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Though you could say it wasn't entirely her decision, Buffy jumped at the chance to spend more time with Spike...



"Oh, no, no, no!"

Looking truly helpless, The blonde's bottom lip jutted out in a perfect pout as she stalked close on her friend's heels. "Come on, Xand! I've known you since I was five -- I used to play naked in the wading pool in your parents' backyard...!"

Xander stopped dead in his tracks vehemently shaking his head. "Nope -- you are not gonna use nakedness as a barganing chip! And, five year-old-Buffy nakedness at that!"

"I look up to you!" she cried desperately. "You're like my brother -- I would so do this for you if it were the other way around."

"Okay, first of all -- you look up to me?!" he laughed loudly. "Little miss Harvard McSmarty Pants?!"

Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Buff, I love you - you know that." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're one of my best friends in the entire world, and I would do anything for you." A beat, "Except, let that psycho stay in my house."

"Xander, he's got no place else to go!" she groaned in frustration.

He shrugged. "So, get him a padded cell with a view. I'm not harboring any member of the criminally insane out-patient program."

"He's harmless," she huffed.

"If he's so harmless..." Xander began eyeing her wearily, "take him home with you."

"What are you damaged?!" Buffy looked horrified.

"That's what I thought," he scoffed.

Buffy worried her bottom lip between her teeth; she could feel her sanity slowly slipping away. That padded cell wasn't sounding all that bad...

"Besides, you know I can't," she sighed.

"They'll eat our little love monkey alive?" Xander grinned.

She frowned. "Exactly."


**

Hazel eyes peered out through the tiny slit in the venetian blinds. A squeal would be held back every time a pair of headlights that didn't swing into the driveway, rolled down the street. Those eyes left their watch for only a second to glance at the clock.

8:59 p.m...

A sigh, "Where is she?"

"Where's my cashmere sweater?!"
"How the hell should I know?"

9:02 p.m...

Finally! The sight of the black Explorer pulling into 1630 Revello's driveway caused the little boy to do the dance of joy in the middle of the living room. He loved his sisters (cause he had to of course) but being left alone with the two of them for long periods of time was never a good --

"You would know because you're always stealing my stuff!"
"I prefer to call it borrowing..."

They always seemed to be down each other's throats and there was only one way Andrew knew how to prevent the bloodshed (for now).

"Buffy's home!" the little boy yelled at the top of his lungs as he took off for the front door. Waisting no time, he quickly threw it open. "You're late," he said as sternly as possible complete with tiny hands on tiny hips.

Buffy shrugged with a smile as she walked inside. "Does this mean I'm on punishment?"

He paused thoughtfully. "I'll have to think about it."

Dawn ran up. "Good, you're home."

"Are you feeling okay?" Buffy said sardonically, giving her a look.

"I've got a question -- and since you're the psych expert and all..."

"Shoot, kidlet."

"Okay," Dawn continued, "is it healthy for me to let certain things slide because of mom and stuff still being kinda hard and all?"

Buffy eyed her sister concernedly. "Dawn, no," she shook her head. "Yeah, things are tough right now, but it's good to try and keep some sense of normalcy."

"Thank you." The girl smiled brightly, turning on her heels. "Faith!" Dawn roared as she ran upstairs "I want my sweater right now, butt-head!"

"I don't have your damn sweater!"
"Bull!"

"Home, sweet, home," Buffy sighed heavily.

"So, why are you late?" Andrew asked.

"Nice place you got here, Doc." Spike pushed his way inside the house, waisting no time he flopped down on the couch and put his feet up. "Very cozy. Martha Stewart would be proud."

**

Faith paced the floor of her bedroom wringing her hands. "You're letting a mental patient stay in our home?!" she huffed and shook her head, adding, "Social Services is not gonna look fondly on this, B."

"Tell them, and I'm sure they'll have no trouble finding a nice spot for you in the foster care system, F," Buffy shot back, annoyed. "Spike staying here is strictly on a temporary basis -- he's actively trying to find another place. I know, I'll be forcing him."

"He didn't look all that crazy," Andrew spoke up before standing and pulling the seat of his Spiderman PJ's out of his butt.

