Disclaimer: I own Spencer, Jamie, Chris, and Michelle but that's all. The other brilliant characters belong to the genius, Joss Whedon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the sequel to my other story, Monkies in the Middle. It takes place six years in the future, so fun abound with the teenager monkies!

Los Angeles, California, October 5, 2010

Mumbling as he struck the alarm clock, Spencer rolled over and pulled the covers over his head. Why should he have to go to school so early? He could always just stumble in around noon. Yeah, noon, was lunchtime. Perfect.

Suddenly, the door opened and his father peaked his head in, "Spencer, get up. You have school today."

Groaning some more, Spencer shook his head, telling his dad that drastic measures were needed if he wanted his son to get up.

Knowing these drastic measures, Wesley stepped over the piles of discarded clothes, magazines, and soccer equipment, and pulled the blinds open, letting a heavy ray of golden, California sunshine in.

"Dad," the boy quipped as the covers were pulled off of his head, though he crawled out of bed knowing resistance was futile. "There," he started, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, "happy?"

Nodding, Wesley turned to leave the room and get his older son up, "I'd be happier if I didn't have to pull my two teenage sons out of bed every morning. Why can't you be more like your sister. She's up on time every morning."

"Don't exaggerate, it's only Monday through Friday," Spencer said, getting a annoyed sideways glance, "and we can't be more like Jamie because we're the normal ones in this family."

Ignoring his last comment, Wesley sighed and went to pull Chris out of bed while Spencer proceeded to put a pair of sneakers on and collect his soccer equipment around his bedroom floor. He was searching for his shorts when he saw his mom standing at the entrance to his bedroom looking at the mess before her as if it was radioactive. . .which it might well have been.

"Uh. . .are my shorts in the laundry room," he asked, hoping that she wasn't going to go off at him for not cleaning his room up for the last three weeks.

"No, they're on your lamp, honey," she pointed behind him, where sure enough, his shorts were hanging from the lamp, "and when was the last time you cleaned up this mess?"

Knowing it was coming, Spencer hoped he could play his cute, innocent card that usually got him off the hook with his mother. "I'm sorry, Mom, it's just that I've been so busy with soccer and winning the science fair and all. I'll do it this weekend. Promise."

Smiling at him, Fred knew what he was doing, but gave in, "alright, just keep the door closed."

Nodding, Spencer finished packing his bag, and headed off to the bathroom, where he found the door locked.

"Come on, Jamie! How long have you been in there? An hour," he yelled through the door, though backed off when his sister emerged.

"No. For your information I've been in here for twenty minutes, and intend to be in here another twenty. So, get comfortable," she said in her sly tone that always annoyed the boys.

"Well, can I at least brush my teeth and take a leak," he asked, though the door was shut in his face and locked again.

"I hate living with girls," he said under his breath, then caught sight of his father coming out of Chris' room. "Hey, Dad, can you help me out here? She's been in there for twenty minutes!"

Sighing and knocking on the door, Wesley pushed Spencer back a little bit so that he could avoid an infamous morning fight, and talked to her for a moment. Emerging a minute later, he handed Spencer his toothbrush, "use the downstairs bathroom," then disappeared downstairs before the boy could argue.

Rolling his eyes, though knowing he could get grounded for talking back at this time of the morning, Spencer collected his backpack and soccer bag and headed downstairs, toothbrush in hand.

After taking care of his teeth, swearing he'd start getting up earlier so he could beat Jamie to the bathroom, Spencer headed into the kitchen to heat breakfast with his two older siblings, supposing his mom and dad were upstairs getting Michelle and Henry ready for school and daycare. He was old enough to get his own breakfast though, so this didn't bother him.

At quarter past seven his parents joined them at the breakfast table along with his two younger siblings, just as the older three finished and placed their dishes in the dishwasher.

"Alright, I'm leaving," Chris said, picking up his skateboard. Knowing not to argue with him about skateboarding to school, Wesley waved him goodbye. Pausing to hug his younger siblings, not including Spencer or Jamie, Chris was out the door before his mom was able to say anything.

"Yeah, me too," Jamie chimed in, grabbing her basketball bag and backpack, then continuing, "Andy's walking me to school."

