Stirring, Buffy shifted positions, her hand curled under her head. Her eyes flickered open, and she yawned loudly.
“Mornin’ Sleeping Beauty.”
At that, Buffy jerked awake, sitting straight up. “Spike.”
He was leaning against her doorway looking annoyingly sexy. No, Buffy thought, not now.
“What do you want?” She said cagily, brushing her hair off her face. Her eyes roved over her floor and spotted her bunched up fancy thong on the floor. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she quickly looked away.
Thankfully, Spike didn’t seem to have noticed.
“We need to talk,” he stated, taking a step into her room.
“About what?” Buffy asked with a nervous laugh.
“Last night, pet,” Spike responded looking more serious than she’d ever seen him look. Other than when he was pissed at her.
“Oh?” Buffy managed. “You mean how you left me passed out on the floor?” She accused.
Spike bizarrely didn’t say anything, just walked into her room. His fingers grazed her bedspread, resting on her sketchbook. Panic seized her heart, and she launched forward, yanking the leather-bound notebook to her chest.
His eyebrows shot up at her violent reaction. “Interesting,” he drawled. “What is it? Your diary?” He titled his head and began speaking in a high-pitched voice. “Dear Diary, last night I totally made-out with Spike. He’s soooo hot-“
Buffy’s hand flew up to cover his mouth. “Shut up!” She hissed, casting a glance at the open door.
A smirk flashed across Spike’s face. “Relax, Goldilocks, they went out to pick up food.” He eased her hand off his mouth and at the same time, snatched the sketchbook out of her hands.
“Hey!” Buffy protested, leaning forward. “Give it back.”
Spike waggled a finger at her. “Not a bloody chance.” He unclipped the buckle holding the book together and opened it slowly.
“Please, Spike. Give it back,” Buffy demanded, but this time her voice was more of a beg as she vainly tried to grab her sketchbook.
Spike held it up high. “Kiss me then,” he breathed, his lips curled deviously.
Buffy’s jaw clenched. This was the reaction she’d anticipated the first time they had their accidental lip-lockage. Asshole with a side of egomaniacal.
“For god’s sakes, Spike, it’s just a sketchbook, now please give it back to me before I get really angry,” she gritted out.
Abruptly, he shoved the sketchbook in her hands. “Now that I’ve got your attention…” he paused for effect, “what the hell was last night?”
Cursing herself for falling for his trick, Buffy shook her head. “God...”
“What was it, Summers?” Spike pressed, crossing his arms.
“An accident,” Buffy retorted as she sat Indian style. “I was extremely drunk and you were just…there.”
“Second time, Goldilocks,” Spike reminded her as he reclined against her bedpost.
Buffy scoffed, rolling her eyes upward. “Come on, Spike. I was drunk, ergo bad kissing decisions. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Spike stared at her hard. “Nothing?”
“Nothing,” Buffy confirmed with a nod. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d kinda like to change without an audience.”
Spike, ignored her request. “So…” he began, stepping forward. “This is nothing?” He punctuated his question with a deep, slow kiss.
For a brief millisecond, Buffy caved to the sweet pressure of his lips on hers. It felt good. Hell, it felt really good. And she didn’t even need to get drunk. But they couldn’t do this for a million different reasons.
Wrenching her lips away, Buffy took a firm step back. “Stop.” Her eyes met his clearly.
“Nothing?” Spike challenged. When Buffy didn’t respond, he exhaled sharply. “Oh soddin’ hell! I felt something, okay? You…you drive me bloody insane! Half of the time I can’t decide whether I want to kill you or bleedin’ kiss you!”
“Yeah, well, talk to your hormones,” Buffy flippantly replied, ignoring how her stomach was doing summersaults.
Spike shook his head, looking somewhat defeated. “You know what, Summers? Never the fuckin’ mind.” With that, he stormed out of her room, slamming her door in the process.
