Sweat trickled down Buffy’s back, her shirt sticking to her skin. For the umpteenth time, she hoisted her backpack on to her shoulder as it kept slipping.
The hot afternoon sun was beating down on her as she made her way back to her house. Buffy was only about a mile away but it seemed like forever in the heat.
“Isn’t it supposed to be crisp outside in September?” Buffy grumbled, pushing a strand of hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear.
“Of course not!” She responded out loud to her question, “It’s southern California! God, I’m an idiot. Why did I have to say something to the bleached wonder any way?”
Buffy continued to ramble on, “I couldn’t have just ignored him? Noooo! I had to be Big-Mouth Buffy.”
She kicked a stone out her way and frowned. “Stupid me,” she muttered.
Eventually, Buffy managed to make it on to Revello Drive and walked in the shade to her house. As soon as she walked in, she dropped her bag and stumbled over to the couch, sinking into the cool cushions.
“Thank god for air-conditioning,” Buffy breathed and closed her eyes.
“Buffy?”
She immediately sat up at the sound of her name and saw Giles standing there. He still had his briefcase in hand and was suspiciously not sweaty despite the full-on tweed suit.
“Did you just get home?” He asked setting down his briefcase.
Buffy nodded, flopping back on the couch. “Uh, yeah.”
Giles’s frown deepened. “Didn’t Will-er-Spike drive you?”
For about a block, Buffy thought sarcastically but didn’t say it out loud.
“Um…” she shrugged. “I decided to walk. It’s nice out.”
Giles eyed her flushed cheeks and damp shirt doubtfully. “Weren’t you a little…warm?”
Buffy shrugged again even though it had to be obvious she was sweltering and not at all comfortable.
“Right,” Giles responded slowly, unsure. He glanced out the window at the driveway. “Where is Spike?”
“Uh,” Buffy stalled, “I guess he went to the gym.” That seemed like the safest answer and Giles nodded, indicating he believed her.
“Well,” Giles began, “I have a staff meeting in an hour but I can fix you something to eat if you want. I was about to make myself a sandwich.”
Buffy opened her mouth to refuse but then realized this was a good time to get to know her mother’s live-in boyfriend a little better. “Sure,” she said with a smile. “I’d love one.”
***********************
Much to Buffy’s immense surprise, Giles was actually kinda cool, in a fatherly way, but way nicer than her dad had ever been. And more interested in getting to know her too.
“Well,” Giles said, standing up to put their dishes away. “It was nice talking to you, Buffy. I know we really haven’t gotten a chance to get to know each other yet.”
“Well I did just kinda barge into your house,” Buffy admitted.
“Nonsense,” Giles shook his head. “We’re thrilled to have you here.”
He paused for a moment, watching her carefully. “You know,” he began, “Joyce is especially glad you’re here. But I think…I think she’s worried about you. Moving can be very stressful on young adults. You had to leave all your friends and-“
“Giles,” Buffy cut him off gently. “I’m fine, really.” She glanced down at her hands. “My mom probably told you why my dad sent me here, but it’s nice, having a chance to start over.”
Giles smiled with understanding at the young woman sitting in front of him. She was so vastly different from the dark-haired girl who’d arrived a few days ago. “I’m glad you think so.”
He glanced down at his watch and sighed. “Well, I’m off to a riveting meeting about the newest input on exam exceptions. I’ll see you later.”
Buffy grinned a little at his comment. “Yep, see ya.”
Once Giles had pulled out of the driveway, Buffy took the phone and dialed the number Willow had given her.
On the second ring, Willow picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hey Willow, it’s Buffy.”
“Oh, hey!” Willow sounded genuinely happy to hear from her. “You need directions to the Bronze, right?”
“Yep,” Buffy responded, sitting down on one of stools, swing slightly. She reached over for a pen and paper and prepared to write Willow’s instructions.
“Okay, go down Revello and take a right on Cherry. Take Cherry north till you hit Bonniwell and then turn on Ash, the Bronze is right there.”
Buffy finished writing the directions down, scribbling furiously. “Thanks,” she said, setting the pen down.
“No problem. If you need more info, call my cell,” Willow told her and proceeded to give her the number.
“So,” the redhead began hesitantly, “how exactly are you living with Spike?”
“My mom is dating Spike’s dad, he’s the school librarian,” Buffy explained.
“Oh! Right, Mr. Giles is Spike’s dad,” Willow remembered. “Giles is nice. When I was at his house, he offered me tea.”
Buffy had to smile at her new friend’s comment. “Yeah, he is nice. Spike though? Not so much.”
“Sometimes,” Willow conceded. “But he isn’t bad all the time.”
“I guess,” Buffy replied doubtfully. “It’s just so far he really hasn’t been all that friendly. I mean, he’s not exactly my favorite person, but…” she trailed off, hoping Willow understood what she meant.
“I know,” she said sympathetically. “But, hey, who knows? Maybe it’ll get better,” Willow suggested optimistically.
“Maybe,” And maybe pigs will fly too, Buffy mentally added. “Anyway,” she said, changing the topic. “What are you wearing tonight?”
“Um…my clothes?” Willow said meekly and then let out a sigh. “I’m hopeless,” she declared dejectedly.
“No, you’re not,” Buffy corrected her gently. “I’ll help you.”
“By phone?” Willow asked incredulously and Buffy laughed, feeling happy despite the disastrous car incident with Spike.
“Trust me,” she told her new friend, “I’m an expert at this.”
The next twenty minutes were spent dissecting Willow’s closet, picking out the perfect outfit. So far Willow had been skeptical and wary of Buffy’s choices which usually included a short skirt or tank top.
“Willow,” Buffy advised kindly, “sometimes being noticed means wearing something that’s not you.”
