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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N- Mucho thanks to Mary and Wulfie for checking this over after I had to rewrite the first section...because why? Tam is a dork of course! LOL
Chapter Twenty One


Buffy sighed from her favorite perch as she surveyed the place that had helped to change her life for the better. Well, to be perfectly honest, it had been Spike’s influence, but the freedom that was living on this little patch of heaven had more than helped.

She could just make out their shapes in the pre-dawn light as Spike and Xander labored together to inter Dru’s pet chaos demon; the unfortunate Herman. The faithful Beauty lolled in the dirt, her head resting respectfully on her paws as she kept a close eye on Xander.

In spite of her earlier high spirits about returning to her home town, a coincidental phone call from Giles had rapidly soured her sunny mood. Of course, he had been full of doom and gloom about some high-powered military group experimenting on demons. Really, did these people not understand the concept of ‘I QUIT’?

Obviously not, and apparently her slayer side didn’t either, because the contrary thing was just itching to get back to some decent, Hellmouthy-type slaying. The Buffy side, on the other hand, only wanted things to remain as they were, a little light slaying before bed while living in blissful sin with her not-so-tame vampire.

Why couldn’t she have both? Would the idea of her and Spike as a couple be so preposterous to everyone but her? Xander seemed to be pretty much okay with it since the whole bonding over the flaming truck incident. After all, he was out there right now, helping to bury antler-man and trading quips with the evil, soulless demon.

But the others…

She had a feeling her mom would be fine with it. Her animosity towards any and all things Angel ran pretty deep, but she’d always had a soft spot for his unruly grandchilde.

Willow would no doubt babble about broken bottles and love spells, but eventually she would straighten up and slap on her resolve face and threaten to turn Spike into a newt if he hurt her friend.

Then there was her Watcher. Giles would ‘hmm’ and ‘harrumph’ and rub his lenses to a fine powder, and then he would…what? Forbid her to see Spike? Not hardly, but he could make her life very uncomfortable with mournful sighs and put-upon looks.

Last, but not least, there was Angel. Angel who was now a not-quite-so-pleasant footnote in her life’s history. She might be a little ditzy on occasion, but she was by no means stupid. Something told her that the instant Angel got wind that her new ‘boyfriend’ was anything but the ‘normal’ he’d so nobly left her for, he’d come blazing back from L.A. so fast, he’d leave a vacuum.

Well, let him!

She’d had the whole summer to contemplate the various reasons that ‘normal’ just wasn’t feasible for her. Angel would find a changed Buffy when he got there. A Buffy that knew that no matter how hard she tried, ‘normal’ just wasn’t in her make-up.

‘Normal’ would never understand the drawers full of stakes and holy water, or the chest of weapons under her bed. ‘Normal’ couldn’t possibly grasp why she prowled the Hellmouth after dark, night after night. When she came limping home at four in the morning covered with battle wounds and disgusting entrails, ‘normal’ would never comprehend how she could be fully healed just twenty-four hours later.

No, ‘normal’ just couldn’t cut it. Wasn’t what she needed.

What she needed was following Xander back to the house, his hands shoved in his pockets and a cigarette clamped between his teeth as he laughed at the boy’s antics with the chaos demon’s Spike-centric coat. Feeling the weight of her stare, he stopped in his tracks and stared up at her, a wealth of emotion shining from those sexy blue eyes before he did the head-tilty thing and completely obliterated any remaining indecision she might have had over the choices she’d made.

Yup, normal was a vastly over-rated concept.


*~*~*

Xander was cursing while trying to dodge Beauty’s efforts to gnaw his ankles off. “But why don’t I get to drive the shiny toy car?” he grumbled.

Spike tossed his duffle and Buffy’s small bag into the miniscule trunk and slammed it shut, nearly catching Xander’s fingers in the process.

“Lesson the four-hundredth, Whelp. Buffy isn’t happy. When Buffy isn’t happy, I’M not happy. If I’m not happy, people tend to lose their blood pressure and…well, their blood, too. The hot little car makes Buffy smile, ergo, we’re driving it and you’re driving my car. Or, what’s left of my car. Now do you understand?”

Sighing dejectedly, Xander ran his hands over the sparkling red paint job. “Yeah, yeah. Got it loud and clear, blood breath. I’m sure me and Cerberus will have a hellacious time bebopping along in the Desoto.”

“Keep insultin’ the Slayer’s pup and you’ll be hitch-hiking back to Sunnyhell.”

Both lifted their eyes to the open doors of the hay loft where Buffy sat, bare feet swinging in the cool evening air. She appeared to be lecturing the lapful of kittens and their attentive mother while she cuddled one particular ball of ginger-colored fuzz under her chin.

“I don’t get it, I guess,” Xander ruminated. “I figured the Buffster would be…well, maybe not ecstatic about going home, but not this broken up about it.”

“And you’re all excited?” Spike eyed him through a cloud of smoke.

Xander stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pilfered duster, unconsciously mimicking the blonde vampire’s pose. “Yeah, well, I’m kinda thinking one former demon can’t be anywhere near as bad as that bunch I was dancing for the other night.”

Spike snickered. “Oh, dancing. Is that what that was? Looked more like Roy Rogers having an epileptic seizure to me.”

“HEY!” His efforts to catch the laughing vampire were hindered by the snarling dog clamped to his ankle. “What is it with this animal?” he complained. “Most dogs like me. Are you sure she isn’t part demon?”

