The Ultimate Pretend

Chapter One—The Title No One Wants


..::Prologue::..


“And in breaking news,” the dark brunette anchorwoman said, her voice grave, “there has been a recall on all Blot-Out-The-Sun sun block. The lotion, which lead scientists and shamans have been working on developing, to provide protection for vampires’ skin against those deathly rays of the sun, has proven to be too hazardous by the American Board of Health. The statistic rates of fatality while using said product is that one in every three user’s parishes while the lotion is in use. Xavier Mendez, the president of the Blot-Out-The-Sun Corporation, has stated in a press release that his team of researchers have been working around the clock to refine and improve the sun block, and that he would not be surprised if this product were re-released in the very near future.”


She gave a reassuring smile to the camera, her perfectly white human teeth only vaguely hinting at the razor sharp canines that they could transform into at a glance. “I know that we vampires are all looking forward to that day when we can take a non-fatal stroll out into the sunlight, so here’s to hoping that we will see this product improved soon.”


The anchorwoman turned in a different direction; the camera-lights glinting off of her pale, translucent skin. “And now it’s about time for Harmony’s celebrity news. Harmony?”


The camera cut over to an equally gaunt-looking anchorwoman, who had platinum blonde hair and a shrill, bubbly little girls’ voice. “Thanks, Olivia.


“Okay, so, I have, like, some major news for you guys today.”


A corner of the screen filled in with a picture of a couple. A raven haired woman stood wrapped from behind in the arms of a man who had bleach-blond hair. She was staring off into the distance while he was smirking imperiously into the center of the shot.


“One of our most favorite couples, Spike and Drusilla, are going to be celebrating their one hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary next weekend! And they’re going to be having a totally fab party to commemorate it!” Harmony gave a little series of claps and briefly bounced up and down. “I already have my invitation!”


Her countenance suddenly changed, and she said in a professional manner, after worriedly mumbling ‘whoops’ under her breath, “But don’t feel left out, America. Spike and Drusilla’s anniversary celebration will be televised. So check your local listings for time and channel info, because it’s most definitely going to be the biggest bash of the decade and you won’t want to miss it.”


The beloved picture of the couple faded out and was replaced with a picture of a young girl with wide brown eyes and curly, strawberry blonde hair.


“And on a more serious note,” Harmony said somberly, “sixteen-year-old Jennifer Lawmen passed on today. Now, as we all know, Jennifer had been called as the slayer in the beginning of February this year, after the French slayer, Jacqueline De Bough, died in a Paris containment facility.


“Jennifer died this morning at the Aurelius family mansion in Sunnydale, California, where she was being kept. Sources say that the cause of death was malnutrition. She had reportedly been refusing to eat,” Harmony’s voice turned exasperated, as if she didn’t think much of the deceased girl, “no matter how many gourmet meals, cooked by the world’s most highly sought-after chef’s, were put in front of her.


“So now that she’s dead,” Harmony continued callously, “a new slayer is somewhere out in the world, unsupervised. It is, like, totally vital that everyone be on watch for any young females who fit the description of the slayer, because internationally, no one has, as of yet, reported to her where-abouts. So, in your local area, if you see a normal-looking fifteen to seventeen year old human girl showing signs of superhuman strength and agility, please report her to your local authorities. But please don’t try to bring her in yourself. Slayers are unstable and highly dangerous and only experienced master vampires are able to handle them.”


A picture of the same bleach-blond vampire took over the picture of Jennifer, the deceased slayer; but this time he was without his paramour. In this photo, he had a professional studio-done background, and looked more like a Calvin Klein model, ready to devour whoever looked into his darkened blue eyes in the most sinful of ways.


Harmony giggled. “That means, of course, Spike, our world-renowned ‘Slayer of Slayers,’ will be tracking the newbie slayer down.” She sighed and fanned herself. “Poor girl won’t know what hit her. Lucky.” Muted laughter from the other anchorwoman and television crew could be heard. Harmony preened at the attention, and gasped in excitement as something seemed to occur to her. “Wouldn’t it be great if he caught her in time for his and Drusilla’s anniversary? Like as a present for Drusilla? I think that would be way cool. But anyway, so look out for her,” she winked, “and try to make our Aurelius couple’s anniversary extra special by having her found soon, so that’ll be one less thing that they’ll have to worry about handling.”


The picture of Spike faded and turned into a picture of an exceptionally beautiful woman, with one exceptionally beautiful man on either side of her.


