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Chapter Thirteen

Buffy awoke slowly, her eyes still closed, wondering if she'd licked sawdust off the floor the night before. She knew she drank, but Jesus, how much did she actually imbibe? She lost count after the fourth tequila shot. Snuggling deeper into the bed, she yawned. Home. She was home. She wouldn't have been able to deal with facing William like this. His attitude on top of her headache? No way.

"Buffy, mom wants to know if you plan on staying in bed all day."

Buffy peered over her blankets to find Dawn standing in the doorway, a
put out expression on her face.

"I just woke up," Buffy responded, her voice sounding gravelly. She
grimaced. Asprin and orange juice, or a gallon of water. Maybe both. "What
time is it?"

"Noon."

"Haven't done that in a long time," Buffy murmured.

"So are you coming down? Mom's going to make you breakfast."

Buffy nodded. No rest for the weary. Besides, breakfast did sound good.
She didn't have hangovers like most. She craved food—the greasier the
better—after a drink fest.

"Can you ask mom to make sausages and bacon? And pancakes?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Anything else?"

Buffy fought the urge to stick her tongue out at her sister. "Orange juice?"

"Fine," and off she went. This time, Buffy did stick her tongue out. Climbing
out of bed slowly, she stumbled into the bathroom. God, she looked like
hell. She apparently hadn't bothered to wash her face the night before and
raccoon eyes greeted her. She looked and felt like crap. She pondered if
she'd have enough time to shower. The scent of bacon hitting her nose told
her no. So, she relieved herself, washed her face, brushed her teeth and
brushed her hair, pulling it back into a pony.

"Somewhat alive now," she muttered. She remembered about the car then.
After breakfast, she'd have her mom take her to her car. Then she'd come
back to the house and dutifully avoid William for the rest of the day. She'd
call him though. Or make her mom call him.

Real mature, Buffy, she scolded herself. You live with the guy, you pay
rent, you pay bills and you can't be mature enough to call him and tell him
where you are. Because I want him to suffer just a little bit. Make him
wonder what I'm doing or WHO I'm doing. Maybe I'll go out today and
change everything about ME. Maybe I'll cut my hair and be rude to HIM.
See how he likes it.

She almost smiled at the thought.

"Buffy! Breakfast!" Dawn shouted up to her.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy trudged down the stairs, her stomach growling as
the scent of everything she'd asked for assailed her nose.

"Mom, can you come over every day and cook me – what the hell are you
doing here?" Buffy stopped mid-sentence and mid-stride in the kitchen.

Spike was flipping pancakes, Dawn was sneaking out of the kitchen and her
mother was nowhere to be found. And why did he have to look so damn
adorable with his hair curling from lack of gel and a simple t-shirt on with
sweat pants. He looked like a little boy. A little boy she wanted to jump.
That pissed her off.

Spike grinned at her, "Cooking you breakfast."

"Who told you I was here?" Riley was going to die if he called.

"I came over last night. I was worried. I've decided we should get cell
phones so we can call each other. We might as well join the rest of the world
and have them firmly attached to our person at all times."

"You came over last night and what? Came back this morning?"

"No, your mum made a spot for me on the couch. I stayed."

"Why?"

"It was late and she offered."

"You could have gone," she told him huffily and grabbed the orange juice
on the table despite her pride.

"I didn't want to," he said softly.

"Why?"

"I wanted to be here when you woke up. I wanted to make sure you were
all right."

"Well, I'm fine. And I can finish flipping pancakes if you want to shove off
now."

"No, I think we need to talk. I know you're angry with me—"

"Figure that out did you? Was it the barely concealed sarcasm? Am I being

rude? Maybe I should throw in a few cryptic ‘you don't see me's' and then you'll know what it's like to talk to you."

"Okay," Spike sighed heavily, "I deserved that."

"And then some."

"Buffy, I'm sorry for acting like I have."

"Good. I'm glad you're sorry."

"Has it been that bad?" he asked incredulously.

"How did you feel when I told you I was going out with Riley?"

"Jealous."

"Okay, I was going for betrayed," she said, thrown off guard by that.

He ran a hand through his hair, causing the curls to spring through his
fingers. Buffy fought the urge to run her own fingers through them. Instead
she started to get her breakfast.

"Well, I did feel that too. I mean, the guy shoved me in lockers in high
school," Spike reasoned.

"Okay, well, that's how it feels when you go off and make all these changes
with Elvira and leave me out of it."

Spike sighed. "I know."

"No, actually you don't. You just think you do because I'm mad at you now
and you feel guilty. Every change in my life has been with you William.
Graduating high school, going to college, graduating college and then
moving has all been with you. And do you know why? Because I can't
imagine not having you around for all those things. So then when you go off
and start making all these changes and telling me that this is the person
you want to be and that I don't ‘see' you, how do you think it feels? And
how the hell am I supposed to understand when you don't bother to share
anything with me? I don't know what's going on in that head of yours—"

"Buffy, luv—" Spike started gently, walking over to her.

"You tell everything to her because she's suddenly the world to you—" her voice was rising steadily with each word.

"You know that's not true—"

"But I get slack for going out with Riley and then you come after me,
which, good job if I hadn't been here. Then you would have just freaked out
my mother for no reason when I could have been just fu—"

She was cut off by Spike's lips covering her own. It was a wholly
demanding and possessive kiss. Her toes were curling, she swore they
were. She swayed back from the force of it and had to grab his arms to stop
herself from falling back. He took that opportunity to wrap his arms around
her and haul her up against him. She could feel him harden against her and
she froze—Hey, he had a penis after all! The thought made her jump back.
This was different territory, her head was now spinning and she was highly
aroused. Where did he learn to kiss like that? Her thoughts went dark. Of
course. Drusilla.

She grabbed her plate and stomped off. Spike was on her heels.

"Buffy, we have to talk," he told her.

"No."

"Yes, godammit Buffy, you're no better than I am. Whenever things a
little tough, you take off!" he said heatedly and grabbed her arm, spinning
her around to face him.

"I don't want to talk to you right now. I want to eat my breakfast and take
a shower, possibly go back to bed so that this all can be a dream—"

"Was kissing me that bad?" he asked wounded.

She stared at him defiantly. "She teach you to kiss like that?"

He looked confused. "Who? What?"

"Never mind," she muttered and started off again.

"Buffy, stop walking away from me!"


Taking a deep breath, Buffy turned to him. "Look, I can't think right now."

He smirked. "So you did like the kiss."

"I need to eat and shower," she continued, ignoring him. "So I'm going to do that. Just go home William and I'll talk to you later."

He shook his head. "Nope. You eat and you shower. I'm going to do the
same in the guest room. Meet me outside on the swings when you're
ready."

"When did you get so demanding?"

He smirked, "We'll talk."

"If you're lucky," she muttered and stalked away from him.

"I'll come up there and drag you down here if I have to Buffy!" he called
after her.

"I'd like to see you try!" she yelled back as she made her way up the stairs.

He chuckled, "Oh, don't tempt me, kitten."

"I'm not your kitten!" she yelled and slammed her door.

"You'll always be my kitten," he said softly, reverently. "My little kitten
with claws."





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