Chapter Two
As Spike's eyes adjusted to the dimmer light in the entryway of the house, he was pleasantly surprised by his surroundings. Directly in front of him was a staircase leading to the second story. To his right, a formal dining room that obviously didn't get used much, it was a little too clean. To his left, however, was a living room that had an air of warmth and homeyness to it, with a big bay window. It felt lived in and inviting. Just to the left of the stairs, there was a hallway that led to a kitchen that he could immediately tell was the heart of the house. He felt instantly at home.
"Welcome to 1630 Revello Drive," Willow said dropping her bags and spreading her arms in a grand, sweeping gesture. "Buffy? Xander?" she called, but they heard no reply. She grabbed Spike by the hand and practically dragged him up the stairs.
"Easy pet, I'd like to keep that arm if you don't' mind."
"Sorry," she said, and released his hand but didn't slow her pace. "I'm just really excited to see Buffy and Xander. You're going to love them. They've got to be around here somewhere..." She trailed off and stuck her head inside the door at the top of the stairs. She reappeared, brow furrowed. "This is Buffy's room, but no Buffy. Um..."
As Willow opened another door to take a peek, Spike heard voices down the hall a little ways. He tapped Willow on the shoulder.
"Think they're down here, Red," he stated and made his way toward a door on the left side of the hallway, which was just slightly ajar. He stopped dead when he overheard part of the heated conversation taking place inside the room.
"I TOLD you Xander." He heard a woman's voice practically yelling. "I don't need some little kid coming here and getting in my way all summer."
A man's voice answered with exasperation - this was obviously a recurring conversation. "But Buffy, we need help around here! You can't run this farm all by yourself. I have to work most days, and Willow can only do so much. And I don't trust that Clem guy. What's with the kittens, anyway?" He pushed on with his tirade of reason. "Plus, I talked to Willow about this Spike kid, and she says he'll be great, so what's the prob, Bob?"
The woman's voice came back. "Yeah, well, I talked to Willow too, and I don't want some Billy Idol wannabe little boy hanging around!"
Spike had had quite enough of being referred to as an imbecilic child and was about to kick the door open and give the pair a piece of his mind when Willow stepped in front of him and gave her best "hold you horses, mister" face. She opened the door a little further, enough for Spike to see the tall brunette young man, but not the woman. Willow stuck her head in the room and cleared her throat.
"Oh, hey, Wills! You're here! Come on in," he heard Buffy exclaim a little too heartily. "We were just talking about...um...music..yeah, music...Billy Idol..." she attempted lamely.
Willow opened the door fully to enter the room and embrace both of her friends and exchange hello's. Spike simply stood in the doorway, positively fuming, and glaring at the worn hardwood floor. He soon found himself being dragged into the room, elbow first, by a very put-out redhead.
"Spike Blood, meet Buffy Summers-Finn," she announced, once she'd hauled him into the group.
Resentfully, he unclenched one fist and extended his hand, his courteous side taking over. He was met with a tiny, yet powerful, work-roughened hand, and decided to even go so far as to look up from the floor and at the woman he was being introduced to. The moment he did all his anger and resentment, and seemingly all the oxygen in the room, vanished entirely.
The woman belonging to the hand in his was, to say the very least, not what he'd expected. She was gorgeous. Vivacious and much younger than he'd expected, mid-twenties like Willow and Xander, and there was something about her that just seemed to glow. Where he'd expected a plump, matronly body, he found a petite, golden goddess, with just enough curves and tone in all the right places. Instead of coarse gray hair, she had a beautiful plait of thick, shiny, golden tresses that fell halfway down her back. There was no apron, but a black tank top and khaki capris. No apple pie, but she smelled just as warm and sweet.
