~*~
“I still don’t see why he has to come!”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to keep him cooped up all day, Buffy, that would be mean!” Joyce put her hands on her hips in what Spike was starting to think was the universal Mum gesture. “You are going to let him come with you, and that’s final, Elizabeth Anne Summers!”
She was cute when she was annoyed; it was something he’d observed many times over the past few days. “Why the hell does he even have to come? He’s nineteen, he already graduated from high school!”
“Language, Slayer,” Spike scolded, grinning. “You oughta be ashamed of yourself, using that word in front of your mum.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are so lucky that in America it’s illegal to kill people.”
“Buffy!”
“Well, if you don’t want me to be rude, you shouldn’t make me stay around him!” she exclaimed. “It’s bad enough that I had to spend all Sunday with him—now you’re going to make me play tour guide!”
Joyce took a deep breath; the set of her jaw suddenly reminded Spike of her daughter. Bloody stubborn, these Summers women were. His eyes flicked over to Buffy, taking in the short skirt and form-fitting top.
Stubborn, but damn hot.
“Buffy,” Joyce said slowly, enunciating every word, “If you continue to refuse to be a decent hostess, I will ground you until it’s time for you to graduate.”
Spike grinned at the small blonde eagerly awaiting her answer.
But he was destined to be disappointed. Jaw set, clearly murderously angry but unable to do anything about it, Buffy growled, “Fine.”
“Good. Now, have a good day, sw—“
She never got a chance to finish; Buffy grabbed her bag and stalked out the door.
Joyce turned to Spike with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry. She gets so touchy sometimes…”
’specially given that her knickers are in a twist because the lack of touching lately, Spike thought smugly. During training yesterday she’d been giving out more signals than the average satellite dish, and Spike had deliberately ignored all of them. “’s alright,” he answered Joyce. “She’s a teenage girl, yeah? They’re hormone bombs.”
Joyce smiled at the description. “Just...Spike, can you do me a favor?”
Something in her voice made him stop and look at her more closely. “Yeah?”
“Can you—can you watch her for me?” She tried to smile, but it was wobbly at best. “I know, it’s silly—she’s a Slayer, with all kinds of powers and knowledge, but—she’s my baby, and knowing that she’s in danger every day and night, it’s just—“ She broke off, closing her eyes. “It’s silly, but knowing someone else will be there, someone who can protect her—“
“I get it,” he said softly. And he did. Did Buffy realize how lucky she was, havin’ a mum who cared so fiercely about her? He could see that it tore Joyce apart every day, knowing that her child was the one who had to fight the darkness. “’ll watch her, Joyce.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” Two words, but the warmth in them conveyed more gratitude than Spike had ever heard coming from one person before.
He shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, right. Not a problem. ‘d best be goin’ now.” He started for the door.
Joyce patted his shoulders in a motherly manner. “Have a good day, and don’t forget to come home and tell me if you two are going to be going anywhere after school!”
Spike grinned at her before walking over to the Desoto and sliding into the driver’s seat; Buffy was already in the passenger seat, her arms crossed moodily. “I won’t,” he called, and waved at Joyce, before putting the key in the ignition and leaving the driveway.
Buffy didn’t speak; he hadn’t expected her to, really. Bint was more stubborn than even her mum, and he knew she was mad at her.
“So, ‘ve never really been to a high school before,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.
Silence.
“Giles yanked me outta school when I was a little bugger—only ten years old. Started training me.”
Still silence.
“When did Jenny find you?” He was careful to keep his vice neutral, not wanting to betray that he really wanted to get her talking again. Just because he’d deliberately goaded her yesterday didn’t mean he wanted her to ignore him for the rest of eternity.
Finally, she decided to answer. “They didn’t think I’d be the Slayer,” she said quietly, “So the Watchers didn’t find me till after my first vampire attack.”
Spike sucked in a breath—his first little outing with vamps had been tough, and that was after five years with Rupes. “What happened?”
“I burned the school gym down. That’s why we’re in Sunnydale.”
He fought to restrain his laughter. “You burned down a whole gym?”
“It was a small one!” she said defensively, “and there were a lot of vampires in it!”
Spike shook his head, unable to keep himself from chuckling. “Hell—what I wouldn’t give to ‘ve seen that.”
He saw her roll her eyes. “It was boring. Buffy runs in, Buffy drops torch, Buffy runs back out and locks the door. Very amateur.”