“And in other news, it looks like our Italian hotties are feuding again. Drac is accusing The Immortal of once again trying to put a thrall on one of his vampire brides and is saying ‘Enough is enough.’ I’ll tell you more about that after this commercial break.”


..::One Day Earlier::..


Los Angeles, California


“So how do you think you did on the biology test?”


Buffy turned to her homework-conscious best friend and wrinkled her nose. “Mr. Gianni’s tests are evil. I firmly believe that he puts those tongue-twister questions on them in some nefarious plan to get everyone to drop the tenth grade.” She eyed the intellectually adept red-head. “Well, at least everyone who doesn’t have big brains like yours, who know everything there is to know about anything.”


The red-head huffed indignantly. “Hey! That’s so untrue! There’re lots of things I don’t know.” At Buffy’s skeptical look, she continued, “Oodles. There are oodles and oodles of things that I am unknowing of and—“


“Willow, what was the answer to number thirty-four,” Buffy asked boredly.


“C: Homeostasis,” Willow replied automatically.


Buffy gave her a look, as if to say, ‘I told you so,’ before she abruptly frowned. “It was letter C? Really?” She pouted when Willow nodded. “Ah foowie; and I actually thought I’d gotten that one right.”


Willow patted Buffy’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’m sure you did fine.”


Buffy gave a playful glare. “Only big brains who know everything would feel the need to assure their dim-witted best friends that they did okay on the test.”


Willow sighed. “Okay, you caught me of my big braininess. But I still think you did fine. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”


Buffy gave Willow a queer look. “No, I give myself enough credit—or little credit, as it is. I pretty much know that I bombed that test. I’m allergic to studying,” she jokingly explained.


“No, not just about the test.” Willow gave out an exasperated breath. “In general. You don’t give yourself enough credit in general.”


Buffy raised a perfectly arched brow. “Okay, Miss Cryptic…‘splainy. Where did that sudden piece of Buffy-psychoanalysis come from?”


Willow rolled her eyes. “It came from your lack of acknowledging the fact that a cute, senior boy likes you.” At Buffy’s blank look, she continued her description. “He’s tall, shy, and once tried to have a conversation with you about cheese.”


A light bulb practically materialized above Buffy’s head. “Riley? Riley Finn likes me?”


Willow ‘uh huhed’ and then nodded to the steps that led up to Hemery High’s entrance. Buffy followed the move with her gaze, and her eyes widened when she saw the aforementioned senior boy, standing in the distance, shuffling his feet and bashfully looking down through his fringe in their direction.


“Willow,” Buffy harshly whispered, “are you gonna let him ambush me while you tra-la-la into the distance?”


The red-headed conspirator gave her an innocent look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But she started to back away, nonetheless. “I’m not going to tra-la-la into the distance. I’m going to grumble as I make my way to the blood bank to go donate blood as is mandatory to do every six weeks.” She gave Buffy the sad puppy dog eyes. “Go talk to him, Buffy. He’s really nice. And I went out of my way to make sure that my blood-letting appointment would coincide nicely with Riley’s ambush. You know how I feel about pokey needles.”


“I hate you.”


“Love you, too, future miss girlfriend-of-an-upperclassmen,” Willow simpered over-affectionately. “Buh bye, now.”


“No, wait!” Willow stopped retreating; the vulnerability was evident in Buffy’s voice. “What do I say to him?”


Willow gave Buffy a soft look. “Just say whatever you’d normally say. He really likes you, Buffy. Your quirks and all.”


Buffy took a huge cleansing breath and readjusted the straps of her back pack on her shoulders. “Okay. How do I look?”


“Like a total knock-out,” Willow assured. “Now go; he’s been standing there waiting for you since school let out twenty minutes ago.”


Buffy mouthed the word ‘bye’ to her best friend and then turned her back to her. She walked up the steps to her school, trying to mimic the way supermodels sashayed their way down a runway. She saw that Riley had a big, goofy grin spreading across his face as he watched her come closer towards him. When she was only a few feet away from him, he ducked his head for a second and then looked her shyly in the eye. “Hi,” he said quietly.


Buffy found herself ducking her head in nervousness too. I’m about to get my first boyfriend, she thought excitedly. “Hi.”


..::Later That Same Day::..


Buffy dropped her backpack on the dining room table and breezed her way through her house. She made her way to the living room when she spotted her younger sister, Dawn. “Hey, Dawnie,” she practically sang in enthusiasm. She sat down in the vacant spot on the couch, next to the younger girl—who did not respond to her greeting. Losing some of her pent-up happiness, Buffy groused, “Hey. Earth to Dawn. Come in, Dawn. Aren’t you going to say hi to me?”


