CoF - Jypzrose - Speedway

On Friday, Spike found out just WHY Willow had looked at him so gratefully. Buffy, from what he could tell, was a very intelligent young woman. She was quick witted, and bright, with a strong grasp on things related to history or english. However, when it came to numbers, it was like her entire brain shut down and she barely comprehended 1+1. After an hour of trying to explain theories and proofs, Spike's head flopped loudly on the kitchen table. He let out a yell of frustration that caused Buffy to jump, and Joyce to rush in from her office just off the living room. Dawn was nowhere to be seen, since she had locked herself in her room, probably with her headphones on at full blast when she realized that she wouldn't be able to hover around Spike, because he was there to study.

"Geez, over dramatic much?" Buffy sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the blonde. He looked up at her with eyes so full of angry frustration, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"This is not that bloody hard," he spat, slamming his book closed with a snap. Joyce stepped forward, hoping to thwart the obvious argument that was brewing. The air around the two was charged with so much electricity, it was palpable.

"Why don't you guys take a break? I have some lemonade in the fridge," she offered, moving to get the glasses. "William, do you want to stay for dinner?" she asked, turning back to face them.

"No thank you, Mrs. Summers. I have date a tonight." Spike managed not to cringe as he thought of the evening to come. Xander so owed him. Joyce managed not to smile at the scowl that crossed Buffy's face.

"Yeah, with Harmony Kendal, leader of the brain dead in Sunnydale society," she scoffed, her smile nasty. One dark brow shot up at that.

"Eck, whatever," she huffed, grateful when the phone rang. She jumped at the phone, plastering a large smile in her face. "Oh, hello, Angel," she sang into he receiver, her voice bright. Joyce thought it sounded a little forced, and settled into a chair next to Spike when Buffy left the kitchen.

"Thank you for trying to help her. I'm afraid she was blessed with my mathematic inabilities," she said with a chuckle. "Just don't give up." He looked at her then, wondering if it was just wishful thinking that he heard more behind her words than just encouragement to keep tutoring her. Her eyes sparkled back at him, and he couldn't help grinning.

"I always liked a challenge," he said, his face turning serious. "I was wondering, if maybe you might have some work for me." At Joyce's confused look, he hurried on. "Well, Dad's being a real tosser about me getting a job and all, since that business back in London," he said, sliding smoothly over the truth, not wanting to delve into it. "And, I was just wondering if you had anything needed doing around here, or the gallery." She looked at him for a minute, tilting her head as if she was studying one of her art pieces. He just looked down at the table, idly playing with the edge of his book. He looked so nervous, and she had to smile again.

"I think something can be arranged. I always need someone to look after the lawn, I'm afraid neither of my girls were born with a green thumb, and I don't have the time myself. So, if you know how to handle a lawnmower, and a pair of hedging sheers, you have a job. And, of course I will pay you for tutoring Buffy." He shook his head at that, starting to say no, that wouldn't be necessary, but she just waved him away. "It's the least I can do to repay you for the long hours of gratuitous swearing you are going to do. And if you can actually get her to pass, I will be forever in your debt," she said with a chuckle. Her daughter really could be quite pig headed. Spike smiled, and looked back down at his book. "Is there something else on your mind?" she asked. He looked up again, his blue eyes swirling with the need to say something. "What is it?"

"A friend of mine is in some trouble, and I don't know what to do," he shot out in a rush. He still hadn't talked to his father, and he had decided to ask Mrs. Summers, since she knew Xander already.

"What happened?" She had a feeling she knew who he was talking about, but she would let him control the conversation.

"Well, it seems that he's from an abusive home, and I wanted to help him." Spike's brows drew together as he spoke, not sure if he was phrasing himself correctly. Xander had not allowed any further talk about the incident at his house, and Spike had not wanted to push.

"All I can say is, be his friend. Be there to talk if he needs it, but don't push," she offered, her suspicions confirmed. Spike just nodded, shooting her a tight smile.

"I just don't understand," he said, looking down at his black tipped fingers, picking at a chip in the lacquer.

"Some things just can't be explained. It's not as bad as it used to be," was all the comfort she could offer him. Shock permeated the depths of his eyes as he thought about it. No, he supposed it wasn't as bad anymore. Xander was a big enough guy, capable of defending himself.

"Thanks," he said, rising from his seat. "When do you want me to start on the lawn?" he asked, gathering up his stuff. She smiled at the abrupt change in subject, thinking he and his father weren't as different as they both thought.

"The beginning of the summer, I guess. That's not to far away, and you will have your hands full with Buffy til then." *I wish* he thought, ruefully, barely managing to keep the thought to himself. Not a good thing to say to the mother of the object of his fantasies.

"Alright, Tell her, I'll give her a ring tomorrow. I can come over before we go to the track." Joyce nodded, happy that Xander had such a good friend. And somebody to share his love of cars with.

"Okay, see you tomorrow then." He nodded, and waved at her, smiling at Dawn as she wandered into he kitchen.

"Bye Spike," she called, walking over to the window so she could watch him walk across the back yard.

"Hey, kiddo. Want to order pizza for dinner?" Joyce asked, glancing at the time and realizing that she hadn't pulled out anything for dinner.

"Sure," Dawn answered, still staring into the backyard. Joyce just smiled, picking up the phone, forgetting that Buffy was still on it. Hanging back up on the indignant squawking her eldest was doing, she went to get her purse to find her cellphone, praying the whole way for God to save her from over hormonal daughters.

"Birds are late," Spike said, leaning over to take his shot. Xander nodded, not wanting to admit how much he was disappointed. Granted, he tried to remember that this WAS Cordelia Chase, and she would think that being late was a way to make a grand entrance. Spike waved a hand in front of the brunette's eyes, gaining his attention. "Your shot. Don't look so panicked. I'm sure they'll show," he offered, leaning his hip against the stool by the railing that looked over the dance floor. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, striking a match and lighting it.

He had just inhaled his first puff, when he saw them enter. Xander had seen them at the same time, completely missing his shot. Cordelia looked delectable in her white lace, spaghetti strapped dress, the hem barely skimming her knees. It fit her like skin, the material clinging happily to her curves. On her feet were a simple pair of white flats, her legs stocking free to show off her tanned skin. Her dark hair cascaded around her shoulders in waves, and her eyes were painted a smoky blue, her mouth a dark burgundy. Spike found himself transfixed by the image she created as well. No wonder Xander had been panting after her since Junior High. Maybe even longer by the way Willow teased him about it.

He hissed out a breath when Harmony moved into view, looking for all the world like one of those chits in that ridiculous movie Clueless. He hadn't actually seen it, of course, merely paused during his aimless flipping of channels one night. She had on a short, blue plaid skirt, knee socks, black Mary Jane's and a gauzey looking white shirt that flowed with a blue sweater over top. Cursing himself once more for allowing himself to get caught up in 'As the High School Turns', he crushed out his cigarette and went to nudge Xander out of his stupor.

"Hello, ladies," he said, having to drag Xander along behind him. Cordelia was putting off her usual bored attitude. Harmony smiled brightly up at Spike, which he returned. Until he happened to look up at the door and saw Buffy and Willow walk in, Cheshire cat grins on their faces. "Bugger," he groaned as they waved, and wove through the crowd, finding a table just far enough away to not be too obvious in their intent.

"Cordelia, you look beautiful," Xander put out before he could stop himself. His eyes widened in horror for a second, before he looked away, calling himself every kind of idiot. He waited for the scathing remark that was sure to come, but all he heard was the steady throb of the music. He looked back up at her, and noticed she was smiling. A real smile. Not one of those 'oh, you poor little peon, come bask in my presence' type smiles.

"Thank you," she said, looking away nervously. She didn't know where all this was coming from. She had known Xander her whole life, most of which she had spent mocking him. But ever since they started High School, she had started to notice him, as more than just the loser she had thought he was. The fact that she had spent an hour trying on everything in her closet tonight, was a testament to that fact. She was scared senseless, partly because of what her friends would think. Mostly because she just had a gut feeling she could lose herself to this man, and that thought terrified her. When Harmony had started making moon eyes at the new guy, who just happened to hang with Xander, she'd jumped on it. She also could sense that Spike was as uninterested in Harmony as a guy could get without being repulsed, but he was playing along for their benefit. She liked him for that.

Spike looked between the three, trying hard not to roll his eyes. Sighing, he pulled out a cigarette, and lit it, chuckling at the look of disgust that crossed Harmony's face.

"You know, those things'll kill you," she said daintily, arching a brow as he lifted it to his lips.

"A lot of things'll kill me pet. I just prefer to pick my poison," he answered, giving her a wide smile. She giggled, a sound which seemed to instantly grate his nerves, and batted her eyes.

"Well, okay," she said, not realizing the sarcastic intent of his reply. He heaved a deep sigh, which he covered with taking another drag, and looked over at the two brunettes who were busy trying hard NOT to look at each other. Spike shook his head in disgust, and looked back down at Harmony. She was steadily staring at him, clasping her hands in front of her, and swaying a bit.

"Right," he said, mostly to himself, trying to suss out how to break the unbelievable tension that was flowing through the small group. *Better come up with something, or this little venture will have been for nothing,* he told himself. Still holding the pool cue, he looked at it, then back at Xander. "Know how to play?" he asked, indicating the cue. Harmony shook her head, smiling again. "Fancy a try?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug, following him to the table. Spike walked around the table, running into Xander in the process.

"Ask her to dance," he hissed, as a slow song started to play. He then turned to Harmony, put on his most charming smile and started to explain the rules of the game. He took the stick out of Xander's hand and gave him another push.

"Uh, wanna dance?" Xander asked, wiping suddenly wet hands on his pants. Cordy looked stunned, losing her normal cool attitude for a second.

"Sure, don't say I never give to charity," she quipped, gliding towards the dance floor. Xander followed her, praying he didn't make an ass out of himself. Spike watched as they moved into each other's arms, stiff as boards for the first few seconds. Then, they seemed to relax, their bodies moving in tune with each other. As the song progressed, they grew more comfortable, until Cordy's head was resting against Xander's shoulder, her arms loosely wrapped around his neck.

Spike smiled, splitting his attention between the couple on the dance floor, and the girl at his side. His gaze happened to graze over Buffy and Willow, who were watching Cordy and Xander with mixed expressions of disbelief, awe, and delight. Buffy turned to him, their eyes locking, and everything around them seemed to fall away. For one brief second, nothing else mattered except the clash of hazel and blue, and the recognition of something electric. Then, one of them blinked, and it was over. Buffy turned back to Willow, who had suddenly found something, or someone very interesting on the stage, and he turned back to Harmony.

