, before coming to stop on him.  Those same eyes narrowed a bit, but she plastered on a large, faux smile as if it might cover up her clear distaste for him.

The young woman walked towards him, her high heeled shoes causing an echo as they struck against the brick.  They sounded like gun shots to Spike.

For a split second, her smile turned genuine as she turned to the older Brit that stood at his side.  “Hey, Giles,” she said pleasantly, before her tone and her expression went back to the hardness from before.  “Spike.”

The singer’s eyes narrowed. He’d have to remember to talk to her about how to properly address him from now on.  Yeah, he would enjoy that conversation.  Really put this bint in her place.

“Who’s this?” a child’s voice cut in. 

He turned his attention away from Buffy to find that all three of the children had gathered for introductions.  Dawn was the one who had spoken and already had that same curious, yet cool, look on her face. Andrew stood beside his sister, soaking wet, with water dripping off his shorts and splattering on the ground.  Next to him was Tara, a large beach towel wrapped around her body as she attempted to hide behind her brother.

Spike watched as Buffy smiled brightly at the three, unknowing that she had just come face to face with unadulterated evil.

Clearing his throat, the singer tuned into the tone his father had always used when introducing a new member of the staff and said, “Children, I would like you to meet Buffy, your new nanny.”

“Hi,” the blonde said, extending her hand towards the eldest child.

Dawn raised an eyebrow as her eyes scanned over the woman before her.  “You’re the new nanny?”

Buffy stood there awkwardly for a moment, her hand still extended out to girl before she withdrew it but continued to smile.  “Yes, I am.”

“You are?”

“Um, yeah.”

“The new nanny.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Our new nanny.”

“Ah…yeah.  That’s what I’ve been told.”

Dawn stood there, just staring at her new nanny like she had grown a third head. Then the child began to laugh.  Hard.  And from deep within.

After several seconds passed with only Dawn laughing, Andrew began to as well, first very awkwardly before apparently getting the joke.  Not wanting to feel left out, even Tara began to giggle, still hiding behind her brother.  And because he understood, a ghost of a smile passed over Spike’s lips.

Oh, this bird had no idea what was coming.

Buffy could only stand there looking at the three before glancing over at the two men for answers.  Giles dropped his gaze from her, like he knew what was going on, but couldn’t tell her.  And Spike just smiled and raised an eyebrow as if to challenge her to whatever it was they were laughing about.

Finally, Dawn’s laughter died down, and she had to literally wipe the tears from her face. 

Still smiling, she turned to her uncle and said, “Thank you.  This is going to be so much fun.”

Buffy watched the girl carefully as she turned the smile to her new nanny, then headed back to the sun lounge she had been laying on before.

“What was that about?” Buffy asked.

Giles was still doing his best to avoid eye contact with her at all cost, and Spike still had that amused, smug smile on his face.

“Yes, um, nothing to worry about,” the non-butler stammered, trying to look convincing and failing at it miserably.  Before she could press the issue any further, he reached over, grabbed her by the arm, and began to lead her back into the house.  “Come along then, Ms. Sum – I mean, Buffy.  I’m sure you would like to get settled in as quickly as possible.”

“But-.”

Before the new nanny had time to protest, Giles already had her back in the house and helping her up to her new room.  Spike stood there, looking at the path they retreated on for several seconds before a large splash drew his attention away.

Andrew was back in the pool, diving below the surface as if he were looking for something underneath.  Tara, however, was still standing in front of Spike, looking up at her uncle with big, innocent eyes.  The bleached blond singer couldn’t help but grin at her as he knelt down to her level.

“Let the games begin, aye, little one?” he asked mischievously.

Her response was a giggle before she darted away to join her brother.

**********

AN: Okay, so, after an extremely long wait, you just get a short little chapter.  Sorry about that.  I’m going to try and get the next one out as quickly as I can, but I can’t make any promises on that.  Hopefully it’ll be longer than this chapter.  Well, thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really love hearing from you guys. 

Chapter Six

Dawn sat on her brother’s bed, flipping through one of his comic books. She ignored the glares Andrew shot at her for disturbing his precious ‘literature’ collection.

As she looked at one drawing of a super heroine, Dawn wondered how anyone thought it’d be possible to fight crime wearing an outfit that looked as if it had to be literally glued onto their body. Not to mention the six-inch high-heeled boots, and the fact that if the woman’s breasts got any bigger, she would fall face forward onto the pavement.

