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Chapter 8

Buffy was on a mission. She needed a distraction and she really hoped to stumble across a distraction that she could punch. She wanted to punch a certain blond chatterbox, but since she’d had enough of Spike for one evening, she decided to take her chances with the next best thing.

“Can I help you find something?”

“No, I’m just looking. Thank you though,” she said with a smile to the passing saleswoman.

She thumbed through a bin of cheap, gaudy lingerie while she tracked Harmony’s every move. She patiently waited as Harmony went from rack to rack and bin to bin. She collected a few articles of clothing with every pause.

“Sorry, Harm, but that’s not your color.”

At the sound of Buffy’s voice, she squeaked. Her mound of clothes, including a bright lemony-yellow top fell to the carpet with a quiet plop.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to startle you. Let me help.” She walked around Harmony to crouch near the pile. “Harm, aren’t you going to give me a hand?” she asked sweetly.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Why? I didn’t do anything.”

“Of course you did. Don’t act innocent, it just makes you seem dumb.” Buffy stood and handed Harmony the overflowing pile. “And you’re not as dumb as you let on. Unless someone helped you. Did someone help you with your scheme to terrorize Spike?”

“He-he hurt me! He--.”

“One act of vengeance I can understand, but you’re going too far.”

“Why do you care? Is he your boyfriend now?”

“Oh no. Worlds of no,” Buffy answered sharply. “He could never be my boyfriend.”

“You should tell him that,” Harmony snorted. “This is all your fault, you know. We were happy. We were in love but then you stole him away from me. He was going to take me to Paris.”

Buffy’s hands found her way onto her hips. “It’s not my fault he’s demented. I’ve beat up the guy on a weekly basis for three years. He should hate me. He used to.”

“Oh but he loooves you now. Buffy this and Buffy that—no offense, don’t stake me—but I get queasy every time he mentions your stupid name. I was right in front of him, willing and always ready. I gave him everything. I gave and gave and gave, but he only wanted you.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Buffy mumbled. She was lost in her thoughts and thinking out loud. “I don’t want this. I don’t want him.”

“Well, he’s all yours now, girlfriend. He and I are so done. I’ll never take him back again. I know three’s usually a charm, but no way, not for us.”

“God, just how many times have you gotten back to together?” Buffy asked. She couldn’t believe that she and Harmony were chatting in the middle of the lingerie department, but she couldn’t help it. For some reason she was hungry for information about the bleached blond pest.

“More times than I can remember. He can be such a creep.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“He could be sweet too. Early in the morning, when he was half asleep, he’d act so sweet and romantic. He’d hold me, he’d be gentle, and attentive to all my needs, if you know what I mean.”

“Harmony, I don’t want to hear about this.”

“But then he’d always mess everything up by calling me Summers or Slayer or--.”

“Stop! Shut up, Harmony!” she hissed. Her stomach was doing somersaults.

The sharp tone of her voice caused Harmony to step backward. “I’m sorry,” she whined softly. “Please don’t stake me. I’m too young to die again.”

“I want you out of town. Leave and don’t come back. And if I see you around Sunnydale, I won’t be so friendly, do you understand me?”

She nodded frantically. “I’m already packed. I just couldn’t miss this sale. Has…has Spikey been talking about me? Is he afraid of me, is that why he sent you after me?”

“He’s annoyed, Harm. You’re annoying him. And he didn’t send me after you--.”

“You’re defending your boyfriend, I get it. I bet he’s a better boyfriend to you anyway, since he loves you so much. Barf,” Harmony said. She wrinkled her nose and dramatically stuck her finger in down her throat.

“He is not my—Harmony, just leave us alone.”

“You want to shop some more? Being a vampire can be lonely. I haven’t shopped with anyone in forever. I can give you some more dirt. Ask me anything about him. Did you know he’s totally obsessed with--.”

“I can’t. I need to go.”

“Well, okay. I’ll see you later—oh, no I won’t, will I?” she laughed. “Oops.”

“Harmony.”

“Okay, okay, don’t get huffy. I’m going. Tomorrow, I swear.”

Buffy nodded. She started to walk away, but Harmony tried to call her back.

“Hey, wait! I’m sorry about setting your stuff on fire! I was just so mad, you know? Anyway, I hated torching your jeans—they were comfy and they made my butt look so good. I’ve been meaning to ask you, where’d you get them?”

