Spike Reynolds, at only 22 years of age, was on of the best psychologists in the business. Ever since his parents had died when he was younger, he’d had a strong desire to help other people suffering the emotional trauma he’d been through. Studying at Oxford University in England had earned him great kudos when he’d moved out to California to start up his own practice.
A specialist degree in child psychology had made him popular with the locals in Los Angeles, where he’d set up his private clinic. Soon business had been booming, his special knack for connecting with people making him successful with almost every patient he treated, no matter how badly troubled they were.
He’d met Drusilla Summers a little over two months ago at a club in LA. Although he never tired of helping people, he longed for something special in his life. When he’d seen the beautiful girl, her lush body illuminated by the strobe lights flashing overhead, he thought he’d found it. With Dru, there was always an edge of uncertainty, of the danger that came with leaving her in public unaccompanied.
To say that he was surprised that she’d invited him back to her house for the Christmas holiday was an understatement. It implied a level of commitment on her part that made him slightly uneasy; though he was at first infatuated with her, he had no illusions that their relationship was permanent. She was far too unpredictable for that. Although some part of him hated the way she monopolised him whenever they were together, he let it boost his ego and kept quiet.
When he rolled up in front of the house Dru had given him directions to, he was surprised to see a light on downstairs. He’d had a last, unexpected appointment with a boy of twelve called Matthew. Although he was usually strict about his working hours, the child had been so distressed he’d taken some of his own time to just sit and talk with the poor kid. However, it was almost midnight and he’d have bet that the household would be asleep.
Shrugging mentally, he parked his beloved car, a newly-restored 1959 DeSoto, outside the house. Shutting the door as quietly as he could, he grabbed his duffel bag of clothes and winced when the boot clanged shut loudly. Shaking his head, he strode up the narrow path. Arriving on the porch of the house, he reached out and knocked quietly on the door, not really expecting anybody to hear him, despite the fact that there was a light on downstairs.
So it was to his surprise that the door swung silently open, revealing to his gaze a teenage girl who looked very different from what he would have imagined Dru’s sister to look like. If, of course, Dru had told him she’d had a sister. He smiled and stepped through the door, extending a hand ready to shake hers. She cringed away from him, looking at him from huge eyes before finally finding her voice. She didn’t touch the proffered hand.
“I’ll show you to your room. Dru’s gone to bed.”
****
Buffy gulped as she turned and climbed the stairs with the same cautious silence she always moved with. She heard him shut the door and begin following, wincing at the loud thuds his boots made on the floor. Leading him past Drusilla’s door, she flinched again when he stepped on the creaky floorboard. As she’d expected, her sister’s door flew open and a scantily clad Dru emerged, her face twisted by fury. She opened her mouth to shriek, only to catch sight of a hovering Spike.
Her face instantly melted into a seductive mask. “Spike! You can stay in my room tonight.” Her voice, previously a husky purr, became harder and colder. “She will take your things into the guest room, my sweet.”
Spike frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but she had already tugged him into her room and slammed the door in Buffy’s face. Sighing, she hefted the heavy bag and trudged to the spare room, which she’d spent most of the afternoon cleaning and preparing; Dru had wanted crimson satin sheets Spike had bought her to be set out on the bed. Dumping his stuff, she tiredly moved into her own room and collapsed on the bed, her eyes wide open and staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
She’d expected Spike to be like Dru’s other boyfriends: Dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark-skinned and equally as cruel. So when she’d heard him arrive, she’d steeled herself against the rush of nausea that being leered at by her sister’s lovers always brought. Opening the door only to see the most beautiful man she’d ever seen was the most unexpected thing, and she’d had to fight not to stare.
His hair, obviously bleached, was almost white, gelled so that it was smooth and sleek. He was taller than her, but not much taller than Dru, with a lean body that was still undoubtedly well-muscled. He was dressed in tight black jeans that left very little to the imagination, black boots, a black t-shirt and a red button-down shirt over the top. Looking up into his face made her heart flutter. He had the most intense blue eyes she’d ever seen, his pale skin stretched taut over cheekbones you could cut glass on.
The brief illusion of his perfection was shattered when he raised a hand, and she flinched away to avoid the imminent blow. When it didn’t come, she peeked at him, only to find him looking at her in confusion. Embarrassed, she led him to his room in silence, only to find Dru ready and waiting to snatch him away. Watching her sister possessively run her hands over his body had made her feel like she was going to vomit; why was it that Dru, cruel and uncaring Drusilla, got the most gorgeous men?
When she finally drifted off to sleep, her dreams were filled with kind blue eyes and flashed of platinum-blonde hair. The shrill scream of the alarm clock woke her, and for once she wasn’t instantly aware of everything. She took a moment to relish the drowsy contentment her dreams had left her with, though she couldn’t remember what, exactly, she’d dreamed. Hearing someone stirring in Dru’s room, she shot up in bed and slapped the ‘off’ button on the clock, eyes wide with fear. If she disturbed Dru on her first morning with Spike, she would be in for a serious beating.
****
Spike swam towards consciousness slowly, a muffled ringing waking him. Groaning, he rolled over in the large, comfortable bed and was faintly surprised to find a warm body next to him. His eyes blinked sleepily open, and for a moment he frowned when he saw dark hair spread across the pillow beside him. Then his head cleared. Dru. Wondering what had disturbed him, he reached for his watch on the bedside table, finally registering that the dim shrilling he could hear was an alarm clock.
