“Turkey: check. Canned cranberry sauce: check. Stuffing mix: check. Cheese: check, check, check.” Buffy happily smiled down at the three blocks of cheese.
“Honestly, Buffy, do we really need this much cheese?” Joyce asked, unloading the rest of the groceries.
“Of course!” Buffy replied defensively. “What would a holiday be without cheese?”
“A bloody holiday,” Spike supplied in a ‘duh’ tone of voice as he walked in.
Buffy gave him a glare and then returned back to her list. “Moving on.” She continued reading off her mother’s list and scolding Spike for eating the blueberries.
“Well,” Joyce announced, placing the last can of cranberry sauce in the pantry. “We’re finally done unpacking. I’m going upstairs and watching Oprah.”
“Okay,” Buffy replied, peering into the pantry for the Oreos. As soon as Joyce’s feet pattering faded away, a pair of arms tugged her from behind.
Spike spun Buffy around so she was facing him and trapped between his arms. Buffy’s eyes flickered over his smooth muscles. Gulp.
He leaned into her, molding the hard contours of his body into hers. His lips were centimeters away from hers, when Buffy pulled back with a glower. “A bloody holiday?” She echoed accusingly.
“Come on, Summers. Your obsession with cheese is ridiculous.”
Buffy pouted, trying to duck out of his arms. “No, it’s not.”
Spike stopped her easily, eyeing her jutted lip hungrily. “I love that lip when you pout. It’s so…” he trailed off, leaning in to kiss said lip. However, Buffy once again averted his kiss.
“Spike,” she hissed. “What the hell? She’s right upstairs!”
“So,” Spike said slowly. “Don’t talk.” He snatched her lips in a heated kiss before Buffy could protest once more.
With a sigh of defeat, her lips enthusiastically replied, their mouths fusing together. Spike’s hands wandered up to the dip of her waist, curling tightly.
His knee wedged itself between her legs, pulling the pair closer as Buffy’s hands ran up his back.
“We gotta stop.” Her words were muffled in Spike’s mouth. Whether he was ignoring her or letting her talk, Spike moved to trail kisses up and down her jaw and neck.
“Seriously,” she mumbled. Why was what he was doing feeling so nice? She wondered mindlessly. Finally, she managed to push him off just as his fingers traced the outline of her bra. “God!” She hissed. “You’re, like, all freaking hands!”
Spike just grinned at her, placing a final chaste kiss on her lips. “Come with me, luv.”
Buffy gave him a suspicious look. “Where?”
His hand shot out, grasping her tinier one. “Surprise.”
“I hate surprises,” Buffy informed him with a grumble. Her stomach fluttered as he tugged her out the door.
“Mum!” Spike shouted loudly, his body already half out the door. “Buffy and I are going out for lunch.”
“Okay,” Joyce replied cheerfully.
Buffy’s mouth dropped at her mother’s complete brain lapse. Didn’t she remember that she and Spike were generally very unmixy? Except when they were making out, but she definitely didn’t know that. Wait, what did he just call her mother?
“Mum?” Buffy squealed indignantly, her nose wrinkled.
Spike slid into his seat, turning the engine on. “Oh, come off it,” he told her with a scoff. “And get in, goldilocks.”
She couldn’t say no. A huff escaped her lips as Spike backed out of the driveway, turning onto Revello Dr. “That’s just…wrong.”
“What?”
“You calling my mom ‘mum’,” Buffy explained further. She refused to make eye contact with Spike, and picked at her nails.
Spike’s annoyance practically radiated. “It doesn’t mean a bloody thing.”
“It’s still weird,” Buffy countered, flexing her fingers. When Spike didn’t respond, she risked a glance at him. His eyes were solely focused on the road. “Whatever,” she quickly added casually. “It’s not like we’re dating.”
Spike slowed at the stoplight, and turned to face her, meeting Buffy’s gaze head on. “I won’t. If you don’t want me callin’ Joyce ‘mum’ I won’t.”
Buffy blinked, trying to hide her surprise. “Okay.” She faced forward. “Green light.”
************
“Here?” Buffy questioned incredulously. It was none other than Spike’s favorite dive of a diner he’d taken her after she’d beat him the first time.
Spike opened the door for her; a gesture that made Buffy’s jaw drop, and led her to the very same booth.
Buffy picked up the plastic menu, eyeing the lunch prospects. “I can’t believe you brought me back here,” she commented.
