The Song Remains the Same

by SMac

Summary: Life can be difficult when you are fifteen years old with a baby and few options. Fortunately Buffy Summers is a resourceful girl. Spuffy.

10. Chapter 46 thru 49

The Song Remains the Same

by Sara M

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Author's Note: Once again you guys amaze me. Thank you for all the reviews. I wanted to say, outside of the review responses, that the social-services-legal-foster-care-system is something that I consider to be an actual character in the story, and that is why I give it so much thought and want you to understand it as much as you can within the context of the story. To me it's like a much more heavily intrusive Watcher's Council in the canon series. So I do apologize to those readers who couldn't care less about it, and I totally understand where you might be coming from, but I do need to explain things from time to time and beg your indulgence. There is no need for anyone to know more about it than what is required for the story, however, and my author's notes are mostly directed to specific questions readers have or to my perception of general misunderstandings that I pick up while reading reviews. There will be no pop quizzes.

The story itself, however, is bigger than that aspect of it, and ultimately is a love story and a story about growing up and family and the part that destiny plays in our lives. It is not a story about foster care. It is a story about Buffy first, then about Spike as he becomes more and more entangled in her life. Anyway, thank you for reading and reviewing and being patient with the process. And on to the story ...

Disclaimer: The characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.

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Chapter Forty-Six
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Uneasy

Sunday

When she got off the bus Buffy stopped and took a shaky breath, her anxiety having increased with every long mile leading to the Social Services Satellite Office and Visitation Center in Carlton. It was late Sunday morning, and time for her second visitation with Katie.

Although part of her couldn't wait to see her daughter and had longed all week for this day to come, another more frightened part of her dreaded it with her whole being. Last week's visit had practically torn her apart, and she just didn't know how she could live through another one. The fact that there were more than a dozen yet to go she wouldn't even permit herself to consider. In the substance abuse group they talked about handling sobriety one day at a time, and if that proved to be too difficult then to take it one hour at a time, or one minute at a time. She didn't share their dependence on drugs or alcohol, but her separation from Katie seemed as difficult to her as overcoming any addiction could be. She made herself remember that she just needed to survive this until she got Katie back again, and if she had to do it a day, an hour, or a minute at a time, then that's what she'd have to do. She could do it. She had to.

She walked across the street carrying her bag of small presents with her, scanning the other people in the parking lot and entrance for signs that any of them might be Katie's foster parents. She couldn't tell anything by looking at them, and she wasn't sure if she was relieved or frustrated by that fact. She was conflicted. She wanted to know who was taking care of her daughter, but was also afraid to know, fearing that it would be harder if she knew and didn't like the people. Or harder maybe if she did like the people. She was so confused. She knew that she needed to be enough of an adult to face these things, good and bad, both for herself and for her daughter. She knew that she needed to be strong, to stand tall, to fight for herself and her baby and she knew that she had to do it on their terms. They made all the rules and held most of the cards. She was dealing with the adult world to a degree that she had never even contemplated previously; this was the big league, and these people could crush her if she let them. She couldn't let them.

This time she had no one to hold her hand or advise her, having told Tanya last week that she wanted to do this alone. Last week she'd been so devastated by the visit and still reeling from the number of things she had to do to please these people that she had let her anguish and anger lead her to dismiss any assistance from her case worker. She was starting to regret that decision as she entered the building and tried to remember what needed to be done to begin the visit. After some false starts she was finally in the visitation room, waiting for Katie to be brought to her.

As soon as she saw her baby come to her in the arms of the worker on duty, everything else fell away. This was why she was doing this, this was what it was all about. For a few hours, she had her baby in her arms again.

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Hours later the worker took Katie and the little presents back to the foster mother. Buffy remained sitting on the floor, afraid to speak or move for fear of shattering into a million pieces. She didn't want anyone to see how much this affected her; she was terrified that they would see her weakness and hold it against her. She sat very still trying to force the anguish down, so that she could leave and get back on that bus. She had to get control back. She couldn't let them see her like this. She had to be calm, to be in control. She had to be calm. She had to be in control. She had to be calm ...

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The worker on duty had given Katie back to the foster mother, and was simply waiting for Buffy to leave the room and sign out. When Buffy hadn't come out after fifteen minutes, she grew concerned. The information she had on this particular parent was that she was extremely young, but she was not considered an actual danger to her child and had no specific problems that would require active supervision of her visits. She was in foster care too, and that meant that there was probably no family support for this girl. She was virtually alone, and the worker knew that had to be very difficult for her. She decided to poke her head in the room to see if there was some problem.

What she saw was a young girl sitting on the floor, holding her arms tightly around herself, visibly trying to calm herself down, trying to control her breathing, trying to control her emotions. She didn't think Buffy even knew she had entered the room, she was concentrating so hard on reining in her emotions.

Her heart broke for her, so she knelt down and put her arms around her.

"It's okay to cry, anyone would be upset by this, just let it out sweetheart, no one here is gonna judge you for being upset. I know I'd be beside myself if I had to see my baby just a few hours a week like this, anyone would. It's okay, you're gonna get through this and it'll be all right ..." she just kept the soft sympathetic words coming, trying to penetrate the wall Buffy was trying to keep up, knowing that she couldn't live behind such barriers for very long without doing herself some damage. Her entire body was taut with the effort of physically trying to get control of herself and not breakdown.

When at last the walls came down, Buffy fell apart in the woman's arms, laid her head down in her lap, and let herself be held and soothed while she sobbed, until there were no more tears left to fall.

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It was just after dark when Buffy let herself into the house and, carefully avoiding her foster parents, quietly went upstairs to her room. After washing her face in the bathroom, she changed into a little blue t-shirt and baggy red plaid pajama bottoms, and lay down on her still-made bed, staring out the window at the moon rising over the trees. She left the lights off; she wanted to wrap herself inside the darkness, draw it like a cloak around her. She'd always been in love with the day and the sunshine, but lately she found more comfort in the dark.

She heard the sound of a small 'click', and then slowly the darkness was pushed back a little bit by the soft glow of light coming from the hall. John was in the doorway, watching her. After a few moments he came further into the room, and after some hesitation sat on her bed, near her shoulders. She didn't acknowledge him there, didn't so much as turn her head in his direction. He sat facing her back, and she went on staring out the window at the moon.

The silence was almost a presence with them, there in that room. John lifted a hand and slowly, hesitantly, laid it on her arm. With the other he brushed some hair back from her forehead, letting his hand come to rest on her shoulder. She didn't flinch, didn't move, didn't make a sound. Just kept staring at the moon.

Finally he rose and left, shutting the door softly behind him. Walking quickly back from her room, he made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen where he knew both dinner and Rosemary were waiting. He never saw Glory standing in a doorway at the other end of the hall, watching as he left Buffy's room.

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Monday

The next day Buffy was supposed to study with Willow, who was now officially on her holiday vacation. Buffy thought that tutoring someone you barely knew during your own vacation week was going well beyond the call of duty, and was grateful that Willow was willing to spend that time with her. However she didn't want to study that day, and called Willow to cancel, telling her that they could meet again as scheduled, on Wednesday. She heard the hesitancy in Willow's voice when she called, but assured her that everything was fine and that she'd just had a long weekend with the family and Christmas and all, and needed some 'alone time' right now. Willow was uncertain, but accepted Buffy's explanation and agreed to see her Wednesday morning instead.

Buffy kept to herself as much as possible the whole day, coming out for an occasional snack or light meal, and avoiding any contact with the other members of the household, which included Glory for another few days. She knew she should study, but found herself unable to concentrate. She spent some time looking out the window, but as the morning wore on she became too restless to do that any longer. Something had broken inside of her on Sunday, and she felt a sudden strong urge to do something. Something different, something personal, something that reflected who she really was, who she was becoming.

She decided to go through her clothes and try to put together a somewhat different personal style for herself. She wanted to reflect less the 'good child' look and adopt more of an older teen style, to be more sexual, to be more creative. She knew she needed to be seen as responsible and mature, to convince the powers-that-be that she was capable of being a good mother to her daughter. But that didn't mean she had to look like she was a cross between Alice in Wonderland and a thirty year old soccer mom. Her style had been drifting since she first discovered she was pregnant, and she hadn't grown in the way that she now thought she should have done, the way other girls her age had done.

Before her pregnancy, she'd been a fourteen year old high school freshman, wearing uniforms to school since kindergarten. And outside of school she wore 'tasteful' casual clothes that she was forced to get approved by her mother. That was the rule: if her mother and father were paying for it, then they got final approval on it. She had been stifled then, and hated that she had nothing that really reflected her own self fully.