Before Wesley could lift his head and show the rest of his family his indignant look, Jamie had disappeared out the door.

"Andy? Who's Andy," he asked his wife. Chiming in, Spencer made his siblings laugh as he pretended to faint. "Who's Andy? Only the cutest, strongest, smartest, according to Jamie, boy on this planet. Oh yeah, and they're dating."

Choking on a bite of toast, Wesley looked to Fred again, "did you know about this?"

Nodding, and smiling, Fred placed her hand on Wesley's, "Wes, we've had this conversation, she fifteen, almost sixteen, and we said she could start dating at sixteen."

"Yeah, but she still has another month until she's sixteen. What happened to my tomboy," he asked himself.

"Well, she's making out with a football jock behind the bleachers on Friday afternoons, I'll tell you that much," Spencer laughed as his mother swatted him and his father gave him a deeply annoyed look.

"Real. . .," Wesley started but was cut off as Fred gave him another look. "I'm sure Spencer is just joking. Right, Spencer," she said giving him a sharper look.

"Actually, no. I wasn. . .," cutting himself off as he heard a car horn outside, Spencer perked up like a puppy and ran to the window and left the room for a minute, the came back grabbing his bags and making for the back door.

"And where are you going? I thought I was driving you today," Wesley asked as he finished his toast.

"Uh. . .no, Carrie's mom is driving us. Gotta go," he said, seeming a little too mysterious for Wesley's taste.

"Us? Carrie," he asked, standing and following his son out to the driveway.

"Dad! You can pick me up from soccer. It's over at four," Spencer hissed and shooed him back into the house.

"No, I have to work until five today. Isn't soccer usually until five," he asked forgetting Carrie for a moment.

"Well, it's not today. I'll just walk home. Bye," with this the boy rushed off and climbed into the BMW parked in the drive, greeting an older woman with hello, and a girl his age with a kiss.

Nearly dropping his cup of tea, Wesley headed back into the house. What else was going on that he didn't know about?

"Fred, did you know that Spencer has a girlfriend," Wesley asked. Leaning in for a kiss, Fred smiled.

"He's fourteen, Wesley. I think it's alright. I thought he told you," she replied placing some dishes in the dishwasher.

"Well, he didn't. When did they all grow up," shaking his head, he caught sight of his youngest two children, then pointed, "no growing up."

Giggling, the children ran to his arms and hugged him, "okay, Daddy."

Smiling, Fred grabbed his briefcase and Michelle backpack, and the four of them piled into the SUV

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Kicking the ball ahead of him, Spencer made his way through jungle gyms and park benches as he headed home. Why couldn't his dad just get off at four that day? Oh well. At least he'd have the house to himself before the chaos of the evening started. He had a lot of homework but that could wait until later.

Suddenly, lost in his thoughts, the boy kicked the ball further ahead of himself than he intended and lost it in the bushes.

"Shit," he heard himself say, not fearing being caught though. He only had to watch his language at home.

Crouching down, he reached his hand into the bushes, hoping that nothing had made its home there and would see his hand as an intruder. "Damn ball, come on," he demanded though knew it did no good.

Looking over his shoulder for assistance, he caught sight of the steps to the high school. There was a man there sweeping. Perhaps he would help get the ball out of the bush. Standing and brushing his knees off, Spencer headed back towards the school, wondering how much time he'd have to waste explaining the man about his ball. All he wanted right now was to go home and dominate the TV before he had to be stuck watching stupid kiddy cartoons with Michelle and Henry.

Realizing he was close enough to yell for the man, Spencer started to let the words leave his mouth, but stopped. Focusing for a moment, he felt his body growing weak. It couldn't be! Wanting to get closer and find out, he made to take a step, but was suddenly tackled from behind.

Rolling over, he found Carrie beside him, smiling. "Hey, cutie, what's up," she asked following this with a quick kiss.

"Oh, hey, nothing. I just. . .I was on my way home," he said, standing and glancing over his shoulder to find that the janitor had disappeared.

"Well, do you want me to walk you," she asked, handing him her backpack, which meant she was coming regardless of his answer.

