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“Buffy, wake up.” Joyce gently shook her daughter’s shoulder and smoothed her hair out of her face, but none of these movements caused any movement in Buffy. She tried again. “Buffy, it’s really too late for you to still be sleeping, and don’t you have any pajamas? It’s really quite indecent the way you sleep in the nude.” Still, nothing. She was going to have to bring in the big guns. “Buffy, if you don’t get up right now I’m not going to take you to the Ice Capades, and then when will you get to see Brian Boitano?”

“I’m up! Don’t leave without me!” Buffy jumped up with her eyes still shut from sleep. Slowly, confusion crept over her face. “Wait. Mom?”

“Yes, Buffy,” Joyce said with impatience coloring her voice.

“I thought you weren’t coming till 12 noon? And I thought we discussed not using the Boitano method unless we were in dire straits?” Buffy squinted at her mom through sleep-crusted eyes and clutched her sheet to her chest.

“Actually, it’s 12:15, and I’ve been trying to wake you for quite some time. I say that counts as dire straits. Now get yourself dressed and come down for some breakfast. Or lunch. And really, Buffy--pajamas. Think about it.” Joyce quickly left the room and headed down the stairs to fix up lunch.

Buffy slumped back into her pillow. Okay, brain. Wake up. Can’t lounge around naked with Mom here. Buffy unwillingly threw back her sheets and headed to the shower. She peeked out her window to see if anyone with a kick-ass body happened to be outside, but she didn’t see anyone. “Ah well,” she thought. That would’ve been too coincidental. She did a quick stretch and went to take a shower.

***

Spike had just come out the back door to enjoy a brief smoke, happened to look up, and was greeted with perky breasts being stretched out--breasts that disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

“Huh. I could’ve sworn the place next door was unoccupied. Well, maybe this summer’s gonna be different. Wouldn’t mind some more perky breasts, he thought to himself. He lazily scratched his cock, which was quickly starting to twitch, and slowly exhaled a long haze of smoke. He sat down at the back step and allowed himself to enjoy the quiet of the afternoon.

***

“Sorry about that, Mom. Had a long night.” Buffy smiled to herself, remembering the intense pleasure she had gotten through watching her neighbor. She frowned at the thought of contriving a meeting with him and was quickly lost in thought.

“…so if that doesn’t cut into your plans, I thought that’d be a nice first day at the beach. What do you think, Buffy? Are you up for some mother-daughter bonding over sandy food and sticky bodies?” Joyce looked hopeful, unaware of the images cascading through her daughter’s mind of washboard abs on sandy beaches.

“Sure thing, mom. Always up for the bonding.” Buffy blushed at her thoughts but maintained eye contact in an attempt to cover her wandering mind. Gotta stop thinking so much about him. Shyea, gotta start doing. But first, bonding with Mom. And then, bondage with yummy model. Ooh. No, bad Buffy. Be a good daughter! Mom just got here! Buffy tried to squelch the inner monologue that was heating up her brain and her cheeks and focused on finishing her coffee.

They finished their lunch pleasantly, chatting about Buffy’s upcoming photo projects and Joyce’s upcoming gallery acquisitions. They were simply enjoying each other’s company when they heard someone at the door.

“No, Hank, wait till we’re inside! You naughty man, you.” A high-pitched giggle and shriek pierced the former peace. There was more movement and noises that definitely sounded like lips smacking, among other smacked body parts.

“Oh, but I just want a taste, baby. You’re just so sweet.”

Gross, is that Dad? Ugh, what is up with that? Buffy’s lip curled in distaste, and she glanced at her mom, who was starting to look very angry, her lips tightly shut with her eyes revealing only slightly suppressed revulsion and anger.

They heard a few more awkward steps and heavy breathing until the couple finally appeared in the kitchen, the young bimbo’s shirt disheveled with Hank’s hand down her bra and Hank’s face peppered with red lipstick smears. When they finally noticed they had company, Buffy’s dad appeared not embarrassed or apologetic, as one would expect, but irritated that they had been interrupted.

“What are you guys doing in my townhouse?” Hank held steadfastly to his bimbo, despite her embarrassment at being caught and her desire to straighten her appearance.

“Excuse me? Your townhouse? I believe we both own this place, so don’t go throwing ownership in my face. And I don’t know why you’re surprised to see us, or at least Buffy. We did have a conversation where we decided that she would be here for the whole summer, or were you too busy getting blow jobs from your slut here to pay attention to that little piece of information?” Joyce spat out these words with a vengeance, her earlier calm now replaced by venomous words. “And how can you not at least be ashamed in front of your daughter with your hand groping a fake breast? Buffy, aren’t you disgusted by your father’s indecent behavior?”

