Inside her new room, Buffy was stretched out on her bed, headphones on, listening to her music at full blast. She was still seething from Spike’s rudeness. And now she’d be living with him, indefinitely.
She sighed loudly and flipped onto her back, staring up at the white ceiling. A part of her wanted this move. She was so tired of LA, of all the bad memories, but another part of her was annoyed and hurt that her father wanted nothing to do with her.
And then there was her mother. Buffy hadn’t spoken to her, except for brief phone conversations less than once a month, since the divorce. Joyce had quickly moved to Sunnydale within a couple months of the divorce. She’d offered a place there for Buffy, but at the time Buffy didn’t want to leave her life in LA. Now she had no idea what to say to her mother, in just a year they were both very different people than before.
There was a timid knock on the door. “Buffy?”
Buffy sat up, pushing her headphones off. “Yeah?”
Joyce opened the door a crack. “We’re having dinner now, but if you’re still tired…”
“No,” Buffy stood up and set her CD player on her bed. “Actually, I’m kinda hungry.”
Joyce gave her a brief smile and led her daughter down the stairs, seating herself in her usual spot.
Buffy immediately sat down in the empty seat across from Spike, making sure she didn’t make any eye contact with him. His words were still freshly imprinted in her mind.
Several dishes were passed around and Buffy took a little of each. Giles and her mother were talking about something, Buffy wasn’t quite sure what. Now she wasn’t hungry any more. Just listening to the couple talking animatedly about their day with Spike’s occasional comments made her feel so removed from them. They’d grown together as a family and Buffy hadn’t been there to be a part of it.
She quietly pushed her food around her plate, feeling awkward. She took a small bit of her peas before glancing up at Spike, surprised to see he was staring at her. Startled, her eyes widened and then she gave him a glare, annoyed.
Spike just smirked at her look, taking the opportunity to study the girl before him. Her hair, which was relatively short, the ends grazing her collarbone, was dyed black and red. Ironically enough, his two favorite colors.
Her eyes were dark and sparked with anger, her nose quirky, and her lips red and shiny. The kind of lips that he liked to kiss. The thought entered Spike’s mind, unbidden, and he pushed it away.
With a glance at the clock, he grimaced, realizing he had to pick his girlfriend up in ten minutes. Spike wolfed down his food and gulped his water and stood up, setting his napkin on his plate.
“Good food Joyce,” he complimented then snuck another glance at the clock. “Gotta go, I promised Harm I’d pick her up at 7:00; we’re going to Cordy’s party.”
Joyce and his father exchanged a look and then glanced Buffy’s way. “Why don’t you take Buffy with you?” Giles suggested. “I’m sure she’d love to meet her fellow classmates before she starts school.”
Buffy winced at the pity offer and her eyes reluctantly slid to Spike who looked like he was trying to keep his face neutral.
Not wanting to be humiliated, Buffy yawned loudly. “Oh, no that’s okay I’m kinda tired anyway.”
A look of relief flickered across Spike’s features and without another word to Buffy; he swept out of the house, the door slamming hard rattling the house.
Joyce studied her daughter as she continued to push her uneaten food around. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”
Buffy nodded quickly. “Yeah, I’m still tired. Where do I put this?” She motioned to her plate.
Joyce shook her head. “Nonsense, it’s your first night here. Watch some TV or something. I’ll get the dishes.” She moved to collect the dishes, Giles following suit.
“Are you sure?” Buffy asked, shoving her hands in her jean pockets.
Joyce waved her off. “I’m positive, go relax.”
Buffy hesitantly walked into the living room and spotted the TV. It wasn’t particularly big, unlike her TV in LA, but it did have cable.
She tried to relax, leaning back on the couch, and focus on the show. Her interest only lasted for an hour before she just left the TV for noise. She watched the screen blankly, her mind millions of miles away. Soon, her eyes felt heavy and she closed them, just for a second…
“Come on, B. I have it on good authority that there’re going to be some smokin’ hot guys at the party tonight.”
“I don’t know…”
“Trust me, B. Have I ever let you down?”
“Buffy? Buffy, wake up,” Joyce shook her sleeping daughter gently on the shoulder.
The dark-haired teen blinked and sat up slowly, looking confused.
Joyce gave her a small smile. “You fell asleep on the couch. I wasn’t going to wake you but then I remembered the comfy couch isn’t exactly…comfy.”
Buffy gave her mother a weak smile. “Thanks. I’ll just head upstairs.” She quickly maneuvered around Joyce, avoiding her quizzical look.
At the top of the stairs, Buffy looked down at her hands to see them trembling slightly. She hurriedly entered her room, shutting the door and collapsing on her bed.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the lingering memories. It had felt so real, like she was back there at the party meeting the man of her dreams. She inhaled deeply, ignoring the way her eyes were burning with unshed tears. They were pointless, she told herself, crawling back into bed. He was gone and…it, he or she, was gone too.
Hours later, Buffy woke, her eyelashes stuck together by her dried traitorous tears, as her bladder urged her to get up and use the bathroom. With a grumble, she jammed her feet into her fluffy black slippers and opened her bedroom door.
As soon as she reached for the bathroom door, it swung open revealing a very wet Spike.
Buffy winced as the bright light hit her eyes. “Ugh,” she mumbled, stumbling backwards.
“Watch it,” Spike snarled, his voice sounding nasally. She glanced up to see his eye was swollen shut and the cartilage of his nose severely bruised.
“What happened to you?” Buffy blurted out, frowning at his marred face.
“What’s it look like?” he snapped. “Got in a fight.”
“Oh,” was all Buffy said in response. Her gaze drifted downward to his bare chest; the defined lines of his abs, watching the droplets of water trickle down, down to what was covered up by the towel.
When she finally managed to drag her eyes back up to his face, his eyes were a stormy dark blue, his jaw set. She could feel her own face growing warm and she prayed it wasn’t turning bright red.
“You gonna move?” Spike finally asked, his eyebrow cocked questioningly.
“Uh,” Buffy stuttered, feeling ridiculous. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Spike just moved out of her way and headed into his room, slamming the door with no care of time.
Buffy quickly did her business and went back into her room but not without glancing at Spike’s closed door.