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Chapter Twenty One

"So, I'm here for what? A decoy?" Doyle asked Buffy later that day as they watched TV in the living room. Spike had gone upstairs to make sure none of Buffy's unmentionables were left hanging around in his room.

She gave him an odd look. "You sound bitter."

"Good job Nancy Drew, glad you figured it out," Doyle muttered, turning away from her and starting blankly at the TV, his arms crossed against his chest.

She flicked off the TV. "All right. Spill. You're acting like me when I'm
PMSing. What is it?"

He looked at her like a petulant child. "You and Spike are together now and
I get shoved aside."

"Doyle—" she stared.

"But when you need someone to come over and what? Somehow disguise
the fact that you've been probably going at it like bunnies all weekend, I'm
okay to call and come over then."

"Would you rather we have called you when we were going at it like
bunnies?"

He glared at her.

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "Doyle, I'm sorry. I just . . . We
just . . . "

He waved his hand at her as if dismissing her. "I know. You're in the throes
of a new romance." His voice dropped and he started crooning the theme
song to the Love Boat to her. "The Love Boat! Exciting and new… come
aboard . . . we're expecting you.."

She grimaced, "I'm going to be sick."

"Oh my God! You're pregnant!" Doyle exclaimed.

Buffy rolled her eyes, "No, I'm not pregnant, jackass. First of all, you don't
know that quickly--"

"Duh."

"And second of all, the only way I would be is if it were Immaculate
Conception."

"So then you haven't—?"

"No, we haven't."

"My God, how were you able to restrain yourself? You have seen him
right?"

"Can you stop lusting after my boyfriend?"

Doyle shrugged, "I'm a red blooded American Gay Male. What do you
expect? It's okay though honey. I don't have a shot in hell. He's as straight
as an arrow."

Buffy started to laugh. Leaning over, she hugged him. "I have missed you."

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying. I did." Her voice dropped to a whisper and she strained to
make sure she didn't hear Spike nearby before she said, "I have things to
tell you."

"Like?"

"I can't tell you now."

"Okay, whenever you're ready."

"Am I getting shoved aside already?" Spike said, entering the room.

Buffy leaned away from Doyle and smiled up at him. "Nope. Doyle was
feeling neglected and I was trying to make him feel better."

"Not to worry Doyle, Buffy won't be replacing you," Spike assured him.

"Better not," Doyle said petulantly.

In the distance car doors were heard being slammed shut. Buffy and Spike
looked at each other and at the same time said, "Mom and Dad."

"Maybe if you both didn't call them ‘Mom and Dad' it might help the weird
factor," Doyle pointed out.

"I call Giles, Giles," Buffy pointed out.

"And I can't call Joyce, Joyce. She's been ‘Mum' since I was thirteen,"
Spike told him. "And she'd know something was up."

"I think she'll know something is up when she sees you stick your tongue
down Buffy's throat for the first time," Doyle pointed out.

"Doyle!" Buffy scolded.

"It's okay, Buffy. He's just pointing out the obvious," Spike told her.

"We're home!" Joyce's voice rang out.

"Spike! Can you help me carry the suitcases?" Giles shouted in after her.

"On it Dad!" Spike called back and quickly hugged Joyce before taking a
suitcase from Giles and placing it at the bottom of the stairs. Giles was
starting to trek back out when Spike placed a hand on his shoulder. "I've
got it Dad," and he rushed out to the car.

Giles turned to Buffy. "All right. What did he do?"

Buffy giggled, "Giles! He didn't do anything. That's awful to think."

Giles shrugged. "You do remember what he used to be like, correct? Hi
Doyle."

"Hi, Mr. Giles."

"Honestly Doyle, you can just call me ‘Giles' like Buffy does."

"Yes, sir," Doyle said cheekily and Giles shot him a mock glare.

"So, how did you kids get along this weekend?" Joyce asked.

"Mom, really, can you not call us ‘kids'? Spike is twenty-three and I'm
twenty. We're adults now," Buffy said rolling her eyes.

"So when are our adults going to be moving out?" Giles teased.

"Ha, ha."

"Well Miss Summers—" Doyle started.