Buffy stood there for a moment, staring at the door, her mind restless. What she did was the right thing, right? Pushing Spike and his kissy lips far away was the best thing for everyone.
Then Buffy sighed as a very important question nagged her brain. How was she going to get to work now?
***********************
“Thanks, Wesley,” Buffy gushed for the hundredth time since he had agreed to give her a ride to work.
“No problem,” he said easily. “Fred mentioned you were having a bit of transportation trouble. Do you need a ride home?”
Buffy shook her head as she picked up her bag. “No, my mom’s picking up but thanks. See ya tomorrow.” She climbed out of the small car and added one more thank you before shutting the door.
Turning to the Magic Box, Buffy took in a deep breath and opened the door. She walked down the steps past a few customers and into the back.
“Jeff?” She called out.
Jeff suddenly stepped out from behind a stack of boxes. “Hey, Buffy, ready to start?”
Buffy nodded. “Yep.”
“Good,” Jeff replied with a smile. “Nicki is going to train you with the cash register, and then I’ll have you help me stock. Sound good?”
Buffy nodded and followed Jeff out to the front again to the cashier. He handed helped her switch drawers with Nicki.
“I’ll be in the back if you need me,” Jeff said to both Nicki and Buffy.
“Yeah,” Nicki said listlessly and then turned to Buffy with a raised brow. “So, you’ve never cashiered?”
“No, but I’m a fast learner,” Buffy said with a winning smile.
Nicki snapped her gum. “Whatever, just don’t fuck anything up.”
Buffy attempt at a pleasant smile faltered. “Right.”
A customer approached the counter with a few candles and a book. Her nails were scarily long and painted black which neatly matched her long stringy hair.
“Okay,” Nicki said to Buffy while pushing a button. “Here’s what you do…”
**************
After two hours of training, Nicki took off for her break, leaving Buffy to cashier by herself.
An older woman with a wide-brim hat set down a collection of oils, giving Buffy a wrinkled smile. “Hello, dear.”
“Hi,” Buffy said with a pasted on smile. “Did you find everything okay?”
The woman’s face fell a little. “Actually, dear, I was wondering if you have any Mummy Hands in stock.”
Buffy blinked. “Um…” she looked around. “Let me check. Hold on.” She peered around the corner, trying to see of Jeff was there.
“Um…Jeff?” She called out hesitantly. He’s probably downstairs, Buffy realized and walked down the first couple of steps.
She started to call out Jeff’s name again, but stopped when she noticed a shadow shifting. It slid into the partial light, revealing Jeff and Nicki in a heavy lip-lock. Awkwardly, Buffy backed up the stairs and quickly made her way to the register where the woman was waiting hopefully.
“I’m sorry,” Buffy lied, “we’re out right now, but I’ll order more. If you want to leave your phone number, we can contact you…” she trailed off as the woman nodded.
“Sure, sure. Thank you, darling,” the lady said as Buffy rang up her other purchases. She pushed the pad of paper with her number on it towards the blonde. “Goodbye now.”
“Bye, have a good day,” Buffy recited. She glanced down at her fingers, trying to understand what she’d seen in the basement. Was that even right? After all, he was her boss and Buffy was pretty sure Nicki wasn’t twenty-something.
“Buffy, how’s it going?”
She spun around to face Jeff and gave him a nervous smile. “Good. Um, do we have Mummy Hands?”
Jeff frowned. “We should. Was someone looking for one?”
“Uh yeah, but I wasn’t sure and I couldn’t find you so I told her I’d call later,” Buffy answered sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“No, you did the right thing,” Jeff told her. “Ready for stocking? Nicki’ll take over the register now.”
“Yeah,” Buffy answered, trying to remain upbeat, but her mind was still lingering on Nicki and Jeff. Did Anya know? She wondered.
“Buffy?”
“Oh.” The blonde snapped to attention. “Sorry, spaced a little. Um, lead the way.”
********************
After an hour and a half of stocking and painstaking labeling, Buffy had returned to the cash register, letting Nicki take her second break.