Well, at least she knew the reason why her brother read them.

Or she hoped that was the reason why he read them.

Tara sat on the floor, quietly playing with Ms. Kitty Fantastico, a stuffed animal that her mother had given her after Tara had gotten her tonsils out. The black and white toy cat was furry and its body was limp from the soft cotton inside. There was a large stitching up the side of the cat’s body, a constant reminder of Dawn’s brief stint with archery lessons the previous summer.

“So, what do you two think of our new nanny?” Andrew asked, turning in his desk chair.

Dawn glanced up from the comic to her little brother, then turned to her little sister.

The blonde six-year-old flipped the cat up into the air, then caught it on the way back down before repeating the process. She was ignored both of them.

“I think Spike must be getting desperate if he hired her,” the twelve-year-old said. “I mean, Buffy? What kind of name is that? And she’s blonde! We’ll have her running out of here before you can say ‘Like, for sure.’”

“Okay, hey, on the blond joke,” Andrew said. “And tell me again why we want her gone? She seemed nice.”

“Oh, yeah, they’re nice -- right up until they start bossing you around like they’re your mother. And she’s not mom, just like Spike isn’t dad, and they shouldn’t be able to tell us what to do!”

“But aren’t grownups supposed to tell us what to do?”

Rolling her eyes, the eldest of the children went back to the comic. “You’re insufferable,” she informed her little brother.

“I’m what?”

Dawn actually didn’t know what it meant, but had heard Spike use it several times when he talked about them.

“Nothing,” she grumbled.

The brown-haired child flipped another page when a car horn blared below her brother’s window. Andrew leaned over his desk and peered out into the driveway.

“She’s got more stuff?” Dawn asked. When he nodded, she added, “God, that’s like the fourth trip. We didn’t even bring that much stuff and we moved from across the country.”

Andrew shrugged one shoulder, then smiled. “Oh, hey, Willow brought Oz and the others with her this time.”

“Oh!” Dawn said, knocking her brother away to see out the window. “Is Xander with them?”

Andrew glared at his big sister. “Yeah. So are Angel and Anya. They must have come over to meet Buffy.”

“Well, they better enjoy it, ‘cause it’ll be the last time they’ll ever see her,” Dawn informed him, letting the window’s curtain’s fall back in place.

She walked back towards the center of the room where Tara had stopped playing with Miss Kitty and was now watching her siblings. The eldest of the three had her hand against her chin, deep in thought.

“You got a plan?” Andrew asked, flopping into his desk’s chair.

Dawn thought a few minutes longer, than a wicked smile spread across her face. “Does that Jonathon kid still need someone to watch Roxie for him for the weekend?”

Buffy sighed as she stood in front of her new closet, contemplating exactly how many of her clothes she could fit in the small bedroom.

Between the closet, the chestier drawers, and the boxes Willow had brought over a couple of hours ago, she still wouldn’t have enough room to store all her things. She should have realized that it would be damn near impossible to cram an apartment full of junk into a room the size of her bedroom back in Sunnydale.

“Figures. I move into a mansion and I get to sleep in the freaking linen closet,” she muttered to herself, grabbing another one of her dresses.

As she slipped it onto a hanger, the blonde heard the loose floorboard near the door squeak, telling her someone else had entered the room. Probably Willow with more stuff for her that she didn’t have any place to put.

“Just put it anywhere you can,” she said over her shoulder. “I think there might be some room on the bed.”

“From what I can tell, that’s pretty much full, love.”

Buffy bristled. Just who she wanted to deal with right now.

Turning, she eyed her new employer.

He was casually going threw her things that had been left out on the bed, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world and not an invasion of her privacy. After touching nearly everything, he settled on a white sundress that had lain on top of the clothes, and held it up to get a better look. Great, now she was going to have to wash all of her clothes – twice – and burn that dress because there was no telling where those hands had been.

“No touch-y,” she said, grabbing the dress. “Anything.”

“Now, now, pet. No need to get all testy. Especially with the boss,” he smirked, continuing to investigate her things.

“What? Wanted to make sure I didn’t bring any weapons with me?”

“No, but now that you mention it, it might be in my best interest if I did check,” the singer said, opening the flap to a large box.