Then there were the sexy little dresses she borrowed from friends to wear to parties. Her mother never would have let her buy the dresses she needed for those parties, so she had none of her own to speak of. She had been playing make-believe after hours, pretending to be older and sexier than she was in order to get into the parties she and her friends decided they wanted to attend. But that's all it had been -- make-believe, and she wore what magazines and her friends told her she should wear. And the boys seemed to like it. Too much so, as it turned out.

Then her pregnancy intervened, and real fashion choices took a distant second to the horror of maternity wear. The clothes were designed for the young married mother and the 'fashion' was simple and relatively inexpensive. It was a wardrobe not meant to be long term, and her mother refused to spend any real money on clothes that were a reminder of Buffy's transgressions, and were in any case just temporary. She told Buffy that she would be permitted to buy better clothes once she was home again and things were again 'normal'. The whole pregnancy Buffy had been saving her allowance for that very thing.

When she'd gone to Faith her circumstances were drastically different, and her savings became travel and living expenses rather than money for new, better clothes. She had no real money of her own for several months, and although she had had success re-working and creating good clothes from thrift store items, and Fred had been a wonderful mentor, she knew that the results were more suited to a breastfeeding young mother than to an edgy young thing with her whole life ahead of her. It was as though she'd gone from fourteen to thirty in a matter of months, and she was so preoccupied that she rarely questioned it. She knew she looked good, but she didn't look the way she thought she wanted to. Not any more.

School was going to start at the end of January, and she needed a change. She needed to find out who the hell she was, what she wanted, what she wanted her clothes to say about her. She knew she wasn't ready to assume the conservative soccer mom look, and she was far beyond the excited faux party girl she had been as a freshman. No, she wanted something different, something that expressed who she was inside, who she wanted to be. Something that spoke of her move away from the bright sunny cheerleader and party girl into darker, more worldly places. She would never be that sunny little cheerleader again. It was time she started dressing like it.

She'd have to build on what she already owned, which was considerable if she counted the clothes packed in storage. Both hers and Faith's clothes were in storage. She had a lot to work with if she looked at Faith's clothes, too. Faith's style was certainly different. Lots of black, lots of leather, interesting clothing and accessories -- that was Faith. Buffy thought it sounded promising as a source, and Faith owed her this much, having put her in this position in the first place. If Faith ever returned, Buffy would give her her things back again. Once she kicked her ass, of course.

Yes, that's exactly what she would do. She'd draw some ideas and look in the current fashion magazines, go see what the edgier stores were stocking now, and then use the clothes she had, both hers and Faith's, and see if she couldn't create something uniquely herself before school started.

Too soon she realized it was time to go to the substance abuse meeting at the community health center. Spike would be picking her up afterwards for their second date, so it was important that she dress up somewhat for the meeting. She looked over what she had done today and sighed in frustration. Now that she had made up her mind what she wanted to do she wanted to get started immediately. She'd have to get those stored clothes tomorrow, perhaps after she saw Olivia.

She showered and dressed quickly, and took the bus to the center.

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There were five minutes until the meeting started, and Buffy was busy using way too much sugar and creamer, hoping to make a very bad cup of coffee drinkable. She took a sip.

Bleah.

"Well, hello Strawberry," came a slimy voice from her left, followed by an arm reaching for a donut.

She knew that voice. She knew that arm. She had to fight the urge to break that arm.

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

"Oooh, hit a nerve," he taunted with a grin.

"No, not a nerve, it's just not true," she shot back.

"Riiight,"

"Fuck you," she started heading toward the circle of chairs.

"Anytime. Strawberry," he leered and waggled his tongue suggestively when she glanced his way. He followed her over to the chairs, taking a seat on the opposite side so he could spend the meeting watching her. She was young, she was beautiful, and she let him get under her skin. And that wasn't the only thing he wanted under her. He watched her sip her coffee, trying to ignore him. That wasn't gonna work. There ... there ... there!

She glanced his way briefly and his face broke into a slow smile. She glared at him and turned her head, trying to ignore him again.

Oh, yeah, baby. I'm gonna have you, just you wait.

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Buffy left the building, having once again refused to say anything in the meeting. Warren appeared to be making it his goal in life to torment her, and she spent the entire meeting trying to avoid looking in his direction. Warren, for his part, spent the entire meeting staring straight at her. She was pissed, and weirdly unnerved. That guy gave her the creeps in a way that even Zack hadn't. She wanted Warren away desperately.

"Hey, Strawberry," came the hated voice once more.

She sat on a bench, trying to pretend he hadn't followed her out. That was going to be difficult to do as he was now sitting next to her on the bench. The crowd was thinning out now, and it was just a couple of stragglers and Warren left with her in front of the building. Due to the holiday season, other meetings and classes had canceled this week. The building went suddenly dark behind her, and she saw that the last few people had walked or driven off, leaving her alone with Warren on the bench near the street. She wanted to move away, but it was the only illuminated area nearby, and she needed to be visible to Spike when he arrived. She also thought being visible to any chance car driving by would be safer than winding up in a dark spot with Warren. She stayed put on the bench, silent.

"You know, you really should participate more in the meeting. Why, we hardly know anything about you at all." Leering hadn't worked, so he was apparently trying for companionable, friendly.

Yeah, that'll work. She continued to ignore him.

"I mean, you say you're not a strawberry, but, well, how would a fellow know if you just clam up?" He was trying to sound reasonable, interested.

Not enough soap in the world to wash the slime offa you, pal. Stop talking to me.

She tried to look as though she didn't know he was even there. It was hard, since he was literally making her skin crawl.

"Okay, not a big talker. Fine," he commented blandly. "There are other things you can do with that mouth ... Probably good at them, too. Aren't you, baby?"

He was leering again, and when his words penetrated the wall she was trying to build up between them, Buffy's irritation and fear ratcheted up a couple of notches. She didn't know this guy, but suddenly she was no longer simply disgusted and unnerved by him, but was becoming even more frightened as well. The meeting had ended a little early, and Spike hadn't arrived yet. She was starting to think that she would have to brush off her rusty kickboxing skills and fight this guy if he tried anything physical. She hadn't studied all that long, and she was completely out of practice in the skills she had learned. She hoped that whatever she had retained would be enough.

Just as Warren leaned over to her and opened his mouth for what she assumed was another obnoxious leering comment, she saw Spike pull up in the parking lot. Her hero.

She leaped up and walked quickly over to where Spike had gotten out of the car. He opened his arms for a hug and a quick kiss, never taking his eyes off Warren in the process.

"Hey, pet," he greeted her with a quick smile, then turned his attention back to Warren. "Warren." There was no smile now.

Buffy was surprised that they knew each other. She looked back at Warren, who was standing now and staring intensely at Spike. She looked up again and saw that Spike was staring just as intensely back. No words were spoken between the two, but they continued the staring contest, and Warren finally backed off and left, walking down the street in the opposite direction, calling out a friendly, "See ya next time, Strawberry!" over his shoulder as he went.

Spike looked down at Buffy with a furrowed brow, the question a silent one. She ignored it for now, and burrowed further into his arms. She felt safe with Spike, and wanted to pretend that the whole Warren thing hadn't happened.

Spike could see she was determined to shut down any line of questioning in the Warren area, and decided to let her for now. But he was just as determined to know the answers, and told himself that he'd come back to it later.

"Ready for our date, luv?"

"Oh yeah," she smiled up at him.

He opened the car door for her and shut it softly behind her once she was in. As he walked around to the driver's side, he gazed after Warren, who was still visible far up the street. He didn't like that she knew him, that she was sitting with him, and that he seemed to be so familiar with her. And he really didn't like what he called her as he left. As much as Buffy had already told him about herself, there were still a hell of a lot of things he didn't know about her yet. He had trusted Drusilla implicitly, foolishly, and got nothing but grief and heartache and betrayal for his naiveté. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

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Note: For anyone not familiar with the term, 'strawberry' is a word used to describe a woman, usually a girl, who hangs out at a drug dealer's house and trades her body for drugs.

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No, not every male in this story is plotting to get their hands on Buffy. I am going somewhere with this, so please be patient. It's been a hard week for Buffy, so we're not all fluffy right now. I promise to have some lighter chapters ahead, if you can stick with me through the hard parts too. Like I said, it's a long journey.

Sara

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Chapter Forty-Seven
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Rocky Places, Part One

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Spike not knowing just what to say and Buffy wondering why things were suddenly so uncomfortable. She looked over at him, and saw that he continued to stare at the road straight ahead, and that his jaw was doing that tense twitching thing. He seemed upset. But why? Why would he be --

Oh.

That was stupid. She thought that he must be jealous of Warren. And here she was all relieved that Spike had come in time to rescue her. Boy did he have this all wrong.

"I'm so glad you came when you did," she offered, glancing out the passenger side window, trying for casual. She didn't want him to think she was trying too hard to sell this. "That Warren guy gives me the creeps." She emphasized her statement by giving a slight shudder.

