Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks so much for all the support I've been getting---you guys rock my socks!
~*~

Looking back, it probably wasn’t all that good an idea—but Buffy blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

“It’s not illegal!”

“Well, actually—ow!” Willow made a face at Faith, who’d elbowed her in the stomach.

Never moving her gaze from the couple, Cordy backed out of the room and onto the porch. A few silence-filled minutes later, they heard a car start and leave the driveway, tires squealing.

Finally, Oz took Willow’s hand and said, “We should go.”

He, Faith, Willow, Doyle, and Jonathon all left.

Now it was just Buffy, her parents, and Spike—who was still on top of her. Buffy frantically shoved him off, straightening her shirt and standing up. He, too, stood, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair. “Uh, I s’pose it’d be useless to say that wasn’t what it looked like…”

“Yes, it would.” Hank’s voice was cold.

“Dad—“

“No, Buffy. I trust you with him and he takes advantage of you, violating you!”

“Hank!”

The other three in the room stared at Joyce. She’d been silent the entire time, looking at the scene with a bit of a smile on her face; but that smile was gone, replaced by a look of utter fury that she directed entirely at her husband.

Still staring at him, Joyce said, “Why don’t you kids go outside. I’ll talk to your father, Buffy.”

Spike took Buffy’s hand and pulled the teen out into the kitchen and then outside. They both stayed silent; dazedly, Buffy wondered if there was anything either of them could say to make this a little less disastrous.

They were on the back porch when Spike put his mouth to Buffy’s ear. Even then, when her stomach was roiling in near-panic, the action made her shiver.

“’round front?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice.

Buffy nodded; together, they circled the house and settled outside the still-ajar front door.

“Hank, we knew this was going to happen,” Joyce reminded him. “We’d have had to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to know it.”

“But Joyce—she’s just a baby, and he’s a grown man!” Hank still sounded furious, though a note of almost-petulance had entered his voice.

“She’s seventeen now, and a whole lot more mature than most girls her age,” Joyce said firmly. “She’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

“Then why don’t we just toss her into the street?” Hank said harshly. “If she’s such an adult that she doesn’t need her parents, she ought to get the hell out of here.”

Buffy gasped—she’d known her father would have a harsh reaction, but this…this was bad.

Her companion’s hand found its way to her back and rubbed in soothing circles. Buffy leaned into him, clutching him for dear life.

“We could do that,” Joyce said sarcastically, “but then Spike would just let her live with him. Is that what you want?”

“Dammit! Joyce, you know good and fucking well that’s not what I want. Our baby girl is being violated by that sick, twisted pedophile!

“Violated? Hank, I may be over forty, but I can tell when someone’s being violated,” Joyce said scornfully. “Your daughter was enjoying that every bit as much as Spike was.”

“Joyce—“

“Hank.” Now her mother’s voice was pure steel. Joyce had dug in her heels about this. “There is absolutely nothing harmful in their relationship, and despite what we may think will happen, we have no right to interfere. Now, you are going to go out front, tell Buffy and Spike that they can stop eavesdropping—“ the two both started guiltily—“and then we are all going to come inside and have a nice, quiet family dinner.”

Silence. Then: “Fine. But when she’s reduced to a scarred, crying mess for the rest of her life, don’t blame me.”

“And when they get married and live in bliss, you won’t get any credit for bringing them together,” Joyce said lightly. “Come on in, you two. I can see your shadows in the doorway.”

Both of them wore sheepish grins as they came inside; Buffy’s was tinted by a blush. She knew that the whole her and Spike thing had to come out sooner or later, but hearing her parents speculate about it was definitely on her list of things she did not want to hear.

Hank nodded at Spike when the younger man came inside. “Sorry about that,” he said gruffly. “But I want you to know, if you hurt her in any way…”

Spike held his gaze, and in that moment, Buffy had never felt more proud of him. Having been in his life for four years now, she knew that he wasn’t the most courageous when it came to dealing with “meet-the-parents” moments, but he looked straight at her father and didn’t flinch.

She moved closer to him. “If he hurts me in any way,” she told her father sweetly, “You’ll have trouble getting to him, on account of him being dead already.”

Both males laughed at that. “You always were violent,” Hank said, a bit of grudging affection re-entering his voice.

“Of course,” Buffy said. “Now, come on—I wanna eat. This birthday’s been enough of a suck-fest, ok?”

Now it was her father’s turn to look sheepish. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s just that I—“

“Food,” Buffy interrupted firmly. She pushed her father into the dining room; Spike followed behind her.

Joyce had quickly set the table for four; judging by the plastic plates and forks lying on a side table, the original intention had been more of the cake-and-music persuasion. Luckily, though, she’d also made her daughter’s favorite food.

“Wow,” Buffy remarked as she sat down, “It’s déjà vu all over again. Didn’t we do this just a few nights ago?”

Joyce threw her daughter a quelling look. “Well, we could have had a party if you hadn’t scared off all the guests,” she said, the smile on her face making the comment sting less.

Buffy pouted. “It’s not my fault. How’d I know you guys were going to make with the surprise-ey-ness right when me and my boyfriend were getting it on?”

Despite how light her tone was, her eyes darted to her father. She knew that she was baiting him by talking about her and Spike together, but she really couldn’t help herself. Sooner or later, it was going to come up, and she’d really rather deal with the ugly now than later.

To his credit, Hank just scowled blackly and took a rather overlarge bite of food.

“So, pet…when does school start again?” Spike asked in an effort to get all their minds off the display they’d just witnessed.

Buffy grimaced. It was almost time to go back to the world of bad grades and getting grounded. “Like, a week,” she said, half-pouting. “It sucks so much.”

“Well, think ‘f it this way,” he said, grinning. “The more you go to school, the less you have to go in the future.”

Buffy looked at her parents. “Okay, did that comment make sense to either of you guys?”

“Can’t say it did,” Hank said, raising an eyebrow at Spike.

“I’ll have to side with them on this one,” Joyce said, almost apologetically, to the bleached blonde.

“’s because the lot of you are rotten Yanks,” Spike teased, tickling Buffy and causing her to drop her spoon as tingles—and not just the tickle-kind—ran through her. “If you were self-respecting Brits, like m’self, then you’d see the logic.”

Just to get back at him, Buffy rubbed her foot against his leg, smiling at him. “And if you were an American,” she said, “Then maybe you wouldn’t still be wearing your hair like you think it’s 1985.”

“Low blow, pet,” he said, affecting a wounded look. “’sides—“ he captured her foot with his legs—“the way I dress is a hell of a lot better than those wankers you go to school.”

Buffy opened her mouth to refute the statement—when she realized, much to her dismay, that he was right. “Damn,” she mumbled.

“Buffy! Language!” her mother scolded her.

“What?” Buffy said, widening her eyes innocently and gesturing to her boyfriend. “Come on, mom. How can you look at him and not say a dirty word.”

As though to reinforce her words, Spike waggled his brows at her.

That made her parents laugh. “You know,” Joyce said, nudging her husband, “I’m starting to think that they deserve each other.”

“Oh, shut up,” Buffy grumbled, but inwardly she was grinning and doing cartwheels.

They were all the in the same room, with the whole huge secret out in the open, and no one’s innards were on the ground. That was definitely a good thing.

The worst was over. As she devoured the chocolate cake her mother brought out and smiled at Spike, who was watching her fondly, she tried to convince herself. The worst is over.

Then why did she still feel like she was waiting for everything to fall apart?

~*~

A/N: *cough*FORESHADOWING!*cough*





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