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Author's Chapter Notes:
wow...an update, finally....hope there are still people reading....it's a short one i know..next chappie will be longer...i tink...=P

please review...I'd like to know who's still interested in reading...
Chapter 8: The Things We Do

Angel stood beside Jenny, who was sitting in Rupert’s leather chair. The masculine office was a luxurious and spacious one, full of elegance and style. Paintings done by Van Gogh and Da Vinici littered the walls, adding to its resplendence.

“I’ve checked our company’s policies. The health insurance that this company offers for our employees does not cover private nurses, or even private rooms. And since Spike is the senior Vice President, it does well that he provides an example for the rest of the employees,” Angel remarked casually to Doyle Emerson, one of the senior members of the Board of Trustees.

Doyle’s expression showed surprise and then one of disgust. “But he’s your brother! How could you do that to him?”

Jenny put down the nail file that she was using. “Mr. Emerson, let me ask you a question. How badly do you want that pension?” she asked, her informal tone barely masking the warning in her words. She smiled, when Doyle sat back, stunned at her threat.




“What? You can’t be serious!” exclaimed Xander. He shook his head.

“Are they really going to move him? He’s going to have to share a room with someone else?” Buffy asked Anya, who could only nod helplessly. “But if he finds out that his family is treating him this way, he will be so hurt.”

“Yeah, and that’s not even the worse of it,” Xander added. “If he finds out that Dru is with Angel now, he’s going to kill himself.”

“Well then we can’t let him find out,” Buffy replied, determination on her face.

“Hel-looooo! Earth to Buffy! It probably costs a thousand a night to keep him in a private room. How are we going to manage that?”

Buffy gave him a puppy dog face, complete with bright wide eyes and a pout.

“What are you giving me that look for?” Xander shielded his eyes with his hands. He refused to look at her even when she tugged at his sleeve. When she was able to pry his hands off, he said with desperation, “No, not that look! You know I can’t say no when you give me that look!”

When Buffy knew that Xander was caving in, she “squee-ed” and jumped on him to give him a big bear hug.



The peacefulness of the afternoon was ruined by the loud barking of dogs. Walkers and joggers on the trail turned their heads in surprise as they heard the numerous barks coming from a single direction.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this!” Xander cried aloud, as the dogs on the leash took him for a joyride. There were just too many dogs and too little of him. No matter how hard he tugged on the leashes he held, they just kept on dragging him forward, all over town. “Buffy owes me BIG for thisssssssss!”



Said Buffy groaned in revulsion. She was scrubbing the grease vats clean after a particularly busy day at the DoubleMeat Palace. Her arms and legs never felt sorer, and her feet ached with a vengeance. It was her third day but even so, there was no break for the newcomer. It was now an hour after the fast food place had closed but she had to stay late to scrub the place clean.

She brushed the sweaty strands of hair out of her eyes and face before returning to a particularly tough spot which stubbornly refused to disintegrate. And joy of all joys, she had to mop the floor before she could leave.



Xander picked up the two dollars left behind by a stingy group of college guys and stuffed it into his pocket. Shaking his head, he took the tipped beer bottles from the table and placed it on his tray. “I can’t believe Buffy is making me do this,” he muttered to himself as bitter thoughts and methods of torture meant for his little sister filled his head. He took a dish rag and swept it over the table, clearing the bits of beer nuts and leftover foodstuff.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” He said with annoyance after a shrill female voice called to him again for the second time, impatient for service. “I’m going to kill her.” It was a pretty close call who he was planning bodily harm to, his sister or the whiny sorority snob who was probably a horrible tipper anyway.


A smelly crude man yelled out to Buffy, “You should be up there, shaking your sweet ass.” He slapped her butt when she walked by him, holding a tray of drinks. It was obvious he had been there a several hours, indicated by not only the slurring of his words, but also the strong smell of cigarettes and alcohol emanating from his clothes.

Buffy growled under her breath and slapped his hand away, ignoring his leering; that was the one thing she refused to do. She wasn’t about to get up on stage and strip for these perverted men, no matter how much more money she would be paid. It was one thing to waitress at a strip bar wearing short shorts and tight belly shirts but it was another to degrade herself on stage. She repeated to herself continuously, this is all for Spike, this is all for Spike.




Walking out of the elevated in a zombie-ish trance, she didn’t notice until a few seconds later that Xander hadn’t walked out with her. When she tiredly turned back, she saw that he was sitting on the floor, his eyes closed and close to snoring.

“Xander! Get up,” she moaned, as she shook his shoulders. “We’re here.”

He groaned. “Leave me alone…I haven’t slept in the last… 72 hours…” he barely finished before he slumped over onto the hospital elevator door, already in fetal position and snoring away.

“Ugh,” she uttered before walking towards Spike’s room, leaving Xander to his dreams in the elevator.





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