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Chapter Five


Buffy munched on her cereal the next morning and idly glanced at the
clock. It was eight. Spike had to be to work at nine and she'd heard
neither hide nor hair of him yet.

Should she wake him?

Well, it was either that or he be late on the first day and that
would be bad. Giles had been so excited that he'd found a job the
night before, he'd broken out the champagne. She thought it was a
little much, but she understood the gesture just the same. Giles was
excited his son was home again. Taking a job meant he was there for
possibly a very long time. She smiled as she remembered Spike teasing
her when her cheeks had flamed red from just a few sips of the
liquor. He had a really sweet smile. She didn't remember him ever
smiling much before. Not unless he was laughing at her.

8:15.

She slid off the stool. She was waking him.

Running up the stairs and to his room, she halted and knocked on his
door. Nothing.

"Spike, you need to get up," she called through the door.

She took a deep breath and hoped he didn't yell at her for this. She
pushed at the door and it swung open to reveal Spike on his back, one
arm draped over his head, the other at his side. The sheet was
bunched up his waist and covering his `naughty bits'. His legs were
bare, his chest was --- Did he work out?

She gulped, tearing her eyes from his torso and up to his face. She
smiled gently. How adorable was he? He didn't look so. . . haunted.
He was at peace. She had the urge to touch his face; to feel his
peace.

His eyes flew open. "Buffy?" he croaked, "Am I dreaming?"

"No, I'm sorry but you have to be to work in," she glanced at his
alarm clock, "forty minutes. I don't want you to be late on your
first day. I could um, make you something to eat while you shower if
you want."

"Yeah, that'd be great uh—"

She held up her hands. "I'm gone!"

She nearly flew down the stairs, images of his nakedness running
rampant in her mind. She felt like sticking her fingers in her ears
and humming really loudly like she used to when she was kid and
didn't want to hear anything. Maybe the simple act would dispel it
all from her mind and stop the blush she swore was originating from
her toes. She leapt to the phone and dialed Doyle.

"'Ello?" a groggy voice answered.

"Sorry Doyle. Go back to sleep."

He hung up. She started singing the theme song to The Brady Bunch to
get it all out of her head.

She was still doing that ten minutes later when Spike sauntered into
the kitchen.

"What the bloody hell are you on? I could hear you all the way
upstairs," he said as he grabbed the plate of cinnamon toast she
handed him. "Thanks."

"Would you prefer Gilligan's Island?"

"Buffy, I had to take one bird to an institution; I really don't want
to have to take you too."

She couldn't help it, she laughed. An almost crazy laugh.

"Buffy?"

"I got up much too early," she told him.

He smiled. "It's okay. I always knew you were strange."

She smiled brightly, "Good luck today. Mom was so gay and packed you
a lunch. It's in
the fridge."

"Okay, great."

"Yeah, okay. Bye!" and she breezed up the stairs intent on waking
Doyle's ass up NOW.




"Take him his lunch, Buffy," Doyle urged.

"No."

"Do it."

"No."

"Seriously, do it."

"No."

"You're going to let the poor man starve?"

"Yes!"

"And why is that?"

She glared at her best friend who sat in the chair opposite her as
she reclined on the
couch. "We've only spent the whole morning going over it."

"Because you think he's, how did you put it? `Yummy'."

"Doyle! You weren't supposed to say it out loud!" She huffed and
placed an arm over
her eyes, shielding him.

"Ah, we dare not speak its name," he said in a fake Italian accent.

"Right!"

"Even if it's just us that knows?"

"Right!"

"Buffy, he's not really your brother."

She flopped her arm back to her side. "Doyle, he's been my `brother'
since I was ten."

"Yeah, since you were ten. Not since birth. He's your STEP brother.
No blood."

"It's still . . . gross!"

"Definitely not gross. Have you SEEN him?"

She gave him an incredulous look.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Why don't you just step on my head while I'm drowning?"

"Oh stop being so melodramatic."

"It's wrong Doyle, it's . . . "

"Kinky."

She eyed him warily. "You'd know all about that wouldn't you?"

"I'm gay. I've got the kink built in."

She giggled.

"See, you're not sounding like a foghorn anymore complaining. You're
giggling now."

"So, Freud, what's the prognosis?"

"You are a female and Spike is a male—very much a male by the way.
You saw his
naked flesh –which, so jealous by the way—and you reacted as a female
would to a male she
found attractive."

"Are you going to get to the part where I shouldn't have done that
and it was wrong
and incestual?"

"No. Come on Buffy, what do you expect me to say? That you deserve
to kneel on rice
and say five Hail Mary's? I'm not going to do that and if you expect
me to, then march yourself
to the nearest Catholic church."

