FULL HOUSE
Author: kreepyk
Spoilers: Post- "Older and Far Away"
Rating: R (?) This isn't smutty, much.
Feedback: Please read and review.
Notes: This is set prior to the Harris' wedding, in a strange fluffy universe where the events of "As You Were" didn't happen. We are talking serious, chocolate-covered cherry, fluffy sweetness.
Part One
* Queens Full Over Jacks*
"Up and at 'em. Come on now, Dawn." He leaned in her doorway and switched on the light.
"Narf." Dawn muttered into her pillow, then flopped over, squinting up at Spike. "I'm up. Want waffles."
"Sorry, luv. It's been sweets for you all week, and I'm not going to let you rot your teeth. I've made a nice, healthy omelet Florentine and wheat toast."
"That doesn't fool me anymore. I know you mean spinach. Evil, evil, evil!" She punched her pillow to punctuate her epithets.
Spike was already clomping down the stairs. "Finally, someone remembers."
Dawn flopped over and stretched under her warm covers, relishing the last few moments before the hell of High School. She'd taken to getting her school clothes ready the night before, so really all that was left was summoning the willpower to cross the cold bathroom tiles and jump into the shower. Then she realized *Friday. Today is Friday. It's poker night, and everyone is coming over!* Suddenly energized, she threw off her quilt and rushed out of bed.
*This is going to be soooo great. *Dawn started brushing her teeth and favored herself with a foamy grin. *I'm going to totally have to look up card games in Study Hall. I'll surprise everyone by knowing how to play. And Lauren owes me ten bucks, so I can even play with my own money. I can't wait to tell her what I need it for.*
"I don't hear the shower going, pet!" he called upstairs as he tried to open the jam jar. He wondered how Dawn could eat at all when Buffy screwed the jars closed so tightly. He gripped it between his knees to get better leverage. *I can barely get his bloody thing open. Must be preoccupied, ridiculous job is running her down.* he looked at the clock. *Bloody girl's going to be late, must be mooning over boys or something. Well, let's hope it's that and not more moping.* He heard the white noise of the shower and relaxed a bit. Always stung when Xander showed up and Dawn was running late. The bricklayer would make some comment about Spike not being a very good mommy, or some such rot. He'd taken to waking Dawn up quite early to give her enough time to eat and prevent such embarrassments.
After a few more threats "to drag her out of the bathroom by her hair if she didn't hurry it up," Dawn bopped down the stairs looking pleased with herself. *Bright and happy. Excellent, she may finally be getting back to normal.*
"Eat up. It's growing cold."
"If I have to eat spinach, so do you."
"Right, well I *like* spinach. Full of iron, like blood." He smirked malevolently and set the jam down next to her plate.
"You guys are going to let me play tonight, right?"
"What? Oh, yeah. Game's on tonight. That's a big sis question, that is. I tend to err on the side of corrupting influences. I'd hate to promise anything and then have both of you yellin' at me."
"Well, why don't you use your thrall on her or something? Don't you have any *cool* powers?"
"Not unless you count being able to answer almost all the Music Geek questions."
"Oh, you are so full of it. You never get any of the country questions right."
"Not true. I just stopped paying attention to it after '63." He glanced back at the clock, seemingly anxious. "Here, Harris will be here any moment. Throw one of these in your bag." He tossed her a banana. Glanced at the clock again, then her plate. "Homework's done, right?"
"Yeah. And don't forget to talk to Buffy about letting me play. I've never tried poker before and Clem said it's really fun."
"Well, just between us, probably best not to use that line of argument with Buffy," he said remembering her reaction to Clem and the game at the bar when he took her that time she got so drunk. *What a night.* "I'll talk to her, don't worry."
They both jumped a little at the sound of Xander's horn. "OK, see you tonight Spike." She ran out the door, grabbing her backpack.
He leaned out the kitchen to see her off, keeping well out of the wide shaft of sunlight pouring through the open doorway. The door shut and he looked up the stairs, calling out. "She's off to school, luv. Your secret's safe!" He bounded up the stairs and threw open the door to her room. Buffy was lying on her stomach in the dark room, nestled amid a mess of bedclothes. Her bare shoulder and arm peeked out of the covers.
"God, I thought you'd never finish!" her voice was low and languorous. "I'm so bad for not seeing her off. You are just a terrible influence on me. I swear you are turning me evil."
"You flatter me," he whispered, as he sat on the bed. Spike pulled his shirt off and slipped in next to her. *I will never tire of climbing into a warm bed like this.* "What with your slaying and well, me, and your completely unreasonable hours at that bloody job, you need as much sleep as you can get. Besides, you didn't know they were going to switch your schedule at the last minute."