"Is this right?" she asked, leaning as far across the table as she dared, her skirt inching up in the process.

"No. Here, let me show you." He leaned over her, fitting his arms around hers and guiding her hands with his. She nearly trilled with excitement, not paying any attention to what he was telling her, too caught up on the feel of him pressed against her.

"Ugh. Do you see that?" Buffy huffed after she glanced back at the pool table. "Think he could wrap himself any MORE around her? Yech." She didn't notice Willow not paying attention to her, too busy being grossed out. When Harmony stood up, she said something to Spike, and he dipped his head to hear her, a smile curling his lips. Buffy felt her breath hitch and scowled. *Boyfriend, Buffy, boyfriend,* she repeated like a mantra to herself. She scowled again when Harmony placed her hand flat against his chest, and angled her body closer to his. He was staring down at her, listening to every word she said, looking at her like she was the only one in the room. A pure shot of female jealousy stabbed through Buffy. "Can you believe that? Little hussy. Throwing herself at him like that. And of course, him being male, and eternally led around by his dick, he's falling for it," she said in disgust. She looked over at Willow for confirmation, and finally noticed that the redhead hadn't heard a word she was saying. "Well, would you look at that? They're fucking, right there on the table."

"Goodness, and now Cordy and Xander have joined in, and they're having an orgy."

"Sounds good." Buffy rolled her eyes, and looked up at the stage to see what was so fascinating. She found herself staring as well. The guitar player had stepped up to the mike while Cordy and Xander were dancing, taking over the vocals. His smooth, deep voice filled the small club, his fingers playing along the guitar like it was a cherished lover. Long fingers sought and found the chords with ease. Strong arms held the instrument lovingly, his tall, lean body curving to it as if protecting it from harm. Tight stomach muscles rippled from beneath a black leather vest, contouring up to a smooth, hard chest. The strap of the guitar rested across one strong shoulder, his dark hair spilling across the other. Full, sensual lips were pressed lightly against the microphone, occasionally drifting into a smile. High cheek bones led to ink black eyes, which then flowed into a high forehead. Long, long legs encased in jeans that should have been illegal they were so tight, held him upright on the stage, making him seem larger than life. He was chiseled out of stone, beautiful and savage all at once.

"Yum," Buffy said, her mind conjuring up an image of Spike just so, and the picture was just as appealing as the one currently there. The song ended, and he smiled, then waved, and drifted back into the shadows to allow the lead singer to retake possession of the mike. Willow sighed in disappointment, and turned back to Buffy, her green eyes drifting to the pool table.

"Lord, could she GET anymore obvious?" Willow spat, not realizing she had missed Buffy's entire dialogue about the very same thing. The blonde just chuckled, forgiving her friend for her inattentiveness. After all, if she didn't have Angel, she might've done the same thing. *Tell yourself another one,* her mind sing songed. It wasn't Angel she had been obsessing over.

"I know. She might as well strip naked and dance the lambada for as subtle as she's being." Buffy turned her eyes to the still dancing couple on the floor. "That's nice though. And I never thought I would use those words in the same sentence when it came to Cordelia," she said with a chuckle.

"Yeah. You know, he's had a crush on her since kindergarten," Willow said with a smile.

"What?" Buffy asked, confused. She had thought that Spike had WANTED to go out with Harmony.

"Well, yeah. Why do it, otherwise?" she answered with a shrug. Willow rolled her eyes.

"Okay, say that I liked a guy, but he was too shy, or worried what his friends might think to ask me out. Then, one of HIS friends takes a liking to you. Now, the only way I'm going to get asked out is if the friend asks you out. What do you do?" Willow asked, looking at Buffy.

"I go on the date with the friend, even if he's the biggest jerk in the Universe," Buffy said, understanding hitting her. She didn't know why she felt so happy that Spike was only doing a favor for Xander, instead of actually wanting to be with Harmony.

"Exactly," Willow beamed, picking up her drink and taking a long swallow. She turned her eyes back to the stage, to try to find the guitar player once again. He was standing off to the left, the lights playing off the inky blackness of his hair. She sighed, her face turning dreamy. Buffy rolled her eyes when she saw that she had lost her friend's attention yet again. With a chuckle, she sat back in her seat, happily ignoring the fool that Harmony was making out of herself with Spike, and watched the end of the show.

The foursome walked out of the Bronze and into the warm night. Cordy and Xander were walking ahead of the blondes, talking quietly. They had spent most of the evening dancing, the band seeming to work with them, only playing slow songs. Xander's form of fast dancing would have frightened her off. They had talked while they swayed together, discussing the good barbs they had thrown at each other over years, as well as school and friends. Xander had been surprised to find out how easy she was to talk to when her guard was down.

Spike had done his duty like a good friend, coping with Harmony's chatter, and unsubtle lustful hints. He was pretty sure, if he wanted, that he could have a nice round of slap and tickle with the girl. Things like that never did much for him. Always made him think of that advertisement for birth control.

'You're not just sleeping with them, you're sleeping with everybody THEY'VE slept with.' And he was not ready for his personals to go rotting and falling off. Not to mention the whole AIDS issue. Was enough to make a bloke think about staying a virgin. Almost. Since he definitely wasn't that.

"I had a good time tonight," Harmony said, turning to face him as they reached the car.

"Good. Me too," he lied smoothly. In his mind, he was conjuring all the injuries he could inflict upon Xander for making him put up with this all night. They better not need the group thing the next time.

"Well, goodnight," she said, hovering beside the open car door. She looked up at him expectantly, and Spike had to suppress a groan. *Now what?* he growled inwardly. He didn't want to kiss her, and let her think that there might be more nights like this. But he didn't want to ruin Xander's chances with Cordelia, either. Girls had a tendency to run in packs, defending each other with an odd sort of ferocity. Resigning himself, he dipped his head and brushed his lips gently across hers. She sighed against his mouth, seeking to deepen the kiss. He managed to pull back before she succeeded.

"Goodnight, pet." She blinked, and looked confused. He smiled down at her, hoping to ease any sting of rejection she might be feeling. She smiled back, hesitantly, turning to glance at Cordelia. To both of their surprise, the brunettes were engaged in a serious lip lock, Cordy's slim frame pressed against the driver's side door. "Ahem." Spike cleared his throat, hoping to gently pry them apart. Neither seemed to hear him. "AHEM!" he said louder, chuckling as they came apart in surprise. "About that time, Xan."

"Oh, right," Xander said, running a hand through his hair. "Can I call you tomorrow?" he asked, looking down at Cordelia. She smiled wide, her beauty nearly staggering him.

"Yeah, I'd like that. Would you thank Spike for me?" she asked, lowering her voice so Harm wouldn't overhear.

"For what?" She leaned up, and moved her mouth close to his ear, the rush of her breath against his skin making him shiver.

"Putting up with Harmony all night." He snorted, then nodded, opening her door for her. Spike moved to stand next to him, cigarette planted firmly in his lips. They watched the car as it disappeared into the night.

"Yeah, I know," was all Xander said as they turned and started to walk down the street.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hmmm. Who could that guitar player be? (Walks away cackling evilly) Lisa

Chapter 6

Spike looked over at Xander from his seat next to him in the stands. Exactly one month had passed since 'The Date' at the Bronze, and the brunette had been walking in a cloudy haze of euphoria ever since. Spike hadn't been feeling too bad either, since he'd (barely) managed to not have to go out with Harmony again. And, he hadn't lost his buddy to the new-found romance, since they still went out on Saturdays, and met daily after school. The blonde had found himself spending more time with Willow and Buffy on Fridays, after his and Buffy's tutoring sessions. Luckily, she seemed to pick up on it some, and they weren't as frustrating as the first few were. She actually got a B on one of her tests, and had flung herself into this arms, her smile bright. When she pulled back to look onto his eyes, the air had changed around them, and she had stammered some excuse to extricate herself from his arms.

He figured that things were moving along nicely between them. After the tutoring, they would head out to the Bronze, where Willow would be waiting for them. She had become enamored with that guitar player, and made an effort to be there every Friday when they played. So far, she hadn't actually gotten up the nerve to talk to him, something Spike and Buffy had decided they needed to remedy soon. They talked easily with one another, him telling her stories about London, and her talking about her time in L.A. They both stayed away from topics that were too painful still, like his mother's death, and her parents' divorce. They found that they had a lot of the same interests, aside from music. He was the head banging, old rock type, and she preferred the more stylized pop. They constantly berated the other for their choices, but the banter was fun, and not hurtful.

They were close, almost as close and she and Willow, or him and Xander. But there was one obstacle in the way that refused to move. Angel. Invariably, every Friday, he would call with some excuse as to WHY he couldn't come home that weekend. She would hang up the phone, angry and slightly depressed. Spike would resist the natural urge to say anything to get her to dump the ass, and proceed to try to cheer her up. Dawn would have usually come downstairs by then, to help, her dislike for Angel thick. Joyce always invited him to stay for dinner, and, save for that one night, he did.

Things at home weren't so bad either. He and his father actually talked now. He would ask about school, and Spike would tell him, and vice versa. He confided, haltingly, in his father that he liked Buffy. Giles had merely smiled, remembering fondly his own youth, and his romance with Rosemary, telling him a few stories about his past. Spike had also tried to tell his father about Xander's home life. He found that he didn't have the courage. His father would force the issue, and take action. Thereby forcing the state to take Xander and put him in foster care. Spike didn't think that his friend would ever forgive him, so he kept silent, hoping he was doing the right thing.

But, right now, sitting in the stands, listening to the engines rev, and the smell of oil and rubber in the air, Spike thought that life was pretty alright. When the green flag dropped, both boys leaned forward, attention riveted to the cars flying around the half mile track, dirt flying up from their wheels. Spike imagined himself behind the wheel, the feeling of near flying coursing through him. He wanted this, he had decided. Wanted it with a passion he had never known in his young life. He and Xander had even talked about putting a team together. Him driving, and Xander keeping the car in order. They lacked funds, however. Spike hoarded every dime he got, and the brunette had taken a job at the local grocery store, stocking shelves on weekends. Once the summer hit, Spike would have the job taking care of the Summers' lawn, and he thought he might be able to do some other yards as well. He wanted a car, and he wanted it now. Ever the impatient one, he poured over car adds, and had even convinced his father to help him by paying for half. He didn't tell Rupert that he wanted to race it, knowing instinctively that he would freak.