"Joyce," Joyce corrected.

"Well, Joyce, I'm not going to lie to you. There was a rager here this
weekend. Not to worry though. We made those hoodlums clean up after
they puked all over your oriental."

Joyce went pale.

"He's kidding, Mom," Buffy told her and whacked Doyle on the arm.

"Hey, I bruise easy, watch it!"

"Can someone help me?" Spike said in the doorway, sounding as if his
mouth was stuffed with something.

Buffy rushed to help him. Poor Spike had two suitcases, a backpack and his
mouth was stuffed with some plastic bags.

"Mom, did you buy out L.A.?" Buffy asked, taking the bags from Spike's
mouth and smiling at him.

He smiled back and she resisted the urge to lean up and kiss him.

"It's not everyday a woman gets to go to L.A. to shop," Joyce said
indignantly.

"Did you shop or rob?" Doyle asked.


*****************************************************************

Buffy sat on her bed, listening for Spike to enter his bedroom. She was going nuts. After they'd all chatted and Joyce told them how successful the show and all the things her and Giles managed to do on their weekend trip, they'd retired to bed. Doyle had visited a while, but not allowing Buffy to have the chance to talk with him the way she longed to. She didn't have any girlfriends, so Doyle was pretty much it. He was officially her own private therapist and she felt the need to purge everything – minus the sexual adventures – to Doyle. Then again, she'd probably divulge some of that too.
Spike had gone out for a smoke and not wanting to follow him like a puppy, she'd stayed inside. But now, she wanted to be with him.

Hearing the sound of footsteps and then his door click shut, she bounded off her bed and out her window. Crawling to his window, she knocked lightly on the pane. He was nowhere to be seen, so she knocked again.

"Buffy?" she heard his voice whisper to her.

"Spike?"

"In your window."

She turned her head to find him with his head sticking out her window.

He grinned at her. "You move too fast. You must have been on your way to
me when I came for you."

"Let me in your room," she told him.

Nodding, he left the window. A second later he appeared before her,
smiling broadly. Lifting the window, he helped her crawl inside. When she
was safely inside, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight.

"I missed having you in my arms," he whispered and began peppering
kisses from her collarbone up to her cheek. He pulled back slightly and
kissed her. "Mmm…I've been wanting to do that for two hours."

"I know what you mean," she murmured, "I've been wanting you to do
that for two hours."

"Think they suspected anything?"

"No. Would you stop worrying so much? We have to tell them eventually
Spike."

"I know. I just wanted to wait for a while."

She knit her brows together. "How long is a ‘while'?"

"I want to have a few sessions first."

"Spike, a few sessions is three weeks—"

"Buffy, please. I know you're gung ho about telling them as soon as
possible, and in order for me to be as strong as you need me to be, I'm
going to need some time. I want to at least get my footing in therapy first.
Besides, I want to have you all to myself right now."

Settling herself down on his bed, she laid down, hugging a pillow to her and
inhaling his scent on it. She wanted to drag him down with her and cuddle
up with him.

He seemed to sense her need, because after quickly locking his door, he
stretched out beside her and brought her in the haven of his arms. She
sighed in relief.

"We'll tell them Buffy. Soon. Can we just take it one step at a time?"

"I hate sneaking around. It makes the whole thing seem like some dirty
secret, Spike. I don't want us to be a dirty secret."

"We won't be. I'm just asking for some time. Three weeks tops, okay?"

She sighed heavily, "Okay."

"We'll find ways to be together. They're always going on about how they
want us to be close."

Buffy snorted.

"So, if we hang out more than usual, they'll just think we've bonded."

"I want to be able to bond while I fall asleep every night," she said honestly.
"I know it sounds strange, but after just two days of being in your bed with
you, I – I got used to it. It felt so right. I swear I've never slept as well as I
do in your arms."

"Buffy, what you do to me. . ." he rasped and buried his face in her hair. "It
doesn't sound strange at all. I feel the same way. Want you in my arms all
the time, I do. Used to imagine you there . . . "

"You did?"

"Yes," he said hoarsely.

"Promise me it'll happen soon," Buffy said, hating the plead in her voice.

"It'll happen soon. I promise."





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