"Well, I am going to enjoy my day off and sleep in. I just can't help feeling a little guilty about it." She sighed a little and rested her head on his chest.
"Right, the word for the day is indolent."
"That's like lazy, right?"
"Indeed. Lovely, isn't it."
"Today we are going to be *so* indolent." She pulled the covers up farther and settled into the pillows. Her face looked very placid.
"Do you really want to sleep in? Because I can think of other things to feel guilty about."
"Really?" She moved to kiss him, and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. The bed creaked slightly. Morning advanced into afternoon.
***
"Does it ever, you know, freak you out a little?"
Willow's eyes were darting as she scanned the aisle of chips and snacks. "Not as much as it used to...I think it becomes a little easier with time. I used to just die inside a little every time I thought about it. Now, not...as much."
"Yeah, but you live with them. Familiarity breeds lack of creepiness, or something."
"You just lost me, Xander." Willow looked up from a rack of salsa jars, thinking how disgusting it looked under the florescent lights. Eating had become a chore ever since she stopped the magic. "I thought we were talking about the big mystical monkey on my back."
"What, there's a monkey now?" He spun around nervously, scanning the grocery store for simian demons. Belatedly, comprehension reached him. "Sorry Will, thought that was a Geekboy alert for a second there. No, actually I was referring to Buffy and...you know...the living dead." His face contorted with a look beseeching her to share his disgust.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I've just been distracted, but they seem pretty discreet to me." Willow was trying to carry a bunch of bags without crashing into anything or dropping any. She stared down her nose at an armful of shiny foil packets and concentrated on walking back to the front of the store, thinking how much easier this *could be*. "You already picked up the beer, right?"
"Anya's in charge of the potent potables," he followed her, reaching over her shoulder to grab one sliding off. "Look, I know I shouldn't be so judgy but by golly, it's just so much like that time that spell misfired and they got engaged. I keep expecting her to pull out *Modern Bride* and talk about the comparative benefits of water silk over seed pearls. *Trust me* I get plenty of that at home right now and I am really uncomfortable that I can actually discuss that and defend both sides FAR TOO WELL."
"You are doing the Fear of Commitment Babble again."
"I prefer to think of it as the Sick of Wedding Planning Diatribe, but I've just spent the last three months planning this massacre, so what do I know?" He griped with a half-sarcastic, half-bitter tone. Clearly, all was not icing roses and nosegays for the young-marrieds-to-be.
"I'd still watch that crap around Anya." Willow's tone was flat and serious.
Xander absorbed her pronouncement for a moment as they dropped the night's snacks on the checkout counter. His friend had become much more curt since she decided to go cold turkey on the thaumaturgy. He liked it --he wouldn't be engaged to Anya if he didn't appreciate frank women-- but he worried. Either it was a sign of her 'real' persona, one she had buried beneath a haze of euphoria and denial, or she was just really hurting from dealing with the consequences of it all. The first option bothered him the most. Someone once told him that addicts stay at the same age emotionally as when they started using. If true, that would make Willow about sixteen. He shuddered at the thought of reliving his teens. *I have got to make more of an effort to be there for her. Damn, between Buffy, Dawn, and Willow's problems and now the wedding to deal with... how in the hell am I going to keep all these women happy? And if the contract is as bad as the Shop Steward says...* He sighed deeply, suddenly overwhelmed.
Scot, their rawboned cashier, wearily declared, "That'll be $24.33, please. We do NOT take checks." Xander popped back into reality and grabbed his wallet.
"I wonder if Tara really will come over." Willow said softly. She looked down at her feet and tapped the pointy toes of her boots together distractedly. "Buffy did say she invited her, right?"
He placed a warm, reassuring hand on her shoulder as he grabbed their grocery bags. He pulled her towards him as they walked out past the Friday evening crowds of commuters picking up dinner and running children grasping spoils of the candy aisle. Her head bumped against his shoulder, returning the unspoken sentiment. "I'm sure she'll stop by, Will."
***
The door opened and Anya zoomed in, eyes wide with excitement. She carried a stack of videotapes and a bag full of clinking bottles. "I'm ready for the night of fun." She turned toward the kitchen and dropped the bag on the counter.
"Hello, Anya I am fine. Thank you for asking."
"Sorry for failing to observe the custom of inquiring about your health and well being. I usually do that, but since we will have hours tonight with nothing to do but discuss our personal lives I decided to skip it for now." She smoothed her blouse and pushed her hair back behind her ears. "Trust me, I have a number of questions readied for the socializing later."
