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Buffy stopped outside the door to her bedroom, reluctant to go inside. She hated fighting with Spike and she couldn't exactly say that she was as angry with him as she'd been earlier that morning, but his comments had still hurt. There was a good chance that she'd try to make up with him, he'd say something else stupid, she'd get more hurt, and they'd be worse off than before she attempted to apologize.

Or maybe he'd keep his mouth in check for once and they could just straighten everything out and be fine.

It was that second possibility that gave her the push she needed to go into the room. She had enough stress in her life right now being at odds with her mother, she didn't need to throw a fight with Spike into the mix—especially on Christmas Eve.

Spike was sitting at the end of the bed when she walked in, and he looked up at her, his expression reminding her every bit of a kicked puppy. "M'sorry," he muttered, glancing down again.

Sometimes Buffy hated just how adorable he could make himself whenever she was mad at him, but now she was grateful, happy to stop being angry and just give in to his charm. She sat beside him, rubbing his back. "I know you are."

"Don't want anyone other than you, y'know," Spike told her. "Never met another woman who makes me feel the way you do."

"I know," Buffy said, leaning in and pressing a kiss on his shoulder. "I'm just extra-tense girl right now, what with Momzilla and all."

Spike gave a little half grin. "I still shouldn't have said that. Too early in the morning, blood flowing in the wrong direction, etc." Spike paused and Buffy chuckled lightly. "That time before," Spike said after a moment, "Before I met you—I wasn't at my best, pet. I'm not a womanizer. I have more respect for women than that. But I'd just broken up with Drusilla, and she was, well, the only woman I'd ever been with. May be hard to believe seeing what a damn sexy bloke I turned out to be and all, but there was a time when people would've found it a bit less shocking to hear that I'm the son of a librarian. Then Dru came along and she fixed me up, made me feel like I was somebody."

Spike paused again, sighing. He hated to talk about it all, the wounds still fresh even now, but he knew he should tell Buffy, let her know where he was coming from. If she could open up about the death of the man she'd loved before him, then he could tell her about a messy break-up. "When Drusilla left me, it was like the rug had been snatched out from under me. I didn't see it coming, although looking back I probably should have. So much of my identity was tied into her. She's the woman who made me Spike, if that makes any bloody sense. I was pathetic little William until she came along, and then when she left, I was afraid I would be again. So I may have overcompensated a little. She made me feel like I was less of a man, so I tried to prove that I wasn't. It's not really a good reason or excuse, but it's what it was."

"It's okay," Buffy said, taking his hand. "I can get that."

"I don't want to be with a lot of different women," Spike told her. "Some guys say monogamy is boring, but I tend to be the other way around. I like getting to know a woman—getting to learn her. You can't do that if you're going your separate ways the next morning."

Buffy pushed an errant curl off his forehead. "You don't have to be just Spike, you know. William's a pretty good guy, too."

Spike scoffed. "You don't know William."

"Yes I do."

"I was a right git as a kid, Buffy. I was always writing this bloody awful poetry and my hair—looked like I stuck my tongue in a sodding light socket."

Buffy fought the smile that was creeping to her face. "I've seen the pictures, and it wasn't that bad. I mean yeah, I prefer it now, because you've got some damn sexy hair, but it wasn't unsalvageable. And if your writing was 'bloody awful' then, it's gotten a lot better now. I love your songs, you know."

"I'm never very sure about them. I got so used to people laughing at everything I wrote."

"They're not laughing now, Spike. They're cheering. I've seen those girls hanging off the side of the stage—you've got groupies." Buffy elbowed him playfully.

"Don't care about groupies," Spike replied, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her against his side. "Only care about my girl."

"And you have me." Buffy paused for a moment, frowning. "Only not, y'know, like that until we get back home."

"I hope you know you're getting ravaged as soon as we walk though the door," Spike replied. "You're not going to be able to walk straight for a week."

Buffy giggled. "Promises, promises."

"Oh, you're gonna get it, missy," Spike said, his hand creeping to her side to tickle her. She squealed, twisting in his grasp.

"Hey! Evil!" Buffy exclaimed between giggles.

"You better believe it, baby," Spike said, tongue between his teeth.

"Don't do that!" Buffy scolded, smacking his shoulder. "Having to wait a week is bad enough without you looking all sexy."