Dawn, who was staring fixedly at the flashing images on the television screen, kept staring ahead, only acknowledging Buffy’s presence with her words. “Hi,” she said distractedly. “They’re showing a Spike marathon all day today. The unedited version, with all of the never-before-seen footage.”


“Oh,” Buffy said; put-out by the way her sister’s attention wasn’t really on her. “I don’t really watch that one. The violence can get really graphic when he catches those slayers.” She frowned. “You shouldn’t watch it either.” Her voice suddenly went straight back to perky. “Wanna hear about my day? Something really good happened.”


“Lemme guess? Riley Finn asked you out… Everyone who isn’t you already knows that Riley’s warm for your form. Loser.”


Switching topics, and ignoring Buffy’s spluttering, Dawn continued, “And don’t be such a weenie. It’s in a vampires’ nature if you think about it.” She finally turned away from the screen to meet Buffy’s eyes.


Buffy, still stuck on her twelve year old sister using the fraise ‘warm for your form,’ couldn’t grasp the direction in which their conversation had turned to. “What? Nature? What’s nature?”


Dawn rolled her eyes. “Spike and violence. Or vampires and violence, really. You know, because vampires used to go all ‘gurr,’ and rip their victims’ throats out before the Human and Vampire Alliance was passed all those years ago.” She turned back to the television screen. “It must have been pretty scary to live back then, before vampires came into civilized society. But,” she added, sounding contemplative, “now only those crazy slayers have to worry about a vampires’ wrath. Good riddance, I say.”


Her happy news forgotten, Buffy looked at the television screen, too. Spike, the vampire she had known as the ‘Slayer of Slayers’ since what seemed like before she even had the motor-skills to understand English, was grinning as he traded blows with what looked like an ordinary teenage girl. The look of unleashed freedom on his sharp, high-planed face would have given him the look of a celestial being were it not for the cuts, abrasions, and the flecks of the girl’s blood that dotted his pale skin.


The girl just looked scared.


“Yeah,” she answered Dawn’s statement, while sympathy squeezed her insides. “Good riddance.”


Later that evening when their mom and dad came home from work, they all sat down to dinner. Dawn was the only one to help their parents cook—because it had become apparent that Buffy was a horrible cook. So she had been demoted to ‘table setter.’ After dinner, Willow had called and demanded to know every word Riley had said to Buffy, and wanted to know every expression he had had while saying it. Buffy’s happy feelings had been reaffirmed when she could finally gossip about her love life, and she had proceeded to go into rigorous detail about her encounter with her now-boyfriend. After she was done talking, having had spared no detail, she finally said goodnight to her best friend and hung up. She then washed her face and put on her pajamas, then snuggled into her warm bed and gave a happy little sigh, thinking of her good fortune.


Riley really is a nice guy. This…is the best day ever, she thought, before closing her eyes and drifting off into sleep and sweet dreams.


Tomorrow would be one of the worst days of her life.

TBC

Author's Note: Please review and tell me what you think ;)

Chapter Two—Is Granted Upon You


..::The Next Evening::..


The Ten o’ clock News


The pale, platinum blonde anchorwoman wore an overly dramatized serious expression. “Hello, everyone. This is Harmony and I have some important news for you this evening.


“You know that slayer-watch alert that I had informed you all about this morning? Well, guess what? It’s no longer needed. That’s right, the identity of the slayer has been confirmed.”


A corner of the screen filled in with a picture of a young teenage girl with shoulder-length golden blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. Her heart shaped face was smooth with youth, and a gentle smile graced her lips. Adorned in a simple white cotton sundress, the contrast of the fabric against the girl’s tanned limbs had a very complementary affect. Her sun-kissed flesh was offset by the serene picturesque backdrop of a glimpse of the Pacific Ocean and the high-afternoon sun, which reflected light like diamonds on the cool blue water.


“Not even half an hour ago, Buffy Summers, native born L.A. resident, was verified as the slayer. Many sources, including some people who were within her circle of friends and some of the vampiric personal on the Memorial Hospital medical staff, whose senses were hypersensitive to Buffy Summers presence, alerted the authorities to their suspicions concerning her.


“The sixteen-year-old high school sophomore reportedly went to an underage drinking party around 7 p.m. this evening with her boyfriend who is also a minor. Partygoers who had permission to be interviewed by their parents stated that her behavior at the party could be described as ‘antisocial’ and ‘violent.’


