Drusilla was out of the car almost before it came to a stop.  Her long purple evening gown swirled out behind her as she bolted for the front door. 

“It’s unlocked!  Something’s wrong.”

“Darling, the gate was locked, there’s nothing to…”  Dru disappeared from sight into the house.  “Worry about.”

With a sigh, Rupert locked the car and walked briskly after her.

“William!  Darling, are you alright?”  As usual she didn’t bother to knock.  “William!”

“Wha—?”

Spike startled awake, turned toward the voice and fell out of bed with a thump.

“Ow!  Bloody hell.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Am I…?”  He struggled to organise his thoughts.  Wasn’t he just with…holy crap! Buffy!  “Mum, how many more times do I have to tell you to bloody ask to come in?”  He grabbed at the sheet which he was tangled up in and pulled it higher up his body.

“But the lights were on, so I thought—”

“You know how she worries, Spike,” Giles said as he walked into the room and put his arm around his wife’s waist. “But, darling, you can see he’s fine and so why don’t we go for that nightcap we were talking about?”

“Please call him by his given name, Rupert.”  She glanced at the remnants of the pizza.  “Who was here with you?”

Count to ten, Spike.  Don’t freak out.  Is Buffy hiding under the sodding bed?  Got to get them out of here.  “Uh…Oz dropped round.  Sorry he left the lights on.”

His mother huffed.  “Well tell him not to drop food on the carpet next time.”  She stooped to pick up a slice of mushroom.

“That was probably me, Mum.  Given that I can’t actually sodding see if I drop anything!”  He felt a shit for saying it, but it was guaranteed to get rid of her.

“Spike…” Rupert’s tone held a warning.

“I know.  I know.  I’m sorry.  It’s just being woken up like that, yeah?  Not good for the nerves.”

“Go pour me a whiskey, darling.”  Giles glanced at Dru and smiled.

“Goodnight, sweetie.”  She planted a kiss on the top of Spike’s head that made him squirm and Rupert chuckle.

“Thank God,” Spike muttered as she left.

“I’ll get a lock put on the door for you, Spike,” said Rupert.  “Do you need a hand to get up?”

“Don’t need a hand, but yeah, a lock would be good, thanks.”

“Okay, well, I’d better get back to your mother.” 

Spike listened to Rupert’s heavy tread for several steps before it paused.  “Oh, and Spike, maybe the next time you entertain Buffy, you shouldn’t cut her leaving quite so fine if you don’t want us to know about it.”

Forgetting he was naked, Spike leapt to his feet.  “Mum doesn’t…?”

“Relax.  I recognised her car as it drove away, but Drusilla was dozing and missed it.”

“Shite…uh…”

“Either put on some pyjamas or get back into bed, eh?”

“Oh, bollocks!”

“Quite!”  Rupert closed the door behind him as he left, but Spike heard the man’s laughter.

Reaching out with his hand, Spike found the bed and lowered himself on it. 

“What a weird night.” 

He shook his head but couldn’t help but grin.  Tracing the face of his Braille watch with his fingers, Spike decided that Buffy must have had time to get home by now.  By nature a messy person, Spike now kept everything in its place.  It was the only way he could hope to find things.  His cell was where he’d left it on the bedside table.  Speed dial one, and seconds later it was ringing.

“You’re awake!”  Buffy’s voice held a smile.

“Yeah.  And you buggered off without saying goodbye.”

“I know. You looked so peaceful.  I didn’t want to wake you.  I was going to leave you a note, but…”

“Mm…not much point of that.”

He could almost hear her blush.

“I know, I’m sorry, I—”

“’S okay, only joking.”  His eyes widened at his admission.  “It’s a good job you did go…”  He went on to tell her of his mother bursting in, and how he’d thought Buffy might have been hiding somewhere.

Both were yawning and struggling to stay awake by the time they hung up a couple of hours later.

*~*~*~*

“So,” said Oz as he flicked the top off a bottle of Bud.  “You’re playing with us on Friday, yeah?”

Spike flexed his hand and nodded.  “Yeah…I think so.”

“Will Buffy be there?”

“You know damn well she will be.  There’s no way that Buff didn’t tell Willow when I asked her.” 

Chuckling, Oz said, “True.  Is it right that you’re giving her a ride?  You’re not coming in the van?”

“Christ.  The bush telegraph is working well.  Yes,” Spike said with a sigh, “I am getting a cab and I’m collecting Buffy.”

“You know she’d come for you, don’t you?”

Spike growled with frustration.  “Stop bloody babying me, Oz.  When I take a girl out, I pick her up and I take her home.  Doesn’t matter that I’m not the one who’s driving.” 

“Okay. Okay. I get it.  Big man has to take care of little woman.”

“Piss off.”  Spike scowled but his voice was light.  “So what’s the deal with you and Willow anyway?  Seems she’s spending most nights at yours these days.”

“Have another beer.”  Oz tapped a bottle against Spike’s knee.

“Thanks.”  Spike took the beer.  “But no changing the subject.”