"So what am I to do if I can't look sexy? Put a bag over my head?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "And how exactly do you fit your ego in this room?"

"It's slipping a bit through the crack beneath the door."

"Uh huh. Pathetic much?"

"Only pathetic if it's not true, baby." Spike winked at her, making Buffy shiver. "See—you know how bloody sexy I am."

Buffy smiled slowly, then leaned in, her mouth right against his ear. "You're right. I do. It's gonna be real hard keeping my hands off of you all…week…long." She punctuated each of the last three words by nipping at his earlobe.

Spike's mouth opened for a second before he snapped it shut. "Buffy…kitten, please…"

Buffy could see him straining in his jeans and decided to take pity on the guy. Actual sex still left too much room for getting caught, but maybe she could get away with a little something. She stood up, glancing behind her to make sure the door was indeed shut before getting to her knees in front of Spike. He looked down at her as she did, raising an eyebrow. "Shh…" Buffy said, pressing her finger to her lips. "Make one sound and I stop—got it?"

Spike nodded quickly, his dick growing harder in his jeans at the sight of her there. Buffy popped open the buttons of his fly, pulling him out into her warm hands and making Spike thrust up, needing more of her touch.

Buffy was tempted to tease, loving how she could drive Spike to begging, but she didn't want to waste time in case they were interrupted. Instead, she leaned forward, taking as much of him in her mouth as she could in one stroke. Spike bit his bottom lip, grasping white-knuckled at the edge of the mattress, fighting to keep from vocalizing his pleasure.

What she couldn't fit down her throat, Buffy wrapped her hand around, stroking and turning in time with her mouth. She swallowed around him, and Spike's eyes rolled up, his hips lifting slightly off the bed. He struggled to stay quiet, not wanting to test if she'd been serious when she said she'd stop.

Buffy pulled back slightly, bringing air into her lungs again. She looked up at Spike, smirking around his cock as she saw the look on his face. His expression was one of tortured bliss, and she knew she could either give him more pleasure or take it away. It was a heady feeling, that sort of power.

Luckily for Spike, she was in a benevolent mood. Buffy knew exactly how to push him over the edge, and took his balls in her hand, squeezing them with just the right amount of pressure as she hummed around his shaft. Spike gripped the bed tighter, unable to hold back his strangled groan as he came inside her mouth, Buffy deftly swallowing it all.

"You bad boy," Buffy said as she pulled back, licking her lips. "You made a sound."

"Couldn't help it, pet," Spike replied, panting. "You're just too bloody good at that."

"Well, you were behaved for the rest of it, so I guess I can forgive you," Buffy said. She gave his cock a soft kiss before tucking him back into his jeans and buttoning them.

"You're as gracious as you are beautiful," Spike said with a smile as Buffy got to her feet. "Do you want me to…"

"No," Buffy said. "Well, I want you to, but I don't think we should push it anymore right now. Besides, we both know I can't be quiet."

"Not something that's ever gotten any complaints from me. I love to make you scream." Spike took hold of her hands, pulling her down into his lap. He held her for a moment, his face resting against her hair. "So we're good now?"

"Yeah, we’re good," Buffy replied, smiling. "You can have a get-out-of-the-doghouse free card on account of it being Christmas Eve."

"If that's the case, I think I like Christmas Eve. You let me off for being a jackass and then you blow me. Bloody good holiday this one."

Buffy sat up a little, rolling her eyes. "You're just a lost cause, you know that right?"

"Yeah, but you love me anyway, so I'm really quite all right with it."

"Well, as long as you're happy," Buffy teased. She got up from his lap reluctantly and stretched. "We should probably go downstairs. As much as I'd love to stay in here with you all day, the whole point of visiting the family is, well, visiting the family—even if certain members of said family make me want to scream."

"I'll be here for you, pet. Won't let her get you. And if it starts to look like it's getting too bad, we'll go someplace else. I'm not going to let you be miserable, especially on Christmas."

"I know. You're good like that." Buffy leaned down and gave him a quick kiss. "Now let's go face the world."

