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CHAPTER 5 --

Over the next week, Spike considered looking up all the art galleries in Sunnydale. There couldn’t possibly be many and once he got the phone numbers of the various stores, tracking Buffy down would be simple.

But a few well-placed sneezes on the playground had Lisa out of commission all seven days, giving Spike something else to keep busy with – including snot and way more throw up then he had ever planned on dealing with.

Now, with Lisa finally back to perfect health and currently taking a break from grooving to the tunes of The Wiggles, he sat on the couch and opened his wallet and fished out the address of his father’s contact -- a Mrs. Joyce Summers. He used to carry condoms in his wallet and blast the Sex Pistols. Now it was business cards of various pediatricians, the local poison control center, and the pre-school Lisa would be attending. And blaring out from his four-speaker stereo was not Johnny Rotten, but a Disney compilation of various songs from all of Lisa’s favorite movies.

He glanced down at his cluttered coffee table. Where Playboy used to reside were now parenting books and pamphlets about toddler nutrition.

Forty-five minutes later, after wrestling a sweater on Lisa, spending fifteen minutes explaining to her why she couldn’t take the entire contents of her bedroom with them, then eventually agreeing on Lisa’s collection of toy dinosaurs, they were standing on the porch of the Summers’ residence on Revello Drive.

Spike knocked on the door, stepped back, and took a hold of the backpack that rested on Lisa’s shoulders so she couldn’t wander, off as her little tapping toes insinuated she wanted to do. It seemed Lisa felt the need to make up for the energy-draining sickness of last week

Seconds later, a women in her late forties who looked pleasant enough answered the door.

“May I help you?”

“Joyce Summers?” Spike asked distractedly, darting his eyes back and forth between the woman and Lisa, who was currently tugging on the backpack and pin-wheeling her arms, trying to escape him.

“Yes,” she relied in a polite voice, looking confusedly at the pair.

“I’m William Giles, I just moved into the immediate area. I believe you talked to my father?”

“Oh, William, yes!” She relaxed in the doorframe, “I was wondering if you’d come around, it’s so nice to see you! Please come in,” she let them into the foyer, “I take it you and Lisa have been doing well?”

“We were until today, apparently,” he commented dryly as Lisa weaved herself through his legs, almost tripping him, both excited and frightful of her new surroundings. Joyce didn’t seem to mind that the smallest guest was hiding behind Spike. With his hand on her back, she slowly emerged.

Joyce smiled at the two of them, noting his patience with his niece, “They can be a handful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, freeing Lisa from her backpack and handing it to her to rummage through. He hoped the Summers household didn’t have anything valuable in it – some ancient Japanese piece of irreplaceable art or some such rot. At the rate Lisa was going, he could easily see a family heirloom broken into a million pieces in the near future. “Nobody warned me that . . .”

“Spike?”

His eyes immediately shot to the top of the staircase in front of him, the shock written all over his face.

Buffy descended the stairs, shooting her mother a look, before turning her gaze back to him, “How did you know where I lived?”

“I . . . Ah . . .” he fumbled over his words, the explanation was easy enough but Spike, both thrilled and unprepared to see Buffy, couldn’t get the words out.

“Spike?” Mrs. Summers interrupted, questioning the nickname. “I thought your name was William?” Spike’s eyes bounced between the two women who were giving him identical quizzical looks, eager for answers.

The older woman, who Spike now came to realize as Buffy’s mother, considered them, “Oh, you two know each other?”

Buffy’s lips quirked, “I helped him with a public restroom situation.”

Spike smiled, internally hitting himself for not catching on the other day when she had told him her mother owned an art gallery, a piece of information he already knew thanks to his dad.

“How would you two like some hot coco?” Joyce offered kindly.

“With little marshmallows?” Lisa jumped excitedly, knocking over some dinosaurs she had been delicately arranging seconds prior.

“Of course,” Joyce winked at her, turning towards the kitchen, “You guys just make yourselves at home in the living room.”

Spike called his thanks, pivoting back to Buffy.

The two shared an awkward silence.

“I, um, better go help her,” Buffy backed into the room where her mother had disappeared into moments before.

Spike nodded and sighed, letting Lisa loose from his tight grip, and hoping he wouldn’t regret it later.




“I don’t see what the big surprise is. I told you he was coming over,” Joyce answered her eldest, confused as to why she was so flustered.

“No, you told me William was coming over,” Buffy answered, stressing the name.

Joyce paused, two mugs in her hands, “Aren’t they the same person?” she asked perplexed.

“Yes, but . . .”

“Whoa,” Dawn swung into the room from staircase, “Who’s the hottie in the living room?”

“Ask your sister,” Joyce sighed, washing her hands of the confusion.

Dawn arched a delicate brow at Buffy. “So?” Dawn prodded.

“Buffy, go tell William and Lisa their hot chocolate is ready,” their mother interrupted, not wanting an argument to break out between the two while there was company.

Buffy, glad to escape the faces her sister was making at her, entered the room, the announcement on her lips, but immediately halted.

Sprawled on their stomachs across the rug were Spike and Lisa.

“You play with . . .” her little fingers danced over the figurines, “This one!” She pushed a dinosaur into his hands.

“Okay,” he answered gamely.

“What’s that one?” she inquired, pointing at his toy.

“A T-Rex,” he replied.

“What’s this one?” she pointed to her own.

“A triceratops,” he answered again, not minding her infinite amount of questions because he was just too happy that he had succeeded in getting her to stay in one place for the time being.

She bashed her dinosaur into his, “Grrrrrr,” she growled at him, making him laugh, which in turn sent her into a fit full of giggles. “I’ll eat you!” she warned.

“You can’t eat me, you only eat plants,” he chuckled.

“You wanna play too?” Lisa asked, holding out a toy in Buffy’s direction, forcing Spike to realize she was there.

Buffy jumped; embarrassed in being caught staring and the subsequent smirk Spike sent her. She was sure it was because he had witnessed what must have been an unknowingly dreamy smile on her face.

“Hot chocolate’s ready,” she squeaked out, fleeing back into the kitchen.

TBC





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