Spike heard the words, but it took him a moment to process them. Warren gave her the ... Well. That was good news. He didn't look her way yet, though. He wanted to play it cool, not let her see how much seeing her with that wanker had affected him.

"That so?" Was that cool enough? He resisted looking her way to see how she was responding. He didn't want to seem too desperate.

"Well, yeah. He'd been staring at me last week and this week, and then he followed me after the meeting was over tonight, and I just couldn't shake him off. He sat down next to me in the only lighted area there was out there, so I was kinda stuck there with him, didn't want to risk standing in the dark, you know?" There. Was that enough detail to get his mind out of whatever stupid loop he was playing in his head?

Boys are so fragile.

Spike was both relieved and angered by her explanation. Relieved that she was telling him that Warren's attentions were one-sided only. And angered that Warren was pursuing her, in spite of what he was being told were her efforts to get away from him.

Buffy glanced his way and saw his jaw twitching even more than previously, if that were even possible. What was his problem now? God, she hoped he wasn't one of those possessive stalkery types. This was only their second date, and they'd known each other less than two weeks. If he was going to go all 'Sleeping with the Enemy' on her already she was going to have to seriously reconsider the idea of a relationship with him, no matter how attracted they were to each other. If she'd learned anything at all in that damned mandatory domestic violence class last week, it was to take any danger signs seriously and early on. Ignoring them could only lead to the bad.

Spike was oblivious to Buffy's stalker-boyfriend concerns, his worries centering around the danger Warren might pose to a girl Spike already considered his girlfriend. He was going to have to talk to Warren in a way that the other boy could understand, and make him see in no uncertain terms that Buffy was someone he'd need to give a wide berth. And he was going to have to do it soon, before Warren tried anything or got it into his head that she was somehow his to claim. Warren was very caveman that way, and didn't let a little thing like a girl being uninterested in him prevent him from seeing her as 'his'.

Warren was a year ahead of them at Sunnydale High, a senior with a reputation as a stone-cold misogynist with utter contempt for girls and women. Spike knew that Warren had pretty thoroughly cowed and abused the two girlfriends he'd had who attended the high school. If he had any further relationships they were with girls from outside the school, his reputation having pretty much ruined any chances he had with Sunnydale High girls at this point. At least, not any girls who didn't have some deep psychological damage that caused them to seek out abuse from a boyfriend.

Spike didn't get it, but he knew there were girls and women like that, who sought that kind of hurt for reasons even they might not understand. He had actually discussed that with Olivia once when she was over for dinner. Although she had admitted there were some women who craved that kind of abuse, the vast majority of women wound up in those kinds of relationships through no fault of their own, the men having fooled them and then showed their true colors later, conditioning them to more and more serious abuse over time. Most women would not enter into a relationship with such a man if they knew what he was like in advance, and Warren's rep at the high school pretty much ruled out his fooling any girls who had been paying even a little attention to the school rumor mill.

As Spike was contemplating the slimy abusive bastard that was Warren, and considering just how far he'd have to go to get him to stay far away from Buffy, he was completely oblivious to the fact that Buffy was contemplating whether Spike himself were such a boy. If he had known her train of thought he would have been completely floored. Not in a million years did Spike look at himself in such a way.

Life was full of such ironies.

"How do you know him?" Buffy tried to end the weird jaw twitching silence. It was making her nervous.

"Goes to school with us. He's a senior," Spike looked over at her in time to see her face fall at that bit of news. "Has a well earned rep for being a right bastard in general and to girls in particular. You'll want to stay away from him, pet." He truly was warning her for her own protection, and the fact that he was being possessive as well he considered just a secondary concern where Warren was concerned. Even if Buffy decided she wanted nothing to do with Spike, she didn't deserve to wind up in Warren's clutches.

Buffy sighed deeply. "Great. I was hoping that I only had four more meetings with him and then I'd never have to deal with him again." She looked out the window, watching the rugged shoreline as they drove by, and wondered if she were ever going to catch a break here. She glanced back over at Spike and reconsidered her complaint -- she'd caught a pretty big break already, though. The biggest. She hid a smile and went back to gazing at the dark scenery.

"He say anythin' in the meetin' about why he's in there?" Spike was genuinely curious. He knew that Warren dealt drugs small time on campus and elsewhere, but was quite surprised that he'd been ordered into a substance abuse group meeting recently. He was pretty certain that if Warren had been caught actually dealing drugs that the law wouldn't simply order him to substance abuse meetings. He thought they'd lock him up. Spike thought that perhaps it had been something more minor, like getting caught drinking in public, but it was just speculation. He hadn't heard anything about him having been arrested or convicted of anything at all.

Buffy was uncomfortable with this line of questions. They had been told in very strong terms that what is said in group stays in group. Not even for Spike, and not even against the slime ball that was Warren, could she feel right in breaking that promise.

"Um, well ... I can't tell anyone what is said in the meeting. It's a rule, one of the biggest rules." She looked apologetic.

"I see," he was disappointed. He had hoped to glean some information. "I understand, luv, don't worry about it, I was just curious is all."

She felt bad; she wanted to tell him something. "Well, I guess it can't hurt to say that he hasn't said why he's there, at least not in the two sessions I've been in. But if he ever does, I can't tell you. So ..." she trailed off uncertainly.

"I understand, pet, thanks." Spike nodded. He supposed he was going to have to ask his most pressing question now. He didn't want to ask this, but found himself unable to resist nonetheless. He felt it strongly, this imperative to know why. To know why Warren had said that, no matter how ridiculous Spike believed with his whole heart that it was, that it had to be. He was dismayed that he found he couldn't let himself ignore this, not after what he'd been through with Drusilla.

"Luv, please don't take this wrong, and don't get upset or anythin', but I have to ask," he glanced over at her as they came to a stoplight. She was looking at him earnestly, obviously not having any clue where he was going with this. "Why did he call you that, pet?" Spike braced himself to hear her answer.

"What?" Her brow furrowed in confusion. What had who called her? She thought a moment before it came to her. Eyes huge and mouth gaping, she exclaimed, "Are you serious?! You actually asked me that? That question actually came out of your mouth!?"

Uh oh. Spike braced himself for the fury that he knew was about to be unleashed. He was really regretting this move already. What was wrong with him, that he was so jaded now, so cynical? He damned Drusilla for her lies and games. He believed it was her fault that he'd become so suspicious, so skeptical. He kept his eyes straight ahead, not wanting to see the look on her face right now.

But then he heard it, clear as breaking glass. She was laughing. Crazy, dangerous, not-funny laughing. He swung his head around, frowning at her in surprise.

"You thought ...?! How could you possibly think ...?! What the hell?! Oh my God, that is fucking priceless,"She was gasping her words out in unfinished sentences, trying to catch her breath and stop this awful, crazy laughing that had suddenly consumed her.

Spike was more than worried. He seemed to have pushed her right over some edge, and he wanted to pull her back up with him again.

"Luv? I'm sorry, really, I just didn't know what to think when he called you that, and --"

"No, no, no. Please! Don't apologize!" she gasped out while she pulled herself together again. "Why wouldn't you think that? Why wouldn't anyone think anything at all about me, anything at all? I mean really?"She continued to laugh in gasping spurts as she sarcastically cried out, "'Unwed teenage mother', 'crack whore', 'condoms ribbed for her pleasure', 'strawberry!'" She shook her head in utter amazement. "I guess I should be relieved the serial killer leaves semen on his victims. I'm pretty sure I can't do that. They can't accuse me of that ..." She had wound down some now, and was sitting tensely and staring out the passenger window again, just shaking her head slowly back and forth. Now that she had calmed some she was suddenly very tired. She let out a great shuddering sigh.

Spike was so astonished by her outburst that he pulled the car over to the side of the road in order to avoid accidentally smashing into something while his entire attention was diverted to Buffy. And his entire attention was indeed on the girl sitting next to him in his car.

For a few moments there was no sound but that of the ocean on one side and the occasional car passing on the other. She wasn't looking at him, and she was no longer laughing. Spike was dismayed to realize that he had opened some great gaping wound and he was regretting it deeply. He didn't know a lot about her, but he really did believe her when she told him she was innocent, and the things he'd heard just now, compounded by his own question, were a revelation into what her life must have been like these last couple of weeks. He could just kick himself for adding to that burden. He really was an idiot sometimes, he thought ruefully.

"Luv?" She didn't acknowledge him. "Pet, please turn aroun', let me talk to you." His voice took on a pleading quality that he usually despised in himself, but he was helpless to stop. He wanted to fix this so badly. Even if that meant ...