"Good to know." Buffy pursed her lips in resignation. At least Anya was predictable. "I've made dinner."
"Made in a 'cooking at home sense' or made in a 'brought home from fast food assembly line' sense?"
"I really cooked. See, I even have a sink full of dishes to prove it." She gestured towards the sink, then narrowed her eyes intently. "I knew I was forgetting something...DAWN TIME FOR DISHES!"
"Coming!" the younger girl's voiced carried faintly through her closed door.
"Finally, she's getting out of that room. I was really looking forward to cooking with her after school, but she ran upstairs straightaway."
"Either you've been watching an inordinate amount of PBS or you are picking up British phrases from *him*. It's awfully cute." Anya pronounced as she shoved beer into the fridge. "Oh, spring rolls! You know these are supposed to be served at room temperature."
"You want me to leave pork and shrimp out for five hours while we wait for everyone to show? I'm keeping the slaying out of the kitchen, thanks." Buffy smiled to herself, "I'm sure I picked it up from Giles, anyway."
"Well, keep telling yourself that." Anya turned to face her friend and closed the refrigerator door in one sweeping pivot. "I think it's silly the way you two keep your distance around us. Xander is never going to get used to it if you continue to coddle him. Trust me, only the direct approach works with him," she recalled her earliest attempts to woo her fiancé. "I'm talking big, heavy mace to the skull direct."
"Roger. Message received." Buffy nodded. The doorbell rang, and Willow and Xander walked into the front hall.
"The snack bearers have arrived. Let the party begin!" Xander announced. He dropped two grocery bags on the counter and stared unloading the chips. Willow called from the other room, "I'm putting music on."
"Bloody hell, not more Sarah McLachlan! We're playing poker, not having a slumber party." Spike's boots thudded down the stairs.
"Oh, leave her alone. No one likes your taste in music, either." Buffy headed toward the dining room table and pulled it apart to add extra leaves. She winced slightly after pinching her fingers in process. "Remind me again why we aren't doing this at Xander's or the Magic Box?"
Her sister appeared at the foot of the stairs looking peevish. "Because you promised, and it will be good to have a party here to dispel the whole magical entrapment issue. Get it... dispel?" She looked to Spike for a reaction, smiling sheepishly.
"Nicely done, luv."
"Is everyone here?"
"I just got here, so dunno. Clem's going to be a few minutes more. He wanted to eat dinner first," Spike said.
"But your spring rolls!" Dawn whined, "And Buffy made sesame noodles!"
"Yes, well, let's just say Clem can't eat your sort of food and leave it at that." Dawn grimaced at the implications, but said nothing.
Willow leaned close to Buffy as she finished putting the table together and whispered "Spike cooks? And spring rolls? I thought they were hard to make."
"Yeah, I asked him about that he went all nostalgic and muttered something about 'Vientiane in the monsoon season' and how the best thing about Indochina is how the locals never minded when a couple of 'Frog imperialists' ended up missing. I left it at that."
Willow looked surprised. "This from the guy who sided with the cowboys on the whole Native American land stealing-genocide question?"
"Crazy isn't it? I guess when the English do it it's all 'Rule Britannia' but the French... well that's a whole different story." Buffy rolled her eyes.
"Interesting academic question, is this an English thing --as empirical evidence suggests since Giles actually agreed with him on that one-- or is it another case of twisted vampire logic?"
Buffy shook her head, "I've learned not to question this stuff too much. I can get a headache just thinking about how frustrating it is arguing about stupid stuff with him. He's just the most stubborn pig sometimes." She shot her friend a conspiratorial look, "Still the making up is fun," her eyes glinted knowingly.
Willow went back to looking surprised for a moment, then feigned shock by slapping Buffy's hand playfully. They exchanged glances and walked back to the kitchen in search of a quiet place to have licentious girl talk.
Dawn appraised the sink full of dishes and then let her gaze travel to Buffy and Willow gabbing in the back corner then to Xander and Anya talking and holding hands on the couch. She noticed Spike pulling packs of playing cards out of the pockets of his coat and throwing them down carelessly. He started to reach inside his breast pocket for his cigarettes. "Hey, Spike. Keep me company while I wash dishes."
He already had one hanging out of his mouth. "Right," he tucked it behind his ear.
Dawn ran water in the sink and told him about her day: the piles of busywork mounting up in English class, the latest gossip about who was dating whom, how immature everyone acted in biology during dissection and how she had spent study hall and a few hours after school reading poker how-to books in anticipation.
