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Chapter 3
Whose bed have your boots been under?
Whose heart did you steal I wonder?
This time did it feel like thunder, baby . . .

Buffy twirled across the kitchen with a spoon clutched firmly in her hand as she belted out in sync with Shania blasting across the airwaves on Gram’s favorite station. While her delivery might leave something to be desired, and she had serious doubts as to whether or not she was on key, she thought she had the dance moves down as she pirouetted and gyrated across the linoleum in her socks.

Whose bed have your boots been under?
I wanna know . . .

"Do tell, little missy."

Buffy yelped and leapt into the air at the really horrible version of a Southern accent behind her. She turned to find Spike leaning against the doorway, a smirk firmly affixed to his face at the startled look on hers.

So, Buffy, whose bed have your boots been under? Don’t let me stop your musical stylings to this melodious noise."

She reacted to his sarcasm- tinged words by marching over and snapping off the radio before turning back to him. "Cute, Spike. I suppose I could ask you the same."

He laughed. "Ahh, but a gentlemen never kisses and tells, now does he, pet? So I’ll keep my footwear’s placement to myself. Now, on a far less interesting note, I actually came to find you, have a chat."

She tried to ignore the little skip her heart made at that announcement. They’d been much friendlier over the last few days, but mostly in a joking sort of way. The sort of bond that shared pain could create, which was great. Having a friend who understood was . . . it was like it filled a hole up that she hadn’t known was there.

Starting over and meeting the new Spike hadn’t make him any less attractive to her though, quite the contrary. That kind of attention from a guy like him? Well, it didn’t hurt the ego any. But now that they were starting to get along, she wondered if her earlier daydreams of a summer fling would be a bad idea. She actually kind of liked this friends vibe, and she’d hate to mess that up. Wouldn’t she?

"Oh? Need something?"

"Your grandfather and I both do actually. He could use your assistance on this next bit we’re working on. And I think he’s right, you can do this. You will be careful this time, won’t you?" He smiled, but then his voice grew a little more serious as he leaned forward. "He’s not been feeling as well lately, Buffy, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but on our trip to L.A., he tired out pretty quickly."

She nodded. "He does seem frailer than before. Is he . . has he told you something’s wrong?"

"No. But he’s shakier, it’s harder for him to work on the vines with a steady hand, so I thought you might be willing to assist."

Buffy tossed the spoon in the sink. "Absolutely. I’m in. And I know how serious this project is, I’ll do a good job. When do I start?"

"How about tomorrow? But can you make it appear a bit of a volunteer on your part? That you just wanted to get out there again? This is a bit of an end run around behind his back, I’m afraid, but I agree with your grandmum he needs to take it a little easier."

"No problem." She ducked her head a little. "I’ve kind of missed it really. I always liked pottering around out there with him, but I didn’t want to be in the way."

"You won’t be. Good. I’ll see you in the greenhouse then tomorrow about 8:00ish?"

"I’ll be there." He turned to leave and she stopped him. "Oh, and Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. I appreciate you looking out for him like this. I don’t know what he would have done without you this summer."

"He’s a good man. Puts me in mind of my grandfather."

"Do you miss him?"

Spike dropped back into a chair at the kitchen table as she poured herself a glass of water, and at his nod to her silent gesture, poured one for him as well.

"Yeah, I do. Went home right after exams, before I came here, spent a week or so with him and the old man. He’s still going hard as ever. I’m not sure anything’s ever going to stop him. Did you ever meet him? I know he’s been here before."

Buffy shook her head. "No, I never did. Gramps has talked about him a lot though."

Spike took a drink of the water and contemplated the glass. "Yeah, he practically raised me. Training me up to follow in the family footsteps, like him and my father."

"Is that what you want to do? Be in the wine business?"

"I suppose. Been raised for that since I was a tot. What about you, you going to take over from your grandfather? Sounds as though your dad’s well out of it."

She snorted. "Yeah, you can say that again. Bastard."

"Well at least we got lucky with the older generation didn’t we? He held up his water glass. "To grandfathers, may they live long and in good health."