He gave her that annoyingly hot smirk-like grin of his. “Of course. It’s where we official declared our mutual hatred of each other.”
“Ha ha,” Buffy replied sarcastically. What did that mean? She wondered. They still hated each other?
“Figured,” Spike continued, “this would be a nice place to declare our mutual not-hatred of each other.”
O-kay, what did that mean?
“Summers.” Spike’s voice was so low and serious that Buffy had to look up. “I don’t hate you.”
For a moment Buffy stared at Spike blankly, before her lips twitched. “Spike.” Her voice was equally serious. “Shut up.” Despite her annoyed look, the little grin lingered, and so did Spike’s.
“Ready to order?” The waitress, not Doris, but equally fond of make-up, questioned.
Spike exhaled and rattled off his long order. “Chocolate pancakes, bacon extra crispy, orange juice, hash browns, eggs sunny-side up and some wings.”
Buffy’s nose crinkled in distaste. “Buffalo wings?”
“What?” Spike said defensively. “They taste good. Now bloody order, will you?”
With a sigh, Buffy placed her simpler order of eggs and two pieces of bacon. The waitress snapped her booklet shut and stomped off to the next table.
“So, Thanksgiving,” Spike began slowly, stirring his water.
“Aunt Anne,” Buffy replied with a scowl.
“Yeah, Dad mentioned her,” Spike commented with a glance. “And isn’t she your great-aunt?”
“Yeah, but she insist that we call her Aunt Anne, so she doesn’t sound old.” Buffy snorted. “But please… she’s ancient! And evil.”
“Come on, luv,” Spike cajoled. “She can’t be that bad.”
“She is,” Buffy said emphatically, sipping her own water. “She once told me I was a sinner because I wore a skirt shorter than my knees.”
Spike sniggered. “Imagine what she’d think if she saw you in the lake at the beach house.”
Did he have to bring that up? Her face burned. “Let’s not go there.”
“Well.” Spike’s voice was husky and he reached out, his fingers dancing over hers. “It’s not like I minded.”
Her stomach flopped over sending sparks through her body. Oh boy. “You’re a guy. You’re, like, programmed to think that,” she told him flippantly.
His burning ice eyes caught hers. “Trust me, goldilocks. No one has quite affected me the way you have.” She knew there was a deeper meaning behind his words, but very carefully sidestepped it.
“Annoyed you to death?” She suggested with an all-too-sweet grin.
Spike chuckled. “Not exactly, pet.” His fingers were caressing her hand and wrist now. She glanced down at their intertwined fingers, the golden, small hand and the larger, pale one with chipping black painted nails.
Buffy studied him, turning serious. “Who was your first serious girlfriend?” She asked, inquisitive.
“Her name was Drusilla, but you probably know that,” Spike told her with a raise of his scarred eyebrow.
“Kinda,” Buffy acknowledged. “What happened?”
“What? You don’t know that too?” Spike mocked her, but at the glare he received, sighed and continued speaking. “Dru was dating half of Sunnyhell and I got tired of it.”
“Liar,” Buffy accused. He definitely wasn’t telling her the whole truth.
Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, so? It’s not like you’ve been all upfront about your relationships.”
Damn, Buffy thought. He had her. “Well,” she struggled to justify herself. “I asked you first.”
“I asked you second,” Spike countered.
Buffy scoffed. “What does that have to do with anything?” She demanded loudly as the waitress set down their food.
“Oh,” Buffy said, feeling embarrassed. “Sorry.”
Spike dug into his pancakes eagerly, coating them with hot syrup. “Point is,” he said between bites, “I’m not the only one with issues.”
Buffy scowled at her eggs. “I don’t have issues.”
“Summers,” Spike told her clearly, “everybody bloody person on this soddin’ green earth has issues.”
Buffy wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Nibbling on her eggs, she avoided looking over at Spike. Having issues was one topic that made her want to flee in the opposite direction. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she pointed out after a long pause.
“And you haven’t answered mine, luv,” Spike countered, swallowing a mouthful of bacon.
Buffy huffed. “Fine. Whatever.” She angrily jabbed her eggs. Why was she getting worked up about it anyway? Willow had already told her everything that had happened in the past spring. “Let’s hear it.” She gestured for him to begin.
“Dru was…let’s put it this way, she was off her bleedin’ rocker.” Spike leaned back a little, buffalo wing in hand. “She was all ‘sunshine,’ and ‘the stars speak to me, my darling’ and rot like that. At the time, it was the most enthralling thing I’d ever heard.”