"Doesn't sound like studying to me, bit. If the Slayer thought I was encouraging you in this she'd have me nailed to the wall quick as you please," he paused and looked her in the eyes for emphasis. Offhandedly he muttered, "Besides, the books only cover the basics. You'll learn a lot more by playing," he smiled.
She reached up with bubbly hands and hugged him. "I KNEW you'd come through for me! I get to play, right! I swear, you can convince her of anything!"
"Watch me cig! You're all wet. And don't declare yourself Maverick yet, the trade off is that you have to tuck in early and play a low stakes game."
"Noooo problem! I don't have much money anyway since *someone* won't let me have a job."
"She wants you to concentrate on your studies. As do I. Don't want to grow up to be a dishwasher, do you." He placed a twenty near the sink, which darkened immediately as it soaked up a little pool of stray dishwater. "And don't worry too much about using your cash, I think I can stakehorse you this much. Girl needs a bit of mad money." Dawn beamed at him. "Alright, well, you're nearly done and I'm having my smoke," he sauntered off for the front porch.
The night was clear and chilly, but it never got very cold here, even in wintertime. The town was small so its lights were dim enough that he could see a few stars from the front steps. At least he could after pegging the streetlight with a well-placed rock. He inhaled deeply and blew the smoke out in one long exhale. Things were looking up, on the whole. Dawn seemed to be adjusting as well as could be expected. She hadn't fought with her sister or gone into one of her silent moods in a long time. Buffy's friends weren't exactly in raptures of delight with the obvious thing between the two of them but they weren't lynching him either. She was much more open about things in front of Dawn than the others, but she wasn't hiding it anymore. He still hated the thought of her going off to that revolting job everyday, especially when she came home so exhausted and demoralized. But she stuck to her guns so long as he couldn't think of something better. *There just has to be some way out of this money nonsense.* Things were still much improved, fast food hellhole notwithstanding.
What really made him sigh with satisfaction was that sometimes--late at night or really early in the morning before work-- she would start telling him things. Things he knew were really bothering her, the things that must've made her look so morose and empty a few months ago. She talked about how hard it was to come back to so much responsibility after having such profound peace and happiness. Or how it was almost harder to cope since there wasn't a pressing supernatural foe or calamity to battle, one that would have kept Giles around and perhaps persuaded the Watcher's Council to pitch in financially. She also would ramble about the million frustrations of daily life, just mundane stuff, really. But she let him listen and it seemed to help. That was good. He knew it would just be a matter of time until she was back to her confident, powerful, radiant self. He took another long drag as he thought of her at her best, so defiant and strong, ready to take on the worst that Hell or Earth could throw at her.
"Wow, you have no idea I'm even here. Is this a daydream or a coma?" Tara quipped, rocking back on her heels and giggling to herself slightly. "Nothing personal, but you're blocking the stairs." She gestured at his long legs blocking her path.
"Sorry about that, just a bit preoccupied. But I imagine that's going around these days," he arched one brow meaningfully as came to his feet. "Red will be pleased to see you."
"S-she's here already?"
He nodded. "Sadly, she brought her music with her. Tell you what, you distract her with your wiles and I'll fix the stereo to something less girlie."
"But I like girlie," her tone was jokingly plaintive.
"Not on poker night you don't. It just isn't right I tell you...the bunch of you have to like at least some decent music." He held the door open for her as she walked in. Clem was showing Dawn card tricks and fancy shuffles. The vampire looked puzzled "How'd you get past me?"
"Oh, well, we came in the back door last time. Guess you didn't hear me."
Tara snorted derisively, "He wouldn't have heard a train pass by. Trust me, I nearly walked right into him."
"Proper smoking requires a good bit of concentration. I was in Flavor Country."
"Whatever. Look, I have cookies. Do you want me to put them out here or in the kitchen?"
"Oh, bloody marvelous. First, we're stuck listening to Joni Mitchell or some such, now cookies. This isn't gambling, it's the bloody Pillsbury Bake-Off. Where's the whiskey and cigars?"
"Power down the macho act Spike," Buffy entered the room holding a pair of tongs and gestured with them towards the coffee table. "Tara, why don't you leave them there." She turned to Spike, "And you, I need you to grab something off the top shelf of the pantry." She turned on her heel. He followed eagerly. Tara and Dawn looked at each other and smirked.
"I've always wanted to be taller." Clem said, clearly missing the subtext of the exchange.
The girls nodded, suppressing knowing titters. Dawn suddenly composed herself and blurted out, "Umm, Tara. Willow may also need some help with, ah, food and stuff." Her hand darted out to grab a cookie. Her face softened to a look of blissful contentment as she savored the first bite. "Mmmm... This is SO good."
