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Author's Chapter Notes:
Ahhh this is so fun to write. Reviews would make it even more fun. ;)

I have a problem though. I'm incredibly uncomfortable writing sex scenes and i'm no good at it,... so if anyone wants to ... beta me and help me out - just guide me through it. That would be cool. If not... I'll probably do something stupid like



*sigh*
Chapter 4

Still the first day of school – Last year.
Bronze.

Spike surveyed the pool table, contemplating his next move. He was with Angel O’Connor and David Osbourne, better known as Oz. This was the first night they had brought him over to the teen club called ‘The Bronze’. He had immediately scoffed at the name.

“ Of course in America, you’d name a club ‘The Bronze’. Just like you half assed Yanks always do things… never go for the gold or silver. Always settling for mediocrity”

“When’s the last time you watched the Olympics…?”

“That’s only because you cheated!”

It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, though. Yes, it was filled with bunches of teenyboppers who didn’t know real music from trash, but it had a nice feel. The ambiance was pleasant enough and he was starting to enjoy himself. Positioning himself for his next shot, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention and his stick went flying across the pool table.

“Whoa, there,” Angel laughed, nearly spilling his sizzling drink. “You said you were good at this?”

Spike ignored his comment and stared out at the dance floor. There was a girl in the middle of the floor, dancing without a care in the world, oozing sex and sensuality with every sway of her hips. Her back was facing him and … what a back. She was wearing a glittery, backless shirt and it put him into a mindless trance.

Who is that?

She moved with grace, she moved with command, power, she was an angel, she was heaven, she was the apple of every man’s eye, and Goddammit, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And all he had seen was her back… her long blonde hair, spilling over her slim, bronzed shoulders, tanned arms raised above her head… lowering… moving across her side, gliding across her skin… how he wished he were those hands.

He didn’t even realize that he had moved until he noticed that the girl was now standing in front of him, within arm’s reach. His breath got caught in his throat when she slowly began to turn around. He took a step back to admire her beauty as her face was slowly revealed to him and he saw…

Buffy.

He nearly fell forward in surprise as his feet slid back and he stumbled over some dancers that were dancing off to a side. They gave him a nasty look that he promptly dismissed and without a second glance at the golden girl in front of him, he rushed back into the other room, into Oz and Angel’s amused glances.

“Looks like you just met Buffy,” Angel snorted at the hazy, disheveled expression of his friend.

“Um, yeah,” he smoothed his hair back. “Was… just, uh, going to see why she was wearing that piece of thread she calls a shirt!”

“Uh… huh.”

“Bloody thin that shirt is, too,” Spike swiveled and looked back at Buffy. “Where does she come off wearing something like that? It barely covers anything! Look… is that man ogling her? Does her mom know what kind of shirt she’s wearing?” he turned back to Angel, “I’ll bet she doesn’t, no way would she have let that chit out of the house if she saw she was wearing that.”

“And you were by no means ogling as well,” Angel stated, sarcastically.

“She’s not a natural blonde! Her hair was a different color just this morning!”

“The captain of peroxide is accusing Buffy of dying her hair… how sweet,” Angel shared a look with Oz and they went back to their game of pool, leaving Spike to continue staring at Buffy.

………………….

Present – Still first day of school – nighttime.

Buffy was sitting on the piano bench, thinking about nothing in particular. She had been there for over an hour and made no move to play anything. The day had wiped her out, making her feel positively tired, and she had told Willow that she had rather stay at home than spend the night out in the Bronze.

“You go… go have fun.”

“I’m worried about you, Buffy”

“Don’t. It’s best if.. if I stay home. I have to practice before my parents get home, anyways. You know how they get annoyed when they hear me playing since ‘piano is such a ridiculous waste of time!’ to them.”

Willow was sympathetic and they said their goodbyes.

Now, over an hour had gone by and she made no attempts at practicing. Buffy closed her eyes and imagined a time when Spike had sat with her on this very bench and held her while she played for him.

“You’re my everything, my love,” she sang, softly, lightly pressing down on a few keys. She paused and ghosted her fingers over the keys. When she pressed down, an unknown melody came to her ears. She loved doing this, playing nonsense to herself, trying to make her own music.

“You’re my everything…” she repeated again. With more conviction, her fingers played another harmony. “Lifted me up in my love. Heart soaring, heat inducing, stomach aching, love.”