After the race was over, and to the winner went the spoils, the two friends wandered down to the garage area, looking at the cars as they drove in, each lost in dreams of grandeur.

"I don't understand why the girls don't go for this," Spike said, pulling out a cigarette. Xander shrugged a shoulder, looking longingly at the '77 Monte Carlo that drove by.

"Don't know. Must be the estrogen thing." Spike snorted, figuring it was as good a reason as any. After the last car drove in, they turned and started to walk in the direction of Spike's house, since Xander was spending the night. He had been doing that a lot lately, and Giles never complained about the extra mouth to feed. Spike never thought to ask why.

"Man, I can't WAIT until I can get a car," Spike said, smoke curling around his head when he took a drag. His duster flowed loosely around his ankles, the gentle wind picking up the ends.

"Your dad still putting up half?" Spike nodded, missing the flash of envy in Xander's eyes. He had come to like Mr. Giles, a lot, the same way he liked Buffy's mother, and he couldn't help feeling jealous every once and a while. His father never paid him any mind, unless it was as a punching bag. His mother didn't care any more than his father did, but at least she just ignored him.

"He'd shit if he knew what I was going to do with it, though." A chuckle escaped him as he thought of the thousands of glasses polishings that would occur when he found out.

"Yeah, just hope I'm a fly on the wall when it happens," Xander said with his own chuckle.

"Thanks ever so," the blonde returned, raising one dark eyebrow. "How's things with the prom queen?"

"Excellent. Which means that something is going to fuck it up," Xander said with certainty.

"Because, nothing good ever happens to me. She'll probably wake up one day soon here and remember WHY I'm not good enough for her." Spike eyed his friend, pausing to crush the cigarette out under his boot.

"Well, as long as the glass is half full, and all that," he said, sarcastically.

"No, I mean it. What does SHE see in ME?" Xander was still amazed that Cordelia was actively dating him. She was another reason he got the job, cause he didn't want her to think that he couldn't pay. As it were, they never did anything more elaborate than going to the Bronze or a movie. She never made him feel bad about it, even though he knew that the other guys she had dated probably took her to fancy restaurants and country clubs. He was starting to become very afraid that he was falling in love with her, and he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Well, maybe it's cause you're funny, considerate, not too bad looking. Could use some help in the dressing department. You have manners, when you choose to use them, and you treat her with respect. Hell, if I was a girl, I'd date you." Xander snorted at that, kicking a rock with his shoe.

"Just stop worrying about it. Enjoy it. Let whatever is going to happen, happen. And, if by some extreme idiocy on her part, she does decide to dump you? You can at least tell your grandchildren that you dated the most popular girl in school, and tell them how YOU left HER." Spike tilted his head to the side, a smile curving his lips.

"Oh, the same way that you're going to tell YOUR grandchildren the same thing about Buffy?" Spike scowled at that, causing Xander to laugh.

"What? It was funny." Xander followed Spike, chuckling at the black clad back of his annoyed friend.

About two weeks later, Cordelia was sitting with her group of friends, half listening to them as she waited for Xander. Harmony had been on a severe 'dis Spike' campaign, and the others in the group had avidly agreed with her. Cordy couldn't bring herself to care very much. She got what she wanted, and at least Harm had gotten to go out with the blonde once. Something that no other girl in the school had managed. Cordy knew it was because none of them were named Buffy Summers. Xander had told her about the fascination the Brit had for the girl.

"GOD, Cordy. Are you even listening to me?" Harmony whined, pulling the brunette from her thoughts. She turned cool, brown eyes on the other girl, a delicate brow arching up.

"No, actually, I wasn't. This song is a little boring. Get over it already," Cordy told her, her tone none too gentle. Harmony's face colored to an unpleasant red, and anger twisted her features.

"Oh, and always hearing the praises of one loser Xander Harris is just thrilling for us?" she asked, her words scathing.

"You're just pissed cause Spike wasn't interested. Don't take it out on Xander."

"He leaves himself open for it. I mean, just think about it Cordy. Look at the way he dresses, you can't take him anywhere. Have you introduced him to your parents yet?" At Cordy's guilty look, Harmony pounced.

"See, you're ashamed of him. What's the point of dating someone you wouldn't take home? I mean, he is such a goof," she finished, rolling her eyes. The other girls tittered with laughter, and Cordy felt her face start to flame. Her heart was pounding in her chest as everything she had ever said to, and about, Xander popped through her mind. She knew he wasn't any of those things, but she had always been the pretty one, the popular one. The one that led, not followed. But here her friends were, ridiculing her boyfriend, and trying to make her feel stupid for dating him. Her head was swimming with all these things when Xander started to walk up behind them.

"Oh God, here he comes," Harmony sneered, disdain turning her pretty face ugly. Cordelia just blinked at the news, her thoughts still jumbled in her head. She jerked when she felt his hand on her shoulder, and turned her eyes up to his. He frowned at the panic he read there, and leaned down to brush a reassuring kiss on her lips. When all he encountered was her turned cheek, he pulled back, dark eyes searching her face. Snickers from the other girls reached his ears, and suddenly things started to click. Hurt flashed through his eyes and he waited for her to prove him wrong.

Guilt flared inside of Cordelia's chest, and her heart squeezed painfully. *How could she do this to him?*, her mind screamed, as he turned and walked away from her, not a word passing between them. *I am such a bitch* she thought, feeling her heart starting to break. She looked around the table at the smirking girls, a thought piercing her brain. These people were not her friends. All they cared about was how much money she had, or which designer she wore, or what kind of car she drove. But Xander. . .Xander didn't care about any of that. All he saw when he looked at her was HER, Cordelia Chase, the girl. She'd be a fool to throw that away. Glaring around the table at the people she had called 'friend', she sent them all withering glares and was after him in a matter of seconds.

"XANDER!" she called, running towards where he was standing with Spike. The blonde shot her a glare, but she ignored him, her eyes only for Xander. When he turned towards her, his eyes were so full of hurt, she thought she would choke on it. He had thought that what they had was special, something that went beyond social barriers and petty opinions. Apparently, the other shoe had dropped.

"WHAT!" he snapped, anger hardening the plains if his face, making him seem immovable.

"I'm sorry. . .I. . I. . ." she stammered, for once losing her cool, controlled demeanor.

"You what? Decided you were tired of slumming?" Spike winced at the use of his own words. He desperately wished he could take them back now. "Decided that Alexander Harris really was the loser you always thought? Or, maybe," he moved closer, until their faces were merely inches apart. "Maybe you really are just a shallow bitch." Spike snorted in agreement, a tiny part of him responding to the absolute desperation in the girl's eyes. None of them noticed the crowd around them growing, or that Buffy and Willow had come up to stand next to Spike. They looked at him questioningly, but he just shook his head.

"You're right," Cordelia repeated louder, looking up at him. "I am a shallow bitch. I'm so sorry. I thought. . ." She blinked back the tears threatening to fall. And straightened her shoulders. She looked him straight in the eye as her next words rang through the hallway, shocking everyone. "Xander Harris, I love you. And I don't care who knows it."

You could have heard a pin drop as Xander's jaw dropped open at her admission. Everyone held their breath as they waited for him to snap out of it and answer her. She stood statuesque and tall, her face daring anyone in the hall to say something. He looked down at her, a huge grin starting to spread across his face.

"Say it again," he said, hope and uncertainty replacing the anger in his eyes. An answering smile began to bloom on her lips, and she rolled her eyes.

"I. LOVE. YOU. Get it that time?" She crossed her arms over her chest, her dark eyes twinkling. Xander reached out and pulled her to him, his brown eyed gazed searching hers.

"Yeah, I got it." His fingers tightened in the silk of her red blouse, his heart feeling about to burst. "I love you too." When they kissed, a huge cheer rose through the hall, laughs and cat calls interspersed.

"Why do I feel like I just walked into the ending of one of those bloody teen movies?" Spike asked, jumping when Buffy hit him. He turned to find Willow and Buffy glaring daggers at him. "Wha?"

"Shut up. It's romantic," Buffy said with a sigh, her glare turning dreamy when she looked back at the brunette couple. Willow was equally as lost in a romantic haze, and Spike swore he was going to hurl. Rolling his eyes, he turned to pull his books out of his locker, a smile tugging at his own lips. *Poof* he scoffed at himself, turning back towards the girls, noticing the crowd starting to dissipate.

"Shall we leave them in peace? Think they've got a lot to talk about. And you have a final to study for." Buffy scowled up at him, letting out a disgusted sigh. Willow giggled, turning it into a cough when the blonde girl turned her glare to her.

"You sure know how to kill a mood," Buffy grumbled, stalking away. Willow and Spike exchanged a look and followed her, leaving the couple still kissing in the hallway.

"So, when are you going to talk to him?" Buffy asked Willow, as they made their way to the ladies room. She saw her friend's face flame at the thought, and barely suppressed a chuckle.

"How bout never?" she suggested, going into one of the stalls and slamming the door.

"Oh, come on, Will. He's totally hot, and you're not involved, so, what's stopping you?" Buffy asked, checking her makeup in the mirror.

"Abject terror," Willow responded, coming out to look at herself in the mirror. What would a six foot four if he was an inch, lean mean guitar playing machine want with mousy old her? Her mouth pursed into a frown as she looked at her attire. Denim overalls and a green and white striped shirt was about the most exciting thing she had in her wardrobe. Her russet hair was pulled into a tight french braid, and she was makeup free.

"Why? He's just a guy. Just pretend he's Spike or Xander, and you should be fine," Buffy offered, running a brush through her hair.

"Except that I don't want to jump Spike or Xander," Willow returned. "I'm too. . .normal, for a guy like him," she decided. Buffy arched one dark honey brow. "You're more the sort he would go out with," she said, eyeing the snug black jeans, and white poets shirt that Buffy was wearing.

"And you know this, how? Assuming that he is a shallow jackass that only sees what a girl is wearing, or not wearing as the case may be, is like assuming Spike is a dumbass stoner," Buffy told her pointedly. Suddenly, she had an idea, and began pulling beauty supplies out of her purse. Just then, Cordelia walked in, and saw what she was doing.

"Damn, Buff. I thought you went for a more natural look," she said, looking at the display of cosmetics lining the sink. Buffy rolled her eyes.

"It's not for me. It's for Willow." The redhead's eyes widened comically at that. "She has a thing for the hottie guitar player," she whispered.