To be continued...
Author: kreepyk
Spoilers: Post- "Older and Far Away"
Rating: R (?) This isn't smutty, much.
Feedback: Please read and review.
Notes: This is set prior to the Harris' wedding, in a strange fluffy universe where the events of "As You Were" didn't happen. We are talking serious, chocolate-covered cherry, fluffy sweetness.
Part One
* Queens Full Over Jacks*
"Up and at 'em. Come on now, Dawn." He leaned in her doorway and switched on the light.
"Narf." Dawn muttered into her pillow, then flopped over, squinting up at Spike. "I'm up. Want waffles."
"Sorry, luv. It's been sweets for you all week, and I'm not going to let you rot your teeth. I've made a nice, healthy omelet Florentine and wheat toast."
"That doesn't fool me anymore. I know you mean spinach. Evil, evil, evil!" She punched her pillow to punctuate her epithets.
Spike was already clomping down the stairs. "Finally, someone remembers."
Dawn flopped over and stretched under her warm covers, relishing the last few moments before the hell of High School. She'd taken to getting her school clothes ready the night before, so really all that was left was summoning the willpower to cross the cold bathroom tiles and jump into the shower. Then she realized *Friday. Today is Friday. It's poker night, and everyone is coming over!* Suddenly energized, she threw off her quilt and rushed out of bed.
*This is going to be soooo great. *Dawn started brushing her teeth and favored herself with a foamy grin. *I'm going to totally have to look up card games in Study Hall. I'll surprise everyone by knowing how to play. And Lauren owes me ten bucks, so I can even play with my own money. I can't wait to tell her what I need it for.*
"I don't hear the shower going, pet!" he called upstairs as he tried to open the jam jar. He wondered how Dawn could eat at all when Buffy screwed the jars closed so tightly. He gripped it between his knees to get better leverage. *I can barely get his bloody thing open. Must be preoccupied, ridiculous job is running her down.* he looked at the clock. *Bloody girl's going to be late, must be mooning over boys or something. Well, let's hope it's that and not more moping.* He heard the white noise of the shower and relaxed a bit. Always stung when Xander showed up and Dawn was running late. The bricklayer would make some comment about Spike not being a very good mommy, or some such rot. He'd taken to waking Dawn up quite early to give her enough time to eat and prevent such embarrassments.
After a few more threats "to drag her out of the bathroom by her hair if she didn't hurry it up," Dawn bopped down the stairs looking pleased with herself. *Bright and happy. Excellent, she may finally be getting back to normal.*
"Eat up. It's growing cold."
"If I have to eat spinach, so do you."
"Right, well I *like* spinach. Full of iron, like blood." He smirked malevolently and set the jam down next to her plate.
"You guys are going to let me play tonight, right?"
"What? Oh, yeah. Game's on tonight. That's a big sis question, that is. I tend to err on the side of corrupting influences. I'd hate to promise anything and then have both of you yellin' at me."
"Well, why don't you use your thrall on her or something? Don't you have any *cool* powers?"
"Not unless you count being able to answer almost all the Music Geek questions."
"Oh, you are so full of it. You never get any of the country questions right."
"Not true. I just stopped paying attention to it after '63." He glanced back at the clock, seemingly anxious. "Here, Harris will be here any moment. Throw one of these in your bag." He tossed her a banana. Glanced at the clock again, then her plate. "Homework's done, right?"
"Yeah. And don't forget to talk to Buffy about letting me play. I've never tried poker before and Clem said it's really fun."
"Well, just between us, probably best not to use that line of argument with Buffy," he said remembering her reaction to Clem and the game at the bar when he took her that time she got so drunk. *What a night.* "I'll talk to her, don't worry."
They both jumped a little at the sound of Xander's horn. "OK, see you tonight Spike." She ran out the door, grabbing her backpack.
He leaned out the kitchen to see her off, keeping well out of the wide shaft of sunlight pouring through the open doorway. The door shut and he looked up the stairs, calling out. "She's off to school, luv. Your secret's safe!" He bounded up the stairs and threw open the door to her room. Buffy was lying on her stomach in the dark room, nestled amid a mess of bedclothes. Her bare shoulder and arm peeked out of the covers.
"God, I thought you'd never finish!" her voice was low and languorous. "I'm so bad for not seeing her off. You are just a terrible influence on me. I swear you are turning me evil."
"You flatter me," he whispered, as he sat on the bed. Spike pulled his shirt off and slipped in next to her. *I will never tire of climbing into a warm bed like this.* "What with your slaying and well, me, and your completely unreasonable hours at that bloody job, you need as much sleep as you can get. Besides, you didn't know they were going to switch your schedule at the last minute."