"I told you I was with a girl for a year, a girl who betrayed me," he began hesitantly, speaking to her back. He saw her unbuckle her seat belt and then lean to the side and touch her head against the window glass with a sigh. He took heart that she seemed to be listening even if she wouldn't look his way. He turned his head to stare at the road ahead of them while he continued. "And she hurt me, hurt me bad. Played mind games with me, cheated on me behind m' back. The things I thought I knew about her, the things she told me about herself, turned out to be lies, lies she told right to my face."

Buffy turned around in her seat and looked at him with wide serious eyes as he continued his confession.

"And I believed her, ev'ry time, even when I had every reason not to, I believed. And when I finally saw who she was, what she was, it just ripped me apart. An' I promised m'self I would never put m'self in that position again. And I didn't," he looked down at where his hands had fisted and forced his fingers to relax again, stretched them some. "And then I met you, and I thought that here is someone ..."

He looked up at her, searching her face for some hint as to how she was taking this revelation, which was costing him dearly in the telling of it. "I want so much to believe in you, and I do, luv, I do," He stared at his hands again. "But sometimes ... that hurt ... from before ... it rises up and taunts me, laughs in m' face and makes me doubt. An' I guess that's what happened just now, luv, I let that little doubt poison me and I just felt I had to at least ask the question." He looked at her with anguish in his eyes, and tried to mentally force her to understand, to feel how sincere he was being right now, how much he cared for her and would not for the world want to cause her any hurt. He shook his head sadly and looked back down in his lap. "I shouldna asked you that. I shouldn't ... I know that's not who you are. And I know who Warren is ... An' I'm so sorry, luv, so sorry ... I didn't mean to make you think ... that I thought you ... I'm so sorry ..."

Buffy could see he really meant what he was saying, could almost feel his anguish and pain inside herself, and her heart broke for him. And she had to admit to herself that perhaps she had overreacted to his question. It was just the last thing, the thing that was the perfect cap to a hellish two weeks and she had just snapped. And it wasn't his fault that she'd had a crappy two weeks. He'd actually been one of the few good things that she could cling to in the whole two weeks, and he didn't deserve to have to take the heat for what other people had said and done to her. She felt very guilty for having caused him such pain here, now, and couldn't help but feel that she could have handled this whole conversation a lot better than she had done.

She reached out and took one of his hands in hers, and squeezed gently. When he looked up at her she smiled softly at him, and was relieved to feel him squeeze back a little.

"It's possible I overreacted. Just a little bit," she admitted with a tiny quirk of a smile. "It's been a weird coupla weeks."

"Yeah," he squeezed her hand again, and then pulled her over the seat toward him for an embrace. "I kinda got that." He smiled as she settled lightly into his arms, as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on top of hers. "So, luv ... we okay again?"

She nodded. "Yep."

He nodded and sighed deeply, relieved that they had gotten through this, and impressed that she was able to hear what he was saying and respond to it. Drusilla, he mused, would have made him suffer for days and extracted blood before she begrudgingly deigned to forgive him. The difference between the two girls was as dark from light.

He kissed the top of her head with a light squeeze of his arms, and the moment was done. She scooted back to her side of the car and buckled herself in. As he pulled out onto the road again, he remembered with amusement something she had said in her anger. "Luv?"

"Yeah?"

"Ribbed?"

She blushed deeply, muttering "Oh God, I said that ... Out loud ... To you." She shook her head and avoided his amused glances her way. "Let's just say that my new foster parents are way weird, and just leave it at that for now, okay?" She looked over at him hopefully.

He thought her blushes were adorable. He nodded agreeably. After a few moments of silence, they both started chuckling and sneaking peeks at each other which just increased their merriment.

He didn't know what the hell half of what she had said was about, but he had a very strong feeling that everything was going to be all right.

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Author's Note: This is part two of Buffy and Spike's second date. I haven't forgotten her issues, don't worry. Things are going along the way they need to and I for one think she could use a break. After all, her primary coping mechanisms are repression and compartmentalization. Not a good long term plan, but perfect for the occasion.

Please leave a review if you can. I am especially concerned about my ability to properly write the dating chapters.

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Chapter Forty-Eight
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Rocky Places, Part Two

Just as Buffy was getting set to ask him where on earth they were going on this date, Spike pulled into a turnout along the beach, into a small parking lot that was completely deserted on this dark December evening. Buffy looked a question at him, but he just smiled and killed the engine.

"Hungry?"

"Actually, yeah," she admitted as she watched him lean back and grab a basket off the floor in the back seat. "What's that?" she grinned delightedly.

"Dinner. Jenny made it for me, so there's really no tellin' what might've wound up in here."

Buffy hesitated, then asked nervously, "Is she a bad cook?"

He smiled as he watched her eye the basket doubtfully. "Well, she's a good enough cook, I think, but her idea of what's good to cook is hit or miss sometimes. Evr'y once in a while she'll get on some kick or t'other, and suddenly we're all sittin' down to a meal o'grubs for dinner."

"Grubs?" Her eyes grew large. "Seriously?"

He just chuckled. "Well, maybe not that bad, but there've been ... Let's just say that her macrobiotic phase ... Was. Not. Good." He peeked inside the basket with exaggerated caution. "Well, nothin's still movin', so that's a good sign."

Buffy reached over and playfully thwapped him on the head. "Stop it. I'm sure she made a perfectly good and normal dinner for us."

He winked and handed over the basket. "Have a look, then."

She looked inside and saw what looked like cold meat sandwiches, a clear container of orange slices, a couple of large cookies in plastic wrap, some bottles of cola and ...

"Beer?" She quirked an eyebrow at Spike.

He just shrugged and admitted, "That may have been added after she packed the meal. I really don't recall ..." A slow wicked grin made it's way across his face, and Buffy thought he looked like pure evil. But in a good way.

"Sooo... you pick me up from my substance abuse meeting and hand me a beer?"

Spike looked stricken. "Well, I ... I mean ... God, luv, I didn't mean ..."

Buffy laughed at his stammerings. "Kidding! I told you I was only there for the mandatory parental preaching factor. I don't have any substance abuse problem to be worrying about. It's fine."

"But you don't have to --"

"No, I'll have one. As long as you only have one. No driving under the influence, ever. We saw a drunk driving film tonight ... " She shuddered. "So not good."

"Noted." He nodded wisely.

She looked dubiously out at the dark night, at the waves crashing on the shore, and the breeze she could see moving through the trees. "Where are we going to eat? It's all dark out there."

"Well, I thought we could eat in the car, then take some blankets out to those rocks right there," he indicated a short way up the beach where a huge breakwater of giant boulders continued up onto the beach, about sixty feet along the sand and up to the tree line. "There's a spot there, on the sand where the rocks make a kind of shallow alcove, just far enough in to keep protected from the wind. If we sit there, with the blankets, we can watch the moon over the ocean rather cozily, I think." He watched her carefully to see if she was uncomfortable with the idea, and was relieved to see her smile.

They could only get a couple of stations to come in from where they were parked, so it was either country-western or rockin' oldies. Both were relieved when they instantly agreed that the oldies station was the better option, and they ate their modest meal while laughing and singing together some of the old songs they recognized.

As she ate, Buffy was struck by the realization that she honestly trusted him. She really did. She knew part of her trust was based on Willow's assurances that Spike was indeed a good guy, and worthy of that trust. Coming from someone like Willow who had known him for years, that meant something to Buffy. She also thought her trust came from the way Spike had opened up to her about things that were painful and in some cases went against his best interests to tell her. She recognized that he was playing fair with her, and was trying to have a real relationship with her.

That Spike was no physical danger she was as certain as anyone could ever be. It was still possible that he might break her heart, but she believed that if he did it wouldn't be because he was playing her for a fool.

With this new trust came the question of whether she thought that the original plan of 'more than six weeks' was still necessary. She thought it wasn't. She no longer felt as though she needed to 'test' him in order to be sure she wasn't just the latest in a long line of discardable girls to him. They had crossed a line somewhere in the last week, and she felt sure of him now.

But although she had decided to set aside the 'six-week' test, she didn't think that she was yet ready for full intimacy. Not yet. On their first date he had assured her that they would go at her pace, and that he wouldn't push anything for which she was unready. So she wasn't too concerned about that right now, and felt that she could trust Spike to behave himself even when they were completely alone in a romantic place, such as they were tonight.

Her immediate and real concern now was that he'd told her that she would set the pace and that when she said 'only kissing', that is where they would stay until she said otherwise. At first she saw this as all good, as it gave her control, and she found that to be a great relief. But there was a downside to it. Did it also mean that they would go no further unless she made the move to do so?

