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Chapter Eleven: Home is Where the Crazies Are


Buffy felt faint. She couldn't breathe, and her lungs burned for air. Her head was dizzy and she was sure she was gonna pass out any minute now. The feeling was just too intense. She only knew she wasn't dead. She could tell from the mind-numbing pain of having her ear talked off until she was positive her head might explode.

'Somebody shoot me now,' She thought. It was the thing she dreaded the most when she thought about coming back to Sunnydale.

The Uber Step-mom from planet Cosmo.

"Oh, my little Boo-boo has told me so much about you, haven't you, Hanky?" Buffy's father nodded silently from behind the two young women locked in a death-grip hug. A smile graced his face. One that beamed like he was the proud father of the winner of the fourth-grade spelling bee.

Dawn watched the display from the driveway. 'That's dad's new twit? She's like what, twelve?' Dawn thought, with a very unladylike snort. 'That's disgusting!' Tossing her long dark pony tail over her shoulder, she sighed loudly, and grabbed one of her bags of luggage.

"It's sooo great to finally meet you." The voice continued, "I'm really glad that you came. I can already tell that we're gonna be the best of friends."

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the other woman let Buffy go. Gulping in much needed breathes of fresh air, Buffy smiled as politely as she could and answered.

"Uh, yeah, looks like." The woman smiled happily and clapped her hands together excitedly, doing a little victory jump in the process. Buffy was finally able to get a good look at her for the first time.

Cecily Price was a tall, lengthy brunette in three-inch platforms. Her long dark hair fell in soft ridges around her round face and swept past her thin shoulder blades. Large breasts covered in an elastic dress the color of lime green were displayed proudly on her chest like a fisherman's prized stuffed fish mounted on a wall. Long, tanned legs extended from where the dress stopped mid-thigh to where two slim ankles met her silver heels. Her face was full, a little on the plump side, but still attractive. Bleach blonde highlights lined her dark locks, and her pouty lips were painted the deepest shade of blood red that Buffy had ever seen.

Big boobs, big ass, a tighter dress than a bathing suit, darkest lips this side of a crayon box, and a head filled completely with hot air.

To put it bluntly, she was a perverted greasy mechanic's wet dream.

"Wow, Buffy how did you get that amazing shade of blonde hair?" Cecily asked, bubbly-eyed.

"Uh, well, I guess...the salon?" Buffy answered. It came out more of a question than a statement. Buffy was still trying to decide how to go about this mission of ditching the step-trollop.

"Oh, it's so lovely. You know, I was thinking of bleaching mine the exact same color, but then it seemed way to 90's teen melodrama, so I just went with the bleached streaks." She babbled. Buffy wondered if she should be offended or grateful. She was seriously starting to wonder if there was a scheduled intermission anytime soon.

"That's nice." Buffy said, absentmindedly. 'Two word answers, it is,' Buffy mused.

"Oh, Buffy, it's like we're sisters." She said, smiling like a kid in a candy store. She stopped suddenly, seemingly lost in thought. Then as if finding the solution to her hidden problem she continued. "But with really different hair."

"Um, yeah. Definitely." Buffy agreed, not really paying attention to the young woman before her. Her eyes wondered to the large house behind Cecily. Her home...or what used to be anyway. It looked exactly the same. Buffy couldn't believe it. It had been three years since she had been back here, and three years since she had last since this house last. A warm feeling quickly spread through her at the thought.

Just then her eyes caught sight of the black Desoto parked in the driveway next door. Spike. The house that was almost identical to her father's, but with a darker shade of crimson in the bricks, was where her long lost friend was. Should she go over now? Maybe it would be better to wait til later? Spike had always been a late sleeper. She should probably wait until she was sure he was awake.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by that very annoying voice that never seemed to stop.

"So Buffy how do you like Sunnydale?" Cecily asked, oblivious to Buffy's Please-save-me-from-my-bothersome-potential-step-mother S.O.S signals.

"Oh, well, I've been here before." Buffy replied, praying to God that Dawnie would chose right about now to start a fight with Cecily. She knew it was coming anyway; Why couldn't it happen right now?

Anything to make this torture stop.

"Oh, really?" Cecily asked, completely shocked by this new turn of events. He hand went to her chest, as she sucked in a deep puff of air. "So, this is like coming home to you, I bet?"