"Well, I am going to enjoy my day off and sleep in. I just can't help feeling a little guilty about it." She sighed a little and rested her head on his chest.
"Right, the word for the day is indolent."
"That's like lazy, right?"
"Indeed. Lovely, isn't it."
"Today we are going to be *so* indolent." She pulled the covers up farther and settled into the pillows. Her face looked very placid.
"Do you really want to sleep in? Because I can think of other things to feel guilty about."
"Really?" She moved to kiss him, and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. The bed creaked slightly. Morning advanced into afternoon.
***
"Does it ever, you know, freak you out a little?"
Willow's eyes were darting as she scanned the aisle of chips and snacks. "Not as much as it used to...I think it becomes a little easier with time. I used to just die inside a little every time I thought about it. Now, not...as much."
"Yeah, but you live with them. Familiarity breeds lack of creepiness, or something."
"You just lost me, Xander." Willow looked up from a rack of salsa jars, thinking how disgusting it looked under the florescent lights. Eating had become a chore ever since she stopped the magic. "I thought we were talking about the big mystical monkey on my back."
"What, there's a monkey now?" He spun around nervously, scanning the grocery store for simian demons. Belatedly, comprehension reached him. "Sorry Will, thought that was a Geekboy alert for a second there. No, actually I was referring to Buffy and...you know...the living dead." His face contorted with a look beseeching her to share his disgust.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I've just been distracted, but they seem pretty discreet to me." Willow was trying to carry a bunch of bags without crashing into anything or dropping any. She stared down her nose at an armful of shiny foil packets and concentrated on walking back to the front of the store, thinking how much easier this *could be*. "You already picked up the beer, right?"
"Anya's in charge of the potent potables," he followed her, reaching over her shoulder to grab one sliding off. "Look, I know I shouldn't be so judgy but by golly, it's just so much like that time that spell misfired and they got engaged. I keep expecting her to pull out *Modern Bride* and talk about the comparative benefits of water silk over seed pearls. *Trust me* I get plenty of that at home right now and I am really uncomfortable that I can actually discuss that and defend both sides FAR TOO WELL."
"You are doing the Fear of Commitment Babble again."
"I prefer to think of it as the Sick of Wedding Planning Diatribe, but I've just spent the last three months planning this massacre, so what do I know?" He griped with a half-sarcastic, half-bitter tone. Clearly, all was not icing roses and nosegays for the young-marrieds-to-be.
"I'd still watch that crap around Anya." Willow's tone was flat and serious.
Xander absorbed her pronouncement for a moment as they dropped the night's snacks on the checkout counter. His friend had become much more curt since she decided to go cold turkey on the thaumaturgy. He liked it --he wouldn't be engaged to Anya if he didn't appreciate frank women-- but he worried. Either it was a sign of her 'real' persona, one she had buried beneath a haze of euphoria and denial, or she was just really hurting from dealing with the consequences of it all. The first option bothered him the most. Someone once told him that addicts stay at the same age emotionally as when they started using. If true, that would make Willow about sixteen. He shuddered at the thought of reliving his teens. *I have got to make more of an effort to be there for her. Damn, between Buffy, Dawn, and Willow's problems and now the wedding to deal with... how in the hell am I going to keep all these women happy? And if the contract is as bad as the Shop Steward says...* He sighed deeply, suddenly overwhelmed.
Scot, their rawboned cashier, wearily declared, "That'll be $24.33, please. We do NOT take checks." Xander popped back into reality and grabbed his wallet.
"I wonder if Tara really will come over." Willow said softly. She looked down at her feet and tapped the pointy toes of her boots together distractedly. "Buffy did say she invited her, right?"
He placed a warm, reassuring hand on her shoulder as he grabbed their grocery bags. He pulled her towards him as they walked out past the Friday evening crowds of commuters picking up dinner and running children grasping spoils of the candy aisle. Her head bumped against his shoulder, returning the unspoken sentiment. "I'm sure she'll stop by, Will."
***
The door opened and Anya zoomed in, eyes wide with excitement. She carried a stack of videotapes and a bag full of clinking bottles. "I'm ready for the night of fun." She turned toward the kitchen and dropped the bag on the counter.
"Hello, Anya I am fine. Thank you for asking."
"Sorry for failing to observe the custom of inquiring about your health and well being. I usually do that, but since we will have hours tonight with nothing to do but discuss our personal lives I decided to skip it for now." She smoothed her blouse and pushed her hair back behind her ears. "Trust me, I have a number of questions readied for the socializing later."