*** *** ***

Despite the fact that having to keep up appearances meant that she couldn't snuggle up with her boyfriend and had to instead sit with her sister wedged between them, Buffy was having a good time. They had put in the DVD of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer at Dawn's request, and she was enjoying the bit of Christmas cheer. She kept glancing over at Spike, noticing that he was way more engrossed in the movie than she was certain he'd claim he had been later. She smiled to herself, wondering who he thought he was fooling with that "Big Bad" persona of his. He was just a big softy.

"Buffy, can I speak with you alone for a moment?"

Buffy's heart sank. There it was, the Voice of Doom, guaranteed to ruin any nice moment. "I'm sort of in the middle of a movie, Mom," Buffy said, wanting nothing less than to go off alone with her mother, especially since the sour look on Joyce's face made it quite clear that it was not for some sort of heartfelt reconciliation.

"You've seen this movie plenty of times, Buffy," Joyce snapped. "Now get up and come with me to the kitchen."

Spike looked over at Buffy, silently asking if she needed his help, but she just softly shook her head and stood, following her mother out. As soon as they were in the kitchen, Joyce took something from her pocket and slammed it down on the island. "Care to tell me why I found these in your room, Buffy?"

Buffy looked at the item in question, her eyes widening as she identified it as her birth control pills. "You were snooping?"

"I wasn't snooping," Joyce replied. "I was cleaning. And that is so not the point, young lady."

"It is the point!" Buffy yelled, snatching the pills off the counter. "My personal life is none of your business."

"It damn well is! You're my daughter!"

"Am I?" Buffy snapped in response. "You sure as hell don't treat me like one."

"Oh, how dare you!" Joyce countered. "After everything I've had to put up with with you! And I did not let you move to New York so you could start sleeping around!"

"I am not sleeping around! And you didn't let me do anything. You know as well as I do that I went there to be as far away from you as I could get!"

"You, Buffy, are an ungrateful, selfish, spoiled little brat," Joyce replied. "I gave up everything so you could have a good life, and all you've done is throw it in my face!"

"Gave up everything? Yeah, you looked like you were really hurting living in Dad's mansion all those years. And now, well, you're practically in the poor house as you live out your dream of owning an art gallery!" Buffy was shaking as she yelled at her mother, years of pent up emotions seeming to be coming to the surface. "I held the man I loved in my arms as he died, and you couldn't even show the smallest amount of pity for me. You sent me away, brushed me under the rug like I was some uncomfortable problem."

"That is not true!"

"It is true! I was hurting! I felt like my heart had been ripped out, and all I wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up. Didn't that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it did! Buffy, I hated seeing you in that kind of pain, and I got you the help you needed!"

"No, no you didn't." Buffy wiped at her eyes, brushing away angry tears. "You don't know what it was like, being there. I was alone and hurting. You let them take me away and lock me up where I was all alone."

"Buffy…"

"No! God, you want to know about selfish? Look in the damn mirror." Buffy held up the small package of pills. "And these are because I'm in a monogamous relationship with a man that loves me. And yes, I'm having sex. Lots and lots of sex. So deal with it!" She stormed out of the kitchen, going back to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

Back in the living room, Dawn and Spike sat uncomfortably on the couch, Buffy and Joyce's fight easy for them to hear, even with the television still on. They shared a look, and Spike started to get up, slowly at first, then quicker as he noticed Joyce on her way to the stairs.

"Leave her alone, Joyce. I mean it. You go up there right now, and we're on the first flight back to New York."

Joyce stopped in her tracks, turning to look at Spike. "It's you."

Spike paused at that, clearing his throat. "What?"

"The one Buffy needs those pills for—it's you."

Spike searched his mind desperately for something to say, knowing this wouldn't make things at all easier for Buffy. But he couldn't, and Joyce took his silence as an admission.

"Get out of my house."

Spike took a step back. "Joyce…"

"No, I want you gone. I trusted you alone with Buffy, and you took advantage of that. And you're Rupert's son. It's just…well, it's sick."

Spike bristled. "I love her, Joyce. There's nothing sick about that."

"There's a lot sick about it, William. Now get your things, and go. You're not welcome here."

"I'm not leaving Buffy."

Joyce threw her hands up. "You know what, fine. Why don't you both just go then." She turned around and stormed off.

With his shoulders slumped, Spike trudged up the stairs to Buffy.

*** *** ***

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