"What, she needs a little confidence to talk to him?" Cordy asked Buffy, as both girls ignored the panicked girl.

"Yeah. Thought maybe if she felt pretty, even though she already is, she might get the nerve up." Cordy turned practiced, appraising eyes on the cringing girl, doing a once over.

"I think we might be able to do something." Cordelia plunked her bag down on the counter, and started pulling out her own assembly of beauty products. A portable curling iron and hair spray not the least of what she had.

"You never know when situations like these might pop up." When the cosmetics were arranged, they both turned to Willow, who was staring at the display like it was an arrangement of torture devices.

"Be a good little girl and come over here," Buffy said, easing towards her friend.

"Yeah, we don't bite," Cordy offered, angling on the other side of her. Willow's eyes darted between them, and she let out a squeak when they each seized an arm, and hauled her over to the bench that lined the wall.

"Now, sit still," they said, as they each brandished an instrument and went to work.

"What the hell is taking those chits so long?" Spike huffed. He and Xander were in their usual spot by the pool table, waiting rather impatiently for the girls to return.

"I dunno. Here's my question, why do they all have to go to the bathroom in groups of two or more? Guys don't." Spike shrugged, and turned to the stage when it was Xander's turn. The band had just finished playing their first set, and were taking a break. Spike thought briefly about finding the guitar player, and talking to him, but as he glanced over at the ladies room all thought ran straight out of his head.

The three visions that were making their way to the table, had not been the three girls that walked into the bathroom. Sure, they were all gorgeous before they walked in, but now. . .they glowed. And Willow was wearing makeup, he thought hazily. And her hair was different. It was no longer braided, and it hung in curls around her shoulders. Her green eyes were lined in smoke, and her lips were shiny with peach tinted gloss.

"Well, look at this. Red, my dear, you are lovely," Spike said, smiling at her. She blushed prettily and dropped her eyes to the floor.

"Wow, Will. Just. . .wow," was all Xander could come up with, but her smile was beaming all the same.

"See, you passed the test. Now, seek and destroy," Buffy told her friend, turning her in the direction of where the target in question was seated at the bar, drinking a soda, and munching on peanuts. The quartet watched as Willow made her way slowly over to the bar, then slid into the stool next to him. He turned to her almost immediately, a slow grin curling his lip.

"You ladies did a wonderful job," Spike said to Buffy when she came over to stand next to him. He looked down into her eyes, his blue orbs looking right into the heart of her. Buffy didn't think that she would ever get used to the way he did that, or the way her breath would hitch when he did it. She was finding it harder and harder to resist the pull to him, and she constantly had to push thoughts of him away.

"Thanks," she mumbled, looking away. A brow shot up, and he felt that somehow, he was finally getting through. Leaning the pool cue against the side of the table, he boldly took her hand and started walking toward the dance floor. "Where are we going?" she gasped, dragging her heels a bit.

"Dance with me," was all he said, as a slow song started to play. Her eyes got wide, and owlish, and she had the distinct feeling that dancing with him would be the biggest mistake in her life. But, her voice refused to cooperate when she wanted to tell him no. And her body turned traitor on her when he wrapped a hand around her waist, gently pulling her to him. He begin to slowly sway to the rhythm of the music, his eyes burning into hers as she immediately fell into synch with him. Her hands drifted of their own accord to hook around the back of his neck, her fingers brushing the softness of his hair. He slipped his other arm around her waist, sliding his hand up to the middle of her back. As per usual when they found themselves standing too close, or staring at each other for too long, the world around them melted away. The only two people in the room were them, the only sound permeating their consciousness was the song.

Buffy felt like she was drowning in his eyes. He never looked away from her, just kept up the steady swaying of their bodies, the contact making her dizzy. Instinctively, they moved closer, until she was pulled flush against him, the softness of her breasts crushed against the hardness of his chest. His hands played over her back, causing little shivers to dance across her skin. Her lips parted slightly on a gasp when she felt the evidence of her affect on him brush against her stomach.

*STOP DANCING NOW!* her mind screamed, but her body just kept moving, squeezing ever closer to the hardness that was him. His scent tickled her nose, cigarettes, soap, and spicy smelling aftershave. Those eyes of his kept darkening as the seconds passed, and she watched in fascination as they became near black. She didn't realize that their faces were getting closer to each other, until she felt his breath tease her lips. She gasped again in the instant before he closed the distance between them, none of the resolve she'd had after the movie anywhere to be seen.

Spike managed to control himself and not plunder her mouth like he had been dreaming of for weeks. Instead, he barely swept the tip of tongue around the line of her lips, gently teasing her. Her fingers tightened on the nape of his neck, and her eyes drifted closed. This was the way she had always wanted to be kissed, like she was a fine wine to be savored. His lips brushed across hers, and his tongue slid partially between her parted lips, enticing hers to come out and play. Tentatively, it did. Just the very tips brushed, and Spike had to keep himself in check again. His blood was racing through his veins, and he was having a hard time breathing. She was so soft and warm in his arms, her mouth so sweet and tender.

Buffy was lost to all coherent thought as they kissed. Neither had moved to deepen it, content at the moment to play. When his teeth nipped lightly at the swell of her bottom lip, something within her broke. Suddenly, the soft touches weren't enough. She needed more. With a moan that was swallowed by his mouth, Buffy pushed her tongue fully into his eager mouth, sliding it over his with rapture. Gone was the gentle exploration, in it's place was a ravenous hunger, something she had never felt kissing Angel. Arms tightened as heads angled to deepen the penetration of their tongues. Fingers curled into fists as electricity and heat sang along their nerves, culminating in a spot south. Her skin was on fire, and she knew that he could cool it.

They had stopped pretending to dance a long time ago, and they hadn't realized that they were making quite a spectacle on the dance floor. All that mattered was each other. Buffy was the first to pull away for air, her cloudy, hazel eyes staring up into his. He held her trembling frame steady, his own senses on overload. His blue orbs were awe-filled as he looked down at her. He had never been so swept up in a kiss that he forgot who and where he was. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew this girl was the one.

Something must have shown in his eyes, because a sudden flash of panic, followed quickly by reality crashing down, crossed her face. She pushed away from him, her fingers coming up to her lips, her eyes huge. He just watched her, waiting for her reaction. He scowled when he got it.

Chapter 7

Buffy opened her front door the next morning, and found herself faced with the expectant faces of one Willow Rosenberg, and one Cordelia Chase.

"What?" she asked, glowering. The two at the door shared a look before they pushed past her. "Come in," Buffy said sarcastically, closing the door. She was cranky, guilt over kissing Spike, and liking it, warred with her desire to do it again, and feel that mouth on other random parts of her body, made it impossible to sleep. She so didn't want to think about it anymore, but looking at the red and dark haired girls, Buffy knew that it would be a long time before THAT happened.

"Why did you run out on Spike last night?" Cordelia asked, arching a brow. Buffy's eyes widened at the bluntness of the question.

"Hello?! Boyfriend. Not so good to be kissing other guys in plain view of all the people from school. As it is, I have to worry about his friends who were there calling him with the news," she groused, flopping on the couch.

"I wouldn't worry if I were you. No loyalty among that group," Cordelia said, speaking from experience.

"What's the point, then? You kissed him, and you obviously liked it," Willow shot in. Buffy's brows shot up.

"What part of 'boyfriend' don't you understand?" She threw up her hands in frustration.

"Oh, the word we understand. It's your choice of one that we don't." Anger flared between the two friends, and Cordy watched in fascination.

"Alright!" the brunette said, raising her hands to stop the argument. "Let's look at this another way." She sighed, and pinned Buffy with her eyes. "Have you EVER kissed Angel the way you kissed Spike last night?" Buffy sat back on the couch, scowling darkly.

"No," she grumbled, looking away. She didn't see the smug look that passed between her friends.

"So, why are you staying with him?" Buffy opened her mouth to answer, and found herself with nothing to say. Encouraged, Willow moved to sit next to her, green eyes searching hazel.

"Buffy, you're seventeen. Why stick with a guy that doesn't make you happy? That hasn't made you happy in a LONG time? You're too young to think you HAVE to stay with him." Buffy worried her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes darting around the room while she thought. Why was she staying with him? He never came home on the weekends anymore. When they talked on the phone, he was continually making references to other girls, or her lack of wanting to have sex. He wasn't coming home for the summer. What did she want? Her skin heated as she remembered the kiss from the night before, and she had her answer. But still, she was afraid.

"I just need to think. I'll be going to LA in two weeks. I'll see Angel, decide then," she stalled. Now all she had to do was avoid Spike for fourteen days. Not a problem. Right. Willow and Cordelia were at least glad that they got her to even do that.

"Well, thinking is good," Willow said, trying not to stand up and do the Snoopy dance. She was mentally kissing Angel goodbye, her smile struggling to break free.

"Yeah." A smile bloomed across Buffy's face, as she realized her opportunity to get her mind off one bleached blonde wonder. "So, what happened with the guitar player?" Willow's face flamed and she looked away.

"She so hit it off with him. His name is Mark Lynch, and he is originally from Arizona. He's twenty and has been playing guitar since he was ten. He's part Navajo Indian, and his grandmother still lives on the reservation. He moved here with the band, because it was close to L.A., and it's cheaper than living there. He lives over on Kensington, in the apartments behind the mall, and he asked her out for after the show next Friday," Cordelia answered for the flustered redhead. Buffy frowned at Cordy knowing and not her. "You ran off, and I was there," the brunette said, shrugging a shoulder. Buffy felt a stab of guilt.

"S'ok. You were kind of occupied at the time." Willow smirked, smiling at her friend's discomfort.

"Did he. . .say anything after I left?" she heard herself ask, cursing inwardly.

"Not a word. Not even goodbye. But, I already talked to Xander this morning, who already talked to Spike, and. . ." Cordy gave a dramatic pause. "He said it was life altering." Buffy's cheeks stained pink at the description, one that she couldn't argue with.

"So, was it?" Willow asked with anticipation. She had seen part of it, when she had turned nervously away from Mark to scan the crowd. She only hoped that Mark would kiss her like that. The blonde flushed deeper, and plucked at a stray thread on her shorts.

"MAYBE!" Cordy snorted with disgust. "I wasn't even involved with it, and I could tell that it was. Geez."

"Because that's the way Xander kisses me." The brunette answered simply, casting her eyes downward.

"Buffy?" Joyce called, walking into the living room, putting on her coat. "Oh, hi girls," she said when she saw the other two.