Checking the face of his watch, he groaned again. Quarter to six, on a Saturday morning, and he was awake. Christ. Suddenly realising that he needed to relieve himself, he rose as carefully as possible, sighing to himself when Dru remained asleep. Padding into the hall, he looked for the door to the bathroom he’d noticed last night. Still dazed and half-asleep, he opened the door. It took a long minute for the running shower to register, and he automatically turned towards the unexpected sound.
The glass was foggy with steam, and he could only dimly see the murky figure on the other side. He was about to look away when he noticed that something was odd about that figure. Looking closer, he traced the lines of her body with his eyes (he’d figured out that it was the girl he’d met briefly last night). Confused, he noticed the way the bottom of her ribcage seemed to hang over thin air. Then she turned her back to him, and he couldn’t see anything at all. Frowning, he backed quietly out the door and shut it gently behind him.
Wandering into the guest room, or the only room that had an open door, he smiled when he saw the crimson sheets. He’d given them to Dru after their first night together; she must have remembered and put them on the bed for him. Going to his bag, he dressed quickly and went to stand outside the bathroom door, just as it opened to reveal a fully-dressed teenage girl. He smiled at her, but she just ducked her head and rushed down the stairs, leaving a perplexed Spike behind her.
****
Buffy cursed Drusilla all the way to the kitchen. Couldn’t she have at least mentioned that her boyfriend was an early riser? Now she had to rush to get his breakfast ready before he came downstairs. Grabbing the pancake batter she’d prepared last night, she began ladling it out into small discs, leaving them to cook as she turned on the grill and shoved bacon and sausages under it. Dashing to the coffee maker, she switched it on and reached the pancakes just in time to flip them.
Stuffing two slices of bread in the toaster, she set out three plates, knives and forks, as well as mugs. The toast popped up and she changed the cooked slices for fresh ones, putting the two pieces of toast on the table and grabbing the butter and numerous spreads to put beside it. Shifting the pancakes onto a plate, she set them on the table. Turning the bacon and the sausages, she snatched a glass pitcher from the cupboard overhead and filled it with cold orange juice from the fridge.
Setting out glasses, she groaned as the coffee maker began to hiss. Turning off the grill, she piled the meat onto a plate and slammed it down in the middle of the table, running to the gurgling machine. Carefully, she poured the ready coffee into two mugs, making sure to keep the frothy part thick enough to please Dru. She carried the mugs to the table and put them next to the places she’d mentally assigned to Spike and Dru. Just as she put them down and leaned weakly against the counter, the pale-skinned man wandered into the kitchen.
Seeing the food all set out, he blinked and looked at Buffy, who had turned her back to him. As she busied herself preparing a breakfast tray for her mother, Spike sat down and began to eat. He watched her move around the kitchen with practiced ease, as though the route was familiar. About to speak, he frowned when she lifted down a packet of bright pink pills and popped two out onto her hand. Surely she wasn’t on some kind of medication? He gave a relieved sigh when she put the two little capsules gently down next to the glass of orange juice on the tray.
As she passed, he held out a hand to stop her. Not meeting his eyes, she halted and waited, every muscle suddenly tense. He cleared his throat, shooting her a warm smile. “Thanks for doing all this, pet. I’m Spike Reynolds. Nice to meet you.”
Her answer was so quiet he had to strain to hear it. “Buffy.”
Nodding, he let his hand drop and she passed him with the same eerily silent walk she’d used last night. He continued to eat, savouring the rich flavours of the vast assortment of food she’d set out. He heard soft voices upstairs as she woke and fed her mother, who, he had realised, was some kind of invalid. However, he was surprised when she came downstairs a few minutes later followed by a pretty girl of about twelve years of age, with a cherubic face and sea-green eyes.
Another flicker of unease darted through him when, instead of introducing herself like most children would do, she looked away and shuffled to the chair furthest from him. It was only then that he realised that Buffy had set out three places, not four. Giving her a smile, he patted the chair beside him, only to find that she shook her head and backed away, lowering herself onto a stool in the corner of the room.
“Buffy, aren’t you hungry?” His deep, smooth voice made Dawn jump slightly, the accent causing the briefest flicker of amusement to cross her face.
The older girl looked at him from the shadows, her face impassive but her eyes suddenly far too old in her thin face. Dru swept into the room then, lowering herself regally into her chair and cutting off any reply her sister might have made. “She doesn’t eat breakfast, my Spike. Dawn! I want your help with something this afternoon.”
Her harsh bark made the little girl flinch, and Spike saw the first flare of something like anger in Buffy’s eyes as she rose and put herself between the two. He noticed her protective stance and was puzzled; there was something really odd happening in the Summers house, but he was damned if he could figure it out. Buffy’s voice, so soft and timid before, was suddenly cold and challenging.
“Dawn’s going to Janice’s house. I’ll help you.”
Spike watched as Dawn’s head shot up, her eyes widening with fear and… pleading? She whimpered something to her sister, who gave her a reassuring smile. The meal carried on in tense silence, the lone male deep in thought. Yes, something very strange was going on here. And he was determined to find out what.
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