She'd be hugely embarrassed to make such a move; she couldn't visualize herself doing that at all. But if he was waiting for her to tell him they could take another step, then how would he know if she didn't let him know? She had zero experience in this whole dating relationship thing. As far as she'd ever understood it, the guys tried to do things, and the girls stopped them from doing them, until they wanted to do the same things as the guys did, and then they just didn't stop them anymore. It was simple. It was time-tested. It meant you could leave the driving to someone else and not take so much responsibility for whatever ultimately happened. That was the way it worked in Buffy's imaginary love life, and she had always felt that that was the natural order of things. But this wasn't imagination any more, and here she was sitting next to a living breathing male with all the right urges and parts and she wasn't at all sure that it really worked like that. That it ever had really worked like that. Wasn't even sure that it should work like that.

She could come up with no immediate solution to her quandary, and just hoped that things would work out when they were in the moment. Meanwhile, kissing in a rocky alcove in the moonlight, with the sound of the waves crashing in the background, seemed like a little bit of heaven.

xxxxxxx

"There we go, all snug and warm, yeah?"

"Mmm." Yes, as a matter of fact, Buffy was feeling all warm and snug right now. With her hunger sated and the warmth of the beer running through her system, she was feeling all kinds of comfortable. They were settled into the rock alcove, blanket below them and another wrapped around. Spike leaned against a third blanket he had draped over one of the boulders. Buffy sat snuggled into his side, warm and happy. It really was a beautiful place, and although they could easily see the ocean and the moon over the water, they were hidden here from both cold breezes and passing motorists.

It was only eight-fifteen, and there was a lot of evening ahead of them still. But something about sitting there with him, listening to the waves crash on the shore in a steady rhythm, made time seem completely meaningless. She felt as though they had stepped out of time, out of context, out of the rest of the world entirely. Right now it was just the two of them, the rocks, the ocean, the moon -- very basic, very primal. The rest of the world was a fuzzy dream -- some other place, some other time, nothing to do with them at all.

She could feel his hand under the blanket , brushing soothingly up and down her arm as he pulled her in to his side. Felt his other arm come around, wrapping over her stomach, pulling her a little bit closer. Closed her eyes when he kissed the top of her head where it lay against his shoulder.

Yeah, this was nice. Very nice. The whisper of the breeze in the trees, the steady pounding of the ocean, the deep rumbling of Spike's husky voice, softly poetic ...

"Though the purity
Of the moonlight has silenced
Both nightingale and
Cricket, the cuckoo alone
Sings all the white night."

Buffy smiled, turning in his arms to look at him, astonished. "Hey, I know that poem. It's ancient Japanese."

"Well, I thought your ancient poetry sounded interestin', so I might have done a little lookin' about." He smiled softly down at her. So beautiful, like a golden angel ...

"Aww. That's so sweet," Buffy gazed at him adoringly. "Of course, the poem's about a prostitute. But still..."

Spike closed his eyes and dropped his head to his chest. "No."

"Yeah," Buffy smiled softly and nodded, turning in his arms slightly in order to face him more comfortably. "But it's very beautiful, and I really liked it." When she saw that Spike hadn't lifted his head yet she added, "Just the fact that you went to all that trouble to memorize a poem for me ... I can't even say how much that means to me. No one has ever done anything like that for me. That was amazing."

He lifted his eyes to the horizon and shook his head with a chagrined little smile. "Well, that's somethin', yeah?" He turned to look down at her, and thought once again that if anything was amazing, it was her being there with him tonight.

"Yeah." Buffy gazed into his eyes as she cupped his face with both her hands, letting her thumbs caress his sharp cheekbones. "It was very something." She leaned forward and gave him a soft sweet kiss.

Pulling back slightly, she looked deeply into his eyes and saw there the depth of his desire, of his passion. And she felt her own passion rise from deep within.

Slowly he leaned forward, and wrapping his arms around her again, pulled her in for a long, slow kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, putting herself fully into it.

When breathing became an issue, Spike began planting kisses along the column of her throat. She shivered with the electric jolts of pleasure his kisses ignited in her. Spike smiled against her neck, happy to have discovered one of her special spots, even as she arched prettily to give him better access. He stopped a moment to nibble on the delicate shell of an ear, then continued his path across her throat and back to her lips once again. She was wonderfully responsive to his kisses, and he delighted in the little moans and sounds she made as he kissed her.

Buffy was lost in his embrace, intoxicated by his kisses and idly wondering if it were possible to simply stay here forever in his arms. What he was doing to her throat felt incredible, and she never wanted him to stop. Unless of course he left her throat to kiss her lips once again ... just ... like ... that. Ah, yes. Exactly like that.

She wanted to be a little bolder tonight, taking the initiative, and let her tongue slide along his lower lip, seeking access to his mouth. He groaned and opened for her, and their tongues tangled together, seeking, dueling, caressing. She pulled back a bit with a sigh, and leaned her forehead against his own, looking up into his eyes with a lazy smile.

With a sexy smirk, he shifted her gently so that she was now straddling his lap. She was startled for a moment, but then settled down comfortably, liking the better access this gave her to run her hands along his hard chest while she began planting soft kisses along his throat.

He ran his hands up and down her back as she kissed his throat, and then pulled her closer, taking her mouth and plundering it with his tongue, his passion igniting more fully in this new position. He was growing hard, straining against his jeans, and the pressure to find release was incredible. He forced himself to refrain from grinding against her, as difficult as that was proving to be in this position.

She could feel him pressed up against her, his hardness full proof of his desire for her. His desire fueled her own, and she wrapped her arms around his neck once more, pulling him close enough so that her breasts were now tickling his chest as she kissed him. The sensations were overwhelming her -- his tongue was plundering her mouth, his hands were running up and down her back, his straining erection was pressed up against her core due to the new position she had taken in his lap, and her nipples were hardened to sharp points where they made contact, caressing his hard chest.

Lost in the moment, Spike was so incredibly turned on he thought he might explode. He was so taken by her kisses and the way she was moving on his lap that he forgot for a minute his earlier promises and brought his hands around to cup her beautiful breasts, his thumbs caressing the hard tips as she moaned her satisfaction into his mouth.

She felt his hands cover her breasts and knead them gently, and her excitement increased exponentially. She couldn't believe how amazingly good that felt, as his thumbs moved up and started tracing slow circles around both hard nipples. It was electric, and she felt it deep inside her womb, the desire igniting, the passion increasing tenfold.

His haze cleared just enough for him to remember his earlier vow, and he almost panicked. She had stopped him previously, and he had told her he wouldn't go further without her permission, that she controlled where they went in this. But he hadn't honored that promise, and even now was cupping and massaging her beautiful tits, and she was moaning into his mouth and arching into his hands. Obviously she was enjoying this attention, but that was the sexual excitement responding. Would she feel the same once she had cooled off and wasn't overwhelmed with passion? Should he take it as a sign that she was even now pressing herself more fully into his hands, and continue? Or should he back off, remembering and honoring their prior agreement?

Moving his mouth back to her neck and ear, he decided to shift his hands to caress her back once more, and then pulled away slightly on the pretext of catching a breath. He was hoping that by pulling back for a few moments, her reaction to his ministrations would have a chance to cool off a little bit, so that she could think more clearly about what they were doing.

As he pulled back, she lay her head against his hard chest for a moment and tried to catch her breath and think. She had told him that she wasn't ready for that yet but he had gone there again tonight. And truthfully, she loved every second of it. She thought that now that she had decided she trusted him that she had no problem with what they were doing tonight. Her only concern was that he had gone there in spite of their earlier conversation. Was that a problem? Was it just the heat of the moment, or did it mean his promises in this regard were not to be counted upon? Was she sending him the wrong signals, too soon in their relationship? She honestly didn't know, but she was feeling so good that she didn't want him to stop.

Spike was drunk on her kisses, and wanted to continue what they were doing immediately. He decided that now that she'd had a chance to cool off a bit, that he would continue where they left off and if she still did not object he'd take it as a sign that she was fine with it now. It was either that or have a conversation about it, and the last thing he wanted to do now is talk. Action, not words, were his priority now. Besides, if they talked about it she might feel like she had to say no. And, although he felt bad about it, he really really didn't want to encourage her in any way to tell him no.

He pulled her in for another deep kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around her back and pulling her tighter against his bulging erection. He found the strength to resist grinding into her, instead bringing his hands forward again to cup and knead her breasts, playing with her nipples over the soft cashmere she wore this evening. The unearthly softness of the cashmere covering the hard points of her breasts had him so turned on that he feared he might actually come in his jeans. The most important thing right now, however, was that she not only did not object but was once again arching into his caress. She seemed definitely to be okay with this. The fact that she would not be okay if he lost control while caressing her put enough of a chill on his hard-on that he was able once again to assert better control over himself. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her with his demands or by coming in his pants.