Her voice was hoarse and choked with emotion. She felt raw and naked with her emotions lying out in the open for anyone to see if they happened to walk in on her.

“Your ugly face, your fucking voice, your oversized ego, I hate you I hate you I hate you,” Buffy slammed her fingers down on the keyboard with all her might. She banged at the keys until she was sobbing and rested her forehead to the piano. “I can’t help it if I think that whatever’s ugly is beautiful… beautiful because it’s you. Why can’t I stop loving you?”

……………….

Flashback.

It had been a few weeks since he had seen Buffy dancing out in the middle of the Bronze, but Spike hadn’t forgotten any detail of the pleasant memory. He pulled into his driveway and automatically smiled when he saw that the object of said memory was sitting on his porch steps, chin rested in her hands.

“Well, you’re here early,” he called out to her as he got out of his car. “Rupes isn’t coming back from the university until another half hour, love.”

He was annoyed when she ignored him and continued to stare blankly out to the street at nothing in particular. He opened his mouth and was about to snap an insult at her when he noticed her tear-stained face. Startled, he closed his mouth and took a step closer to her.

She suddenly seemed to realize he was standing there and her head snapped up. She quickly wiped at her eyes and turned away from him.

“Have you been crying?” he asked, softly, taking another step towards her. She didn’t answer and he came to the steps and took a seat next to her. “Anything you want to talk about?”

She shook her head and sniffed. Spike wasn’t sure what to do in this situation, so he tentatively lifted his arms and awkwardly patted her shoulder, trying to provide whatever comfort he could. They sat in silence for a few moments with him rubbing circles over her back. It was a warm afternoon, no clouds and a bright sun shining merrily down on earth. But despite the happy, friendly surroundings, the moment was strained with tension.

Suddenly, she spoke.

“Dad left again,” she said, not trusting her own voice. Spike’s heart swelled for her and he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, pet,” he murmured into her hair. She leaned into his chest and silently cried as he held her tight, comforting her.

“It’s not the first time…” she choked. “But it never gets easier.”

“I know,” Spike whispered. “My dad left us too, back in London. Put my mom in a right state, he did. She went crazy until she – “ he stopped, not wanting to go into details. He couldn’t think or even talk about his mother’s suicide without watering up and right now he had to be strong for the girl in his arms.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

They held each other for what seemed to be a eternity. The time didn’t pass and the world was frozen. Neither of them made an effort to break the bond that had been created from their embrace and neither stopped to think about what it might mean. They were just living in the moment and right then, the only thing that mattered was arms wrapped around their bodies and the comfort those arms had to offer. It was such a tender gesture that it had temporarily melted all barriers in both hearts. Neither of them felt the sleep approach as they slowly drifted off together into a world of dreams under the peaceful afternoon sun.

That was how Rupert Giles found them when he pulled up in his little red sports car, briefcase in hand, ready to let Buffy in for their weekly piano lesson. He looked a little flustered when he saw the couple, holding each other on the porch steps, fast asleep.

“Oh dear,” he muttered to himself, dropping his briefcase and frantically searching his pocket for a handkerchief. He was in quite the predicament when he cleaned his glasses and coughed a few times, hoping that they would wake up without noticing that he had witnessed their compromising position.

After a few minutes of endless coughing fits, he decided he had had enough.

“For the love of God!” he cried out and shook at his nephew’s shoulders. The two finally stirred, showing the signs of wakefulness.

“Five more minutes,” Spike mumbled, then shifted in his sleep, inadvertently causing himself to fall down the porch steps. He sat erect, eyes shocked open and wide awake. “Bloody hell! ”

At his shout, Buffy awoke and her cheeks turned crimson when she realized what had happened.

“Oh…”

“Right, Buffy, I will be in the study whenever you’re ready to start your lesson,” Giles said, satisfied with his accomplishment. With that, he grabbed his briefcase and marched into the house.

The two teenagers sat still, taking in their environment before slowly getting up.

“Um..” Buffy started, then stopped.

“Right.. then,” Spike nodded, running his hand through his hair. “That… was nothing. Don’t worry about that. Just a bit of cold comfort from good ol’ Spike here.”

“Okay, yeah.” Buffy agreed and started towards the open door for her piano lesson. Suddenly she stopped and turned back to Spike. “Spike?”

“Yeah?” Spike looked up at her, eyes shining of… something. Hope?

“Um… thanks.”

She ran the rest of the way indoors.





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