Willow had been able to soothe Spike's nerves enough to get him back in bed. That was where they were when a knock on her door drew her from sleep.
"Who's there?"
"It's Mom and Dad, can we come in?" her mother asked.
Her eyes widened. "Uh, just a minute!" She shook Spike. "Wake up," she hissed.
"Blood—" Willow slapped her hand over his mouth. "Shh, my parents are here."
"Willow, dear, are you okay?" Another knock.
Willow pulled her pants on and started pulling a shirt over her head. "Spike, closet."
He jerked his pants up and hid in the closet. He muttered from behind the closed door. "I'm a bloody Master vampire acting like a school boy. Look what you've done to me, Red."
She hushed him and opened the door. "Mom! Dad! It's great to see you. What are you doing here?"
Mrs. Rosenberg looked around Willow's room. "I heard a boy, Willow."
"Of course I'm okay, thank you for asking."
Mr. Rosenberg enveloped Willow in a hug. "How you doin' kiddo?"
She squeezed him. "I'm okay. The doctors did a good job. I'm feeling as good as new already." She left out the magical healing. No need to bring magic up again, burning at stake was not on the menu for her, thank you very much.
Mrs. Rosenberg smiled and hugged her. "I'm glad to hear it, sweetie. Now what was that male voice I heard?"
"Mom I… umm—" Willow was cut off by Spike's voice.
"That would be me, Mrs. Rosenberg." He stepped out of the closet -now wearing a shirt- and smiled his most charming smile. "William Pratt," he introduced and bowed his head.
"How do you know my daughter, and why were you in her closet?" Mrs. Rosenberg demanded.
"I'm… Buffy's cousin. Willow didn't want to be left home all alone, so I offered to keep her company."
"And the closet?"
Spike racked his brain. Lying had always been easy for him, especially with women. But one look at his girlfriend's mother had his silver tongue tied. "She had a nightmare, so I stayed in the room with her. I swear I was a gentleman. She was afraid of how you would react to seeing me in her room, even though nothing happened, so she hid me in the closet."
She looked Spike over, gauging his truthfulness. "Are you two dating? You look a bit old to be dating a teenager, how old are you, twenty-one, twenty-two?"
Spike smothered a smirk. "I am twenty-three." Plus a hundred and nineteen, he added in his head.
Mrs. Rosenberg looked to her daughter. "You had a twenty-three year old boy sleeping in your room?"
"Well, Mom, I…" Willow shifted on her feet.
"Oh, now I get it. Thanks for cl—"
Mr. Rosenberg cut off his wife's snippy comeback. "Sweetheart, I don't like to think that my little girl is having sex with boys, but I'm not dumb. I know what happens when girls become women. I'm ashamed to say I took advantage of my fair share. Sex is serious, and-"
"Dad!"
"Honey, I'm not attacking you, I'm just explaining."
"But it's gross," she said, with a slight whine.
Mrs. Rosenberg inserted herself back into the conversation. "It's gross to talk about, but not to do?"
Willow stuttered, certain her mother knew what happened between her and Spike.
Spike caught the fear wafting off of Willow. It made him angry that someone was scaring his girl, mother or not. "I don't believe either of us said that we had intercourse, Mrs. Rosenberg. In fact, we said quite the opposite. I assure you, I was being completely honest when I said I was a gentleman. If you choose to think little of me, then fine, but please show your daughter a little more respect than that."
Mrs. Rosenberg opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for words.
Mr. Rosenberg went to smooth over the situation. "We're not doubting you or Willow. We're just a little worried. Would we be good parents if we weren't suspicious?"
Spike tilted his head and smiled. "I'll give you that."
"Well, why don't we all go out for brunch?" Mrs. Rosenberg asked.
Spike glanced at the tightly closed curtains. "I've got to go, but thanks for the offer."
Willow grabbed an arm of both her parents. "Let's go, we have so much to talk about." She dragged them out of the room and down the stairs.
Spike looked Willow's bed. The scents of their night together hung heavily in the sheets. "Maybe just a little more kip, then I'll hunt down those twerps."