For her part, Buffy wasn't feeling the slightest bit scared of either possibility. She was completely intoxicated by him, her brain so totally disconnected from her control that she didn't think she possessed the ability to deny him anything at the moment.

This was heaven.

xxxxxxx

Eventually, they did have to stop, however reluctantly, and pack up for the drive home. They had gone no further, but had taken another step in a direction that neither was sorry about.

Spike was silent as he drove them back up the coast and into Sunnydale's residential neighborhoods once more. Buffy worried at his silence, wondering if she had been too forward too soon, worried that he might think less of her for it. She was totally confused between what her body wanted, what her mind wanted, what Spike's mind and body wanted, and what she thought society said she should want, what she should do. More than anything she didn't want Spike to think she was too easy.

Spike was thinking as he guided his car along the roads along to Buffy's home that he hadn't enjoyed making out with anyone like that in a very long time. She was absolutely perfect to him, and he hoped he hadn't broken any trust between them on the beach tonight. He wanted to ask her but didn't know how to broach the subject, was uncertain whether he could handle hearing her say that he had gone too far, that he had broken his promise.

"I really enjoyed myself tonight. The dinner, the beach, the ... afterwards," she spoke so softly he just barely heard her admission at all.

The relief washed over him as he realized that she was not going to accuse him, but had been happy as well. This was good.

"Yeah," he smiled gently at her as they pulled up in front of her house at last. Emboldened by her admission, he thought he could risk the conversation now. "I was worried that I might have gone too far, after our talk the other night and all." He watched her carefully, trying to gauge her feelings on the subject. When he saw her blush with a smile, he knew he was okay. "I kinda didn't think first, at least not with my brain, and when I remembered, I thought perhaps you weren't minding too much so I ... Anyway, I apologize if you were upset at all, and if you want to stick to the strictly kissin' again, I would understand, luv."

He looked at her with such hope in his eyes that she couldn't help scootching over and taking him into a light embrace. Which position also offered the added benefit of hiding her face from his gaze while she spoke to him.

"I know. We were both caught up in the moment tonight," she admitted softly. He could feel her smiling against his neck. "But the world didn't end through our sin, so I think it was pretty okay." She gave him a gentle squeeze and pulled back again to look into his eyes. "Very okay."

Spike let out a relieved sigh and smirked, "Yeah? Very okay, eh?"

"Yep. Okay to the power of ten," she smiled right back at him.

"Well, then," he leaned in closer so that their mouths were almost touching. "We'll have to do that again sometime, yeah?"

"Yeah," she grinned right before he took her head in his hands and kissed her deeply and hard.

"We'll have to do that again real soon." Spike rested his forehead against hers and sighed happily. Then he was struck by a sudden thought. "This Friday is New Year's Eve, pet," he pulled back, leaving his arms around her for now. "One of Oz's band mates is hosting a party at his house and all the people you know will be there. It should be fun, and I'd love it if you would go as my date." He watched her hopefully.

Buffy gave it about one second's thought before answering, "Sounds good. Do you know what kind of party it'll be?"

Spike thought a second. "Pretty casual, but the girls usually dress up a bit, you know how girls are, they like to have an excuse to wear all those pretty party dresses and all." He smirked.

She loved his smirk. "Okay then, I'm in. Get me the address so my foster parents can call if they want to -- it's kinda a rule with John right now," she added.

"I'll call you tomorrow with the details for 'em."

"Good."

"Good."

They both smiled giddily and Spike got out and walked her to her door, lingering for one last good night kiss before the big house swallowed her up again.

Swallowed her up? Where the hell did that come from? he puzzled, looking back at the house as he got into his car and drove away. He didn't know why, but that place made him uneasy. He wondered if she felt it, too, or if it was just him. He promised himself that he'd talk to her about it soon.

xxxxxxx

Giles and Jenny were watching television in the living room when they heard Spike come back into the house after his date. He stopped in the entryway to the living room, the picnic basket in his hand.

"Hey, I'm home." he greeted them, then nodded to Jenny. "Thanks for the dinner, Aunt Jenny, it was wonderful as always."

"You're welcome. She enjoyed it, then?"

"Yeah, she did." he smiled and then turned to take the basket to the kitchen.

"And how was the actual date?" Jenny managed to inquire before he got very far.

He turned back and quirked an eyebrow at the couple on the sofa. "Good," he paused, then added for pure mischief, "Managed to accidentally call her a whore," he turned about and continued his march to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, "Twice."

"What?!" Jenny exclaimed, and turned to Giles.

He simply closed his eyes and shook his head in resignation. "I don't think I want to know."

Spike heard them as he continued on to the kitchen, and couldn't help the smirk that fell across his face.

They're so easy.

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Chapter Forty-Nine
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Just Another Tuesday

Ten o'clock Tuesday morning, and Buffy was once again settled on the sofa in Olivia's office, waiting for the 'session' to begin. These things made her nervous; she didn't exactly know what to say, or how much. Olivia had said that she didn't report on what exactly they talked about as long as she wasn't suicidal, homicidal, or hurting a child. Everything else was confidential. Buffy hoped that was true; she just didn't know.

Olivia swept into the room, shutting the door behind her with a smile and taking her usual seat. "Good morning, Buffy. How are you today?"

"Good." She shifted nervously, already antsy.

"Before we get started we need to discuss something that has come up unexpectedly."

Buffy held her breath, not knowing where this was going to lead. Everything about her life lately made her nervous.

"I spent Christmas day with some friends here in town, and while I was there discovered that you know them. I would have disclosed this to you last week but I was unaware at that time that we had friends in common."

"Who ... w-who would that be?"

Olivia noticed she was speaking very carefully and in a little small voice. She was obviously very anxious. Olivia hoped she could put her mind at ease.

"My friends are the Giles family. I believe you know their nephew, William. They have no idea that I know you or that we are having these sessions, I did not tell them a thing," she hurried on to reassure Buffy. "And before you begin to worry, we did not talk about you in any way other than Jenny mentioning to me that William was dating a new girl in town that Rupert was in charge of testing for admission to Sunnydale High School, and that she had a baby. That was enough for me to know that you were the girl in question. It was just a passing comment and nothing further was said. When I told you that this was confidential I did mean it, Buffy. I will not reveal to them anything that you have not given me direct permission to tell."

Buffy was shocked. Small town life really did suck. She kept silent and thought about what Olivia had said for a moment, then frowned. "What do you mean, that I give you permission to tell them? What would you think I'd want you to tell?"

"Nothing important, perhaps simply that I know you, or that you are seeing me ... or not ... it is entirely up to you. I simply wished you to have the option to let them know whatever you choose, and hope that you will let me know what you decide so that I know what you are not telling them. As I said, they are my friends, so I will see them frequently and it is possible, probable even, that we will run into each other in their home. If we know beforehand what the boundaries are with respect to the Giles family, or to any family member in particular, then the chance meeting will be less stressful and confusing for both of us.

"There is also the option, of course, that you may wish to change therapists entirely, and I certainly understand if you wish to do so. I will need to inform Tanya of the situation, of course, should you decide to proceed with a change."

Buffy wasn't sure what she thought about all of this, but she did know she didn't want a new therapist. She thought Olivia was someone she could maybe talk to, and if she said she'd keep things confidential she was going to go out on a limb and decide to believe her. She had to believe in somebody.

"Okay, that's okay." Buffy nodded thoughtfully. "It's okay to tell them you met me as a new patient. I've already told Spike -- um, William -- about my situation and he knows I'm seeing someone but I didn't mention your name or anything. As long as you don't tell them what I tell you, then that's okay, I guess."

Olivia was unsure whether Buffy was comfortable with this decision or was making it out of some sense of obligation, out of a desire to be polite and nonconfrontational. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you think about this for the next week, and if you still feel comfortable with telling them, we will proceed as planned. Will that work for you?"

"Sure, that would be good." She smiled gratefully, glad that the older woman understood her hesitation. Yeah, she thought she liked this therapist a lot so far, and if she had to see someone, this was someone she would like to see.

"I know for sure I don't want to change therapists, though. I want to stay here." She assured her softly. "If you don't mind having me."

Olivia smiled and shook her head. "Of course I don't mind having you here. I look forward very much to getting to know you. I think you are a very special young woman."

Buffy tried to act cool about it, but she couldn't help but smile when Olivia told her that. It was good to have an adult woman in her life that didn't seem to be ...

Insane.

xxxxxxx

There it was, the old apartment building. Remembering what happened here last week, she was very cautious in approaching the bar. Deciding to go in through the back entrance instead of the front door, she saw Mr. Kralik was tending bar this time. Startled to see her standing there, he did a double take.

"Heya honey," he smiled his nervous little smile. "Didn't expect to see you today."