“Oh, and this so sad, you guys. One teenage boy who crossed paths with Buffy Summers while attending the party is in critical condition. Poor thing… It was after he was hospitalized at Memorial Hospital that the slayer’s identity was figured out because she had been one of the teenagers to accompany him to the emergency room.


“Although we now know that Buffy Summers is in fact the slayer, she is still at large; having escaped the hospital presumably after she realized people recognized that she was the slayer. And until she’s contained, she should totally be considered dangerous.


“Her description goes as follows: she has blonde, medium-length hair; green eyes; is 5’2” tall; and,” here Harmony’s face took on an ill-concealed look of jealousy that she tried to pass off as disgust, “weighs from 105 to 120 pounds.”


Getting over her superficial bout of envy, Harmony’s gaze abruptly turned intense, bordering on extremely flirtatious. “So, Spikey…go get her.”


..::After Midnight::..


Buffy gasped as she broke through the surface of the water; hoping beyond hope that this would work, that this would give her some time.


She felt a crippling ripple of fear when she didn't see him stalking close by or hear him cursing in the shadows. Where was he? Turning in tight, frantic circles near the middle of the mission's fountain, she could only hear her frenetic, sawing breaths rasping out from her lungs. As her pulse gradually regulated to its natural rhythm, she became uncomfortably aware of her clinging—not to mention freezing—clothing sticking tightly to her body, the babbling water gushing in torrents out of the center piece of the fountain, and the sirens that could dimly be heard from far off in the distance. Her wide eyes searched through the dark as she felt warm, frustrated tears slip down onto her icy cheeks.


She was almost afraid to wonder if it was she that the wails of the sirens were trying to find.


A twig snapped. She quickly whipped around, sloshing water in her momentum. Her heart rate spiked again.


No one stood where the sound had come from. A dark, amused chuckle suddenly sounded from behind her. She moved slowly as she turned, knowing that this time she would face what she dreaded most.


His pale pink lips pulled up on one side, forming a tight grin. "That...was one nifty little trick, Slayer."


Slayer. No, Buffy thought, pressing her eyes tightly shut, as if the action would make this whole situation go away.


He slowly—predatorily, she thought as her eyes snapped open and narrowed in suspicion—started pacing around the majestic Spanish fountain. "Led us right to a little piece o' California hist'ry, din't you? Are you Catholic?" he asked conversationally.


She kept silent, stabbing him with her hateful glare. He chuckled, and she watched as a mingling of revelry and admiration animated his azure eyes as they bore into her. A flash of a neon-bright television image of him fighting a young girl, ecstasy and flecks of blood painted in sharp relief on his sculpted human face, came back to her from the night before.


God, it had only just been the night before.


"So, what now, Slayer? You gonna muck about in holy water till the sun comes up?"


She lifted her chin. "If that's what it takes."


He groaned and sat on the lip of the fountain, clearly displeased with her now. "How. Bloody. Droll. You know, I've been in this business for a long time, but I think this might be the first that I'll be bored to tears by it."


"Sorry to disappoint," she said, not sounding sorry at all.


"Oh, it's a bit of all right, I s'pose. It'll give the camera crew time to catch up, I wager," he carelessly shrugged; his eyes alight with glee. "I bet they'll just love the Little Mermaid routine you've got goin' on here."


She splashed water in his direction; he dodged most of it but a lone droplet singed his cheek. "Ohhhoohoo," he purred, caressing the inflamed area with a pronounced shudder of sensuality. "My naughty mermaid likes to play dirty. Why don't you come out here, love? Touch me with that wet, burning skin."


Buffy readied to send another splash of the destructive water in his direction.


"Hey, now," he said in high warning. His voice came from somewhere low and deep within; deadly but also resonating with something that made her thighs quiver and her blood rush hotly with a thrill that she was too ashamed to admit even to herself. His eyes caressed her form as he continued speaking, and Buffy knew she wasn't imagining the ethereal glow of gold that flecked the darkened blue of his irises. "It wouldn't be too bright on your part to keep splashin' me with that. You're already seen as a bloody terror 'cos you put a bloke in the emergency room. You'd only make everyone hate you more if you were to disfigure yours truly."


