“Rise and shine, sunshine!”
Buffy’s eyes flew open as the blinds on her windows were snapped up, rattling into place high atop the contraption holding them to the window. She looked up with wide eyes to spy Spike, standing over her in black sweats and a blue t-shirt. He looked like a bruise to her weary eyes.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, lying straight as a board as she regarded the goofy grin on his face. Best not to make any sudden movements lest Crazy pounced.
“I’m waking you up,” he chirped cheerfully, as if it were the best thing in the world he could do.
“What the hell time is it?” she asked.
“Nine.”
“How is it that you’re even up now? You were with me last night, right? When we got home and stayed up until two-thirty watching a scary movie?”
He grinned down at her. “I was with you all right, baby.” Then he frowned slightly, “I think I lost some of the feeling in my arm for the better part of the night from when you dug your claws into me.”
She grinned up at him, “Don’t be a wuss.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, “Not being a wuss, Catwoman.”
She beamed at him and slowly sat up. “Thank you, I take that as a compliment.”
He rolled his eyes, “You would.”
“So, why am I getting up now?”
“We’re going shopping.”
“I don’t even get a coffee while you’re getting me up?”
He gave her a look, “Coffee is downstairs, percolating, bossy.”
“Bossy I don’t like so much.”
“Well, luv, you know the saying. If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck. . . “
“Blah, blah, blah,” but she grinned at him. “What are we going shopping for?”
“We’re taking Alicia to begin preparations for her room.”
Frowning slightly, Buffy bit her bottom lip. “Shouldn’t that just be a you and Alicia thing? A bonding for you and her?”
“I see where you’re going with this, and yes, I agree, however, you’re a woman—“
“This should be good,” Buffy said dryly.
“You’re a woman,” he continued, ignoring her, “And you know more about decorating and let’s face it, you know more about what’s hip—“
“I’m hip enough to know that no one uses ‘hip’ anymore. I think ‘cool’ is still in from the nineties,” Buffy interjected with a sweet smile.
Spike gave her a stern look and then continued on, “Anyway, while it’ll be a bonding experience for her and I – who, I might add has a whole schedule of bonding coming up – I need your help. I’ve had no practice at this sort of thing.”
“Yes, I often go out on many weekends helping parents decorate their kids rooms.”
“You know what I mean, brat.”
She beamed up at him, “I do. I just like picking on you.”
“So, will you come?”
“I will. Especially considering the decorating job you’ve got going on for the rest of the place. I’m sure you’d try to convince her to go black, and that’s just depressing.”
“I thought you liked it!”
“I do, but not for her age. I’m sure she’ll ask to paint her room black once she hits thirteen.”
“Ooh, painting. Should I hire a painter?”
Buffy shook her head, “No. You paint the room with her, genius. More bonding, get it?”
Spike grinned, “Despite the fact that you’re being a sarcastic bitch right now, I still adore you.”
Buffy laughed, “And despite the fact that you’re being extremely saccharine this morning, I still think you’re swell.”
“Pet, even I know that no one says ‘swell’ anymore.”
“Especially since you probably remember when it was still in use, huh?” she retorted, all innocence and light. She really was enjoying this morning banter. It was what she’d missed out on the first morning of her visit. It was fun, light and airy. There were no pretenses hanging in the air, no heavy words just flitting on the outskirts of their fun, waiting to enter in their little bubble and burst it. It was just them and their smiles, their newfound connection to each other firmly back in place.
God, she wanted to kiss him.
Shopping with Alicia was exhausting, Buffy decided as they trudged through furniture places, one after another, Spike only wanting the best for his little girl. And Alicia had quickly caught on to that and had taken it upon herself to play it up, and demand only the very best for herself. Not that Buffy could blame her at all for that, in fact, it was quite comical. She wondered if Spike saw it happening or if he was just too over the moon with joy at seeing the delight in her pretty features to care.
They were a pair that was for sure. The two of them chattering away picking out this and that, trying out this and that, discussing the necessities of one item over the necessity of another. It was a whole other side to Spike that was making it that much harder for Buffy to deny him, or more to the point, her true feelings for him. She saw before her the Dad she knew he could be, granted it was only one day, but she felt it in her gut: This was real. This was going to stick. There was no way it couldn’t, and from how he was glowing in absolute joy, she wondered how he’d gone so long without having this part of his daily routine. The high she knew he got from being with Alicia should have been an addictive drug that he’d wanted to keep around, not kick once she was out of sight.
She read in a book once about a character being described as having Emotional A.D.D. That once the object of one’s affection was no longer in sight, they were forgotten about. That seemed to be the case for Spike. Well, the Old Spike, as Buffy now referred to him as. The New Spike was going to stay aware (fingers still crossed) of what he had, and would do what he could to hold onto it tightly. And, if he didn’t? Buffy was going to have to kick his ass.
All good things must come to an end, Buffy thought when she heard a familiar, whining voice, bellowing across one particular furniture store—the name’s were lost on Buffy now, having all melded together after four hours. She froze, as did Alicia and Spike, all of them seeming to prepare for battle. The battle with the unstable, crazed and chaotic--
“Blondie Bear!” The sound came again, shrill and spine-tingling, like nails on a chalkboard, like every nightmare rolled into one and thrown at you.
Harmony.
Buffy turned to face that noise, for its best to face your foe head on, especially with Harmony. God only knew when knives could be flung at your back from the likes of that twit.
Alicia and Buffy exchanged glances, and then Spike and Buffy exchanged glances as Harmony bounded her way over, complete with her entourage should she break a nail or need a water with special electrolytes in them stat, looking every part the wannabe Mariah Carey/Britney Spears diva – trashy playing at being classy.
“This should be good,” Buffy muttered and prepared for attack.