"Hi," she greeted him with as much confidence as she could muster. "I just came by to get my mail and to get some clothes out of storage. Would that be alright?"

"Sure! Sure thing, honey, let me see, there was a little mail this week ... here it is," he removed it from the cabinet behind the bar. "Not too much, but I did see a card from Mrs. Burkle there. Was sorry to see her go, she was a nice lady. Didn't care for her old man, but then that's the usual thing, ain't it? Nice little wife, jackoff husband." He laughed at his observation, and Buffy smiled politely.

"Here ya go!" He handed her the mail and then deposited two keys in her hand as well. "There's the keys. Your stuff is in number nine." A customer came up and Mr Kralik's attention was immediately diverted to the sale.

"Thank you, Mr Kralik," She smiled at him as she left to go down to the basement.

"Yeah, honey, you too," he called after her distractedly.

xxxxx

It was two tiring hours later and Buffy had finally made her choices and filled two large department store shopping bags with clothes, shoes, and accessories from storage.

Sitting at the bus stop, she became lost in thought, wondering where Faith might be now, and whether or not she was happy. Healthy. God, was she even alive. She was running with a very dangerous man, among what were probably more dangerous people. Anything at all could happen to her. Truth be told, Buffy was annoyed with Faith for leaving her in such a mess, but loved her all the same and wanted nothing more than for her to be safe and happy, wherever she might be. She knew that Faith would not have done what she did if she thought she had a better choice. Her constant prayer was that Faith would get out of this horrible situation alive and well. Faith had rescued her plenty of times as they were growing up. Providing Buffy and Katie a home when they had no place else to go was just the final kindness in a lifetime of them. Buffy had hoped one day to return the favors, and prayed fervently that she would have the opportunity some day.

honk honk

Buffy was pulled out of herself when a car pulled up right in front of her. With a start she realized it was Ben, driving a shiny black convertible.

"Hop in, I'll give you a ride home." Ben was flashing a wide smile, his eyes hidden behind dark wraparound shades.

"Well," Buffy hesitated, looking back toward the direction from which the bus would be coming. It was probably going to be another half hour. She was already tired of waiting, and Ben's car looked pretty good. "Okay, thanks." She smiled and got in the passenger seat.

"We can put those bags in the trunk." Ben was already moving to pop the trunk, when Buffy quickly stopped him.

"No, I can hold them here. I'd rather hold them. Thanks." She didn't know why, but she didn't want to see her stuff disappear into his car like that. She clutched them a little tighter in her lap.

She couldn't tell what Ben was thinking behind his sunglasses, but he wasn't smiling when he remarked, "Suit yourself." The car peeled out from the curb, jolting Buffy and forcing her to hang on for balance.

Sheesh! She was already sorry she'd accepted the ride.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. That had always been the way with them, they never had anything to talk about past the initial greeting. Buffy considered and discarded several topics of conversation, and had finally settled on asking about his internship when she was stopped short by a sudden look at her surroundings. They weren't going to her house the way she usually did - the direct route. Ben seemed to be taking a circuitous path along strange streets, heading not for the affluent neighborhood of her foster home, but toward the working class section of Sunnydale. It wasn't entirely the wrong direction, but it made her nervous just the same.

"Where are we going?" She tried to make it sound natural. Hoped it sounded natural.

"Oh, your house, I just have a shortcut I like to take." Ben glanced over and she could see his mouth smiling, her own face reflected back to her in his sunglasses.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was just something off about this ride today, and she wanted out of the car right away. But how did she do that without insulting him or acting bizarrely when she had absolutely nothing to pin her unease upon? She had to live with his sister, and she didn't want to cause trouble at home by insulting or accusing her brother for no reason. She had to get out of his car in some natural, nonconfrontational way.

As Buffy quickly ran through and discarded various scenarios, she realized that she recognized the name of the street they were on. In an instant she had made her decision. Clutching her bags closer, she waited for him to pull up to a stop sign. As soon as the car stopped, and without any warning, she opened the door and quickly stepped out of the car, only turning around to him when she knew she was completely clear.

"My gosh look where we are I promised my friend Willow that I'd stop over and show her my clothes and we're supposed to study this afternoon too so I'm just gonna get out here she lives right near here thank you so much for the ride Ben I really appreciate it see you later bye!" The words whooshed out in a steady stream as Buffy smiled brightly and cheerfully slammed the car door closed, waving at Ben as she walked quickly down the street in the opposite direction. She prayed that the ditzy blonde act had worked.

When enough time had passed Buffy risked a look over her shoulder to see if he'd actually driven away; she saw no sign of him. She knew she needed to get off the street in case he decided to loop back, but she'd been lying about Willow's house being here. Willow didn't live anywhere near here. However, she wasn't lying when she'd said she had recognized the street name.

She remembered it from a conversation she'd had with Willow: this was Xander's street.

xxxxxxxxx

Buffy found her way to the block Xander lived on pretty quickly. Willow had mentioned it was a block up from this creepy park, and she could see the park up the street now. It was just three blocks from where she'd bolted from Ben's car. Her confidence was further boosted when she actually spotted Xander on his front porch getting the mail. She called out to him from two houses down, frantically praying he wouldn't mind his impromptu visitor.

Xander turned around and gaped when he saw Buffy cutting across a neighbor's lawn to get to his house, lugging two shopping bags with her. His first impression was that she had somehow dropped out of the sky and onto his street, his confusion at seeing her there was so complete. He looked up and down the block for any sign of a strange car but noticed nothing.

Like she fell out of the fucking sky.

He was really having trouble with the concept here. He barely knew this girl. Except for that whole gluing herself to his side when he went for drinks at the Bronze that time ... And anyway didn't they all decide she was totally into Spike? Hadn't Spike pretty much claimed her for himself already? Why was she coming to his house? He thought that if Spike knew she came here to visit him, alone, he would not be a happy camper.

"Hi!" Buffy gave him her best open and friendly smile. "I was just in the neighborhood and ..." she trailed off, looking hopefully at him as she came to a stop before his porch.

Xander continued to stare at her with his mouth slightly open, trying to come up with some explanation for her appearance there, today. When he could think of no rational reason for the girl on his doorstep, his thoughts finally came round to remembering his manners.

"Hi?" It was more of a question than a greeting.

Buffy decided that this was not going very well so far, but she needed immediate shelter from Ben, who could be looking for her at this very minute. She knew she was being paranoid, but something about Ben today was paranoia-inducing and she didn't want to take any chances. She was going to be rescued by Xander even if she had to muscle her way into his house to get him to do it.

"So, this is your house?" She walked up onto the porch and stood next to him without waiting to be asked. She saw that Xander hadn't moved an inch, and was still standing there staring at her in shock. Well, ditzy blonde worked on most guys. She'd bet it worked on this one, too.

"I was just picking up some clothes from my old apartment and was walking home when I saw you standing here and boy am I tired! You think I could come inside and get a glass of water?" She was talking animatedly, giving him her best wide expectant smile, slowing down only to glance back nervously at the street.

Something inside Xander finally clicked.

She's scaredhe realized in shock. What the -?

"Yeah, sure, come on in," he glanced discreetly down the street in the direction she had come from, and waved her inside ahead of him.

Relieved, she nodded gratefully at him and hurried through the door.

xxxxx

As he followed her inside, he thought ruefully that she might think twice about considering his house a safe haven once she got the big Harris welcome from dear old dad. The elder Harris was out of work and in rare form today. Xander really hated school holidays.

"Sooo ... welcome to Casa Harris," he turned to her as he closed the door. He saw her lively countenance completely deflate with the closing of the door; her anxiety rushing to the surface once she knew she was behind closed doors. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah! Of course!" she quickly covered. As she saw Xander's skeptical expression, she knew it wasn't working. "Okay, not exactly. I kinda needed to get out of someone's car fast and I remembered Willow telling me where you lived, and so ... I just headed here." She smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I didn't plan to just pop in on you like this. It's so rude. I just didn't know where else to go here."

Xander smiled at the young woman standing in his entry hall. "No problem. Where there's a damsel in distress, I am the man. Or perhaps something not so completely lame. Anyway, come on in and I'll get you a drink and you can decide what you want to do."

"Thank you," Buffy smiled in relief as she followed him into the kitchen.

"We have ice water and ... well, we have ice water," he stood before the refrigerator, waiting for her to acknowledge his offer.

"Ice water sounds wonderful, thanks Xander."

"I'd say sit down, but it's better if we take this upstairs to my room," he was pouring the water into a glass he'd grabbed from the dish drainer. Buffy had been glancing around the room curiously when his words finally penetrated.

"Um, take it upstairs?" she asked hesitantly, uncertain of Xander's intentions suddenly.

Xander for his part didn't pick up on her unease at first. Once he examined her question, though, he turned around so fast water sloshed out of the glass.