Buffy’s lips quivered. He might as well have landed a physical blow on her. “I didn’t mean to! I-it was an acciden-“


“An accident that’s left a boy lying in a hospital bed with a coma.” He gave a derisive laugh and the admiration that she had seen moments before in his eyes vanished, like he suddenly remembered himself—or remembered who she was. What she was. “But that’s how it is with your lot. Slayers. She-warriors gone wrong.” He smiled cruelly. “The only good thing about you is the fight. But that eventually leaves you, too… And I wanna be the one that makes it go away. I want to break you.”


Buffy unconsciously stepped back. “That’s not me. I’m not bad.” Her voice broke on the last word. “I was only trying to protect myself.”


“From what, your little boyfriends? If you din’t want to be gang-banged, you really shouldn’t have dressed like a tart an’ went to a kegger. It seems to me,” he tilted his head to the side, his voice full of malice, “like you were begging for it.”


Buffy saw red. She was suddenly out of the safety of the holy water and advancing toward Spike Aurelius with the intent of murder in her mind.


It was only after she was standing toe-to-toe with him that she realized he had intended to provoke her all along to get her within reach. But by then it was too late; an instinct that seemed as natural as breathing took over her and a foreign exhilaration stole through her, sending any fears she may have had to the wind. It dawned on her that this—fighting with Spike—was right. This was her element. And she wanted him beneath her.


Spike smirked knowingly. “Now that’s more like it, Slayer.”


..::Earlier That Evening::..


6:00 pm


“Woah, what are you getting all dressed up for?”


Buffy kept lining her eyes with kohl as she answered Dawn’s question. “Riley asked me to go to a party with him. He wants me to meet his friends,” she explained with a pleased smile.


Dawn walked fully into the room and sat down next to Buffy on the carpeted floor, watching Buffy put on her makeup while looking into the bottom half of her full-length mirror.


“Aren’t all of his friends seniors?”


“Mmhm,” Buffy absentmindedly acknowledged as she began to coat her eyelashes in mascara.


“I don’t think you should go to a senior party, Buffy,” her little sister said with concern that seemed too mature for someone at the tender age of twelve. "What if they peer-pressure you into doing drugs?"


Buffy met Dawn’s gaze in the mirror; she felt her heart melt with warmth at the worry she saw in the depths of the younger girl’s blue eyes. She turned and embraced Dawn in a brief hug, giving a kiss to the top of her brunette head. “Don’t worry,” she said as she stood up and observed herself at her full height in the mirror. “Riley assured me that the people he hangs out with don't do that kinda stuff; he doesn’t hang out with bad people--well, unless you count jocks and cheerleaders as bad people. Which,” she said, eying Dawn pointedly, “you probably do. But seriously, I’ll be fine.”


“Is Willow going with you?”


“No,” Buffy replied glumly. “She had to go out of town with her parents. It’s one of her cousin’s bat mitzvahs again.”


“Buffy…”


“Dawnie,” Buffy mimicked in the same voice. “Don’t be such a worrywart. Lots of worrying gives you premature wrinkles. And I know how you’re all for the eternal youth thing,” she said with a wink.


Dawn gave her a grudging smile. “Riley is pretty dopey, I guess. And bad people don’t hang out with dopey people… Just promise me you won’t do anything dumb?”


Buffy let out an indignant huff—even as she felt an amused smile threatening to spread across her lips. “People’d think you were the older one, what with the way you talk. Oh, and, hey! Riley’s not dopey—goofy, maybe, but not dopey.”


“Talk about slow reaction. Hyuck, hyuck,” Dawn said in an imitation of the Disney character.


“Ya-hoo-hooowieee!” Buffy joined in.


“What is going on in here?” Their mother, who stood in the doorway, asked with a laugh. “It sounds like you coo-coos have gotten out of the crazy house.”


“Oh no I think she’s on to us,” Buffy said as an aside to Dawn that was intentionally loud enough for their mom to hear.


“Oh, very funny, you,” her mom said affectionately. “Well, crazy or not, your young man, Riley, is waiting for you in the living room, Buffy.”


“He’s already here?” Buffy screeched. “Oh God!” She frantically looked around. “Do you see my black leather anklet boots anywhere? The ones with high heels and the zippers around the fronts?”


Dawn frowned. “But you already have high heels on your feet.”


Uh-oh, Buffy thought, as her mother took a closer look at the aforementioned silver strappy heels that adorned her feet.


“Those are my high heels.”


“Yeah, um, I meant to ask you earlier if I could borrow them.” She paused. “Can I borrow them?”


“Why do you want to find your boots then?” asked her mom with raised eyebrows.


“For comparison. They might look better,” she said in a tone that conveyed that this should be obvious.