Buffy smirked. “I’m not big into weapons. If I were going to kill you, I’d use my hands.”

“You talk to all your employers like that?” Before she had a chance to answer, the bleached-blond muttered, “No wonder you can’t keep a bloody job.”

Narrowing her eyes, the new nanny threw her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms, still holding the dress in one hand. “What do you want, Spike?”

“That,” he answered, pointing at her.

She drew back as if she had been struck. Buffy glanced over her shoulder, thinking perhaps he was pointing at something behind, then looked down at herself.

Assuming what he meant, she held up the dress and said, “I don’t know, Spike. White really isn’t your color, what with the whole albino, vampire rocker thing you’re going for. But you might have the legs to pull it off.”

“Not the dress, you daft chit. My name.”

“What about it?” she asked. “Cause, I’m not the one that named you after a dog, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Rolling his eyes in a way that would make Dawn proud, Spike answered, “What I am ‘getting at’ is that while you are under my employment, you should show the proper respect when addressing me.”

A tight frown formed on Buffy’s face. “Okay, you want to say that again, but this time without the pompous-ass tone.”

His eyes narrowed. “That was not a ‘pompous-ass tone.’ That was an employer to employee tone. And it’s not like I’m askin’ you to give me your first born child. All I’m askin’ for is to be addressed properly.”

“And that would be, what? Master Spike?” With an unladylike snort, Buffy said, “Trust me, there are a lot of things I’d like to call you, but Master isn’t one of them.”

“How about just Mr. Barrett?” he asked in a clipped tone.

“What about Giles? He’s the butler and I haven’t heard him call you Mister or Master or any other ‘m’ words,” the blonde said.

“Giles isn’t the butler,” Spike responded automatically.

Now rolling her eyes, Buffy said, “He answers the door, he shows people to their rooms, and, as far as I can tell, he pretty much runs things around here. Face it. He’s one ‘Master Barrett’ away from being Mr. Belvedere. That, or one ‘Yes, Dear’ away from being Mrs. Barrett.”

Spike opened his mouth to make his comeback, when Willow walked into the bedroom, carrying yet another box. “You two aren’t fighting again, are you?” the redhead asked with a suspicious tone.

“No,” they answered together.

They glared at one another, but Willow chose to ignore them. Placing the box down on an open piece of carpet, the young waitress grabbed Buffy’s wrist and started to pull her out the door. “Come on. The guys want to meet you.”

Before Buffy could protest, she found herself being dragged down the stairs to the waiting rock group.

Angel sat back on the living room couch, idly flipping through a copy of Rolling Stones he had found on the coffee table that his feet were now propped on.

It had been awhile since he had been in Spike’s home, at least since before the three brats had moved in. In fact, this was his first look at the new furniture Giles had bought to replace the ones he helped destroy at the last big bash the singer had thrown.

Well, judging by the sturdiness of the new coffee table, he’d have to put more than just five girls up on it to make it fall this time. Indeed, he’d bet that he could even beat the old record and have at least ten girls up on it before the damn thing broke. Now if they could only get the chance…

“It’s awful quiet in here,” Xander said. “You don’t think that those kids murdered her and are now out burying the body, do you? Oh, or worse yet, that, since Willow wasn’t here to stop her, Buffy killed Spike. What would we do then?”

“Hold auditions for a new singer?” Oz answered.

“Way to be concerned, man.”

“Oh, she won’t kill him,” Anya stated confidently. “Spike is paying her to live in his house and eat his food in return for watching three small people for him. Surely she wouldn’t jeopardize that for some silly grudge.”

Xander raised an eyebrow at his manager. “This coming from the woman who once used every resource she had to destroy the lead singer of Troll’s career?”

She shrugged. “He had to be taught a lesson for giving other women, who aren’t me, orgasms,” she answered. “And that’s different, Harris. Olaf and me were bed-buddies. Buffy and Spike aren’t. Yet, anyway.”

“Try never,” Angel said, while frowning at the photo of Lindsey McDonald he had come across in the magazine. ‘Country singer trying to be rock. Pfft. That’s just pathetic.’ Quickly turning the page, he went on, “Those two hate each other more than most divorce couples do. Only they skipped over the whole marriage thing and went straight for the embittered ex ending.”

“Well, depending on what those kids have planned to get rid of her, she might end up with half his stuff in a settlement,” Xander said, flopping down on the couch next to Anya.

