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I want to thank everyone for all the great reviews! You can thank my no good slime bag boyfriend for ditching me for his friends for the THIRD Friday in a row for this chapter cuz now I’m stuck at home AND he’s not answering his cell. Bastard. God I really want to poke him and hard. Hey, I got an idea, let’s all poke him! Will you all do that for me? *smiles hopefully*

******

“Oh, hello William,” Joyce smiled warmly as Buffy led Mr. British Hottie that had introduced himself as Spike into the dining room, “We just sat down for dinner, care to join us?”

He looked at Buffy briefly before smiling back at Joyce, “Sounds great.”

“Blondie Bear!” Harmony greeted her boyfriend, “What are you doing here?”

Spike mentally cringed at her high pitched voice. The voice he was sure could crack glass if she tried.

“Just came to see you luv. I missed you,” he lied through his teeth to answer he question.

Harmony beamed at him before throwing Buffy a cross between a warning and a smug look (well that’s what Buffy thought the other girl had attempted but there was no way to be sure.)

“Ahh, how sweet,” Buffy said sarcastically, Harmony not picking up on this at all.

“I know, my Spikey loves me so much,” Harmony smiled happily.

Buffy wanted to gag. How could a girl like Harmony ever be with a guy like that? Oh wait, never mind. Like she already didn’t know the answer. She probably put out on the first date therefore she got the really hot guy. Buffy hated girls like that. Maybe she should just sell, give up all of her morals and become a slut. Couldn’t be that bad right?

Buffy’s eyes rested on Spike.

Hell if it got you guys that looked like that she was game.

Oh come on Buff, she mentally shook her head. He’s probably a totally asshole. After Angel you promised yourself no more assholes remember? Uh huh, like she’d really stick to that. They flocked to her. After all, there were only two kinds of men in the world. Pigs and dogs, take your pick girls.

Why the hell was she even having this conversation with herself anyways? He was Harmony’s boy toy. It was highly unlikely he’d ever go for Buffy even if he wasn’t. Well one thing was for sure.

Life sucked.

******

During the rest of the dinner one thing became very clear to Buffy. She just did not belong here at all. She’d been cut off mid-sentence and blatantly ignored. She wasn’t used to it and she hated it. With Dad, he’d always divided his attention between her and Dawn evenly and he’d always listened. Always, no ifs and or buts about it. It had been part of his mother/father all in one package thing and he’d done it well. Joyce Summers had clearly lost her touch.

It had been like someone had grabbed onto one of her internal organs and twisted when her mother lit up as Harmony told her about how her cheerleading squad was going to some convention thingy in which her mother spewed out endless compliments and promises to be there no matter what. Her mother hadn't even bothered to promise to come when Buffy had had her work displayed at an actual gallery after she’d been chosen out of thousands of young artists from all over. Patrick had needed her to go to some big charity event. And besides, what was this, Bring It On? Cheerleaders are so passé. Like the world needed more anorexic bimbos jumping up and down and acting as though what they’re doing takes talent. That’s what pop stars were for. The main purpose of cheerleaders was give pervs alike in the stands something more interesting then the game to gawk at. Thanks, but no thanks.

The someone that was twisting her internal organs had started to rearrange them as her mother and Patrick laughed and touched and all of the things that she’d watched her mother and father do for years. They’d been so in love and then it had just simply fallen apart. No signs, no advanced warning to prepare them for the blow, no nothing. One minute they’d been one big happy family and the next she was stuck in that Pink song “Family Portrait”.

Buffy tilted her head to the side, taking in the picture perfect sight of Patrick Kendal, Harmony Kendal and Joyce…Kendal. For the first time since she’d even heard of her mother’s engagement, Buffy felt her mother was completely lost to her.

******

There were three options for Buffy as far as what to do when she entered her room after dinner. She could:

A) Go on painting her meadow and act as though everything was a-okay.

B) Call her dad and beg him to talk mom into letting her move back to LA all while sobbing hysterically.
Or

C) Pull out the angsty music, her sketch pad, a pencil and draw an equally angsty picture with silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

Well option A was clearly to mature for Buffy so it was out of the question. Anyone who said they’d go with option A was a liar and any psychologist saying that she needed to act like a mature young adult and except change in her life and let new people in could shove their opinion up their ass because it just wasn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever.

Option B would work best if she waited until something really bad happened. Sure her father would be swayed instantly by her tears and welcome her back with open arms but it was a little rash for so soon. It was tempting but no.

Option C was always a good way to go. The music and art would either help her out of her new-found depression or pull her in further down into the sinking black hole she was slowly falling down.

Then again there was always the underrated option D: Make voodoo dolls of Harmony and Patrick Kendal and slowly kill them by sticking pins into their body.

Personally, she liked option D the best but sadly C was the best choice.

Buffy had unpacked all of her essentials before dinner, her art supplies, her CD player and CD’s and her vintage record player and records. She popped in Jimmy Eat World CD Bleed America, flipped to the title song and plopped down onto her bed that she’d just made up with her cream satin butterfly comforter and a few throw pillows with her sketch pad and started her picture.

******

Honestly, Spike had been on his way to the bathroom but he’d somehow ended up at Buffy’s bedroom door. He wasn’t quite sure how it happened but it had. So now here he was staring at the door, unmoving like an idiot.

Angst ridden emo played on the other side of the door. He’d seen how she’d looked at and reacted to the happy family routine and couldn’t blame her for being upset. All he’d wanted to do was comfort her, kiss her pouty lips, take off that cute little tank top…bloody hell he’d known of her existence all of an hour and for that hour she’d dominated his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, he finally knocked softly on the door and waited.

“Come in!” came from the other side a few seconds later, giving him permission to enter her room. He let out the breath he’d been holding before entering.

There on her bed, strands of golden hair falling loose from the scarf in her hair and her hazel eyes slightly wet saying she’d been crying was again, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“Oh, uh hey,” she said, sitting up slightly, “What’s up?”

“I, uh well I was on my way to the bathroom and…” he trailed off mid-explanation.

A few seconds of awkward silence went by before Buffy spoke again, “You can like go now ya know.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he finally blurted out.

This caused Buffy to raise an eyebrow, “Is this the part where you tell me that it’s just gonna get some getting used to? That in the end I’ll fit right in here and I’ll go on living happily in this suburban wasteland? Well let me tell you something, it is not going to work out like that. I just want to go home and act like I was never forced to be here and watch my mother play perfect mommy to Harmony and perfect wife to Patrick!” She stopped the calm herself, “Just leave me alone.”

Spike stood their stunned, “Uh, actually I was going to agree with everything you said but no need now really.” He spared a glance at an open box of records before asking, trying to change the subject, “Vinyl?”

“Mmhm,” Buffy nodded, “Everything from Bing Crosby to Zeppelin.”

“You got any…” Spike started but Buffy cut him off.

“Lemme guess, any British punk circa early sixties to seventies?” Buffy asked with a small smile, “Sex Pistols? The Clash? Ramones? Even the awesomely pre-punk New York Dolls?”

Spike smirked at her. The girl didn’t even know him and could read him like a book.

******
sorry, I’m a music addict so I made Buffy one too. Hope ya enjoyed!





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