“We’re doing okay…I think.  She freaked me out the other day when she said she was going to buy some cushions for the couch…but she was joking…I think she was joking…she was, right?”

Spike laughed so hard he nearly dropped the bottle.  “Oh, man, she’s nest making!  Cushions!  She’ll be leaving a toothbrush and some clothes at yours soon, rather than bringing an overnight bag every time.”

“Yeah, she will.”  Oz chuckled weakly.

“She already has, hasn’t she?”  Spike grinned broadly. 

“Uh…no…not really…just a toothbrush.”

“It’s started though…you’d better watch out.”  Spike sobered.  “Seriously though, mate.  It’s great that things are like that for you.  I mean it.”

“Thanks, man.”  Oz leaned forward and chinked his bottle against Spike’s.  “Do you want me to take your guitar for you?”

“That’d be good, thanks.  The case is in the bottom of the wardrobe.”

Oz drained his beer, put the bottle on the table and walked to the large wardrobe along the back wall of the room.

“Wow.  Neat much.” 

“Yeah…not being able to see where you toss stuff, makes you mend your ways.”  Again, Spike marvelled at being able to joke at his condition.

“So…how do you know what colour you’re wearing?” said Oz, running his hand over a rack of shirts all arranged by colour.  “How do you remember which is which?”

“Check out the labels inside.  Black has the label completely cut out.  Blue has a V cut out of the bottom of it. And the white shirt’s label is untouched.  Same with the t-shirts on the shelves too.”

“The jeans?”

Spike laughed.  “Didn’t have to bother with them since I only have black.  Was never much for colour before, so it’s easy to do it like that.  I chucked the TV remote across the room in temper couple of weeks back.  Took me an hour on my hands and knees to find the bloody thing.”

“I should try to be neater.  First time Will stayed over, I had to run in the bedroom and hide all the clothes and crap under the bed before she saw it.”

When they stopped laughing, Spike said, “So what colour’s your hair this week?  What does Will think of you dyeing it all the time?”

Rubbing a hand over his deep purple hair, Oz grinned and confessed the colour.  “I’m not sure about it, but Will says she loves it ‘cause it matches her favourite dress.”

“Matches her…”  Spike’s words were lost as he choked on his beer, recovering only when Oz slapped him on the back several times.

“Now you’re breathing normally again, I’ll go.  See you at the Bronze later.”

Spike nodded, eyes still streaming from choking.  He heard his guitar twang as Oz put it in the case and raised a hand.  “Later.”

When Oz had left, Spike got up and locked his door before walking back to the bed and flopping down on it.  His thoughts turned to Buffy, causing his stomach to flip-flop as if he’d never had a date before.  He shrugged and shook his head.  All he was doing was going to the Bronze to play with the Dingoes.  All that was different was that Buffy would be sitting backstage with him.

“Nothing to it,” he muttered, but it still took him twice his usual time to get ready.

*~*~*~*

Having endured his mother seeing him off at the door, despite her being in the dark about the whole date thing, Spike breathed a sigh of relief as sat in the rear seat of Xander’s taxi.

“So…despatch says that it’s not straight to the Bronze, we’ve got a stop on the way?”

“Yeah…said I’d take a friend there.”

Xander glanced in the rear-view mirror, knowing that his next question would have Spike blushing to the roots of his newly bleached hair.  “And this friend wouldn’t happen to be female would it?”

“Uh…yeah…but—”

“Hey!  You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”  He smiled as he lowered his voice.  “’Bout time.”

“I bloody heard that last bit too.  Don’t say anything when Buffy gets in the cab, sh—”

“Buffy?  Did you say Buffy?”  The car veered to the right a little.

“Oi! Watch the road!”  Spike gripped at the edge of the seat, his heart racing, just waiting for the impact.

“Sorry.”  Xander silently cursed himself for giving Spike a fright.  “It’s just I know her…well knew her…well sort of looked at her a lot.”

“Want to say that again, but in English?”  Spike forced himself to relax.  The car wasn’t going to crash. There would be no pain and hospitalisation.

“We survived the hellhole that is Sunnydale High together.  By together I mean, she was popular and had lots of friends and I wasn’t and didn’t.”  He gave a snort.  “It was her friend Willow that I knew more.  She tutored me in math and science.”

“Uh…they’re still friends.”

“Yeah, I know.  They run that comic store just round the corner from the coffee shop.  Always thought it was funny that they went through college and then opened that.”

“I think they’re doing okay out of it, though.”  Spike felt he had to defend their decision.

“We’re here.”  Xander pulled the car next to the curb. “Do you want me to go to the door?”

“No…just honk the horn.”

A full five minutes after Xander hooted the horn, Buffy erupted from the front door, letting it slam shut behind her.  She paused only long enough to smooth her hair, then saw Spike and smiled.

Xander leapt out of the front seat to open the door so she could sit beside Spike. 

“Hey, you.”  Buffy slid along the seat until her legs touched his.  “Sorry for holding you up.”

“You didn’t.  Willow said always to add another ten minutes or so where you were concerned.”  He checked the time.  “You were only five…so effectively we’re now going to be early.”