“Well, I still think they should get over that because I think Buffy would be surprised at how good of a naked-wrestling partner Spike can be. He’s quite a stallion, you know,” the manager said, picking at her chipped nails.

“Anya!” Xander balked, ignoring the snickering Angel.

“What?” She glanced over at the guitar player, and sighed as if he were doing something stupid to entertain Tara and was waiting for someone to tell him how great he was. Reaching over, she patted his knee and placed a large, sweet smile on her face. “Don’t worry. You’re good too. So you have no reason to be threatened by Spike’s abilities.”

Xander looked as if he were about to be sick, while Angel started to laugh like a four-year-old at Bozo the Clown. Even though Oz’s face never changed, if one were to look closely, they could see he was biting down on the inside of his cheeks to keep it that way.

“Spike’s ability to do what?” Willow asked, coming down the stairs.

Behind her, trailed along the two blonds: Buffy prancing down the stairs, and Spike glaring at the back of her head.

Snaking her arm around Oz’s waist, the redhead looked to the three on the couch to answer her question.

“Oh, for him to satisfy-,” Anya began, only to have Xander slap his hand over her mouth.

“The critics!” he finished for her. “Um, I mean, ah…Spike’s ability to satisfy the critics, you know, with his lyrics and…stuff.”

Angel, still chuckling to himself, shook his head. If nothing else, Anya always made sure Xander had to be on his toes.

“O-kay,” Willow said, raising an eyebrow at the explanation, but not pressing for anything further. Instead, she looked over to the petit blonde woman next to her and said, “Guys, I want you to meet Buffy. Buffy, the guys.”

Smiling, the blonde raised her hand and said, “Hey.”

Xander removed his hand from over Anya’s mouth, wiped it on his jeans, then held it out for Buffy. “Hey, Buffster. I’m Xander Harris. You can call me Xander or Xan or Harris or whatever.”

“Like brain-damaged?” Spike quipped.

The guitar player glared at him for a moment, then went back to the introductions. “I guess you know Oz and Anya.”

“We’ve met,” Buffy said, giving each a small hello.

While she did this, Angel stood up and patted at his hair, to make sure that it was lying the way he had fixed it earlier that day. He moved in behind his fellow band member just as Xander said, “And that’s-.”

“Angel,” the drummer said smoothly, pushing the guitar player out of the way and moving close to the nanny. Pasting on his ‘oh, so charming’ smile, he took her hand into his and began to rub small circles on her skin with his thumb. “You can call me,” he grinned.

And she could. He liked her. After all, Buffy had the three main things that Angel looked for in a woman: hot, blonde, and hated Spike.

He watched as Buffy began to blush under his gaze, then heard his annoying, bleached friend groan. “Please, Peaches. That line’s older than her,” Spike said. “And no fraternizing with the help.”

“The ‘help’ has a name,” Buffy said, sending a death stare at her employer before turning back to Angel with a teenage-girl crush smile. “And besides, he can fraternize all he wants. In fact, she doesn’t mind being fraternized with.”

Spike snorted and Angel grinned.

Oh, yes. He definitely liked this girl.

Chapter Seven

The sky was glowing orange; not just a small patch near where the sun was setting off on the unseen horizon, but the whole sky. It was an eerie sight because it made the sky look as if it were on fire. But, at the same time, it was a comfort. To her at least.

“Red sky at night, sailors delight,” Dawn muttered to herself.

That was what her father use to say. She could remember when they had spent that summer up in Amityville. He would take her and Andrew out on the water – their mother and Tara couldn’t go because they couldn’t really swim – and he would tell them that rhyme when the sun went down. Then he would take them in after all day on the water.

Andrew was always burnt to a crisp, even though their mother had smeared a whole bottle of sun-block on his face and arms. Their father would laugh and blame their mother for passing on her ‘pasty-face British genes’ to the boy, so that it was her fault instead of his for keeping them out too long.

Then Tara would bug them about what they did on the water and make them promise that they would stay on the beach with her the next day. She would give them those puppy-dog eyes that Dawn had taught her so well, so they could do nothing but agree. Their parents would find it amusing how quickly the siblings always gave in to their little sister, but they themselves were just as bad. All the little blonde had to do was bat her eyelashes, and they were all putty in her hands.