"I'm going to the gallery for a couple of hours. You're not going anywhere today, are you?"

"Dawn," her mother reminded her. "Just wanted to make sure that I didn't have to take her with me." Joyce picked her purse up off the table by the door.

"No, go ahead. I'm just going to rip into that tub of Ben and Jerry's in the fridge and watch t.v." Buffy told her. Joyce could tell something was bothering her, but they weren't alone, so she would talk to her later about it.

"Alright. If I'm not home by five order dinner. Okay? I left money on my dresser."

"Well, I hate to cut this short, but I have a family thing to do tonight. Willow, you want a ride?"

"Yeah. Call me later, okay? We'll talk?" Willow asked, hopefully. Buffy smiled, and patted her knee.

"Yeah." With one last look, Willow got up and followed the prom queen out. Buffy sighed, and leaned her head on the couch, not moving when she heard Dawn come downstairs. When the eleven year old didn't say anything, Buffy looked at her, staggered by the anger simmering in the blue orbs of the girl.

"You kissed him," she accused, her tiny form shaking with hurt. *Just what I need,* Buffy thought, groaning inwardly.

"How could you? You're going out with Angel." The older girl knew this had nothing to do with Angel. It had everything to do with the way her sister felt about the blonde.

"Dawn, it's not that simple. Angel and I. . .aren't really happy anymore, and. . ."

"Well, he sort of moved in on me, if you really need to know the truth," Buffy said, temper making her words clipped.

"You didn't stop him," Dawn accused. "You knew I liked him, and you didn't stop him." Tears coursed down her young face, misery written across her expression.

"Honey, you're eleven. He's eighteen. What did you think was going to happen?" she asked gently. Dawn looked away, hating that her dream was being shattered.

"I'm not going to be eleven forever." She sniffed, crossing her arms over her Tweety Bird t-shirt. Buffy smiled, and looked at her sister who was wishing so desperately for womanhood.

"They won't be Spike," Dawn insisted. Buffy sighed, and stood to walk to her sister.

"No. They won't be Spike. But, they will be your age. And you never know, there might be one out there like him," she offered, hopefully. The younger girl looked down at the ground, her chestnut colored hair hiding her features.

"If you were four years older, Spike never would have seen me," Buffy assured her, rubbing her hands over Dawn's arms. A small smile formed on the girl's face, sadness still touching her eyes.

"I guess, if he has to date anybody, it might as well be you," she acquiesced, glancing up at Buffy.

"Thanks. But, I don't know if we will be dating. I'm still with Angel." Dawn's eyes widened comically at that.

"So, dump him. He's such a jerk. And you know what? Amber told me that he had sex with her older sister Jennifer before he left this last time." If Dawn could have pulled the words back, she would have. Amber had told her just last night, on the phone, and she had meant to talk to Joyce first, but, now it was too late. The look that crossed her sister's face made her sick. Buffy's face had gone pale, and her eyes had clouded with pain. Her hands were trembling as they dropped from Dawn's arms.

"Well, she could have been lying," Dawn offered hopefully. She didn't want to hurt her sister. She was trying to make her see that Angel wasn't worth holding onto. Even at eleven years old, when she was supposedly not old enough to understand adult relationships, she knew that what Angel was doing was bad. Things started to fall into place in Buffy's mind, and she suddenly found herself feeling dizzy. "Buffy? I think you need to sit down." The older girl nodded numbly, as she allowed her sister to move her to the couch. The way he never came home on the weekends. The allusions to the other girls when they were on the phone. The way he was late that night at the Bronze the last time he was home. This all suddenly made sense, and Buffy could have slapped herself for being so stupid. It never even occurred to her that Dawn might be lying. Suddenly, a blinding anger overtook her, and she shot up from the couch, eliciting a surprised squeak from Dawn. She marched straight to the phone, and stabbed at the numbers as she dialed.

"What are you doing?" Dawn asked, watching her sister with wary eyes. Buffy just shook her head as she waited for the phone to be picked up. Finally, on the eighth ring, a sleepy voice came over the line.

"Well then, you tell him this. This is his GIRLFRIEND. You know, the one he has a tendency to forget about? You better tell him that if I don't hear from him by twelve o'clock, he had better just forget my number." Without waiting for an answer, she slammed down the phone with a force that should have shattered it. She stayed, standing by it, waiting. Sure enough, not five minutes later, the shrill ring exploded through the tense silence in the room.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Angel's sleep thickened voice shouted into the phone.

"I'd say it's who YOU'RE fucking that's my problem, Angel." A stunned silence permeated across the miles the second before the storm hit.

"Don't play dumb with me. Did you think I wouldn't find out? In a town this size? You have a problem keeping your zipper up, buddy."

"You're crazy," was all Angel could come up with, as his tired, alcohol laden mind tried to figure out how she could have found out, and just how he was going to smooth it over.

"Yeah, well, you're right. I am crazy. Crazy for even considering that you were worth giving my virginity to. Well, guess what? You can kiss that little treat goodbye, because you had better not EVER come near me again. Do you understand? You see me on the street, you walk the other way, because I will not be held accountable for my actions."

"Buffy, wait. You have it all wrong. Those girls, they mean nothing to me. You're my girl." The word 'girls' sent Buffy into another spiral of shock, and she took the phone away from her ear to look at it as if she could see Angel inside of it.

"Girls?" *Oh shit,* Angel thought, realizing his mistake. "GIRLS?!! How long exactly have you been screwing around on me, Angel?"

"Oh, shut up. Don't give me those lines. 'You're the only one for me', or 'a man has needs,'" she mimicked into the phone, disgust dripping off every word. "You make me sick. Stay away from me, Angel. I don't ever want to see you again." Then, she hung up the phone while he was still sputtering, picking it up and slamming it down again for good measure. Satisfied, she turned towards Dawn, and smiled at the stunned pre-teen.

"So, up for some sisterly bonding time?" she asked, ignoring the phone as it began to ring again. *Let the answering machine get it,* she thought, turning the ringer off, and lowering the volume enough on the answering machine that she couldn't hear the words, but she could recognize the voices, then turned away from it and went into the living room with Dawn.

Spike walked through the hot, California night, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, scowl firmly in place on his sharp features. He had managed NOT to storm over to Buffy's and demand to know why she ran out on him after the most amazing kiss he had ever had. He'd also managed not to call her the hundred times he had picked up the phone. Thankfully, Xander had been around most of the day, listening and agreeing with every word he said about the girl. The only reason Xander didn't get pissed off when the insults started flying was because he knew that Spike was just hurt and angry, and he would actually never say some of the more creative barbs that flowed from his mouth.

Unfortunately, Xander had to leave, since Cordy was presenting him to her family tonight. Spike felt sorry for the bloke, since the Chases were the most important people in town, as well as the richest. He had spent the day, when not bitching about Buffy, watching Xander's face go from a sickly pale to a worrisome green.

He didn't want to go to the track tonight by himself, and his father was at the gallery helping Joyce rearrange some things, so he had been left alone. After about an hour of having the same recurring fantasy about the kiss, Spike had decided he needed to get out of the house. He didn't know where he was going. He just needed to walk. At least that's what he told himself, as he turned onto Revello Drive. His scowl darkened even further, and he crushed his fag out under his boot. As her house came into view, he slowed some, trying to decide what he was going to do. He was never one to back down from a problem, but he didn't like beating his head against a brick wall either. Then, his decision was made for him, when a sleek, red 280Z pulled up out front. He recognized the dark figure that emerged immediately, and noticed the angry edge to his gait. Walking a little quicker, Spike made it to the stoop just as the front door swung open.

"What the hell do you want?" Buffy spat, glaring daggers at the man in front of her. Spike's brows rose in surprise at her tone.

"Dammit, Buffy. You need to listen to me," Angel said, trying to enter the house. She just shifted her body so he couldn't and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I thought I made it clear on the phone that we have nothing left to say to each other," Buffy said, staring at him with cool hazel eyes. Neither had noticed the blonde standing in the yard, taking in the scene with great interest. Dawn saw him though, from where she was peeking out over her sister's shoulder to glare at Angel.

"What's to hear? You can't keep your dick in your pants. What's so hard to understand about that?" she answered cooly.

"Then what was with the phone call Andrew got from his little brother about you playing tonsil hockey with that Spike guy? You know, the one you were just being NICE to?" Buffy blanched at that. *So much for Cordy's theory* she thought. Spike scowled again, until he remembered what day the poof was talking about.

"A kiss is a lot different than sex, Angel. Or did you fall asleep the day they explained that in Health?" she snapped back.

"How do I know it was just a kiss? For all I know that cherry was popped the second he slithered into town. What is it about him? Huh? Is it the bad boy look? Or maybe it's the accent. Woman are suckers for accents." His head whipped to the side with the force of her tiny hand connecting with his face. She had finally recovered from the shock the first part of his statement had incurred and lashed out.

"Don't turn this around on me. . ." she started, only to squeak when he gripped her arms painfully. She felt a moment's fear before he was ripped away from her, his body flying down the stairs to land in a heap on the grass below. Spike was over him in a second, hand fisted in the front of his shirt, arm cocked back to strike. He wasn't expecting Angel to kick out and land a hit to his stomach. Dawn screamed, and Buffy watched in shocked horror as they went after each other.

Spike cursed inwardly when Angel's meaty fist plowed into the side of his head, making stars shoot brightly behind his eyes. Angel grunted when Spike blocked the next hit and landed one into his stomach. Fists flew, and blood spilled as the two went at each other, one in defense of the lady's honor, the other trying to lay claim to what should be his.

Unfortunately, even though Spike was quicker, he was outmatched in size and strength. The former QB soon had the blonde pinned to the ground, fists aimed at his handsome face. He never got a chance. Buffy had seen the turn the fight had taken, and ran back into the house to look for a weapon. Nothing deadly, just something to stop it. She came up with a frying pan. Cliche, yes. Effective. Definitely.

Buffy came up behind the man she had thought she loved and swung with all the force in her tiny body. It landed with a thud against Angel's back, causing him to grunt, and breaking his attention enough that Spike could buck him off. The men rounded on each other again, and Buffy stepped between them, silently praying that she didn't meet with any wayward punches. Dawn watched, wide-eyed from the porch, torn between horror and fascination at the spectacle.

"Go home, Angel," Buffy told her ex, hazel eyes flashing in the light of the street lamp. Angel looked at her with disgust, wondering what the hell he had ever seen in her.

