~*~
Never say never, Buffy thought dryly the next day.
She and Spike had spent several more hours bickering over furniture after that. She’d finally managed to convince him to cooperate about the whole blue thing. Granted, he’d threatened her with a rather grisly death if his apartment ended up looking “like utter bollocks”, but she thought she’d done a pretty good job of being convincing.
Now if only she could convince herself not to go all homicidal on Sunnydale’s teenage population, things would be absolutely peachy.
The stupid cumulative semi-abuse had just gotten worse today. Teachers, with a very few exceptions, seemed to be making absolutely no effort to stop them. Ms. Calendar, her computer teacher, had sent Percy to the office for calling her a slut; but Mr. Peabody, her cantankerous history teacher, hadn’t seemed to care when some anonymous blonde bimbo called her a whore. And given that her very female Physics teacher had just laughed at her when she complained about having balled-up pieces of paper thrown at her head, she was pretty sure it wasn’t a gender thing.
“It’s just crazy,” she complained to her father that night. “I’m seriously tempted to pull a Carrie.”
“A who, sweetheart?”
“Carrie,” Buffy repeated. When her father continued to look clueless, she rolled her eyes and said, “Mom?”
“She killed a bunch of mean boys who poured pigs' blood on her at prom,” Joyce explained to her husband.
“Oh! That Carrie. I knew that.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Of course you did. But seriously, if another round of fliers happens, I’m going to hurt somebody.”
“That was amazingly adolescent,” Hank agreed. “I’m just glad the mayor had them taken down.”
Richard Wilkins the Oh-Who’s-Really-Counting? had reportedly stepped out of his mansion to stare at one of the fliers solemnly, declare that it “just doesn’t adhere to traditional family values, folks”, and order them all taken down immediately. No one, including Buffy herself, was sure that he was technically allowed to do that—but then, no one really cared.
Buffy had been plenty ticked off when she’d heard about it. Angel was apparently being smart for once in his life, because she’d seen neither hide nor hair of him in the past hellish two days. She very well might have tried to kill him if she had.
She wasn’t wavering a bit in how she felt. She loved Spike and wanted to be with him, in both the G and X-rated senses of the word, but she was seriously considering just kidnapping Spike, moving to England, and forcing him to elope with her.
Hey, it might work.
“Yes, I’m starting to regret not voting for him,” Joyce said with a small smile, bringing Buffy back from not-so-la-la-land.
“I’m just tired of hearing about it,” she said. “I dated Angel for four years and nobody was this obsessed with it.” She paused, then added, “Well, except Spike.”
“Can you really blame them, though? It’s something of a scandal for little old Sunnydale.” Joyce smiled in what could almost be called an indulgent manner.
Buffy was having none of it. “Well, then, they can find a different scandal!” she all but yelled.
Her parent’s expressions immediately became concerned. “You’re having a real problem with this, aren’t you?” Her father actually looked mad—well, that was a good thing, she supposed.
She nodded. “In a big way. I just—why can’t people leave me alone?”
“Because they’re people, honey,” Joyce said wearily. “And if you’re going to go around kissing men ten years older than you are—“
“Then I can expect consequences,” Buffy finished for her dryly. “I know. Spike said the same thing.” Suddenly she sighed, a half-remorseful, half-glum feeling coming over her. “I haven’t been much fun to be around, have I?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Hank said, quickly enough that Buffy immediately knew she’d been a pain. “Right,” she said, blushing. “Well, sorry. Because I didn’t mean to be like this.”
“It’s fine,” Joyce said indulgently. “Heavens, you should have talked to me when I was in love with your father. I’m still surprised my mother didn’t disown me.”
“Well, that’s kinda impossible…unless I’m not really Dad’s kid.” Buffy grinned mischievously.
Joyce shook her head. “Oh, you’re your Father’s daughter, all right,” she said disapprovingly.
“So, what are you and Spike planning on doing this weekend?” Hank cut in quickly.