That had been a good summer.

It was hard to believe that had just been last year; before the accident, before Travers and California and an uncle they had only heard mention of in passing. Life was so different now: different state, different coast, different people trying to play the parts of her parents.

Well, she didn’t mind Spike too much. Of course, the fact that he didn’t even seem to realize they were alive unless they were in trouble helped. He was too caught up in his own life to worry about them, and he did make it possible for them to stay together. So, he wasn’t on her ‘must make life hell’ hit list.

Giles tried, but he was still gone by five every day, so he really didn’t count too much either.

Nannies, however…

Once they found out that you didn’t have a mother, they would do everything in their power to become your boss. Dawn had seen it enough times in her life with her friends. Their parents would get a divorce, and the next they knew, they had both a new step-mom and a new nanny to boss them around so they would stay out of step-mommy dearest and dad’s hair.

Well, no nanny was going to come in and tell them what to do. She had made a promise that she would look after her siblings, and she didn’t need any valley-girl coming in and screwing things up.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Jonathon said, bringing Dawn back to the present. He slipped into the backseat of his parent’s car and added, “Promise you’ll take good care of her until we get back.”

Andrew stood next to the car, clutching a large and heavy box in his arms. “Yeah, I will.”

Andrew had met the young man at their new school. The two boys hit it off the instant that Andrew realized that Jonathon not only knew who Doctor Who was but could name off every incarnation of Star Trek to date with captain and crew. It was scary, really. Almost like they were the same boy, only Andrew was lanky, pale and had blond-hair and Jonathon was short, dark-haired and was a bit more grounded.

Dawn thought her brother was going to burst with sheer joy when he found out that Jonathon’s dad was none other than Adam Livingston, the creator and producer of his current favorite TV show, “Space Cowboy”. She was surprised that Mr. Livingston hadn’t taken a restraining order out on him yet. If it had been her, she would have.

Jonathon smiled wearily as he looked from Andrew to Dawn and waved. “Well, bye guys.”

The two siblings watched as the car disappeared down the street, then turned to head back up the driveway to the house.

“Now what?” Andrew asked, shifting the box in his arms to distribute the weight more evenly.

“Now, we wait until everyone is asleep.”

“Then Operation Bye, Bye Buffy begins?”

Dawn just stopped herself from rolling her eyes at her brother. Why did he have to name all of their plans ‘operation something’?

“Yup,” the preteen said. “She’ll be gone by morning.”

As the brown-haired girl slipped into the house to make sure the coast was clear, Andrew looked down at the box in his arms and frowned.

“Or have a new pair of boots by morning,” he muttered to himself.

Buffy yawned as she walked into the hallway from her room, pulling her bathrobe closer around herself. It had been a long day and all she wanted to do was sleep until, say, the next century, but she figured she better check on the children and make sure they were alright before turning in herself.

The kids and Giles had briefly joined the adults in the living room when the pizzas they ordered arrived. But then Dawn had gathered up her brother and sister, grabbed a couple of boxes and split upstairs. Buffy couldn’t be sure, but the twelve-year-old was looking at her like she had something big planned. She would just have to be on the look out for whatever it was.

Cracking open her door, Buffy peered into Tara’s room first, since it was directly across from hers. Her princess-style room was dark, except for a small light from the corner that was glowing thanks to a Cinderella nightlight. The little girl herself was snuggled up with a small stuff animal, the light seeming not to bother her. The poor child looked lost in the large, four-poster bed, but comfortable at least.

Buffy wasn’t surprised to find that Dawn’s door was locked.

‘Probably in there plotting,’ the nanny thought.

Andrew’s door wasn’t even shut. When Buffy looked in on him, she had to smile. He was lying flat across his bed, his face smushed against his pillow and his arm draped over the side of the bed, reaching into the pizza box that laid there. So much for him brushing his teeth before bed.

As she pulled the door closed, Buffy felt someone’s eyes on her. She turned to look down the adjoining hallway and saw Spike standing there, leaning against what she assumed was his bedroom’s door smirking.

“The troops present and accounted for?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, crossing her arms. “If you want to make sure that none of them have died in my care, you can check yourself.”

“Not worried that you’d kill one of the kids, pet,” he said.

Buffy returned the smirk. “Guess that would make you smarter than you look. Good thing, ‘cause I really didn’t think anyone could be that stupid.”