Buffy swallowed her anger and continued to walk.

She wore my clothes, she fumed silently.

Spike had a lot of explaining to do.
***

The key to his Slayer’s heart was at the end of a long and bumpy road. Spike could almost see it. It was blurry and far far off in the distance, but at least he could make out a glimpse. It was enough to give him comfort.

He wasn’t dim-witted enough to believe that he could make the dangerous trip alone. He’d need help. His Slayer adored her friends and family, so with a few of them on his side, his expedition into the unknown would become much smoother.

His first speed bump, however, involved the fact that he couldn’t stomach her friends. Willow, Tara, Anya and especially Xander—he couldn’t stand any of them in large doses.

Her family, on the other hand, he liked. Her mother and sister had always treated him fairly. With them, he felt more like a man and not the monster that Buffy ran to whenever times were rough.

But he wasn’t sure if they’d be enough. He had years of brawling, insults, and backstabbing to make up for. Not only would he have to get Buffy to forgive him, he’d have to get her to actually like him.

Their evening together gave him hope. He found it unbelievable that they were all over each other like horny teenagers, and not just once, but twice.

Of course that didn’t mean she liked him. She just didn’t hate him enough to plunge a stake in his heart either. Instead, with two sessions of passionate kisses, she was wrecking havoc on his heart in other ways.

He went to her house early the next morning in search of payback. He hoped to give her heart a flutter. He rang the doorbell and waited patiently for someone to answer. The sun was almost up and he hadn’t brought a blanket to hide under. If he wanted to make an impression with his Slayer, he couldn’t do so while cowering under a bed sheet.

He heard noises through the front door. Bolts were moved out of place, the doorknob turned, and he found three sets of eyes staring at him.

“Good morning, ladies. I realize it’s early, but can I come in?”

“Of course,” Joyce said, opening the door wider. She was dressed in a long nightgown and matching long robe. She looked pale and a tad weak, but she had a bright smile on her face. “Come in. Are you hungry, Spike? Dawn and I are just about to make some waffles.”

Before answering he looked to Buffy who was frozen halfway down the stairs. “If it’s alright with you, I’d love to stay for breakfast.”

“Oh, who cares what Buffy thinks,” Dawn interrupted, coming from the entrance to the kitchen. “I need another guinea pig. How do you think Skittles would taste in waffles? Good, am I right? Hey Spike, what’s in the bag?”

“You mean this bag?” As he gestured to the plastic bag hanging on his wrist, Buffy continued down the stairs. She ignored him and disappeared into the kitchen. Like her sister, she was wearing pajamas. “Just some flowers.”

“For Buffy?” Dawn wrinkled her nose. “Why? What’d she do to deserve flowers?”

“Dawn,” Joyce scolded lightly. “Spike, you’re very sweet. Let me find a vase. Should I get Buffy for you?”

“The flowers aren’t for Buffy, not all of them. These,” he pulled out a bouquet of white flowers, “these are for you.”

“Oh…you shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have. Where are my flowers?” Dawn asked.

“Here you are,” he said, handing her the second bouquet. “They’re bubbly and bright, just like you, bit.”

“Thanks,” Dawn smirked. “But you’re lame, you know that don’t you?”

“Dawn, don’t be rude. I can’t remember the last time I was given flowers. Thank you,” Joyce said warmly.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad someone appreciated them,” he said, giving Dawn a sideways glance. “Those flowers are from the heart, nibblet. They are a token of friendship and gratitude--.”

“And bullshit.”

“Buffy!” Joyce gasped.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’m just passing through. I’ll leave you guys to your breakfast. Give Spike my share of the waffles.”

“Wait. Buffy, we need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” she said without giving a Spike a glance. She continued up the stairs with a bottle of juice, a cup of yogurt and a whole bagel in her hands.

“But—Dawn, take this for me, will you?” Spike gave her the plastic bag. “She won’t want her flowers. You and Joyce can have them.”

“You’re going up there? Honestly?”

“Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

Dawn gave him a look. “Do I have to say duh?”

“Wish me luck then.”

“Oh, you’re going to need a lot more than just luck,” Dawn mumbled as Spike made his way to Buffy’s bedroom.
***





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