Buffy shrugged. “Not much. I’m going over to his apartment. He’s going to make me dinner and wait on me.” Her eyes sparkled. “See, dad, not everyone thinks I should be a waitress.”
Joyce and Hank exchanged a look that Buffy didn’t notice. She might not have recognized the significance of what she’d just told them, but they certainly did. “That…nice, honey.” Joyce said absently. “Your father and I will be out of town.”
She actually dropped her fork. “Hunh?”
“Your father and I will be out of town,” Joyce repeated patiently.
“So…I get the house all to myself?” Buffy said hopefully.
Joyce gave her A Look. Capitalized. “No. Fred will be here.”
Which, actually, might be better than being all alone. Fred was fun. Buffy smiled brightly. “Cool. How much are you paying her to babysit me?”
It was a loaded question and everyone currently sitting at the table knew it. Joyce’s voice was tense when she answered, “Is that really any of your business?”
“Um, yeah. You’re not even trusting me to watch the house!”
“Buffy, you’re—“
“Seventeen, dad! Seven freaking teen! And in case you haven’t noticed, a hell of a lot more mature than Harmony, whose parents let her have the house every weekend, and—“
“Fred wanted to come, Buffy.” Joyce’s calm voice stopped Buffy’s argument in its tracks.
“Um. She did?”
“Yes. Doyle too, but he failed some subject so his parents are keeping him in LA.”
Damn. Stupid Irish alcoholics… “Um,” Buffy said, her face going red. “Sorry about the argument, then.”
Her mother looked amused—which would have seriously annoyed Buffy except, well, she kind of deserved it.
“I was being immature,” she continued at a mutter. “And, um…stupid.”
“We’re not going to argue that,” her dad said cheerfully. “But it was a pretty small hissy fit, and—“
“Wait—hissy fit?”
Joyce laughed when a piece of bread hit Hank square in the forehead.
~*~
Lying on her bed later that night, Buffy found herself suddenly incredibly glad that Fred was coming to house—or was that baby?—sit. Despite all her protestations (which, in hindsight, looked incredibly stupid), she knew that she and Spike weren’t two of the most responsible people on the planet when it came to each other. And empty house wasn’t just inviting trouble, it was sending trouble a gold-plated plaque with the invitation in diamond overlay.
Buffy groaned and resisted the urge to bang her head against the headboard. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid for thinking that she and Spike could control this thing between them, stupid for having that fight with her parents, stupid for starting this whole thing in the first place. God, she hoped Spike never found out about the fight. The humiliation that particular conversation would bring made her blush just to think about it.
She was treading a thin line, and she knew it. She might be a bit less petty and annoying than, say, Harmony, but the simple fact of the matter was that Spike was an adult and she still had a ways to go. Throwing fits at the dinner table was definitely not a good way to convince her parents that she was mature enough to keep seeing him—hell, even she was annoyed with herself for that particular stunt. She wouldn’t blame Spike if he was completely disgusted.
But God, it was so hard to deal with it all! Being mature she could handle—on a good day, when she hadn’t bombed a test and no one had ordered sexual favors that just really weren’t listed on the diner menu. Right now, though, with Harmony and the constant harassment and the pure stupidity that seemed to have gripped the town like a disease, it was all she could do not to just throw in the towel completely.
She knew she’d have to deal with it all eventually. She knew that relationships involved compromising and giving in and trust and all that jazz. She knew that if she wanted easy, she should’ve gone with Angel.
So she closed her eyes, and she tried to get her brain to quite down. And in the silence of the night, she prayed that Spike would be strong enough to not cave in to the constant pressure both their peers provided them with. She prayed that he’d be strong enough to resist the taunts…because even after all that had happened, she suddenly wasn’t sure that she was.
~*~
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Once again, thank you so much for all the reviews! Bridging the Gap has been named Fic of the Month over at Suzee's website Still Thinking--thank you so much!