His eyes narrowed. “Watch it, little girl. I’m still your boss, remember.”

“And I’m still the only one willing to work for you.” Buffy really wasn’t sure if that were true or not, but, from the things that Willow and the others had said, she thought it had to be. His evil glare was answer enough for her.

But then, the glare turned back into a smirk as he said, “Well, who does that make the stupider one then, eh, love? Me? Or the one willing to do as I say?”

He eyed her up and down her body, much like he had done when they’d first met at the restaurant, as if wondering if she really was willing to do as he said. Though it disgusted her since she did hate this man, the blonde nanny had to repress the shudder she got from the look. Yeah, she might hate this man, but she wasn’t blind, as much as she wished she were at this moment so she wouldn’t have to see that look in his eyes.

“Shut up, Spike,” she said, hurrying to her room and wondering if what he just did could be considered sexual harassment.

“That’s Mr. Barrett,” Buffy heard him call before adding, in a much softer tone, “cheeky bint.”

Slipping into her room, the blonde nanny leaned against her now closed door.

What was that? Why had she gone all shudder-y when he’d looked at her like that? That just wasn’t right. It was…eww, that’s what it was. No other way to describe it. Nope. None.

“God, I need a boyfriend,” Buffy said, taking off her robe and slipping into bed.

She was tired and wanted to sleep so she could forget for a few hours who she was now working for.

Well, at least one good thing about today was that she finally got to officially meet Willow’s new friends.

They all seemed rather nice, even Anya -- though Buffy had no idea why she was going on and on about Spike and some stallion he apparently owned. Nor did she understand why Xander would get upset by the subject and continually change it to something else.

Oz hadn’t said much – not that he would have had a chance between Anya and Xander – but Willow didn’t seem to mind and they both were kind of caught up in their own little world.

And then there was Angel. She had never told Willow this, but she had always kind of had a crush on the drummer ever since she had seen him on “LiveWire” with Cameron Michaels.

That had been the day she’d been fired and been ready to destroy anything associated with Spike. But, then, the bleached-blond hadn’t shown up for the interview, and instead they talked with the other band members. There was just something about Angel that seemed so mysterious and sweet…

Okay, so he had tried to order a beer at eleven o’clock that morning and had looked awful when she first met him, but she wasn’t a morning person either. And who hadn’t had a hangover and wanted a way to make it go away the next day?

Then, it could be that Angel was just her type: tall, dark, and handsome. That’s how she liked them.

Not pale, bleached-blond and annoying.

Stupid Spike.

‘No fraternizing with the help,’ her groggy mind repeated, causing her to frown into her pillow.

Who did Spike think he was? Angel could ‘fraternize’ with her if he wanted. It was a free country the last time she’d checked.

Stupid bleached-blond. Thinks he can tell her what to do just because he’s her boss.

Her mental grumbling eventually lulled her to sleep.

Dawn cracked her eyes open and glanced at her digital clock: 1:15 A.M. Perfect.

The preteen had heard her uncle and Buffy speaking in the hallway awhile ago before the hall light was turned off and the nanny’s door closed. Giving it a good half-hour to be sure that the blonde woman was asleep, Dawn finally got out of bed and went to collect her brother.

She didn’t bother to hide her smirk as she passed Buffy’s door. It was time Nanny Bambi found out what watching the Griffin kids was all about.

Opening Andrew’s door, Dawn found her little brother in the same position Buffy had. As she slipped towards him, she heard him mutter, “No, Pilot, we have to save Wolverine and D’Argo before Vader gets them.”

‘God, even in his dreams, he’s a dork,’ the brown-haired girl thought as she knelt next to him.

“Andrew,” she said softly, nudging his shoulder. When that didn’t work, Dawn said a little more forcefully, “Andrew.”

Startled, the boy’s eyes shot open. “The Klingons are attacking!!”

“Shhh,” his sister hissed, slapping her hand over his mouth. “You want to wake everyone up?”

“Dawn?” Andrew said, blinking to bring her into focus.

“Yeah.”

Sitting up in his bed, the reddish-blond boy looked over to the corner, then back at his sister. “Time for Operation Buffy Go Bye-Bye?”

Rolling her eyes, Dawn headed for the corner and said, “I told you no more stupid code names. Now come and get this thing, cause I’m so not touching it.”