"I don't think you're understanding what this means Doyle."

"It means you're attracted to Spike. Who is a man that is NOT your
REAL brother.
Buffy, you spent four years without him as your brother. Did you not
see `Clueless'?"

"Oh great, so what you're saying is that I'm Alicia Silverstone and
he's Paul Rudd?"

"Exactly."

"Except NOT. Our parental units are still together. He's always been
referred to me as
my brother."

"We're talking in circles now. Are you going to bring him his damn
lunch or not?"

"Yes," she hissed and bounded to her feet. "But you're coming with
me!"

"Finally!"





She was his oasis. That was his only thought as he saw her trudging
across the open site
to him. He couldn't stop himself from staring, wiping the sweat from
his face as he watched
her. She had on loose gray capris and a tight white t-shirt. On her
head was the Red Sox had
he'd bought her, her hair spilling out underneath it. She held in her
hand a paper bag. Doyle
was a few steps behind her, trying to keep up with her.

He took off his hard hat and stood there, grinning like an idiot as
she approached.

"Who's that?" Xander Harris, his work mate and site manager asked
him, coming to
stand next to him.

"Buffy."

"Girlfriend?"

"Step sister."

"She's hot."

Spike glared at him. "That's my step sister, mate. Back off."

Xander held up his hands and backed away, "This is me, over here,
backing off."

"Hi," Buffy said, finally reaching him.

He smiled down at her, "Hi luv. What brings you out here?"

"You forgot your lunch," and she thrust the bag at him.

"Hi Spike," Doyle greeted him, grinning.

Spike nodded, "Hey Doyle. Wanted to apologize for my behavior
yesterday."

"Don't worry about it. I'd freak too if some strange good looking
man was on top of my
stepsister."

Buffy shot him a look. "You don't have a stepsister."

"That's why I said `if'," Doyle said as if she should have known
that.

Spike started to laugh. "Funny bloke, can see why you like him," he
told Buffy who was
scouring the site with her eyes. He was really hoping she wasn't
actually checking any of them
out.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you look at me, pet?"

Her eyes rolled to meet his. "What?"

He smiled and felt his insides constrict at the sight of her lovely
green eyes. "There she
is," he murmured.

"So, uh, yeah, your lunch. I put an extra water in there for you.
Are you drinking water
here?" she went back to looking around.

"Yeah, there's a bubbler and a fridge in the trailer full of water."

"Okay, good. You don't want to get dehydrated."

"Worried about me, kitten?"

"Well, yeah. I mean you are my brother. Wouldn't want anything to
happen to my
brother because you're my brother. You know what I mean brother?"

"Hey Buffy, is Spike your brother? Or STEPbrother?" Doyle
interjected.

"Stepbrother," Spike answered him, keeping his eyes on Buffy. She
was acting strange.
Fidgety, nervous. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" she asked, squinting up at him.

"You're acting funny. You all right?"

"Yeah, I uh, I think it's the heat, I just need to –"

"Christ Buffy, you worry about me getting water?" he grabbed her arm
and started
dragging her with him to the trailer. "Let's get some water."

"Spike—"

"Have you eaten?"

"Spike—"

"I'll wait out here!" Doyle called cheerfully and waved.

Opening the door to the trailer, Spike noted it was empty and he
trudged across it to
open the fridge. He let Buffy's arm go as he grabbed a bottle, opened
it and handed it to her.

"I really have to learn to think before I speak," she muttered.

"What?"

She shook her head and chugged some water. "Nothing," she said when
she swallowed.
"Kay Dr. Giles, I think I'm all set now."

"I'm glad you came by," he told her softly. He was, he really,
really was. No matter how
wrong it possibly was. He'd been thinking of her all morning,
thinking of how he wanted to
take her out after, treat her to dinner so they could `bond' some
more. That was the thing about
his feelings for her; he had to feed the addiction. Couldn't stop
himself from feeding the
addiction. How could he be a sinner if she was his angel?

"Well, I couldn't let you starve. Doyle was actually pretty adamant
about that."

"Do you have plans later, Buffy?"

"No, why?"

"Maybe we could hang out?"

"Uh, sure."

Her scent was invading him, surrounding him and driving him wild.
Did she know
how gorgeous she was? She wasn't like any girl he'd ever come across.
She was real, never
fake. She didn't put on airs; she didn't try to be anything she
wasn't. She just was.

He reached out, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. She watched
him with wide eyes
and he found himself drowning in her. She had to go before he did
something he'd regret. "You
better get back to Doyle," he said softly.

She nodded. "Yeah, I better." She practically sprinted out of the
trailer and he stood
there, hard, aching and left wanting. Always left wanting when it
came to her.

"I must be as crazy as Dru."





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