“Buffy?” Jeff tapped her on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go count now? Your shift’s almost up.”
“Count?” Buffy replied meekly, glancing down at the register.
Jeff chuckled slightly. “Just count out your debit/credit slips. Yell if you need anything,” he told her.
“Okay,” Buffy agreed as Jeff wandered back downstairs.
As she slid her drawer out, she could feel a pair of eyes on her. Glancing up, Buffy’s heart plummeted.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Summers. I’m just here to give you a soddin’ ride home,” Spike grumbled.
It took Buffy a minute to find her voice. “I’m not done yet.”
Spike looked down at his thick leather watch and rolled his eyes. “7:00?” At Buffy’s nod, he added, “I’ll be next door till then.”
Buffy nodded again and took her draw into the back to count. She let out a loud sigh and tucked her hair behind her ears. For the past 24 hours, Buffy had successfully avoided Spike and she was pretty sure he’d been doing the same.
Her mother must’ve made him come get her, Buffy realized as she finished counting her debit slips.
As Mondays go, it’d been pretty uneventful at school. Mostly talk about the party and Buffy’s Drunken Fun as Xander dubbed it.
She hadn’t told any of her friends what had really happened, and so far, she wasn’t planning on it. Her emotions were in enough turmoil as it was. She had no clue what she wanted, she never seemed to.
But Spike had made it crystal clear as to what he wanted, and that, Buffy admitted, was freaking her out more than she’d like.
Another sigh escaped as Buffy punched out. She called out goodbye to Jeff and walked around the counter.
Pulling her nametag off, Buffy’s hands automatically went to smooth down her shirt and fix her hair. Instantly, she stopped herself with an internal glare. What was she doing? Friggin’ preening for Spike?
Rolling her eyes, Buffy pushed the door open and immediately spotted Spike’s massive black thing that was supposed to be a car.
She leaned against the passenger door and stretched out her jean-encased legs. Her flimsy top fluttered slightly in the breeze and she watched as the sun dipped lower below the horizon.
Buffy jumped slightly as she felt the car doors unlock. Turning slightly, she saw Spike crossing the street with a small bag in his hand. Not bother to wait for him, Buffy slid into the oversized leather seats and buckled her seatbelt.
Seconds later, Spike dropped into his seat, yanking the seatbelt across his chest. Startling her, Spike threw the bag in his hand onto Buffy’s lap. A frown instantly appeared on her brow.
“What’s this?” She asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
Spike gunned the engine, his eyes never leaving the road. “For you,” he answered shortly.
Buffy blinked. Did she hear him right? “Me?” She repeated, staring down at the white bag with newfound curiosity.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. When she didn’t move to open it, he added, “don’t worry, it doesn’t’ bite, Scout’s Honor.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Scout my ass.” She gingerly opened the bag and peered in. Two wooden pencils were bound together with string and a slip of paper told her that one was a charcoal and the other an ebony pencil.
Pulling them out, Buffy was struck speechless by undeniable gratitude. “Thanks,” she said at last, studying the pencils. They were well crafted and absolutely perfect. But why was he giving them to her?
She echoed her thought out loud and Spike shrugged. “You said you draw. Thought you might need another couple of pencils.”
“I do,” she replied honestly, gently placing them back in the bag. “Thank you,” she repeated. Then another thought occurred to her. “I’m not making out with you again because you brought me really, really nice pencils.”
Spike scoffed loudly. “Please! Give me a bit more credit than that!” He paused for a moment. “Think of them as an apology gift for…endangering your virtue.”
Buffy scowled. Did she detect some sarcasm in the whole ‘endangering your virtue’ line? “You didn’t.”
Spike slowed the car to a stop and glanced over at her. “Didn’t what?”
“Endanger my virtue,” Buffy admitted with a grumble. “I’m pretty sure I was a very willing participant. Not that,” she added, “we should ever retest that theory.”