"Fine, bitch. Hope you have fun with your new fuck toy." Spike went to go after him again, only to encounter Buffy with her raised frying pan. She didn't lower it again until she heard the purr of the powerful engine fade down the street.

"You. House. Now.," was all she said as she turned and stalked away from him, leaving him to follow. He turned and slowly made his way to the porch, looking up at Dawn as he walked up the steps.

"How much trouble am I in?" he asked, staring at the open door with trepidation. Dawn glanced between him and it, flinching at the sounds of things getting put down with a bang.

"A lot," she answered, giving him a tight smile before going inside herself. Spike watched her go with an expression of horrified amusement on his face. He flinched when he heard something heavy slam down.

"SPIKE! NOW!" Buffy's voice drifted to him out of the open doorway, and he sighed heavily.

"Of all the stupid, mundane, macho things," Buffy mumbled to herself, ignoring the blonde for the moment and looking for the first aid kit. Spike sat silently, afraid to open his mouth, lest she start wielding the frying pan that was sitting on the kitchen table within easy reach. He jumped when she walked back to him, and dropped the kit on the table with a clatter. She slammed open the lid, and pulled out the disinfectant, and some cotton balls. Turning to him, she went to work, eyes flashing brilliantly with anger.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she asked after a few minutes. Spike had managed not to hiss or complain when the sting of the disinfectant seeped into the cut on his cheek.

"Thought he was going to hit you," he answered, and Buffy felt her anger start to ease.

"I don't know if he would've or not. That's the first time anything like this has happened," she admitted, her hands turning more gentle.

"Why do you put up with it?" She looked into his curious eyes, and sighed. Tossing the cotton ball on the table, she sat down on the stool across from him and started on his bleeding knuckles.

"I don't. Anymore," she said, shaking her head at the fool she had been. "He's been cheating on me," she whispered, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

"He's a fool," Spike answered, smiling shyly at her when she looked up at him in surprise.

Chapter 8

Xander stood beside Cordelia, shifting nervously and trying desperately not to reach up and yank on his tie. She had taken him shopping that morning, since he didn't have a suit, to make sure he was presentable. She told him that she didn't care what he wore, but she wanted him to make a good impression on her parents.

So, he had put up with her fussing, and had paid the outrageous price for the suit, and left the store so she could drop him off at home to get ready. He had studiously ignored his father, who was sitting in the recliner in front of the t.v., beer can clutched in his big, meaty fist. He glared at his son, taking in the way he was dressed, and mumbled something about 'putting on airs for those rich prigs.' Xander just left, not bothering to get drawn into the argument his father obviously wanted.

So now, here he stood in the entry way to the country club, light softly playing over them from the crystal chandeliers above. White linen wallpaper with thin gold stripes running the length trimmed the walls. Plush, velvet, maroon settees lined the walls around them, for the people without reservations. Hardwood floors that gleamed ran the expanse of the room, and large, thriving plants flanked the door to the dining room. The maitre 'd stood behind a tall, dark wood podium, reservation book open, disapproving glower on.

"How do I look?" Cordelia asked, after they had checked her wrap. He paused, and backed up a step to look at her, never releasing her hand. His dark eyes appraised her from head to toe, finding her nothing less than stunning. Her simple red silk dress hugged her curves, the sleeves ending just below her elbows and the sweetheart neckline showing off her slim throat. The dress cinched in at the waist, then flared a bit to fall gracefully to her knees. Red, high heeled sandals that clasped around the ankle lent length to her already mile long legs. A heart pendant that Xander had given her after he'd gotten his first paycheck adorned her throat. It was the only jewelry she wore. Her thick, dark hair was pulled up into a sleek twist.

"Stunning," he said, smiling. She smiled hugely, taking in his grey, double breasted suit, crisp white shirt and matching grey tie, and shiny black shoes with appreciation.

"So do you," she told him, giggling when he actually blushed. Heaving a deep breath, she looked at the dining room, steeling herself. "Ready?"

"Good. Neither am I. At least we won't be panicking alone." She didn't care what her parents thought of him. She would keep dating him anyway. She just didn't want them to embarrass him.

"Shall we?" Xander asked, waving his hand gallantly, and tilting his head slightly. "After you."

"Why thank you, sir." Cordy accepted with a smile. When they reached the entrance to the dining room, their fingers linked, silently putting up the 'we're in this together' vibes. They wove their way through the sea of linen covered tables, to the middle of the room. Once they reached the table, it was all Xander could do not to keep tugging Cordelia until they had made it safely out of the french doors that mocked him on the other side.

"Daddy, I would like you to meet Xander Harris. Xander, this is my father Jefferson Chase, and my mother Katherine," Cordy said, presenting her parents. Jefferson Chase stood, managing to stare down at Xander, even though they were the same height. He was a fit man, who took pride in the way he looked. The suit he was wearing was impeccably tailored to him, the dark charcoal color of the material perfect with his olive complexion. His features hinted a European descent, his chin square, his cheekbones high, and his brow sweeping. Dark brown, slightly disapproving eyes were set under thick, dark brows. His carefully cut hair was also thick and still dark, with only the slightest hints of grey flecking through the sides.

"Mr. Chase. It's a pleasure to meet you. Mrs. Chase," Xander managed, shaking the man's hand, and nodding to the woman dressed in blue next to Cordy's father. His panicked mind scrambled to remember the crash course in 'rich' manners that Spike had given him before he left, since they seemed to be just the same as everyday English manners. Or at least that's what Spike had told him.

Carefully, he pulled out Cordelia's chair, and helped her sit, then sat himself in the chair between her and her mother, and across from her father.

"We've been hearing so much about you, Xander. It's a treat to finally meet the man that has captured my daughter's attention so fully," Katherine said, turning her grey eyes to him. Save for the eye color, she was the vision of what Cordy would look like in twenty years. Xander gave her a small smile.

"Thank you, ma'am. She's pretty much captured me too." Cordy blushed prettily, and Jefferson scowled. Picking up his wine, he took a sip before speaking himself.

"So, tell us about yourself," he said, his voice rich and commanding. He motioned for the waiter while he waited for Xander to answer.

"Well, sir, I guess I'm just your average teenager. I go to school and I have a job," Xander said, not knowing what to say.

"Commendable for a boy your age to already be working. Not enough out there like that. They all want their parents to support them." He slid a pointed look at Cordy, who ignored him beautifully, and looked up at the waiter.

"Could we just have two Cokes, please?" she said, smiling at the waiter, then looking back at her father, arching a brow.

"Thank you sir." Xander had no clue how to answer that, so he just said the first thing that came to mind.

"What does your father do?" *Not beating around the bush, are you old man?* Xander thought to himself.

"Well, he actually works in one of your factories," he told him. *But you knew that, didn't you?* he said to himself. The two men stared at each other, understanding flowing between them.

"The electronic factory on Hesner." Xander tensed, waiting for the next question.

"Really? What does he do there?" Cordelia's eyes had narrowed into slits during the questioning, knowing EXACTLY what her father was doing.

"Daddy," she said, her voice carrying a warning tone. He merely glanced at her, before returning his eyes to Xander.

"He's the janitor, sir," the brunette answered, staring him in the eyes. Jefferson had to give the boy credit, he didn't back down. Too bad the boy was the progeny of a drunk. And if the rumors were true, an ABUSIVE drunk. Definitely not the sort he wanted around his Cordelia, since the apple tended to never fall far from the tree.

"Well, that's interesting. What about you? What's your plan after high school?" he smoothly asked, taking another sip of wine. Xander thought about his options for answering, and decided that honesty was best. This guy hated him anyway, he didn't think he could make it worse.

"Me and a friend are going into the racing business," Xander told him, taking a quick glance at Cordelia. She only flashed him a smile, and went back to glaring at her father. They had already talked about it after all. Katherine sniffed delicately, eyes widening in horror. Jefferson just stared at the boy, wondering if he had taken too many head shots from his father.

"Stock cars, sir. I'm good with mechanics. Figured we could build a pretty good car." His back straightened as he talked, and he sat proudly before the Chases, his eyes telling them he didn't care what they thought of him. When Cordy's hand snaked across the table to rest on his, he linked his fingers through hers, an action not missed by either parent. Their daughter's support of this dreamer was not a little unsettling. Xander continued to stare at the man, daring him to let go. Jefferson decided to oblige him.

"I will be honest with you, Xander. I don't think you're good enough for my daughter. She was raised with all the finer things in life. She is not made to be with a man that wants to play with cars for a living."

"No, it's alright, Cordy. May as well have it all out. Don't want there to be any misunderstandings," Xander said, tightening his fingers around hers. She squeezed back, and turned to her mother.

"Mom. Do you think you could say something?" she asked her mother. Katherine merely looked at the two men, then back at her daughter.

"Fine. Have a nice dinner," Cordelia said, pushing away from the table. "Xander. I've lot my appetite," she said, before tugging him out of the chair and storming out of the room, both brunettes oblivious to the eyes that followed them.

"I am so sorry," Cordelia said, looking down at the steering wheel. They were sitting outside of his house, neither saying anything on the drive back from the country club.

"It's not your fault. It's typical," was all he said, turning to smile at her. "You don't think it, and that's all that matters." She smiled back at him, going willingly when he tugged her into his arms. With a sigh, their mouths came together. When she pulled away, she rested her head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart soothing.

"Don't ever think you're not good enough for me, Xan." *It's true,* he said to himself, then gently brushed his lips across her hair.

"Okay," was what he said. He ran a finger down her cheek when she looked up at him.

"You better get home. I'm sure they're worked up pretty good by now," he told her, leaning in to kiss her again. She reached a hand up and held him in place when he tried to pull away, engaging his tongue and lips in a sensual dance. She smiled up at him when they broke apart.

"I love you," Cordy whispered. Xander felt the awe and disbelief that he felt the first time she had said it in the hallway flare.

"I love you, too. Now, go. Don't feel like having the cops after me," he said with a chuckle. "Goodnight, sweety."

"Goodnight." Xander climbed out of the car, leaning into the open window to steal another kiss.

"I'll call you tomorrow," she said, waving as she pulled away. He watched as the little red convertible drove down the street, and turned at the stop sign. Once she was out of sight, he turned and walked to the house, Mr. Chase's words playing back through his mind. He couldn't really find anything but truth in them, and that made him scowl. He didn't have anything to offer Cordy. She had everything, what the hell was she doing with him?