“Well, yeah,” he admitted, “But considering you didn’t have a Watcher…”
She shrugged. “Still not all that impressive.”
It was amazing, he mused, how incredibly nonchalant she could be about something that would’ve had most people, Slayer or not, positively full of themselves. “Sorry, luv, but I think it is. One girl with no training, getting rid of a nest of vamps?”
“At the cost of a multi-million dollar school building,” she pointed out.
He pulled into the Sunnydale High parking lot. When he cut the ignition, he turned to her. She was looking out the window, her full lips pulled into a pout. Unable to help himself, he reached out and turned her head towards him. “Money or not,” he said softly, “You saved human lives. You’re a hero, kitten. You can’t wiggle out of that.”
She didn’t respond, which he figured was a good thing; meant she wasn’t arguing with him. Instead she just stared at him, her eyes boring into his. He looked back steadily. Man could get lost in those eyes. Hazel, bordering on green but sometimes almost blue. He had gotten lost in them before—he was now.
“I’m not a hero…” she whispered, staring at him. “Not any more than you are, at least.”
He didn’t want to admit how much that statement affect him, how much he wanted it to be true. “Well, we’re both Slayers,” he said with a slight smile, tilting his head to look at her. “Though you gotta admit, I can kick your ass any day of the week.”
She snorted, but didn’t move her eyes away from his. “Yeah, right. So never gonna happen.”
“You know ‘m ‘bout to kiss you, right?” he said, moving closer to her and resting a hand against her cheek.
She nodded; her own hands came up to hold his shoulders as she leaned towards him. “I kinda figured,” she said breathlessly…
And their lips met.
It was a strange kiss—exploratory, gentle, but at the same time desperate. The first time they’d kissed, they both hadn’t known what the hell was going on. Now they both did, and they were, if anything, even more confused.
Spike knew that if he had even the tiniest amount of common sense, he’d stop and think about what the hell he was doing. But common sense wasn’t exactly a priority right now; the girl in his arms was soft, warm, and, for the moment at least, his.
She was making little noises, not quite moaning, and running her hands down his back. “Spike…” she whispered against his lips.
He didn’t pull back, only traced her bottom lip with her tongue. “Yeah, luv?”
“Snyder…”
He pulled away from her, a frown on his face. “Who the fuck is Snyder?” he snapped, annoyed at having her interrupt them to say some idiot’s name.
Wordlessly, she pointed at the driver’s side window. Spike turned around to look—and jumped about a foot in the air. Glaring into the car was one of the ugliest blokes he’d ever been unlucky enough to see. “Who the fuck—“ he began again—but the man outside answered that question for him.
“I am Principal Snyder, in charge of this school, and you are two miscreants who need detention,” he informed them, his voice carrying through the Desoto’s only partially closed windows.
Bloody hell. He tried to kiss his girl and got some rat-like man on his case. Wasn’t that just typical? “Look, mate, ‘m not—“
“I am not your mate, I am your principal, and I suggest you shut your mouth, young man, before you get in even more trouble than you already are!” Snyder narrowed his eyes at Spike dangerously. “I could expel you, if I wanted to.”
Spike had had enough. He let go of Buffy, yanked off his seatbelt, and threw open the car door, causing Snyder to take a few steps back.
He wasn’t the tallest bloke in the world, and he knew it. But Snyder was shorter—and Spike had the menacing Slayer look about him, something he’d used to his advantage many times before. “You know what, rat-boy?”
“Excuse me! I am the principal of your school, and I refuse to allow you to speak to me that way!”
He leaned against his car. “I can talk to you however the hell I want, Snyder. ‘m a visitor, not a student.”
Snyder’s narrow face suddenly became devious; Spike felt his stomach clench. Shit. “And who is the student you’re visiting?”
“Uh, you probably don’t know her,” Spike said quickly, “She’s pretty new, real nice girl…Buffy Summers?”
“Unholy glee” suddenly took on a whole new meaning. Spike watched as a self-satisfied smile spread across the little man’s face. “You know what this means? Suspension for you both!” he cackled, before raising his voice. “Ms. Summers! Out of that car immediately! I need to have a word with you two.”
Spike watched as Buffy got out—her little face looked murderously angry. He clenched his fist in an effort to keep it from slamming into Snyder’s face.
Oh, balls.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Feel free to kick me--I know I haven't updated this fic in forever! My computer got a worm so I was sort of gone for a few days, but it shouldn't happen again since I have better virus protection *crosses fingers* Thanks for all the reviews, they made me smile =)