Andrew fell out of bed and did as his sister asked. “Neutralize the Nanny?”

“No.”

“Buffy-gate?”

“No.”

“Agent Oh-God-I-Quit.”

“Andrew!”

Bunching up her pillow underneath her head, Buffy sighed. There was something wrong.

Did she forget something at the apartment? No, they had made sure the place was empty before she turned in her key. Mr. Gordo was sitting on top of the dresser. Most of her clothes were put away in her new closet, and the rest were with Willow. Pictures of her and her mom were safely tucked away.

So, it couldn’t be anything to do with her stuff.

Maybe the kids?

Dawn had been in her room when she went to bed and both Andrew and Tara had been asleep. So, no, that wasn’t it.

But what could it be?

The bed shifted with the weight of another person and she smiled.

Oh, that’s right. He wasn’t there yet.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, feeling him move closer to her, but not touching her yet.

He chuckled behind her, then leaned down and barely brushed his lips against the bare skin of her shoulder. Her smile continued to grow as she felt him reach below the covers and start to skim his hand across the small of her back, his finger nails tickling the area.

“Stop,” she giggled. But he continued upward, the small grazes tickling her as he traced her spine.

Then Buffy felt something hard slide against her back, eliciting a small gasp from her.

“Mmm,” she chuckled. “I take it you missed me?”

But, whatever it was, continued to slide against the same spot, like it was moving. And the tickling had stopped, but now there was a sound. Almost like a hissing.

Buffy cracked open her eyes, finding that whatever was touching her in her dream, was still touching her. Still too much asleep to be alarmed by this, the nanny carefully rolled over onto her back.

Pulling the covers off, Buffy drew in a sharp breath, then began to scream.

Spike nearly fell out of bed as the terrified screech echoed through the home and tore him out of his favorite dream: his own adventures with the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders – the only bloody good thing about American ‘football.’

“What the…” he muttered to himself, getting out of bed and pulling on his jeans to go investigate.

Stepping out of his room, he looked down the hall and saw Andrew timidly staring down the adjoining hallway.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” the singer asked, jogging to his nephew.

“Um…”

Turning his attention to what the boy was looking at, Spike saw both Tara and Dawn peeking out of their rooms and looking at Buffy’s still closed door. Tara appeared rather frightened by the nanny’s scream, but Dawn had a smug grin on her face.

Oh, God, what had she done now?

Lord, he hoped he didn’t get sued for this.

“What did you three do this time?” he asked the children harshly. Before even giving them the chance to answer, he began to bang on the door. “Ms. Summers?”

When no answer came, Spike reached down and turned the knob.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, his arms sweeping out to push the kids back behind him.

Buffy was pushed against the wall, her eyes wide as she stared at the very large snake curled up in the middle of her bed. Its head was facing her, its tongue peeking out every few seconds as it slowly inched towards the edge of the bed.

“Stay back,” Spike said, moving himself and the kids back even further into the hall. Hell, the thing was big enough to eat his youngest niece, and he needed to protect them.

The children were wiggling behind him, trying to see around their uncle and into the room. Dawn stood on her tiptoes, peering over his shoulder and smiling at the sight of the blonde nanny and the python. Andrew managed to look around his arm, while Tara peeked around his hip.

Blindly reaching for something to defend herself with, Buffy grabbed a silver jewelry box that was on top of her dresser and raised it over her head to strike.

“No!” Andrew cried, pushing past his uncle and running into the room. “Don’t hurt her.”

Buffy blinked, then looked over at Spike while still holding the jewelry box.

Buffy sighed as she leaned back against the stairwell, watching as Spike played at being a parent and the kids played at being intimidated. The three sat on the living room couch, oldest to youngest, listening to their uncle’s rant, while still in their pajamas. Spike himself hadn’t bothered to thrown on a shirt, but no one but Buffy seemed to notice.

“Where in the hell did you three come up with Kaa there?!” the bleached singer demanded, pointing to the aquarium that now housed the python. On top of the tank’s lid sat a heavy rock, two paperweights from the study, and the Webster’s New Universal Unabridged Dictionary just so they could be sure that the snake couldn’t escape. Nevertheless, Spike was positive that it had some help in its last attempt at freedom.

Andrew at least had the decency to look ashamed at what had happened, while Tara just kept her head down.