“You loved her,” Buffy stated more than questioned.
Spike gave her a look. “Obviously. I was a bloody idiot around her. She changed me.”
“How?” Buffy questioned, curious.
Spike sighed and reluctantly explained. “I was a geek, a bookworm. The kind of git the Parkers of the world liked to torment. Dru changed me from that bumbling idiot; she freed me. She knew how much I loved her, so she cheated on me with my best friend and made sure I got a nice visual.”
Buffy’s brow knitted tight. “Why would she do that?”
“Because underneath that helpless rich girl façade she puts on, she’s just a mind fucker.”
Buffy bit her lip at Spike’s frank comment. “Who was your best friend?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Spike muttered. “He sure as fuck isn’t my friend anymore.” There was a pause, and Buffy took the opportunity to finish her eggs. She felt bad for Spike. He loved Drusilla and instead she threw it back in his face. Maybe they had that in common, falling for sucky people.
“Now it’s your turn, Summers,” Spike announced with a forewarning look. “And don’t even think about trying to back out.”
Buffy huffed a little and prolonged having to tell him by fiddling with her food. Finally Spike snapped, slapping his hand over hers, snatching her fork away mid-bite. “Out with it.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, worrying her lip. This was so freaking hard. “Okay, my first boyfriend was Jason in 6th grade. He broke up with me for Cassidy because she would French kiss him.” She knew she was being an ass, but telling Spike about Angel made everything all too real.
“Summers,” Spike warned. “We had a deal, pet. Unless you’re just a skinny little chicken.”
“Shut up,” she said and then sighed. “His name was Angel. I met him when my life was a mess. He was…perfect. I loved him, he died, the end.” This wasn’t the kind of story that she was supposed to just shrug off like it was no big deal, and clearly Spike thought so, because he reached out, touching her neck, letting his hand trail down to her fingertips.
“Don’t,” he told her seriously.
That single word snapped her carefully maintained control. “What do you want me to say?” She exploded loudly. “That I loved him so much it hurt? That when I found out he’d died I cried so hard I didn’t think I would stop? That he was cheating on his wife for god’s sake? That-“ A half-gasp half-sob caught in her throat. “Jesus, I’m sorry. God.” Embarrassment made her cheeks flame.
Spike shifted over to her side of the bench. “Summers.” He simply said her name in a low voice and stroked her arm.
She was shaking. God, she was actually shaking. It came in waves, she noticed. She went over a month without this: the overwhelming sadness and confusion, and then bam! It came out of nowhere, drowning her.
“You all right?” Spike asked.
Buffy nodded, calming down. She was grateful he wasn’t pushing. “Too much coffee,” she explained lamely and Spike granted her a small grin.
“Home?”
“God yes. I’ve officially freaked out the whole restaurant,” Buffy replied, standing up and darting for the door.
A minute later, Spike appeared and unlocked the door. They slid in, and Buffy’s butt fell into cold leather. She shivered, rubbing her hands together, waiting for Spike to start the engine.
By the time they were just pulling into the driveway, Buffy mustered the courage to say a single word. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, Summers. Makes me feel like a choirboy,” Spike replied with a slight scowl as he got out, slamming the car door shut. To her surprise, he walked around and opened her door like a proper gentleman.
Buffy followed him inside with a small smirk on her lips. Maybe there really was more to Spike Giles than she thought.
***********************
“…for our family, friends and the food on our table. Amen,” Giles finished. In an instant, the room was filled with chatter and dishes were being passed around.
Spike and Buffy were sitting next to each other and across from Joyce and the dreaded Aunt Anne. Giles, as tradition told, sat at the top of the table, keeping the platters moving.
“Mmm…’s good, Joyce,” Spike complimented with a genuine smile.
Buffy felt like puking. He’d been putting on the ‘good boy’ routine all morning and afternoon, even wearing normal black pants and a black button down with actual shoes not boots. Not the Spike she knew for sure.
“Yeah, mom, it’s good,” Buffy added, kicking Spike in the calf. He shot her a smirk and shoved a large spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth.
“The turkey is a bit dry, though,” Aunt Anne commented primly, cutting her turkey slowly with her frail fingers.
Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. All afternoon her great-aunt had been the absolute worse. Insulting Spike’s hair, insulting Giles’s accent and now the turkey, and, as usual, making constant commentaries about Buffy.