"No! Oh, no no no!" he rushed to assure her. "A thousand times with the no! I just meant that it's better if we go to my room because that way we won't risk running into ... anyone else who might be living here. Anyone else being my, uh, my dad ..." Xander grinned sheepishly. "You really don't want to meet him. Really. Really not."

"Jesus Christ on a stick! What the hell you doin' in there boy!?" a voice slurred angrily from the hallway.

Xander closed his eyes miserably, opening them again as he stepped closer to Buffy. "Okay, I want to go on record as saying I'm sorry. Really really sorry." He whispered as he handed her the glass, bracing himself for what he knew was coming.

"Wha--?" she began to ask when a large disheveled man loomed suddenly in the doorway to her right. OhNow she understood. The man was obviously Mr Harris, and he wore nothing but well-worn red boxer shorts, his belly spilling over the top, and a wifebeater that didn't quite reach their waistline. He was meaty and tattooed and had what appeared to be several days worth of stubble on his face. He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, and openly leered down at Buffy.

"Or who the hell you doin', eh?"

Well, isn't this just the perfect day now, Buffy smiled politely at the man she assumed to be Mr. Harris.

"Hi."

"Uh, dad," Xander shifted uncomfortably. "This is Buffy Summers. She's new here, and uh, she's Spike's girlfriend." He looked at her as he mentioned this last, not sure whether she knew that they considered her to belong to Spike, in that way that men seemed to do. She didn't seem to have any trouble with the statement, which was a relief. He didn't want any more drama here than was already shaping up on its own.

"Spike's girlfriend!? Heh. Yeah, aren't they all? Sure as hell ain't yours. Ya little fag." Mr Harris clapped Xander on the back so hard the boy lurched forward into the kitchen counter, immediately recovering his upright position with as much dignity as he could.

Buffy was fascinated that the disgusting man before her was able to leer at her, insult both her and his son, and finish up with a righteous belch all at the exact same time. That was a talent she hadn't seen demonstrated since her last visit to Aunt Darlene's house.

"Um, thanks Xander. For the water," she acknowledged the glass in her hand. She couldn't help noticing his hands had started to shake a bit.

Now he's scared, she realized with a jolt.

"Um, you were going to give me that book Willow loaned you," Buffy started to cover and get them out of there. "I'm just not going to be able to pass that test next month if I haven't read it yet, and silly me, I just can't remember where I put mine." Ditzy blonde, act three.

Xander stared at her blankly for a moment, then started when he realized that Buffy was throwing him a line to get them out of the kitchen and on up to his room. "Yeah, I have it upstairs. There's a couple other ones you'll need, too. Why don't you come up and you can see if they're what you're lookin' for."

She decided to take the lead now. "Okay," she nodded. "Nice to meet you, Mr Harris," she remarked breezily to the large man as she passed him through the doorway, trying to give him a wide berth. She headed toward the stairs, hoping Xander would quickly follow her.

Xander took his cue and followed her out and up the stairs. At the top of the landing she was waiting for him to guide her to his bedroom. She was a little surprised when he took her to another small flight of stairs, up to a sort of attic room at the very top of the house. It was a fully finished room, with large wide windows all along the front wall that looked out over the street. It looked to Buffy to be a combination attic/sun porch more than a regular room. It was furnished with a beat up dresser and desk on one side of the room, while a mismatched single bed and night stand stood on the other side. There were rock and movie posters covering much of the wall space, and in general it was a prime example of the usual disheveled clutter of a teenage boy's room. It was a mess, but she kinda liked it. With the strange shape and the windows and all, it was different than your usual bedroom, and seemed cozy enough up here at the top of the house. There was a nice sturdy lock on the inside of his door, too. She could see how it would seem like a true sanctuary from the insanity that appeared to dwell on the lower floors.

"I love your room," she turned around in a circle, taking it all in. "It's so different. So you." She realized that could be misinterpreted. "That's a good thing, by the way. You, I mean. You're different in a really good way. Difference is good. I like different!" Okay, the nervousness was making her babble needlessly at this point. She needed to calm herself down.

She took a big breath and faced him directly with serious eyes. "I really appreciate you letting me drop in like this. And don't worry about your dad. I have a lot of experience with embarrassing parental units. I could tell you tales that would turn your hair."

He had hidden his dysfunctional family from his friends as much as possible over the years, hating to see either contempt or pity in their eyes. When he looked at Buffy now, Xander saw only quiet understanding.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiled softly.

The two teens sat on his bedroom floor for a couple of hours that afternoon and swapped tales of hilarious, embarrassing, and terrifying family moments. It didn't make the hurt any less terrible, but it was a relief to be able to tell the truth to someone who could honestly understand and even laugh at their absurdly weird and often dangerous family lives.

They each seemed to have an endless supply of stories to tell.

xxxxxx

Once his dad passed out in the late afternoon, Xander was able to lift the car keys to drive Buffy back home.

As he drove, Xander found himself thinking that he hadn't enjoyed having a guest over to his house in ages. His parents usually made him so nervous that he spent most of his time trying to hide them from his friends, and that meant he usually visited friends rather than bring them home with him. With Buffy, though, it was different. She seemed to really 'get it' about his family. She had told him her own edited tales about life with her parents in New York, and her cousin Faith's mother and her many stepfathers and 'uncles'. She glossed over the foster home situation for now, preferring to keep that close to her chest for the time being.

Xander was relieved that here was one friend who understood his particular brand of pain. He felt bad that her life had been difficult, but was glad for the chance to share his miserable existence with another person who could understand. And it was with a start that he realized that he was glad Spike had changed his mind where Buffy was concerned. Glad that he wasn't going to just use her and throw her away as originally planned.

Xander thought that Buffy deserved a great deal better than that.

"Xander?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you tell me anything about Spike's ex?"

Xander startled at the sensitive question. "Uh, well, I don't know ..."

"Oh, I don't mean anything confidential or you know, things that Spike should be telling me if he decides to do," she hurried to explain. "I mean, who is she? What does she look like? Is she in our school, in our grade? Is she someone I'm going to need to watch out for? That kind of thing." She looked over at him hopefully.

Xander considered the questions for a moment. He didn't think there'd be any harm in telling her things any one in the school would already know about.

"She's in our grade, at Sunnydale High. I think she turns seventeen in April sometime. She's ... different. Kinda goth, but not completely. Just that kind of style to a point. Her hair is really dark and she has dark eyes. She's kinda nutty -- like she believes she's clairvoyant and can see people's auras and sometimes predicts their futures. I'm not sure how accurate she is, but she's really into all that stuff. And I now realize I have no idea whether you're into all that stuff too and I may have just totally insulted you there, so ... sorry."

Buffy laughed, "No problem. Not really aura girl here. What else can you tell me?"

"Should you watch out for her?" Xander pulled up in front of Buffy's house as she directed him. "Maybe. Hard to say. She kinda instigated the whole breakup with him -- did things that forced him to break up with her, you could say. And then next thing you know she's dating one of his good friends, who is not so much a good friend any more. So who knows what she'll do when she finds out he's moved on. Maybe nothing, but she's a little nuts like I said, so ... Just be careful."

Buffy leaned forward and embraced Xander in a loose hug. "Thank you for all your help today. I'm really glad I got to know you better, too. And the ride home, and all? Just, thank you."

"No problem," Xander ducked his head in embarrassment.

Buffy gathered her two bags together to get out of the car when she thought of something she hadn't asked him. "By the way, what's her name?"

"Drusilla."

She turned back around in a flash. "Drusilla?!"

"Uh ... yeah," he hesitated. "Is there a problem?"

"No! Not at all! No problem at all!" She suddenly smiled hugely at him as she continued to exit the car. "Thanks so much again for all your help, Xander. I don't know what I would have done without you today."

"No problem. Any time you need something and I'm around, you just give a holler and I'll be glad to help you out." He stopped for a moment. "Wow, that totally sounds like there should be a 'little lady' tacked onto the end of that doesn't there?" He grinned bashfully.

"Very John Wayne. And very nice to hear. Thanks again, Xander." she smiled and shut the car door, gathering her bags in either hand and walking quickly up the walkway.

Xander waited until she was safe inside, and then drove away.

xxxxx

From the other end of the street, Spike sat at a stop sign. Watching.

xxxxxxxxx

I said not all males in this story would be plotting to get to Buffy, but it was Xander's dad, and he's always been leering and inappropriate and insulting to his only son when I visualize him, and so that's the way I wrote him. Not as someone who is actually trying to get to Buffy, but as someone who is a drunken lout who is trying to embarrass and emasculate his son. I hope that came across.

Thanks for all your lovely reviews. They were very welcome and helped a lot with my date scene insecurities.

Sara