Sighing heavily, he went inside, knowing the instant he saw his father he was in trouble. Carefully, he shut the door, mentally calculating the odds of his getting up to his room healthy. When Tony Harris turned to look at him, he realized that his chances were definitely not good.

"Date," was all Xander offered, attempting to walk around the stone wall that was his father. He felt himself jerked back when Tony grabbed his arm.

"Don't walk away from me, boy," he said, his voice low. Xander felt fear slam into his chest as he looked into the cold, dark eyes.

"Just going to bed, Dad." He never saw the punch coming. With a force that would have sent him to the floor had his father not had hold of him, Tony Harris let loose on his son.

"Think you're better than me, now? Got yourself a rich bitch girlfriend, and suddenly you forget where you come from?" With each word, a fist connected with Xander's body, the ferocity of the attack stunning the boy. He gathered himself up enough to block the next hit, this one aimed at the side of his head, and raised his arm to retaliate. He knew from experience that his mother wouldn't come downstairs to help him, so he swung, and immediately wished he hadn't. Tony caught the fist that was coming at him with ease, letting Xander in on the fact that he wasn't as drunk as Xander first thought. "You'll never be nothing but a janitor's son, boy. You might get that girl for a little while, so she can scratch an itch. But, you mark my words, she'll be tying up her skirts soon enough and running back to mommy and daddy." That was the last thing Xander heard before a blinding white pain sliced through him. Then, it was black.

Giles sat in his chair, cup of tea on the table, and book in his lap. He had just gotten home from the gallery, and had listened to Spike's message saying that he was over at Buffy's watching movies with the girls, so he decided to relax while he had the house to himself. When a knock sounded on the door, he frowned a bit, and rose to answer it. Thinking it was Spike who had forgotten his key, he was not prepared for the sight that met him. Xander stood on the stoop, blood and bruises covering his face, his obviously new suit in tatters. His breathing was ragged as he stared up at his friend's father, desperation swimming in his eyes.

"Xander?" he gasped, frozen to his spot. His first thought had been accident. But, the more he looked at him, the more he could tell that it was fists that caused this damage. Xander's eyes darted around, shame joining the misery on his face.

"I. . .I'm sorry to bother you. I . . .I just didn't have anywhere to go." The last word came out as a sob, and Giles watched as the boy crumpled in front of him. Without thought, Giles reached through the door and gathered him against his chest, tears springing to his own eyes as Xander wept.

"You are such a dork," Buffy said, giggling as she watched Spike try to catch popcorn in his mouth. So far, he was 0 for 10 and he was getting the stuff every where.

"That may be. But you like it," he purred, sliding his eyes over her. She rolled her eyes and laughed, kicking him. Dawn had retreated up to her bedroom as soon as Angel left, her heartbreak too fresh to have to deal with watching her sister and crush flirt. Which they had been doing shamelessly since they moved into the living room to watch tv. Joyce had just came in, and was in the kitchen making something to drink. She was just coming back into the living room when the phone rang.

"I'll get it," Dawn screamed from the top of the stairs, the sound of her footsteps heavy on the floor.

"What are we watching?” Joyce asked, sitting in the chair next to the couch where the two blondes were currently sitting. As soon as she walked in, they had told her about the fight, so that the neighbors wouldn't beat Buffy to it, and make it sound worse than it really was. She wasn't too happy it happened, but at least Buffy had finally broken up with Angel, and Spike didn't look worse for wear, so she figured that freaking out wasn't going to do any good.

"Airplane," Buffy answered as Dawn came bounding down the stairs, the cordless from her mother's room in her hand.

"Spike, it's your dad," she said, handing it to him. Spike wiped his hand on his jeans to remove the grease from the popcorn, a move that made Joyce cringe, before taking it.

"Dad? What's up?" The smile that had still been curling his lip started to fade, and angry glower taking it's place. His jaw clenched tight as he listened to what his father was saying, and the hand on his leg fisted. Buffy and Joyce exchanged a look of concern, before turning back to the blonde. "I'll be right there," he said, hanging up. He closed his eyes, and pressed the phone against his forehead, his body shaking with tension. "Mrs. Summers, would you take me home?" he asked after a minute.

"Of course, Spike. What's the matter?" He didn't answer, just stood and put the phone on the table, then reached for his duster.

"Spike," Buffy said, standing and blocking his path out of the room. "What is it?" Her eyes met his, and she was staggered by the emotion swirling through them.

"Xander," was all he said as he moved around her and stalked outside. The three Summers women looked at each other, then they all followed him out.

Rupert Giles was not a violent man. In fact, if anybody had told his son that in his day, he had been known to have a bar fight or two, Spike would have laughed in their faces. But the look in his father's eyes when he left the apartment, after telling Spike he was to stay put, had made the young man shiver.

Giles reached up and knocked soundly on the door to the Harris residence, taking his glasses off to clean them as he waited. A few seconds later, he heard some cursing and stumbling, then somebody fumbling with the lock before it swung open to reveal Tony Harris.

Tony stared down at the man in his doorway, taking in the calm demeanor, the tweed jacket, and the glasses.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, words slightly slurred. Giles replaced his glasses before answering.

"Mr. Harris, I am Rupert Giles, Spike's father." He never used his son's nickname, unless he was speaking to someone that would only know him by that name. He watched confusion, then recognition cross the other man's face.

"That freak with the white hair, right?" Rupert's eyes flashed dangerously at the insult to his son.

"Whatta you want? He ain't here if you're looking for him." Tony started to close the door, only to scowl when Giles blocked it.

"I assure you, I know where my son is. The question is, do you know where yours is?" Anger flared across Harris's face.

"Damn little pup better be in his bedroom," he growled, turning to head up the stairs. If that boy wasn't there, he would give him another seeing to when he got hold of him. He didn't get far. With a speed and strength that Tony didn't think the smaller man had, Giles had Tony pulled out of the house and slammed against the wall, forearm banded across his throat "What the hell. . ." His words ended up garbled as Rupert increased the pressure.

"Let's you and I come to an understanding, shall we?" Giles started, conversationally. "If you so much as bat an eyelash at that boy again, I will kill you." Each word was punctuated with the crushing of his arm across the other man's windpipe. "He will be staying with me, from here on out. You are not to have contact with him unless he wants it. Do you understand?"

"You can't do this, that's my son. . ." Another strangled cry filled the air as Giles pressed just a little bit harder.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" After staring each other down, Tony looked away first, nodding his head in the process. With a unsteady 'thud', he barely managed not to fall over when Rupert dropped him

"Good. We, as in Spike and I, will be here tomorrow to pick up his stuff. Might I suggest you find another place to be."

And, with one last parting glare, the nerdy little man in tweed walked away, not sparing the man behind him another glance.

Chapter 9

Cordelia slammed into her room, letting her parents know just what she thought of their little display at the country club. She hadn't said a word to them when she walked through the door. They had been sitting in the parlor waiting for her, calling her name as she walked past, nose in the air. Stripping off her clothes, she left the expensive dress laying in the middle of the floor, tossing her shoes on top. Pulling the clip from her hair, she dragged her brush through it, and went in search of some clothes. She had just finished pulling on a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, when they knocked on the door.

"I'm going to bed," she called, glaring at her father when he walked through the door. "Invasion of privacy," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, and rolling her eyes. Her father regarded her, standing in the middle of her room, surrounded by all the things a girl of her stature should have, and wondered where his little girl had gone. She was almost a woman now, old enough to make her own decisions, and he was terrified.

"Cordelia, we need to talk," he started, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"You want to apologize for the way you acted at dinner?" she asked him, pointedly, one delicate brow arching. Jefferson sighed, seeing that this wasn't going to be easy.

"No. I felt like I needed to say those things, just so he knew where I stood," he answered.

"Then, I have nothing to say. What you did was just so wrong, Daddy. He's good, and kind, and he treats me like I'm everything."

"Of course he would. You're Cordelia Chase." He sounded so sure of it, she nearly smiled.

"It's not because of my name. He sees ME. Not all this stuff," she said with disgust, waving an arm to indicate her belongings.

"Honey," Jefferson started, voice soothing. Cordy immediately set on the defensive. He used that tone when dealing with an upset client. "He's not our sort of people. He'll never amount to much, and you're too young to saddle yourself with the sort of problems he carries with him."

"You know, I thought that for a long time. That he wasn't good enough for me. But, you know what? I think it's ME that's not good enough for HIM," she spat, blinking back tears. Jefferson reared back, as if she had struck him.

"Who I'm related to doesn't measure my worth. Money doesn't make me who I am. And no matter what problems he has at home, and trust me, I know a lot more about them than you do, that doesn't make him who he is. If he's strong enough to rise above it, why can't you be strong enough to see him for who he is. Instead of just a janitor's son?" she implored, her hands flying in front of her to punctuate her point. Whatever response he would have given was cut off by the shrill ringing of the phone. Cordelia stomped over to it and snatched it up.

"Hello? Oh, hi Will," she said, glaring at her father, who hadn't moved. She listened as the redhead talked, eyes widening and her face blanching with each word. "Where is he?" Cordy started to move while Willow answered, pulling on shoes and grabbing the same purse she had taken to the restaurant, the tiny square of red looking ridiculous with her casual attire. "I'm on my way." She hung up and walked past her father, not saying a word.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, moving to block her path. His eyes narrowed at the ice that was in her glare.

"He needs me," was all she said, before shoving past him again and walking out the door, leaving her father to stand alone in her room.

Xander sat on the couch in the Giles' living room, surrounded by his friends. Joyce had immediately set to patching him up, while Spike went to go hunt down something for him to wear. The anger rolling off the blonde was electric, and Buffy followed him into his bedroom, watching as he flung clothes around the room.

"Shoulda told Dad," he muttered, feeling the need to punch something. He jumped when he felt her hand touch his arm, and he turned angry, guilt ravaged blue eyes on her. He saw his own feelings mirrored back at him, and he sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, his head dropping to his chest.

"It's not your fault. Xander's dad is a bastard. We all knew. But, Xan wouldn't let us do anything to help," she said, taking a chance and pulling him into her arms. He was shaking in her grasp, and she ran soothing hands down his back. He crushed her to him, closing his eyes tight against the tears. He had failed his friend, and they were lucky it hadn't killed him. When he had first seen the damage done to Xander, he turned, prepared to go find Mr. Harris and exact some retribution. His father had seen the bloodlust flare in his son's eyes, and had stopped him. Telling him to stay, take care of Xander. Then, Rupert had given him a look that would freeze lava and went out the door himself. He hadn't returned yet, and he could only pray that his father came back unscathed.