“Mom, I just—“

“My indecent behavior? Well, just because you haven’t been able to date since our divorce is no reason to get upset about my ability to attract young, beautiful women. And Candy is actually--”

“Oh, please. Spare us. Just because Buffy and I don’t share your tastes doesn’t mean you have to make us hold back vomiting.”

***

Spike’s quiet afternoon was interrupted by a seething Angel.

“Spike, get your pasty ass in here and apologize to Dru for last night.”

“What? For telling her to go find some other play toy--say, oh, her boyfriend?”

“Angel, see how he’s so mean to me, the one who first discovered his light, his glowing nature. Get him, grr.” Dru hid behind Angel and continued taunting the two to fight.

“Spike, don’t you insult her.”

“You are such a poncy ass. I’m not insulting her—if anyone is, you are. You’re the one who’s pretending that she’s some little girl-thing that can’t be without a strong man.”

“Did you just call me an ass?”

***

“So, Buffy, you’re saying that you don’t like seeing your father? Because last we talked I thought that we were completely satisfied with the way things were going.”

“Actually, da—“

“Satisfied? Maybe you were, but Buffy wasn’t. How can you expect her to be happy when she sees her father a total of one time a year, and sometimes even that is brief and in the presence of your flavor of the month.”

“Mom, I was ju—“

“How dare you accuse me of being lax in my duties towards my daughter? Do I pay the bills? Did I pay for her tuition? Was she ever lacking in any way?”

“Dad, I want you—“

“You think that money is a substitute for a father figure? You have some really deluded ideas about family. Buffy has often talked to me about your lack of communication, and quite frankly, she’s been hurt more than you know.”

Buffy stayed quiet, stewing in her irritation in being ignored, at having private conversations with her mom being aired in front of her dad, and at Candy, who was attempting to make an ally of her. Like I’m going to make nice with you, ya ho. Buffy rolled her eyes and continued to squeeze her knife.

***

“My sweet William, save me from angry Daddy. He is not being very nice. Naughty Daddy.” Drusilla grabbed Spike’s waist and moved him in between the two arguing.

“Oh, no. I’m not a bleeding idiot. Solve your own problems.” He tried to disentangle himself from Dru’s arms, but she held on tightly and pressed her breasts against his back.

“Get your tits off him, you slut.” Angel jerked forward and grabbed Dru’s arm.

“Ow, you’re hurting me.”

“Ey, now, don’t talk to the lady like that, and don’t you fucking think about hurting her.” Spike glowered at Angel, angry that he had clearly disregarded any respect he had for his so-called girlfriend.

“Oh, William, my sweet knight in shining armor. Yes, protect me from Daddy.”

“Who do you think you are, trying to get Dru to like you? She belongs to me.”

“What? Did my rejection of your girl last night make it unclear in some way that I don’t. want. Dru.”

***

“Why are you even here? If this is supposed to be Buffy’s summer here, why is best friend Mom invading Buffy’s space?”

“Oh, please. Stop trying to make her turn against me. Buffy invited me here so that we could spend a little time together before she starts her job with the magazine. You remember that, right? Oh wait, you didn’t call her back when she left you that message.”

Buffy decided that it was time for her to leave. She could still hear them yelling at each other, their voices escalating as they continued to insult each other in the ways they knew best. Buffy grabbed her purse, walked out the door, and slammed it behind her.

***

“Why are you trying to keep her from me? And why is she clinging to you?”

“Oh Angel, he’s trying to keep us apart! Why won’t you come and save me and let me be your princess again?”

“What?!? Dru, you are one crazy bird.”

“Hey, what do you mean by calling my beautiful princess crazy?”

“Why are you afraid to embrace all of who I am? Insanity is not always so terrible. You never see all of me.”

“Know what? Bugger this. I’m not getting sucked into your bizarre love triangle made of two.” Spike shrugged off Dru and pushed her towards Angel, rolling his eyes as they embraced and then kissed passionately like they had just overcome some obstacle, which was quickly followed by more shouting. He grabbed his keys, walked out the door, and slammed it behind him.

***

The simultaneous slamming of doors caused the slammers to look up, both startled out of their angry faces.

Buffy blushed instantly, imagining the rock hard body that stood clothed before her.

Spike casually hazarded a glance at her breasts, noting their perkiness and smiling at the memory.

A beat passed, both basking in memories.

“Bad day all around, it seems. So, you wanna get away from all this shit?” Spike said, gesturing to his motorcycle.

“That would definitely be of the good.” Buffy followed him to his bike, doing a sexy Snoopy dance in her head at the goodness of the Powers That Be in allowing her to meet NaughtyNeighbor and the greatness of the Powers That Be in allowing said NaughtyNeighbor to have a motorcycle—both leading to a fabulously satisfying ride, despite the uncomfortable helmet, clutched to tight abs and pressed up against a sexy leather coat.





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