A smirk fixed itself on Spike’s face. “Really?”
“Really,” Buffy said, her voice firm.
There was a lapse as Spike made a left turn. “Well,” he said, breaking the silence. “It was worth a shot.”
Buffy’s only response was to slug him in the shoulder.
****************
After Spike dropped her off and left to go hang out with Gunn, Buffy trotted upstairs and deposited her new gift. For a long moment she stared down at the pencil, torn.
Who knew that Spike could actually be…sweet? Then again the whole resisting her drunken seduction and comforting her after a nightmare fell under the ‘sweet’ category too.
That’s it, Buffy decided and grabbed her cell phone. She needed to talk to somebody. Anya was out. While Buffy liked the outspoken girl, she did have a tendency to not see the big deal about certain moral dilemmas. And Willow, well, she was pretty good at keeping major secrets that no one was going to be asking her about, like the whole Angel mess, but telling her about possible lusty feelings for Spike? No way.
Fred, however, seemed like a good choice. Buffy dialed the brunette’s number and held her breath as she listened to the rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Fred,” Buffy blurted. She paced the space of her carpet, worrying her bottom lip.
“Hi Buffy,” Fred said slowly. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Yes.” Buffy took a deep breath. “I think I have a problem.”
“Ookay.” Fred drew the word out in her Texan twang. “What is it?”
“Um…” Buffy mentally pushed herself. Do it! “I thinkIkindalikeSpike.” Her rushed sentence blurred into one word, nearly indiscernible to Fred’s ear.
“What? I think you need to repeat that,” Fred said warily. Actually, she was pretty sure she heard something about Spike and that never boded well.
“I,” Buffy paused, “I think I kinda like…Spike.” She sighed noisily. “Oh god I can’t believe I just said that out loud,” she moaned, slapping her head with her hand.
“Wait, you what?” Fred exclaimed, thinking she heard Buffy wrong. There was no way…
“I think I like Spike,” Buffy repeated glumly, her fingers grazing over the pencils.
“As in a ‘you’re kinda cool for an almost-stepbrother’ or a ‘you’re hot and I possibly want to date you’ kinda like?” Fred demanded.
“Hot,” Buffy answered meekly.
“Oh my god!” Fred’s voice jumped several octaves. “You…Spike…oh Lord.”
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. How can I be attracted to Spike? I mean, he’s a rude, abrasive, bleached boneheaded…ugh. And there’s the whole ‘our parents are dating’ thing.”
There was a silence, and Buffy was afraid Fred had hung up. “Fred?” She dared.
“Sorry, I’m just all…confused,” Fred finished. “Extremely confused. Um, when did this happen?”
Buffy nibbled on her lip. “Possibly at the beach house,” she admitted.
“The beach house?” Fred echoed incredulously. “But that was weeks ago!”
“I know,” Buffy moaned. “But it was so awkward and…bad. Except for the whole kissage thing which was definitely not bad. In fact, it was really, really good. The bad kinda good.”
“Oh,” Fred said, sounding faint. “And at Willow’s…?”
“We made out on the floor,” Buffy confessed with a cringe. “I’m such a slut.”
“No! Buffy, don’t say that. It’s just…a little puzzling, I mean, you’re cute together and all, but I never thought…” She trailed off. “What are you gonna do?”
“What can I do?” Buffy responded. “I just need to be firm, and tell Spike we are most definitely, never, ever going to be doing any kind of lip-lockage. Ever.”
“But Buffy,” Fred began, her voice echoing her confusion. “You like him.”
Buffy blew out a breath. “No. I’m all lusty over him. It’s not exactly a date thing.”
“But still…what are you gonna do?” Fred repeated.
This time Buffy stopped, a frown creasing her brow. “I don’t know,” she finally spoke. “What do you think?”
Fred felt helpless as she answered, “I’m not so sure either.”
Buffy stopped pacing and slunk down in her chair. “Yeah.”