“And Buffy dear,” Aunt Anne began, and Buffy internally groaned for the hundredth time. “You’re slouching.”
Buffy straightened with an irritable glare. She jabbed her turkey and ate a piece. It was perfectly moist and delicious, she thought furiously. She wondered if she could just knock her aunt out for the evening.
Her mother and aunt continued their discussion, which Giles joined shortly after, while Buffy and Spike sat their eating in silence.
“See,” she muttered under her breath, “I told you she was evil. God, I’m bored.”
She noticed that her comment had spurred a mischievous, slightly hidden grin on Spike’s lips. That was never good. Suddenly, Buffy felt a hand resting on her knee. Oh no.
The hand started making slow circles on her bare knee, and then leisurely inched under her above-the-knee velvet skirt. Her breath hitched as Spike’s hand crept under the skirt, tugging it up higher. Oh God.
Now her skirt was halfway up her thigh and Spike’s hand moving with it. The instant his hand hit the side of her panties, she let out a louder gasp, but not quite loud enough to gather attention, thank god.
Spike’s grin widened as he ran his hand down between her legs, drawing those circles on the inside of her thigh. Her breathing picked up its pace and she looked straight ahead, attempting control.
Every nerve in her body was heightened, her panties moist with desire. Control, she reminded herself. Control.
In an unexpected motion, Spike thumb brushed against her core, grazing against her clit. Buffy’s hand slapped down on the table and she let out an “Oh!”
Spike pulled his hand back, biting his lip in effort not to burst into laughter as all three adults turned to look at Buffy.
For the third time in the last two days, Buffy’s face was the color of a tomato. “Uh…” She coughed. “Wrong pipe.”
Her aunt surveyed her with a snobbish look. “Buffy, sweetheart, perhaps you should learn a more…refined way of excusing yourself.”
Buffy’s body tensed in annoyance. “Sure,” she gritted out. As soon as the three returned to their conversation, Buffy sent Spike a glare accompanied by a kick.
She could still feel her core tingling with anticipation, and dammit, she wanted it. But every rational instinct in her mind told her to stop and wait. She wasn’t ready for sex. Maybe she wasn’t a virgin, but it was still a big deal to her, Angel had definitely solidified that for her.
Too bad she couldn’t stop the XXX-rated sex dreams.
Spike leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Meet me out back.”
Buffy definitely wanted to get away, fast. She glanced at everyone’s plate, mostly empty, and then stood up. “May I be excused?” She tried for her most charming smile.
“Me too,” Spike added with his own charming look.
Joyce hesitated and then nodded. “Dessert is in a half-hour,” she told them. “So don’t go anywhere.”
“We won’t,” they said in harmony and carried their dishes to the sink.
Alone, Spike reached into his pocket in pulled out a joint. “Figured you might be tense.”
In more ways than one, Buffy thought, but refused to say out loud. She stared at the joint and then sighed in defeat. “This is what Aunt Anne drives me to,” she grumbled and Spike, with a happy smirk, stepped out the back door and fished out his lighter. Buffy trailed behind and shut the door.
Spike took the first hit and passed it over to Buffy who drew in deep. She just wanted a nice buzz, not get high.
As he took the joint back, Spike gave her a look. “Didn’t think you’d smoke with your athletic tendencies,” he commented.
“Blame my cousin,” Buffy replied, taking the joint again. And my asshole of a father, and my once really fucked up life, but she’d already done way too much confessing this week, no need for more.
“Isn’t she coming to visit?” Spike questioned.
“Yeah…” She was cut off her cell phone. Buffy flipped it open and saw “Willow” flashing on the screen.
“Hey Willow,” Buffy greeted and listened as Willow rambled about her non-thanksgiving dinner.
“So,” she finished, “where’re you?”
“Outside with Spike, hiding from my evil aunt,” Buffy answered. “Listen, I’ll call you back.” She took a quick hit from the joint before saying goodbye and hanging up.
“Willow?” Spike asked, even though he knew.
“Yep, her family is going protesting against the new culture building,” Buffy answered and Spike chuckled.
Buffy laughed a little, kicking at the dirt with her shoe. When she looked up, Spike was standing in front of her. “Thank you,” she told him. “I needed that.” She motioned the joint.
Spike kissed her sweetly, his lips tasting of smoky weed. “You’re welcome.”