She nodded and raised her glass. "To grandfathers."

~~~~~~~~~~~

As July began, the more temperate days of June began to give way to the muggy heat of mid-summer. The weather forecast called for a string of days with record breaking temperatures to come as Buffy headed for the greenhouse. She pulled her thin t-shirt away from her skin that already felt as though a film of sweat was covering it.

"Hey, short stuff." Spike jogged up next to her just as she was about to go inside.

"Stop calling me that." She poked him in the ribs.

"What?"

"That stupid nickname."

He grinned at her. "Awww, is Bitty Buffy sensitive about being vertically challenged?"

She frowned. "It makes me feel like I’m twelve. And I’m not. And it’s a stupid name, William." She drawled out his given name, knowing how much he disliked it.

He held up his hands and backed away. "Ohh, Buffy’s playing hard ball. Very well. Truce, short stuff."

At her glare, he tugged her ponytail. "Fine, fine, just Buffy."

"Thank you."

Gramps joined them then and the playful bickering stopped as they picked up on their work from the previous day until the clock showed noon approaching. Her grandfather sat down heavily and Buffy looked over in concern. Since Spike had approached her a few weeks ago, she’d taken to watching her grandfather more closely, and she’d seen things she hadn’t caught before. The way he was just a little slower in all his movements. How his hands trembled when he reached for something. How tired he seemed at the end of the day.

It worried her more than she wanted to admit. He was one of the constants in her life, and she wasn’t ready for him to be gone.

"Gramps, you okay?"

He looked up at her then, the sweet smile that reassured her despite the lines around his eyes.

"I’m doing just fine." He gestured to the worktables. "We’re doing well with your help, Buffy. I’m so glad you decided you wanted to be involved again."

She ducked her head shyly at the praise. "No problem, Gramps."

"Well I believe it’s time for lunch. We’d best head for the house. Wouldn’t do to invoke your gram’s wrath now would it?"

Spike caught her grin. They’d been late for lunch last week and Gram had lectured them all soundly about the importance of regular meals. So promptness was a must.

"After you, just Buffy." Spike held the door for her with a sweeping gesture as she passed through after her grandfather, then fell in step beside her. Since she’d started working with him every day, things between them had changed for the better. He’d become part big brother, part pest, part confidant.

The best times were in the evenings. After dinner she’d wander down by the stream and Spike would join her. They’d talked for hours some nights, just watching the water as they talked. He’d tell her about his life back in London, regale her with stories of college life, anecdotes that amused her, though she sometimes suspected he was making things up for dramatic effect.

It always was certainly more exciting that anything in her little world and made her long for the end of high school even more. She enjoyed those times together, surprised that he listened so attentively to her tales of high school life, something that seemed trivial and beyond boring for someone like him. But he’d laugh at her stories, ask questions, and grant her one of those heart-stopping smiles before her tug a lock of her hair and suggest they head back in.

He also teased her mercilessly, now, and she responded in kind, a constant banter between them which always kept her on her toes. But she never knew quite how to take his comments and playful hugs. Did they actually mean something? Or was he just kidding around with her?

But she did know she liked it. And hoped he didn’t stop.

They started for the house through the sweltering heat that had deepened during the hours in the more temperate greenhouse. Her grandfather shaded his eyes as he stared at the cloudless, shimmering sky.

"You know what I think? I think we need an afternoon off. Let’s start the holiday early." He turned to Buffy. "Why don’t you take off down to that swimming hole of yours and cool off. You’ve been working hard, all cooped up with us. Need to get a little sun in your cheeks, girl."

She couldn’t help a little thrill of excitement at the prospect. It had been days since she’d managed to just laze down there and it would be so nice to cool off in the water. Still she felt bad abandoning them to go play. She shot a glance over at Spike.

"And take that one with you, boy’s too pale."

"Mr. Summers . . ."

Her grandfather waved them off. "Nope. Not another word. Off with you two. I’ll have your grandmother pack your lunch. Tomorrow’s the Fourth, we’ll all be headed into town for the day and there’s nothing to be done this afternoon that won’t wait."

"Okay. See you in a minute, Spike. Got to go change into my swimsuit."

She ran into the house without a backward glance. If she had, she might have seen that the look on Spike’s face was a mix of trepidation and desire.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike closed the door to his room and sat heavily on the bed. He was supposed to head off for an afternoon swimming with Buffy. Which meant Buffy cavorting around in a skimpy little swimsuit. Buffy frolicking in the water, beckoning him in. Buffy lying all golden and bronzed in the sun, waiting for him to join him.