Buffy was amazed. How could so much hot air fit into so small a head? She smiled. "Wow, hit the nail right on the head." Please save me, Dawnie!

"So, Buffy, huney, why don't you take your things inside and start unpacking." Hank spoke for the first time since Cecily learned she could speak for hours at a time without breathing.

"Right." Buffy answered, not looking her father in the eye. "I'll go...do that." She picked up her belongings, walked around Cecily, and went inside.

Right before the front door slammed shut, Buffy heard Cecily's voice once more. "Oh my, you must be little Dawn Summers. I'm so happy to finally meet you."

'Good luck, sister of mine,' Buffy thought.

~*~*~*~


By the time the petite blonde reached the second floor of the house, she was exhausted from the amount of luggage her sister had insisted on them bringing. Over prepared much?

With a sigh, Buffy pushed open the door to her room, and her jaw hit the floor. There was no bed. There was no dresser, or vanity, or posters lining the walls. All her belongs that were left behind were no where to be found. It was all gone. They must have thrown it out. That, or it was all hidden under the enormous piled of....shoe boxes?

"Sorry about the clutter, sweetie. We needed more space for all of Cecily's things. That woman sure has a helluva lot of shoes." Hank stated from behind her. She could not believe it. They had actually turned her room into a junk room full of overly priced, neoned-colored, platform shoes. Was this bizarro land or something? Things couldn't possibly get any worse, right?

"Well, she did come from LA, dad." Buffy reasoned, not really paying attention to her father's amused chuckle. "That's fine, dad. I'll just sleep with Dawn in her room." She turned and walked down the hall towards Dawn's room.

Hank frowned, and followed close behind. He watched as she turned the door knob and gave the old door a slight push to open it further. Not giving himself time to watch the incredibly shocked look that would inevitably cross her face, he opened his mouth to speak once more. "Oh, uh, well you see honey, I wasn't expecting you two so soon. I really didn't have the time to-"

He was quickly interrupted by his blonde daughter. "Dad, why is Dawn's bed surrounded by...more shoe boxes?" Buffy asked calmly. Although on the inside she was extremely pissed. I mean, how many pairs of shoes can someone own at one time? 'Even I don't have this many damn shoes, and I have a tab to pay off,' She thought. She turned to face her father for the first time since the airport.

"Yeah, well that's what I meant to tell you. There's only enough space for one of you right now, and since this is Dawn's room..." He trailed off, not knowing what more to say. There wasn't anything left to say. His daughters hated him. Buffy probably felt like she wasn't wanted her...what with the lack of room and all.

"I have no room." Buffy finished for him, anger lacing her voice. Well, this just proved how much of a jackass her father really was. He was able to make room for Cecily-the-big-breasted-bimbo, but when it came to his own daughter, he had nothing.

Nothing.

"No, no, you do. It's just-it's just in the garage right now." Hank told her, unsure. When she gave him a icy glare, he continued. "I-I'll get it right out. I will. Just as soon as I find time between work and helping with the wedding. I promise."

"So, dad, where is your eldest going to sleep for the next two weeks?" Buffy asked, a little annoyed.

~*~*~*~

"You have got to be joking, dad. I can't do that. I won't!" Buffy stated, stubbornly shaking her head and folding her arms across her chest. She was standing in the living room, in front of the couch, bags of luggage littering the floor around her, as her father dialed a familiar phone number. Her pretty face was laced with an annoyed expression, and she glared daggers at the back of her father's head.

"Hello, William? It's Hank." He said into the receiver. "Fine, fine. Everything's good. I was just calling to ask a favor." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Can't I just sleep on the couch?" She whined. How was she supposed to stay in the same house with Spike for two weeks? She would go absolutely crazy with all the inevitable awkwardness.

"Yes, well, I was wondering if my eldest could stay with you until the wedding?" Hank asked unsure.

Buffy watched the scene with interest. She saw her father wait for Spike's answer, which seemed to be taking much longer than expected.

"William? Are you still there?" Hank inquired, wondering if he had said something wrong. The younger man had been deadly quiet since the question had been asked.

Finally, there was an answer. "Yes, we're kinda out of space, what with the boxes that Cecily just moved in."

Another pause.

"Oh great. Ok, Yes, I'll send her right over." Hank smiled, happy to have found a solution.





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