"Good to know." Buffy pursed her lips in resignation. At least Anya was predictable. "I've made dinner."
"Made in a 'cooking at home sense' or made in a 'brought home from fast food assembly line' sense?"
"I really cooked. See, I even have a sink full of dishes to prove it." She gestured towards the sink, then narrowed her eyes intently. "I knew I was forgetting something...DAWN TIME FOR DISHES!"
"Coming!" the younger girl's voiced carried faintly through her closed door.
"Finally, she's getting out of that room. I was really looking forward to cooking with her after school, but she ran upstairs straightaway."
"Either you've been watching an inordinate amount of PBS or you are picking up British phrases from *him*. It's awfully cute." Anya pronounced as she shoved beer into the fridge. "Oh, spring rolls! You know these are supposed to be served at room temperature."
"You want me to leave pork and shrimp out for five hours while we wait for everyone to show? I'm keeping the slaying out of the kitchen, thanks." Buffy smiled to herself, "I'm sure I picked it up from Giles, anyway."
"Well, keep telling yourself that." Anya turned to face her friend and closed the refrigerator door in one sweeping pivot. "I think it's silly the way you two keep your distance around us. Xander is never going to get used to it if you continue to coddle him. Trust me, only the direct approach works with him," she recalled her earliest attempts to woo her fiancé. "I'm talking big, heavy mace to the skull direct."
"Roger. Message received." Buffy nodded. The doorbell rang, and Willow and Xander walked into the front hall.
"The snack bearers have arrived. Let the party begin!" Xander announced. He dropped two grocery bags on the counter and stared unloading the chips. Willow called from the other room, "I'm putting music on."
"Bloody hell, not more Sarah McLachlan! We're playing poker, not having a slumber party." Spike's boots thudded down the stairs.
"Oh, leave her alone. No one likes your taste in music, either." Buffy headed toward the dining room table and pulled it apart to add extra leaves. She winced slightly after pinching her fingers in process. "Remind me again why we aren't doing this at Xander's or the Magic Box?"
Her sister appeared at the foot of the stairs looking peevish. "Because you promised, and it will be good to have a party here to dispel the whole magical entrapment issue. Get it... dispel?" She looked to Spike for a reaction, smiling sheepishly.
"Nicely done, luv."
"Is everyone here?"
"I just got here, so dunno. Clem's going to be a few minutes more. He wanted to eat dinner first," Spike said.
"But your spring rolls!" Dawn whined, "And Buffy made sesame noodles!"
"Yes, well, let's just say Clem can't eat your sort of food and leave it at that." Dawn grimaced at the implications, but said nothing.
Willow leaned close to Buffy as she finished putting the table together and whispered "Spike cooks? And spring rolls? I thought they were hard to make."
"Yeah, I asked him about that he went all nostalgic and muttered something about 'Vientiane in the monsoon season' and how the best thing about Indochina is how the locals never minded when a couple of 'Frog imperialists' ended up missing. I left it at that."
Willow looked surprised. "This from the guy who sided with the cowboys on the whole Native American land stealing-genocide question?"
"Crazy isn't it? I guess when the English do it it's all 'Rule Britannia' but the French... well that's a whole different story." Buffy rolled her eyes.
"Interesting academic question, is this an English thing --as empirical evidence suggests since Giles actually agreed with him on that one-- or is it another case of twisted vampire logic?"
Buffy shook her head, "I've learned not to question this stuff too much. I can get a headache just thinking about how frustrating it is arguing about stupid stuff with him. He's just the most stubborn pig sometimes." She shot her friend a conspiratorial look, "Still the making up is fun," her eyes glinted knowingly.
Willow went back to looking surprised for a moment, then feigned shock by slapping Buffy's hand playfully. They exchanged glances and walked back to the kitchen in search of a quiet place to have licentious girl talk.
Dawn appraised the sink full of dishes and then let her gaze travel to Buffy and Willow gabbing in the back corner then to Xander and Anya talking and holding hands on the couch. She noticed Spike pulling packs of playing cards out of the pockets of his coat and throwing them down carelessly. He started to reach inside his breast pocket for his cigarettes. "Hey, Spike. Keep me company while I wash dishes."
He already had one hanging out of his mouth. "Right," he tucked it behind his ear.
Dawn ran water in the sink and told him about her day: the piles of busywork mounting up in English class, the latest gossip about who was dating whom, how immature everyone acted in biology during dissection and how she had spent study hall and a few hours after school reading poker how-to books in anticipation.