Dawn, on the other hand…

“It’s just a little snake,” she said, settling back against the couch. She was sure to give Buffy an innocent smirk before she continued on. “What’s the big?”

“Dawn,” Spike practically growled at the girl.

Rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, the preteen sighed and said, “Her name is Roxie, alright. Andrew’s watching her for Jonathon.”

“Who the hell is Jonathon?” Spike asked.

“His friend. Lives down the street.” At the blank look, Dawn added, “The producer’s kid. Kind of looks like a hobbit.”

“Oh…right,” Spike said, though he still had no idea who she was talking about.

“How long is she staying?” the blonde nanny asked, seemingly reminding the family that she was there.

Andrew gave her a surprised and somewhat impressed smile that she was still willing to let the animal stay in the house after what happened. Dawn, however, narrowed her eyes, more than a little mad that Buffy wasn’t packing her things to leave from the incident.

And Spike-

“Oh, no. That bloody thing isn’t stayin’ here!” he yelled. “The only snakes allowed in this house are the belt-shaped kind!”

“But Jonathon and his parents are already gone,” Andrew said.

“I don’t give a f-.”

“Spike,” Buffy said, cutting him off before he got the curse out. Her employer gave her a sharp look that she ignored as she calmly said, “I’m sure that they won’t be gone that long.”

“They’ll be back on Sunday,” Andrew filled in quickly.

With a nod to the boy, the blonde woman continued, “And he’s already promised he’d watch her. He should keep that promise.”

Looking up at the ceiling as if praying for strength, Spike said, “Fine. But keep that thing locked up tight. I don’t want it gettin’ out and makin’ a meal of your lil’ sister.”

Tara paled somewhat at the thought and scooted away from the tank, while Buffy fought the urge to slap Spike upside the head. The poor kid was probably going to have nightmares now from the suggestion.

Andrew smiled brightly, mostly because now he wouldn’t lose a friend because of his sister’s stupid plan.

Dawn just continued to glare, trying to work out a new plan of attack to get rid of the blonde bimbo. Looks like she was going to be tougher than she originally thought.

“Right then,” Spike said. “Dawn, help your brother get that thing back up into his room and go to bed.”

“Whatever,” the brunette child said, but got up and helped Andrew pick up the aquarium. Once lifted and ready to go, she looked back over at her little sister who was still sitting on the couch. “Come on, Tara.”

The tiny blonde child was warily eyeing the snake and Buffy could almost see her uncle’s words running through her head.

“I’ll take her up,” the nanny said.

Dawn sent her one last ‘I will destroy you’ sneer, then started up the stairs with Andrew.

‘What have I gotten myself into?’ Buffy wondered to herself before turning her attention to the small child on the couch. She knelt to the little girl’s level and asked, “You ready for bed?”

Tara nodded and wrapped her arms around Buffy’s neck, allowing her to pick her up. The nanny was glad that she didn’t weigh that much.

Spike was watching her and had a rather impressed smirk on his face. “You’re still here.”

“Disappointed?” the blonde woman asked, shifting the child who clung to her and was quickly falling asleep.

He snorted a laugh, but didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “The other nannies would have been headin’ for the hills after that.”

Shrugging, Buffy started up the stairs and said, “I worked at DoubleMeat Palace though high school. It’ll take a lot more than some snake to scare me.”

“Careful, pet. Dawn might take that as a challenge,” he warned, turning off the living room lights and heading up after her.

“I’m sure she will,” she muttered, continuing her trek upstairs with the now sleeping child in her arms.

With a sigh, Buffy decided that she should start locking her door from now on. Though, in a distant part of her mind, something whispered that maybe she ought to forget to if it meant she got to see Spike with his shirt off again. She blissfully ignored said distant part.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, Buffy turned towards the end of the hallway that led to her and the children’s rooms, while Spike turned and headed in the other direction.

However, before he disappeared into his room, he turned towards her, smiled and said, “Goodnight, Ms. Summers.”

Buffy couldn’t tell whether he was trying to be cute or condescending. So, she answered with the same tone, “Goodnight, Mr. Barrett.”

She heard him chuckle, then heard his door close.

God, it had been a long day. And to think, this was just her first day on the job.

Putting Tara to bed, Buffy muttered to herself, “Oh, yeah, this is a lot better than working at the Moonlight Lounge.”