In reply she leaned closer and kissed him soundly on his mouth.  Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Xander watching in the mirror with a sappy grin on his face.  She pulled away from Spike and peered at Xander.

“Don’t I know you?”  She snapped her fingers – not very well – a couple of times.  “It’s Xander Harris, isn’t it?”

Any swelling of the heart that Xander felt by being finally noticed by his high school crush was stopped dead when she added, “How long have you been driving a cab?”

“Uh…more or less since graduation.”

“Oh right.”

An awkward silence hovered between them until Spike slid his hand high up Buffy’s thigh.  She gave a small shriek, then leaned close to whisper in his ear.  “Stop it.  He’s watching.”

Spike smothered the pang that knowing he’d never be able to watch her sent through him, by smothering her lips with his own.

Xander coughed loudly and muttered, “Get a room.”

All three burst out laughing at that.  By the time Xander delivered Spike and Buffy to the Bronze, they had discovered that Willow had made Buffy watch Xander when he took part in a swimming gala, and also that because of Will’s crush, Buffy avoided talking to him when she was alone, so as to not upset her friend.

“Do you remember your high school crush, Spike?” Xander asked as he opened the car door for him.

“Which one?” 

He smirked at the memory of his last school dance.  Never short of offers, that final dance before they all went their separate ways had been a whirlwind of snogs in corners and promises to keep in touch.

Buffy slapped his arm.  “Pig!”

Spike paid Xander his fare and tip.  “Thanks, mate.  About midnight, yeah?”

“I’ll be in the usual place.”  Xander rested a hand on Spike’s shoulder.  “Enjoy!”

Grinning, Spike nodded, wishing he could see Buffy’s expression.  Her hand slipping into his partly made up for that inability.

Spike’s other hand hesitated to flick out the cane.  He could rely on Xander to park so the door was straight in front of him, but he felt self-conscious about flicking out the cane with Buffy there.  It was stupid, he knew, but he couldn’t help it.

“Are we going inside?”  Buffy’s voice was soft in his ear.

“Er…yeah.  ‘Course.  It’s just—”

“Trust me, Spike.”  She tugged gently on his hand.

His first step was a little tentative, but when he asked if he could hold her arm, he found he really did trust her to keep him from stumbling over things – something he still didn’t do with his mother.

They sat at the narrow table he used backstage, and when he came off after playing a couple of songs with the band, he discovered that having someone there to greet you was just great. 

“Spike?” Buffy said when the band had finished their set.

He cocked his head to the side; there was something about the tone of her voice that made him think he wasn’t going to like what was coming.

“Yeah?”

“I wondered if you minded if we went out front for a while?”

“Uh…” He tensed.  “I dunno…it’s getting late…”

She squeezed his arm.  “It’s not eleven yet.  Come on, please?”

“I-I don’t think I can…it’s just…”  He shook his head and grimaced.

“Just what?”  Her hand travelled up his arm and caressed the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

“Crowds…I don’t like being near too many people…I know it’s daft, but hearing all the voices and not seeing them…  And they’ll all know.  Everybody will know…”

His voice trailed off again.

“I get that, but what’s the alternative?”

He smiled weakly.  “I get to stay here with you?”

“Well, yeah…but I don’t want to skulk in the shadows with you, Spike.  I’m proud to be with you.”

Picking up her free hand, he brought it to his lips and gently nibbled at the middle finger before slipping it into his mouth.

Buffy stifled a moan.  “Not fair…”

“I think it is.”

She pulled her hand away.  “I mean it.  I want to sit out the front, so that everyone can see I’m dating the hot, blond guitarist.”  Cupping his head, she kissed him.  “Please.”

“For half an hour…and you find a table first, okay? Then come back for me.  Don’t want to trip up.”

She was gone almost before he’d finished saying it. 

“Bugger.”

“I’m back,” Buffy said unnecessarily as she arrived back with him.  He’d heard her from the moment she opened the door.  “Found a great table, away from the dance floor, just down from the stage door.”

“Great.”

“A little  more enthusiasm, please!”

His heart pounding, he walked with her through the door he’d never let Oz talk him into going through.  True to her word, the table was only a few strides away and the pathway there was unobstructed.

As they sat down, Spike’s fingers entwined in hers ,and he gripped hard enough to make her wince. 

“Hey, Spike,” said one of the bar keeps, making him jump a little.  “The boss sent you and your lady a beer on the house.  It’s good to have you back, man.  We’ve missed you.”

“Uh…thanks.” 

He waited until the man had walked away before letting his fingers find the bottles.  Picking up the first, he offered it to Buffy, before taking a long pull from the second. 

“So your mom was right.  You are a bit of a player from what you said about your prom?”

“It was a dance not a prom.  I’m English.  We don’t have proms…well not back in my day.  They call them that now though and have those bloody daft long cars…”

Buffy giggled as he rambled on and gradually relaxed.  He stopped being so aware of the people in the club, for all that really mattered was the girl sat at his side, holding his hand.  The girl he could drive insane merely by suckling at her fingers.  The girl who didn’t seem to care that he couldn’t see.