"Doesn't sound like studying to me, bit. If the Slayer thought I was encouraging you in this she'd have me nailed to the wall quick as you please," he paused and looked her in the eyes for emphasis. Offhandedly he muttered, "Besides, the books only cover the basics. You'll learn a lot more by playing," he smiled.
She reached up with bubbly hands and hugged him. "I KNEW you'd come through for me! I get to play, right! I swear, you can convince her of anything!"
"Watch me cig! You're all wet. And don't declare yourself Maverick yet, the trade off is that you have to tuck in early and play a low stakes game."
"Noooo problem! I don't have much money anyway since *someone* won't let me have a job."
"She wants you to concentrate on your studies. As do I. Don't want to grow up to be a dishwasher, do you." He placed a twenty near the sink, which darkened immediately as it soaked up a little pool of stray dishwater. "And don't worry too much about using your cash, I think I can stakehorse you this much. Girl needs a bit of mad money." Dawn beamed at him. "Alright, well, you're nearly done and I'm having my smoke," he sauntered off for the front porch.
The night was clear and chilly, but it never got very cold here, even in wintertime. The town was small so its lights were dim enough that he could see a few stars from the front steps. At least he could after pegging the streetlight with a well-placed rock. He inhaled deeply and blew the smoke out in one long exhale. Things were looking up, on the whole. Dawn seemed to be adjusting as well as could be expected. She hadn't fought with her sister or gone into one of her silent moods in a long time. Buffy's friends weren't exactly in raptures of delight with the obvious thing between the two of them but they weren't lynching him either. She was much more open about things in front of Dawn than the others, but she wasn't hiding it anymore. He still hated the thought of her going off to that revolting job everyday, especially when she came home so exhausted and demoralized. But she stuck to her guns so long as he couldn't think of something better. *There just has to be some way out of this money nonsense.* Things were still much improved, fast food hellhole notwithstanding.
What really made him sigh with satisfaction was that sometimes--late at night or really early in the morning before work-- she would start telling him things. Things he knew were really bothering her, the things that must've made her look so morose and empty a few months ago. She talked about how hard it was to come back to so much responsibility after having such profound peace and happiness. Or how it was almost harder to cope since there wasn't a pressing supernatural foe or calamity to battle, one that would have kept Giles around and perhaps persuaded the Watcher's Council to pitch in financially. She also would ramble about the million frustrations of daily life, just mundane stuff, really. But she let him listen and it seemed to help. That was good. He knew it would just be a matter of time until she was back to her confident, powerful, radiant self. He took another long drag as he thought of her at her best, so defiant and strong, ready to take on the worst that Hell or Earth could throw at her.
"Wow, you have no idea I'm even here. Is this a daydream or a coma?" Tara quipped, rocking back on her heels and giggling to herself slightly. "Nothing personal, but you're blocking the stairs." She gestured at his long legs blocking her path.
"Sorry about that, just a bit preoccupied. But I imagine that's going around these days," he arched one brow meaningfully as came to his feet. "Red will be pleased to see you."
"S-she's here already?"
He nodded. "Sadly, she brought her music with her. Tell you what, you distract her with your wiles and I'll fix the stereo to something less girlie."
"But I like girlie," her tone was jokingly plaintive.
"Not on poker night you don't. It just isn't right I tell you...the bunch of you have to like at least some decent music." He held the door open for her as she walked in. Clem was showing Dawn card tricks and fancy shuffles. The vampire looked puzzled "How'd you get past me?"
"Oh, well, we came in the back door last time. Guess you didn't hear me."
Tara snorted derisively, "He wouldn't have heard a train pass by. Trust me, I nearly walked right into him."
"Proper smoking requires a good bit of concentration. I was in Flavor Country."
"Whatever. Look, I have cookies. Do you want me to put them out here or in the kitchen?"
"Oh, bloody marvelous. First, we're stuck listening to Joni Mitchell or some such, now cookies. This isn't gambling, it's the bloody Pillsbury Bake-Off. Where's the whiskey and cigars?"
"Power down the macho act Spike," Buffy entered the room holding a pair of tongs and gestured with them towards the coffee table. "Tara, why don't you leave them there." She turned to Spike, "And you, I need you to grab something off the top shelf of the pantry." She turned on her heel. He followed eagerly. Tara and Dawn looked at each other and smirked.
"I've always wanted to be taller." Clem said, clearly missing the subtext of the exchange.
The girls nodded, suppressing knowing titters. Dawn suddenly composed herself and blurted out, "Umm, Tara. Willow may also need some help with, ah, food and stuff." Her hand darted out to grab a cookie. Her face softened to a look of blissful contentment as she savored the first bite. "Mmmm... This is SO good."
To be continued...