Glancing at her brother, Dawn snickered, "Oh, that's attractive."

"He doesn't seem crazy now -- just wait until you wake up missing a few fingers and toes." Faith smiled wickedly at him.

The little boy's eyes widend. "Buffy!"

"Nobody's going to wake up missing body parts," Buffy told him reassuringly before turning to glare at her sister. "Except for maybe Faith if she doesn't stop making that annoying talk-y sound."

Faith rolled her eyes.

"Spike's harmless; I wouldn't have brought him here if I didn't think so. Besides, he'll be gone in a few days."


**

He had work to do, and very little time to do it if he was going to get off of this buggering shit hole of a planet! He couldn't sit around playing house (even if Doc Summers was extremely more attractive than those gorrilas in white tights back at the hospital) --

Slathering the sandwich with mustard, Spike topped it with the piece of white bread and began the process of stuffing everything back into the refridgerator.

But, while he was here he might as well make himself comfortable.

Roast beef and swiss in hand he left the kitchen and quietly browsed the downstairs of the Summers' home.

It really was a nice, little slice of suburbia -- that surprisingly didn't make him throw up a little in his mouth. Bypassing most of the decor, Spike headed straight for the fireplace mantel and more specifically the photgraphs resting on said mantel.

Taking a bite of the sandwich, he snatched one down, studying it closely. Buffy smiled back at him, along with the little bugger with the squinty eyes who'd been down stairs earlier. Spike gathered the other two girls in the picture must be the rugrats who were screaming about a sweater when he came in the door; and the older woman with her arms around them...

"I see you had no trouble making yourself right at home."

Spike looked up to find Buffy sporting a crooked smile and an arm full of bedsheets.

He shrugged. "You're all out of mayo by the way."

"Thanks for the info," she replied dryly.

"No problem," he said without missing a beat. "You know, you look sorta young to have squeezed out three little ones. But, hey, these days you'll find fifteen year old chit's on Maury looking for the daddy of their fifth child. Right appaling sex education you American's have got going here."

Chuckling softly, Buffy moved closer to him and used her free hand to point to the picture. "That would be my baby brother Andrew. He's six, you met him earlier..."

Spike nodded. "I seem to remember." he smiled.

Buffy continued, "And those are my sister's, Dawn and Faith; thirteen, twins, and professional pains in my ass."

"And this must be your mum. When am I going to get to meet her?"

"You're not." A rueful smile formed on her lips. "She died a month ago. Brain tumor..."

Spike's face fell. "God -- I'm such a wanker, Buffy, I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She shrugged it off. "Not like you knew or anything. Anyway, due to our serious lack of space -- you're gonna have to crash on the couch."

"I've had worse," he chortled.

Grinning sheepishly, Buffy held up the sheets in her hand. "Hope you like Barbie," she laughed, embarrassed. "I couldn't find the guest sheets; my mom always took care of that stuff."

"They're very whimsical." He smiled.

**

It may have been three in the morning -- he wasn't sure. But, Spike had a pretty good idea that it was one of those ungodly hours normal blokes weren't meant to see when they were dog-shit tired. One, blood-shot eye cracked open as every muscle in his body tensed:

He wasn't alone.

An arm snaked out from underneath the pink and white of the Barbie sheets to click on the nearby lamp...

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Spike groaned.

Andrew pushed a wisp of dirty blonde hair out of his face and snorted loudly, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his PJ's.

"Does your sis know you're up?"

The boy shook his head and continued to stand there staring wide-eyed at the house guest.

With a mumbled curse, Spike sat up. "Is there something you wanted?" he said, visibly irritated.

Andrew rocked back and forth on the balls of feet. "Are you going to cut off my fingers and toes?"

Spike quirked a brow. "Depends on how much sleep I get."

"Oh." A beat, "Can I try on your coat?"

If there was any doubt in Spike's mind, it was now completely gone. He had to work to get out here as soon as possible; and by the end of the week ten couples would be basking in the glow of 'new relationship' and he would be back to doing shots out of the belly-button of one of Zeus' daughters.

To Be Continued...





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