“Are these them?” Dawn asked, holding up the exact ones she was looking for.


“Yes,” Buffy said gratefully. She hopped up and down on one foot as she took a heel off and replaced it with a high-heeled anklet boot. “Which ones?” she asked as she stood up straight.


“The silver heels.”


“The boots.”


Dawn and their mom frowned at each other. Buffy sighed and turned to her mirror to make the decision herself. She was wearing a dark blue, denim sheath dress; it was strapless, went down to her mid-thighs, and was held together by a series of brass buttons that went down the center of the front, resembling a button-fly. Yeah, zipper boots and a button-fly dress—way too perfect to pass up. “The boots it is.”


“What’s wrong with my high heels,” her mom asked, affronted.


“Nothing. But the boots go better with my dress. You’re just shoe prejudiced ‘cause the silver ones are yours.”


“Well, okay, Miss Fashionista,” said her mom. “You know better than I. But hurry up, I don’t think your date knows the rule about being fashionably late, so he might just think you’ve left him to rot.”


Buffy quickly put her other anklet boot on and then picked up her purse and left her room. Her mother and sister followed. When she entered the living room, she found Riley and her father sitting on the couch, talking about sports. When Riley noticed her he stopped talking in the middle of his sentence and just stared at her. When he finally remembered his ability of speech he said, “Wow…you look... Wow.”


“Thank you,” she replied, blushing and feeling awkward with her family standing around.


Her father cleared his throat. “Are you going to wear a jacket with that? It’s kind of chilly out there,” he stated without tact.


“It’s seventy-eight degrees outside,” Buffy said in monotone.


“Oh, Hank, leave our daughter alone. Everything’s covered up,” her mom said in her defense.


“I know, I know,” her dad grumbled. “She just looks so grown up… and she’s dating boys now. It’s a lot for a father to take in.”


Oh God, Buffy thought. Please say we’re not having a ‘moment.’ She decided to nip it in the bud. “Dad, I’ve always worn dresses, and it’s not boys that I’m dating, it’s Riley—who is one boy. I love you guys. We’re leaving. Buh bye.”


She held out her hand so Riley could take it when he got up off of the couch. Taking it, he surprised her by turning them back towards her family while keeping her gaze. He looked more shy than ever and his palm was kind of sweaty. “Actually, I was, um, planning to give you my letterman jacket sometime tonight. I-I guess now is as good a time as ever.”


Buffy dazedly let Riley drape his letterman jacket around her shoulders. When the reality of just how big a step he was taking with her sunk in, she could barely contain the giddy smile that wanted to take over her face. She leaned in on the tips of her toes and boldly gave him a kiss on the corner of his mouth.


Turning back to her parents, she saw the look of grudging approval on her dad’s face and an excited smile on her mom’s face (Dawn was in the background rolling her eyes.) She exchanged an oh-my-god-can-you-believe-this-is-really-happening?! expression with her mom when she was sure Riley couldn’t see her face. Her mom’s reaction was to smile even more enthusiastically.


"Okay, um, I’ll see you guys later." She embraced her father, then her mother, whispering her ‘I love you’s and ‘Yes, Dad, I promise I’ll be back at a decent hour.’ She turned to Dawn last. Giving Dawn a playful glare, as if in warning that there would be dire consequences if she didn't come and give her a farewell hug, Buffy held her arms open. Dawn's face expressed the emotion that she would rather do anything but what Buffy wanted; but really, she embraced Buffy willingly enough--Buffy even glimpsed a happy little smile on her sister's face at the last moment before they hugged.

 
Suddenly, as Buffy clasped her younger sister to her and felt her tall senior boyfriend's presence at her side, the rift between childhood and adulthood seemed tangible. She’d passed to the other side of the fence without even knowing it… Everything would be different now.


Buffy hugged Dawn closer to her and found herself instinctually whispering in her ear, "Love you. And no one or anything will ever make me forget my Dawnie, okay?"

 
Dawn nodded into her shoulder and whispered, "I know. Love you, too. And remember—don’t be dumb."

 
Buffy laughed in surprise and turned to meet her sister’s eyes. "Promise."

 
She turned to Riley and put her hand into the one he offered her as they walked towards the front door. A series of byes sounded from behind them and one of them called out, saying, ‘have fun!’ She promised that she would.

 
Later Buffy would find that it wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t keep any of the promises that she had made that night.


TBC


Please review and let me know what you think :)


Oh, and the unveiling of the party and the extention of the Buffy/Spike fight scene will be up in the next couple of days ;)