"Yeah, that'd be great," knowing he'd be kicking himself if one of his parents came home early to find them there alone, Spencer felt like saying 'no', but then remember how his dad couldn't get off work to pick him up from practice. Why should he get off work early to come home?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After a fifteen minute walk through the suburban neighborhoods surrounding the school, the two finally came to the large brick house. Opening the gate and backdoor for his girlfriend, Spencer followed her into the house, checking all the rooms to make sure no one else was home, which they weren't.

"So, I guess we're alone," he started, then continued, "want a snack?" After she nodded, he retrieved two drinks from the fridge and sat down with her in the living room, sipping quietly at his.

This was all new to him. What was he supposed to do? Answering this question, Carrie placed her drink on the coffee table and leaned over, kissing him. She certainly was a little more experienced than Spencer. Of course, she had dated a junior before him, which made him feel all the more special as a freshman.

After what seemed like an eternity and a really good lesson in kissing, Spencer broke away from her, "hey, sorry, but um. . .what time is it?" Looking at him as if he was crazy, Carrie and Spencer were both startled when the answer came from the entrance to the living room.

"It's five-fifteen," Wesley answered his son's question. Not looking him in the eye, Spencer preferred to instead focus on his older sister, who was nearly on the floor in a fit of silent laughter behind their dad.

"Uh. . .I. . .Carrie, I think I have a lot of homework to do. I'll. . .um. . .see you at school tomorrow," he said as she stood, walking past Wesley and Jamie to the front door, "okay, bye."

Closing his eyes as he heard the front door close, Spencer opened them after a moment of nothing happening, but too his dismay his father was still standing there, now with a smug grin, "I think you and I need to have a talk."

Not able to contain her laughter this time, Jamie broke down and giggled as Wesley motioned Spencer into his office.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

An hour later, Fred was in the kitchen making dinner, listening to her eldest daughter describe Spencer's ordeal when the boy finally entered the kitchen looking less than thrilled with the conversation he and his father had had.

"Hey, honey, I. . .," Fred started, but he cut her off by going into the living room, where Chris was sitting watching TV.

Sitting, Spencer felt safe from teasing around his older brother, but was soon proved wrong as Chris wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. "So, tell me, Spencer, my boy, what do you know about girls," he started but was pushed away.

"Shut up, Chris, or I'll kick your. . .butt," he whispered loudly, but stopped himself from saying the profane word, conscious that his family was around.

"Sit down, twerp. I was only kidding. He gave you 'the talk', didn't he," Chris asked, now seeming more sympathetic to Spencer's plight.

Sitting and nodding, Spencer groaned, "yeah. I don't see why though! I've never even thought of doing. . .that," he said, shaking his head.

Grinning, Chris was glad they had some common ground now. It wasn't like they were completely different, just in most ways. He was good at building things and made decent grades in everything else, whereas Spencer seemed to be smart at everything and great at sports. Most people didn't even guess they lived in the same house.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm sure you'll be a normal teenage boy yet," Chris said, falling back into his teasing mode and pinching Spencer's cheeks. "Shut up," Spencer said, going to tackle his older brother just as their two youngest siblings came in.

"Mommy says that dinner is ready and you both have to come right now," Michelle said, jumping on them. Lifting her into his arms, Chris smiled, "did she? I don't believe you!"

Sticking out her tongue, Michelle giggled as her eldest brother carried her into the kitchen, followed by Spencer who had Henry's hand.

Sitting as a family, all embarrassments forgotten, they began to talk about their day. "Oh, man, I just remembered," Spencer looked up from his chicken, "I forgot my soccer ball in the park and. . .," he froze again remembering the man, but shook it dismissed it as his eyes playing tricks on him.

"And what, sweetie," Fred asked, but Spencer shook his head, "nothing, I just forgot the ball. I'll go back tomorrow for it."

With that the dinner conversation continued. Little did any of them know that the man Spencer so easily dismissed as a figment of his imagination was about to turn the boy's perception of his perfect family upside down.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Uh-oh! Who is this guy? Leave me some feedback on what you think, or what you'd like to see in coming chapters!