“Well, she’s a female. Maybe you should dance for her and see if she sweetens up to you.”

“Ha, ha!”

Spike grinned and tossed him the keys to the Desoto. “Best get on the road, Whelp. We’ll catch up to you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go, Beauty.”

It took some coercion and a fat pork chop tossed in the back seat, but eventually boy and dog were limping down the lane in the beat up shell of a car, Xander’s arm waving cheerily out the window.

Spike crushed the last of his smoke under his boot and turned to yell at the Slayer to move her delectable ass.

She slouched out of the barn towards him, a scowl on her face and a suspicious looking lump under her baggy t-shirt.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Spike told her sternly when the lump mewed loudly. “I put up with the dog because she thinks Harris is an entrée, but I draw the line at the little hairball.”

Giving up her lame attempt at subterfuge, Buffy pulled the kitten from under her shirt and held it to her cheek, nuzzling the soft fur while the both of them stared at him with matching green eyes filled with entreaty.

“No, Slayer.” A little less adamant this time.

She never said a word, but her lower lip quivered. Even the cat managed to look pathetic.

“Buffy…” Sensing that he was weakening, female and feline pulled out all the stops.

Spike caved.

Who knew a kitten could be taught that lethal Summers pout?

~*~*~

Joyce was- to put it bluntly- highly pissed.

While usually mild-mannered to a fault, the words spilling from the red-faced former librarian were sending her temperature soaring to unheard of heights. The carefully expressionless face of his companion only exacerbated the situation. He stood on the other side of the barrier waiting for an invite that he was fairly certain was never going to come.

“You know, I don’t think I could have possibly heard you right, Rupert. Could you repeat that please?”

Her almost too-cheery tone made for an extremely wary Watcher. Giles eyed his slayer’s mother and cautiously slid a few steps closer to the open door, wincing as she moved to stand between him and the unwelcome vampire, using her body to effectively block the entry. “I…er, that is…we-”

“We decided it was time to call Buffy home, Ms. Summers,” Angel broke in helpfully when it appeared the Watcher had completely lost his nerve. Wild hand gestures from the other man went ignored as he set himself out to charm the woman into seeing that this was the best course of action for all concerned.

“Excuse me? WE? We, as in YOU and HIM?” Joyce whirled and proceeded to turn her ire on the dark-haired vamp that had made it his mission in life to make her daughter miserable. “Silly me, I thought I was the one that gave birth to her. Or maybe that isn’t enough to justify my being the one that makes decisions for her?”

“I-” Angel found himself backed up against the porch rail by the diminutive woman.

“And what exactly are you doing back here, anyway? Your place is in L.A. Go back to ‘helping the helpless’, Angel. You don’t belong here.”

“Buffy-”

“Has moved on, thank God,” Joyce spat. “She has a wonderful new boyfriend that loves her very much, and if you think I’m going to sit back and let you interfere in her affairs…well…let’s just say that it would certainly make my day to use your ashes to fertilize my rose bushes,” she threatened.

Thoroughly intimidated by the manic gleam in her eyes, Angel cast a desperate look at Giles, who replaced his freshly polished glasses and reluctantly stepped in to the rescue his partner in crime. Why, oh, why had he allowed himself to be coerced into this situation?

Angel was currently thanking the Powers that they had decided to wait until after the sun had set before venturing over to Buffy’s house, because her enraged mother had him back-stepping quickly down off the porch and into the front yard. She was yelling now, her eyes narrowed into furious slits and her face a frightening shade of red.

None of the three were paying any attention to the rolling heap of Detroit scrap iron that was now idling at the curb. They never noticed the blur of black fur that leapt from the back seat and made a bee-line with intimidating fangs bared for the retreating vampire’s ass.

Angel’s eyes bugged out and his mouth dropped open in an agonized howl. Joyce backed hastily away, running into Giles and sending them both to the ground in a thrashing heap. They watched, stunned, as Angel began to whirl in a futile circle, one arm slapping ineffectually at the snarling appendage that had set her teeth and hung on tenaciously.

“Beauty! Heel, girl. Stop chewing on the annoying vampire,” a familiar voice called cheerfully.

It was Xander, dressed in his usual eye-watering Hawaiian print shirt and wrinkled khaki’s, but with one difference. A long black leather coat hung from his shoulders as he swaggered across the lawn.

“Xander?” Finally free of razor-sharp teeth, Angel staggered to his feet. The hand he’d pressed to his abused derriere came away streaked with blood and he shot an evil glare at the beast that was curled up at the boy’s feet. Completely unfazed, Beauty growled back, eyes glinting with red and yellow sparks.

Skipping over Xander’s smug, laughing face, Angel stared with narrowed eyes at the car. “I know that car,” he said through clenched teeth. He turned back to Xander. “And I know that coat.” An absurdly hopeful expression suffused his face. “Please tell me Buffy dusted Spike and gave you his things.”

“Hate to disappoint you, big guy…well, no I don’t, ‘cause it’s just too funny how far off base you really are,” Xander snickered.

As if on cue, a flashy little red car screeched to a halt scant centimeters from the DeSoto’s back bumper. A paler than normal Spike was clinging to the dash with both hands, every foul word in his extensive vocabulary spilling from taut white lips.

Behind the wheel sat a very wind-blown slayer, a small, toffee-colored ball of fur purring happily on her shoulder.

TBC~





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