“Yeah but ‘not me’ equals ‘spazzy me,’” Willow protested, nervously eyeing her prospects.
Buffy bit her lip, thinking intensely. “I know!” she said suddenly. “Wear that floaty black skirt and last year’s Homecoming shoes you were telling me about, and I’ll bring you a top.”
“You’d do that for me?” Willow asked, sounding touched.
“Of course,” Buffy told her firmly. “You’re helping me fit in; I’m helping you pick out an outfit to stun the guys with.”
“Okay,” Willow giggled a little and then stopped. “Hey, what are you gonna wear?”
Buffy shrugged even though Willow couldn’t see her. “I’ll probably wear a skirt or jeans and—“ she stopped mid sentence as the door opened and then slammed shut. Spike.
“Willow, I’ll call you as soon as I’m leaving, ‘kay?” Buffy said quickly and waited for Willow’s puzzled “okay” before hanging up. She quickly grabbed the pen again, trying to look busy.
With an uneasy swallow, she started drawing on the sheet of paper, keeping her eyes down as Spike walked into the kitchen.
The silence was filled with tension and Buffy could see Spike standing in the middle of the kitchen out of the corner of her eye.
He moved hesitantly so he was in front of her and Buffy had no choice but to look up at him.
“Did you need something?” She asked coolly.
Spike continued to stand there, his jaw clenched tightly. Then he met her gaze squarely and Buffy felt her heart flip a little at the sight of his cerulean eyes.
“He was my best friend,” Spike said suddenly, shifting his gaze a little.
Buffy blinked. “Huh?” She asked oh-so-eloquently.
Spike’s eyes never wavered from the spot above her shoulder. “Dru cheated on me with my best friend. We’d been together since the sixth grade and I’d been friends with him longer than that. One day I cut school early and went to visit her at her dorm where she said she’d be all day and they were in there…together.” Spike’s jaw flexed and then he met her hazel eyes again, waiting for her reaction.
“Oh,” Buffy responded simply, still reeling from what he’d just told her. She wondered what had prompted Spike to confess to her what had transpired between him and his ex-girlfriend.
“So next time try and avoid talking about things you don’t know about,” he told her.
Buffy’s annoyance returned and she stood up, a glare firmly planted on her face. “Funny, I’m having this weird sense of déjà vu. I talk about things I don’t know about? What was that you told me the other day? Something along the lines of being a spoiled brat and moping around? You sure as hell have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about,” she spat at him. “You’re such a hypocrite.”
“Fine,” Spike shot back, “Tell me!”
Buffy stopped and stared at him. “W-what?”
Spike took a step forward, deliberately invading her personal space. “What’s the soddin’ truth then? If I’m being such a hypocrite as you put it, why don’t you tell me what the bleedin’ hell you’re really doing here?”
In that moment Buffy lost all her bravo. “I-I can’t,” she said, her voice nearly inaudible.
Spike regarded her for a moment, tilting his head slightly. “Figures,” he muttered and stormed out the room and up the stairs.
Buffy stood there in the kitchen still staring at the empty space where Spike had been standing. She swallowed as tears threatened to spill over. No, she thought firmly, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
*************************
A few hours later, Buffy was putting the finishing touches on her outfit for the Bronze. After the blowout with Spike, she’d been reluctantly to go out but she’d promised Willow and her friends she would and, dammit, she would.
Running the brush through her hair one last time, Buffy eyed herself in the mirror. She’d chosen to wear a black leather skirt, her black high heels and a dark blue iridescent tank top that clung to her curves.
Her body was thrumming with energy and she found herself eagerly anticipating the night out. Her clothes were more Faith-like than she probably should have worn but just for tonight she wanted to look dangerously sexy.
With her black leather jacket on and Willow’s shirt in hand, Buffy crept down the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. Her mom and Giles were upstairs in their room and had okayed her going to the Bronze but currently she was avoiding Spike at all costs.
Buffy turned, peering around the corner into the living room to see it was empty. Buffy let out a sigh of relief before a voice from behind her made her jump.
“Where’re you goin’?”
She turned around to see Spike standing there, arms crossed. Buffy straightened, defiantly tilting her chin upwards. “Out,” she responded shortly.
“Yeah,” Spike drawled, his gaze sweeping over her outfit. “Where?”
Buffy could feel his lingering look on her skin and felt exposed. “To the Bronze,” she said and pushed passed him to the door.
Spike reached out, his hand holding the door shut and scoffed. “Like you’re going out like that.”
Buffy bristled, her frown deepening. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” She demanded, glancing down at her top.
What outfit? Spike wanted to say but wisely kept the thought to himself. “Nothing,” he said, “but you’re not walking looking like that.”
Buffy threw a glare at him as she tried to open the door. “You’re not my mother,” she said between pulls.
“Well,” Spike smirked. “Let’s see what Joyce would have to say about your…adorable attire.”
Buffy turned around, her back resting against the wooden door. “Let go,” she said her voice eerily calm.
Spike opened his mouth to protest and then shut it, pressing his lips together. “Fine,” he said and pulled his hand away from the door.
With a huff, Buffy swung open the door and walked out into the twilight, not once looking back at the infuriating bleached blonde behind her.
***********************
Why was he even bothering? Spike questioned as he wandered back over to his seat in the kitchen. The bint had made it clear she didn’t like him earlier this afternoon, twice.
Not that, he admitted, he’d been all that accepting either. Her careless comment about Drusilla in the car had topped off his bad day and just the camel with one more straw, he’d collapsed, exploding at her.
Exhaling sharply, Spike yanked open the refrigerator door, looking for something to eat as his mind circled around the blonde girl currently living in his house.
She was obviously hiding something, that much was evident when he’d point-blank asked her why she’d come to live with them. But he didn’t know what and it was bothering him more than he’d like.