A/N: Just something short I thought of today while screaming at my best friend's boyfriend.

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He's looking at me as though I'm insane. I scream at the top of my lungs, sure that the point will reach his tiny, tiny brain eventually. To be perfectly honest, I have nothing really big against him. But the least he could have done was to help her out when she needed it.

But he couldn't stand up to that one person he was supposed to care the most about. All Willow wanted was for him to show those feelings.

Fuming from the ears, I whack my arm straight across, my hand balled into a fist, catching his chest and winding him for a moment. He reaches up and rubs at his chest, yelling something male and meaningless in my direction. I didn't hear it, I'm too busy trying to prove my own arguement.

I yelled loudly at him, not a hundred percent sure of what exactly I was saying that meant so much, but hoping that some sort of point was getting out there. All of a sudden, in a flash of black leather and annoyingly bleached hair, my ex appears next to me and grabs my fist just as it's about to make contact with Wesley's face.

People are beginning to stare. My other friend watches from the window of her mom's car as my yells get louder.

Glancing around quickly I frown at my ex and steal my hand back, storming off towards the direction of my house, which also happens to be the direction of his and Wesley's house too.

Wesley jogs to catch up, certain that he is right, as always. Rolling my eyes, I slow and turn towards him, a look of what I imagine to be absolute disgust on my face. I tense and look him up and down. If it came down to it, I could take him in a fight. He's not too big, not too fast.

He notices my sudden change and steps back, saying something about not wanting a fight. Then he takes the different route home.

My ex catches up to me moments later.

"Follow Wesley, Spike," I say. He knows that I can beat him up too, if it's necessary.

But he remains beside me, and I decide that he's a good enough punching bag as ever. We pull over, him thinking I want to talk, me knowing that I want to get this anger out of my system.

I deliver the first punch. Solid, fast, and with that delightful noise you hear in the movies. He understands now, I'm not into talking. Not now anyway.

So he hits me back. He knows I can take it. My uncle gave me worse before he got put away.

I swing him a left hook and we're started. Unlike a normal girl, I know I can handle myself. I know I'm stronger, and just that little bit beefier than 'normal girls'. It's why I don't really fit in at school.

After ten minutes of punching, and of fighting, I realise my anger is going nowhere. My mouth opens, and what Lindsey Lohan would classify as 'word vomit' comes out.

I colorful example how wide my vocabulary really does stretch pours through my lips, and Spike stands entranced, absolutely certain I'm ready for the loony-bin.

I stop to take a breath, my heart racing and my hands shaking. Another fist flies towards Spike's face and I begin again, not at all concerned by the mark I leave on his cheek. Emphatic as I always am, surprisingly, my arms remain still as I rave about Wesley and how much he should care about Willow but doesn't.

I give Spike several examples, and he chuckles at all of them, which only serves to fuel my rage. Full blown screams erupt out of my mouth, yells from a voice I barely even recognise as I try to defend my friend.

When I realise I'm almost out of things to say, I feel lips, covering mine. Spike's hands cup my cheeks and tilt my face to meet his in a perfect fit. In the ten months that we were together previously, we'd never kissed. We were fifteen when we first begun dating. But I'd kissed many before him, and it wasn't right for me to be his first.

But as his lips covered mine now, in the most beautiful of silences, I realise I should have initiated something earlier. I'm not by any means a tomboy. Nor am I masculine in anyway, other than my slight muscular physical appearence. But I always felt I had to show him the ropes.

Now, he traced my bottom lip with his tongue and slipped it inside my mouth, earning a moan. But I wasn't sure whether it was from him or me.

Our mouths duelled for dominance, his fingers winding around my hair and tugging angrily on it. I reached to his biceps and dug my nails in, giving him the same pain he gave me. Our teeth grazed numerous times, and I was sure I could taste blood, but I wasn't sure who from.

He pulled my head back and stared deep into my eyes, both of us breathing heavily.

"Why did we never do that, Buffy?" he asks me. With a heavy pant and wide green eyes, I slowly shake my head, realising it for the first time myself.

"Because I can never be good enough for you."

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A/N: Just something short I thought of, like I said before, while fighting with my best friend's boyfriend. I then got into it with my own ex, but some, of course, is exaggerated.

Hope you liked it ;)