He was right about one thing, though: her face. She had a kind, vibrant face. With full lips and big, expressive green eyes. The kind of eyes a man could lose himself in if he wasn't careful. It took Spike a moment realize that, beautiful as they were, those eyes of hers were currently expressing a definite level of discomfort and confusion. Spike sped back to reality and landed with an unpleasant bump, realizing he'd been shaking the hand a of a very beautiful young woman for a very long time.
He relinquished his hold on her with a pang of loss that was almost physical. In spite of himself, his gaze turned toward his shoes once more, and he felt a blush radiate from his toes to the dark roots of his bleached hair. If he hadn't been so focused on his feet, perhaps he would have noticed the same reaction in Buffy.
She, too, had avoided eye contact until they'd shaken hands, too embarrassed from being caught mid anti-Spike rant. And when she had finally ventured a peek at him, she too was rendered breathless.
She didn't' believe she'd ever seen a man in all her life who was so...beautiful. There was no other word for him. Buffy took him in slowly, his scuffed black boots, the jeans that seemed to have been made just for him, the tight black T-shirt, and the absolutely ridiculous body that was clearly discernible beneath said shirt. He wasn't tall, but perfectly proportioned, with a face that was almost something out of a Master's sculpture. Sharp cheekbones set in striking relief against soft, full lips and startlingly bleached blonde hair. And eyes that were so brilliantly blue, it was as though a light shone through from behind them. The kind of eyes that could see right through you, inside you, behind all the walls you so carefully built.
Buffy's feelings about his eyes changed from fascination at their beauty and power, to discomfort at the level of vulnerability they brought her to as he gazed so intently at her. As conscious thought slowly began to come back to her, Buffy also became utterly confused. Where was the bookish, awkward punk wannabe she'd so clearly pictured from Willow's description? Just as she was thinking how strong and masculine his hands were, especially for a boy of his age, she was stripped of their warmth, and blushed like a school girl for even thinking it.
*Since when did I become pedophile Buffy? He's a teenager, sicko!*
She looked down in embarrassment once more. There was a long, painfully awkward pause.
"Well, this is pleasant, isn't it?" Xander ventured, unable to stand another moment of the tense silence. He pushed on and stepped forward, shaking Spike's hand bracingly. "Xander Harris. I'd say 'pleased to meet you,' but seeing as how everyone's determined to be weird about this whole thing, why would I go and do a kooky thing like that?"
Everyone smiled a bit to themselves at that, grateful for Xander's dorkyness under fire. He grinned back at them all and rubbed his hands together, pleased with his work.
"Well, y'all, I'm about to go round us up some vittles," he drawled in a horrible attempt on a southern accent. "So thirty minutes. Kitchen. Be there or be square."
He exited and Willow nudged Spike with her arm.
"Come on, I'll show you your room," she said brightly, and made her way into the hall.
Spike followed obediently, but stopped in the doorway, his manners getting the best of him once again.
"Thank you, Mrs. Summers-Finn," he said with a half smile.
She looked up at him, a little perplexed. "For what?"
"Taking a chance on a bloke like me, giving me a home for the summer."
Buffy's eyes softened and she smiled back. His heart skipped a beat or two.
"Well, you're welcome."
He nodded and turned to leave again, but was stopped when she spoke.
"Um, I just want you to know that I really do appreciate you being here. Thank you."
He tilted his head in recognition, and was in the doorway when she stopped him again.
"Oh, and Spike?"
"Yeah?" he looked back over his shoulder.
"Please, call me Buffy. I definitely prefer it."
He grinned again, genuinely this time, and Buffy fought to keep her knees from buckling.
"Right, then. Buffy it is."
A/N: Two down. I honestly couldn't tell you how many more to go. Should it be a little or a lot? Or none? Let me know what you think!
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Oh my goodness, thank you SOOO much for all of your support! I've gotten so many more reads and reviews than I'd EVER expected, so you all totally win. Keep it up! Oh, and I'm thinking about lowering the rating to R, just because honestly, I dont know if am physically capable of writing smut. Let me know what you think. Thanks again!