Slowly, he pulled himself together, his grip loosening on the tiny woman in his arms. She pulled back to look at him, taking another chance and leaning up to kiss him softly. His eyes drifted shut as the tears threatened again, and he angled the kiss to deepen it. She allowed him to, kissing him back with equal fury, taking their anger and hopelessness out in the kiss. When they pulled back, they were both panting heavily. He leaned his forehead against hers, and took comfort from the feel of her. They hadn't discussed anything about the kiss in the bar, or what they were now, but it was enough to take consolation in each other for the moment. Now definitely wasn't the time for a heart to heart.

"No. Willow's going to." She had called the redhead almost immediately, knowing Xander would want her there. He had just been sitting on the couch when they got there, shell shocked. It hadn't occurred to any of them that Xander might not want everyone around him. When one was hurt, they all felt it, and pulled together to band around the injured. Spike nodded, struggling to calm down. "Come on, let's find him something to wear, then we can be the strong and supportive friends that we are. Okay?" He nodded again, and looked down at her, sighing.

"Let's go," he said, releasing her, and grabbing a pair of sweats and a shirt before exiting the room, Buffy right behind him.

Cordy took one look at the battered face of her boyfriend and immediately went to him. Joyce discreetly moved away, allowing the couple to embrace. Cordy cupped his face, running gentle thumbs over his bruised cheeks, struggling with the emotions rolling through her. He just sat there, not responding to her touch, save for the tears that still leaked from his eyes.

"Xander?" she whispered softly, begging him to look at her. He avoided her eyes, his fingers coming up to pull her hands away.

"What? A punching bag?" she snapped, confusion and anger making her words sharp. Everybody present was suddenly wishing desperately to be somewhere else when they felt the air change. Joyce tapped Dawn and motioned for them to leave, sending Buffy a pointed look as well. The blonde nodded and started out, casting one last glance towards Spike, then over to the pair on the couch. Spike gave her a tight smile, and laid the clothes on the couch, before turning to go back to his room. Willow tentatively ran a hand over Xander's back and squeezed Cordy's arm before following the Summers women out. Since Giles hadn't returned yet, that left them alone in the room. They had been steadily staring at each other while the others quietly made their exits, tension thick around them.

"Well?" she asked, expectantly, crossing her arms over her chest. Xander shoved a hand through his hair, and heaved a deep breath.

"No. Yes. Everything," he stammered, looking at her with such misery, her heart nearly broke.

"Xander, don't you realize, I don't care where you come from, or where you've been. I love you. That's all that matters to me."

"I have nothing to offer you," he insisted, looking away from her. She gripped his chin, and turned his face back to hers. He nearly smiled at the look of steely determination in her eyes.

"You have everything to offer me," she told him, brushing her mouth across his split lip. His eyes drifted closed at the contact, and hot tears slid down his cheeks to mingle in the kiss. "Don't push me away," she pleaded, bringing her hands up to cup his face again. When she found herself hauled against him, she held onto him, fingers lacing through his hair, soft words flowing from her mouth to soothe him.

"Hey, man," Spike said, sitting next to Xander on the couch after he and his father returned from the Harris residence, His father had come home the night before, not saying a word about where he had been. The only thing he said, was that Xander was staying with them now, and that he and Spike would go pick up his things in the morning. Jessica Harris had met them at the door, looking tired and defeated, but Spike couldn't muster up much sympathy for her. He and Giles had made quick work of packing Xander's things, amazed at how little he actually had. A radio, some cd's, a collection of car magazines, and his clothes were it.

"Hey," Xander replied, glancing at Spike. He was currently watching the race, not really paying attention to it.

"For what?" Spike turned to look at him, tilting his head to the side while he waited for him to answer. Anger flared through him anew as he looked at the bruised face of his friend.

"For, you know. . ." Xander struggled for words, not feeling comfortable with the display of emotion. It was one thing to do this in front of Buffy or Willow. They were girls, the emotional stuff was easy for them. Spike recognized his dilemma, and shared it.

"Yeah. I know. It's cool." He settled back on the cushions, and suddenly finding himself enraptured in the race.

"So, you ready for Friday?" Buffy asked, scraping her spoon through the ice cream in her hand. The phone was balanced on her shoulder as she danced around the kitchen to the radio, gold hair bouncing around her shoulders.

"No. You going to come over and help me get ready? I so don't think I could manage it on my own," Willow said, feeling panic starting to set in.

"Course. I'll bring Cordy and her trusty curling iron." She chuckled when Willow groaned.

"Yeah. He sounds good. I can still tell he's upset. It wasn't even that bad when he was a kid. But, being at Spike's seems to be helping. He gets to be a part of a family that works." Buffy huffed in agreement.

"Will. Why didn't your parents ever do anything?" Willow sighed, her own home situation settling heavily on her.

"They barely notice me half the time," was all she said, and Buffy felt a stab of guilt for her question.

"It's okay. Nothing you can do about it. Just is. And they don't IGNORE me. They just aren't involved so much." Buffy thought it was amazing how she and Spike had such NORMAL home lives, and they were being raised by single parents, while their friends had both parents, but they were either unnoticed or abused.

"Yeah, I guess so. Have you. . .decided anything?" the redhead prodded. Buffy giggled at her friend's single mindedness.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. It's just, I don't know, you seem to click." Buffy thought about the two kisses they had shared, and the ease they felt in each other's company, and silently agreed.

"I don't know, Will. I'm still supposed to go to LA next week. Not so good to start a relationship before ditching out of town for three months."

"Well, that's a neat excuse." Buffy frowned, shoving a spoonful of chocolate-chocolate chip in her mouth.

"Aren't you supposed to be my best friend? You know, the one that's supposed to let me live in self denial." She huffed, dropping the spoon in the sink, and shoving the empty container in the trash.

"Is that in writing somewhere?" She could practically hear the smile in the redhead's voice.

"Yeah, 'The Best Friend's Guidebook to the Galaxy'." Buffy replied, rolling her eyes.

"What's scaring you so much, Buffy?" she asked, turning serious. Buffy sank down onto one of the stools, resting her forehead in her hand.

"Yeah, that too. I dunno. Guess I don't want to see underneath the polish and realize he's just a regular guy."

"You know what I mean. I told you, I'll make a decision when I get back. If I still want to go out with him, then I will. This could all just be repressed sexual tension."

"I really need to get you that handbook," Buffy said with a disgusted snort. Willow chuckled at her friend's discomfort.

"Listen, I gotta go. Big test tomorrow. Why they wait until the last couple of weeks of school for finals is beyond me."

"Well, I think that's kind of why they call them FINALS Will. Wouldn't make sense if they were, I dunno, in April."

"Well, you've got the same expression on your face that you get when you're trying to decide what to wear. Although, this time I don't think it's a fashion emergency." Joyce sat across from her daughter, and waited. Buffy played with the phone in her hand, not looking up at her mother when she started to speak.

"What do you think of Spike?" Her mother managed to bite back her grin, and seriously thought about the question.

"I like him," she said simply. "He's a good kid on the brink of becoming a good man. He's had some crappy things happen, with his mother dying and all. But, he seems to be working them out. Why do you ask?" Buffy looked up then, a blush creeping across her features.

"Well, it started that he kissed me, but I was soon a willing participant." Buffy's cheeks were really flaming now, and not just from embarrassment. The way he had kissed her, made her skin tingle and her stomach flutter.

"Okay. I can tell by the look on your face that it was a pleasant experience. What does it mean?"

"I don't know. I mean, when it happened, I was still with Angel. And now I'm not. Should I just jump back into another relationship so soon?" Buffy turned confused hazel eyes on her mother, brows drawn together.

"Honey, I can tell you, you weren't in a relationship with Angel. He left you the day he went to college. Maybe even before. He just wasn't man enough to let you go, for whatever reason. But, you are the only one who can answer your question. Do you like him?" Joyce asked, leaning on her elbows on the table.

"Well, then, do what your heart tells you to." Joyce smiled at the annoyed look she got. "You're a little old for me to make decisions for, Buffy."

"I know," she said miserably. Why was this so hard? She knew she liked him, knew she liked kissing him. Easy, right? Not so much.

"You'll be happier once you decide," the older Summers said, getting up to walk over to Buffy. Placing a kiss on her head, she smoothed down her hair and smiled. "Don't think. Just feel." Just then, the phone rang.

Spike walked up to the Summers' door, intent on talking to Buffy. The mid-afternoon sun beat down on his shoulders and head, making him feel like he was baking. He loved it. He didn't understand why everybody didn't live in California. He had just raised his hand to knock, when a sound carried on the wind caught his attention. It was a sound so full of hurt it nearly broke his heart.

Following the sound, he found himself in the backyard of the house, staring at Buffy's tiny form, huddled on the top step of the porch. Her head was buried in the arms across her knees, golden hair glinting in the light.

"Pet?" he started, slowly walking towards her. She jerked up, hand instantly going to her cheeks to wipe the wetness away.

"Came to talk to you," he answered, sitting down next to her. Their bare arms brushed, causing a shiver to run through them. Ignoring it for now, he turned to look at her, his blue orbs full of concern.

"What about?" She feigned ignorance. She knew exactly what he wanted to talk about, and she wasn't in the mood.

"Cause you're crying, that's why." Spike's tone had a touch more edge to it than he had meant, but she didn't seem to notice. Sighing, she looked out across the backyard, eyes getting a distant look.

"My father just called," she admitted, glancing at him. "We can't come for the summer. He has to go to Japan, or something."

"That's too bad," he said, resting his arms on his knees, never taking his eyes off her face.

"No, it's typical. Sorry Buff, can't see you on your birthday, I've got a business meeting. Gee honey, tell Dawn I'm sorry. My schedule is just swamped," she said bitterly, feeling the tears start anew. Sympathy welled up inside of Spike, but he didn't know what to do. They had kissed a couple of times, but that didn't mean he was free to go with his urge to gather her up in his arms and let her cry her misery out on him. He didn't want her to go looking for her frying pan again.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," he said, the words sounding lame to his own ears. Buffy shrugged a shoulder, looking down at the hands clasped in front of her.

"I should be used to it by now," she mumbled. "I guess we'll be around for the summer, now." She didn't sound too excited. Fighting another wave of tears, she leaned her head against his shoulder. Spike decided to try looping his arm lightly around her shoulders, heartened when she didn't stiffen.

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Jypzrose - jypzrose@aol.com

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

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