He laid back and covered his head with his pillow, muffling his groan. This would such a bad idea.

She’d gotten under his skin that first day. He’d been with the Summers for about two weeks before she arrived, and his hosts had never stopped talking about Buffy. Buffy this and Buffy that. They clearly adored their granddaughter. Except from the way they spoke of her, he’d expected a little girl, someone twelvish, perhaps, with bows in her hair.

Instead there’d been this nymph with blond hair and hazel eyes who didn’t look twelve in the slightest standing in the doorway staring at him. She was wearing a pink t-shirt that hugged perky breasts, and white shorts that highlighted the tan of her legs that ended in little pink shoes with butterflies on the toes. Utterly feminine. Utterly beautiful. Utterly innocent.

And utterly off-limits.

Oh, he’d known that from the start. Buffy was no-man’s land as far as he was concerned.

Except that she was hard to ignore.

He tried. First he’d snubbed her. Pretended she wasn’t around, smiling that cute little smile, tossing her hair in that long ponytail she wore half the time. For some reason it always drove him especially crazy when she wore it that way, made him want to run his fingers through it, play with those long strands and slowly release all those curls.

Ignoring her wasn’t easy. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he was a good-looking bloke who had his fair share of attention from the fairer sex. Buffy was an innocent. He could tell, just from her reactions to him, that she wasn’t like some of the girls he’d run into on the campus, the teens who crashed the frat parties, probably more experienced than he was. She still had a sweetness to her that was both refreshing and alluring. But for all her naiveté, she was clearly interested in him. He’d caught her watching him out of the corner of his eye, blushing when he’d looked her way. The fact that she’d had a crush hadn’t made it any simpler.

But he’d have been fine if it hadn’t been for that night by the river. Before he’d been able to put it down to a big case of lust for forbidden fruit and kept his distance. Buffy was ripe, poised on the cusp of womanhood and oh so ready to be plucked. He was just a man, he could hardly expect to be immune to that. But it didn’t mean he had to act on it. She wasn’t the first girl he’d thought was hot and she wouldn’t be the last. And the price for getting involved with her just wasn’t worth it.

But that night, when she’d poured out her heart to him and he’d done the same, something had clicked. He’d really seen her for the first time. Not the body or the face, but her. And he’d found something he didn’t know was missing. A friend.

So for awhile he’d told himself that was all it was. He wanted her companionship, the back and forth and snarkiness, her bad quips and goofy laughter. Someone he could chat with at the end of the day, here in this isolated place.

Not that he didn’t want to be here. Being here had been good, he’d needed the break and there was a strange peace to the place that he couldn’t explain, almost as though it were some magical pocket where time stood still. He thought that was half the reason his Grand had insisted on him spending the summer here, and not back in London where he’d had partied half the night away with the social set he was supposed to mingle with, being seen and seeing all the right people. It was part of the business, he knew that, contacts and whatnot, but sometimes it just got old. He was happier here, at this moment, with her.

But this afternoon was still a bad idea.

He sighed and stood up, rifling through the dresser and pulling out a pair of black trunks. He didn’t want to cross the line with her today. No matter how everything tumbled out, being more than friends with Buffy would be a disaster. So he’d keep it simple, the light, teasing rapport that had been working so well. Think of her as his kid sister.

His kid sister in next to nothing, dripping wet, rubbing up against him as they played in the water.

He looked down and realized he was already more than half-erect at the thought. Yeah, apparently his brain refused to see her as a relative. Which was probably good, otherwise he was really a perv.

He pulled on his trunks and threw a towel over his shoulder. This was going to be a long afternoon.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy debated for all of a split second before grabbing the pink two piece. She stripped off her clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor as she wiggled into the bottoms, settling them around her hips. She tied the top in place before throwing a tank top over and sliding on a loose pair of shorts. Sunglasses slid on top of her head, her multi-colored beach towel under her arm, sunscreen in her hand and she was ready to go.

She paused for just a second in front of the mirror. Her cheeks were bright with excitement and her eyes sparkled. An afternoon to play with Spike. She felt a tremor of nervousness at the prospect coupled with a shimmy of excitement. At this point, she had no idea what could happen. Or would happen.

But an afternoon with sun and fun and Spike? She couldn’t see the bad.

She pounded down the steps to meet him.





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