-Saturday, August 17th. 8:39am-

Buffy was buzzing.

Humming.

Blushing and smiling and happy. Really happy. Had been since she'd finally peeled herself away from Spike long enough to walk him out of her apartment the night before. Because he loved her, and she knew it, and somehow knowing it made everything around her feel better. Brighter. More solid.

Like they'd maybe finally found their footing.

She knew that wasn't true. Logically speaking, with her logical brain, Buffy knew that just being in love with each other wasn't enough. Couldn't be. That in spite of what every good romance novel had tried to tell her, love didn't conquer all.

It especially didn't trump legalities.

But right now, even if just for the day, Buffy was more than happy to be doing all the thinking with her very illogical, very mushy, he-said-he-loved-me brain.

"You're doing it again," Dawn sing-songed, using her straw to loudly stir the ice in her iced latte.

Buffy glanced up. Elbow propped on the cafe table, chin propped on her hand, she blinked a few times. Frowned. "Doing what?"

The younger girl made a dramatic show of fluttering her eyelashes, leaning forward to mimic her sister's position and sighing, "Staring down into your coffee like it just said something hilarious."

Oops.

Embarrassed, but not quite enough to stifle the goofy smile spreading across her lips, Buffy sat up straight and dropped her hand down to the table. Made a semi-apologetic face.

"I know," she said, still smiling. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Dawn said quickly, laughing to herself as she sat back in her chair. Then she shrugged casually and added, "But if you wanted to, ya know, fill me in on whatever's got you all smiley today I wouldn't exactly hate it."

Reaching forward and wrapping her hands around the ceramic mug in front of her, Buffy looked down into the foam of her cappuccino again. Nibbled lightly on her bottom lip. Wondered if it might ruin the buzzy, glowy feeling she had going if she spoke the words out loud again. Gave the whole thing a name, shared it with someone that wasn't her or Spike.

Then she decided that was stupid. "Spike told me he loved me last night."

Dawn looked surprised.

"Oh," she murmured, eyes wide. She leaned forward again. "Whoa."

Buffy chose not to dig further into just how surprised her sister seemed by the news, deciding to focus instead on telling the story.

"Yeah," she said, lowering her voice a little to keep the conversation private. She shifted back in her chair, pulling her coffee to the edge of the table as she did. "After I told him about Giles, and about what happened…with Mom?" Buffy waited for Dawn to nod before nodding herself, dropping her eyes to continue. "Well, after that we had this amazing…moment. There was no pressure or anything like that. We just sat together for a long time in the quiet."

And it was quiet again now, the two remaining Summers women sitting in an extended moment of comfortable silence as the sounds of the coffee shop went on around them.

Then Dawn asked, "And then he told you?"

"No, then I basically called him a pain in the ass," Buffy laughed, picking up her coffee and raising it to her lips. Smiling against the rim, she gave a little head tilt and added, "He told me after that."

The younger girl laughed too, picking up her own glass and fingering the straw.

"Romantic," she muttered wryly, taking a long sip.

Buffy smiled, set her coffee down again. "Actually it was. In a bizzaro, non-perfect, very befitting of our situation type way." She paused to think it over, tapped her nail against her mug and raised a brow. "He's worried you hate him."

"I do," her sister breezed, not skipping a beat.

Her eyes widened, horrified.

"God, relax." Dawn sat back and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm just kidding. What kind of sister would I be if I hated someone that makes you this annoyingly happy? Besides, I don't know him well enough to hate him anyway." She paused to take another sip off her straw. Swallowed and added, "I don't know him well enough to like him, either."

"Hence the main reason I agreed to the Magical History Tour today," she explained, running her finger along the cocoa powdered rim of her cappuccino, popping it in her mouth and speaking around it. "So you two can get to know each other better."

Dawn finished her coffee with a last, loud suction-like sound and set her glass down. "Why is he so wigged over what I think?"

Brow furrowed, feeling like they'd just taken a sharp right turn into the land of That Should Be Obvious, Buffy considered the normally hyper perceptive teenager in front of her.

"Because you're my sister, and he has a sister, so he knows exactly how much your opinion means." She leaned back again and crossed both her legs and her arms. Inhaled. Added on a sigh, "And he's worried you think he's taking advantage of me."

Dawn snorted and folded her own arms. "Then it's you he needs to get to know better, not me."

While Buffy appreciated the sentiment behind the words, she was still getting the feeling her little sister was missing the point. And the point being, she was happy. For the first time in a long time. Thinking it over, she dipped the tip of her pinky back in the cocoa powder. Brought it to her lips again. Smiled against the pad of her finger as she remembered the taste of Spike's kiss the night before.

Remembered the perfect, aching look in his eyes when he'd told her goodnight.

"He knows me pretty well already," she murmured, her skin doing the buzzing thing again.

"Does he though?"

She paused and looked up, the question catching her off guard.

"I mean, really," Dawn continued, gesturing outwardly with her hand, "Think about it for a minute. How long have you two even known each other, three months?"

Buffy shifted in her chair. "Almost three, yeah."

Why did that suddenly sound like not a very long time?

"Okay," the brunette said, nodding. Thoughtful. "And of those almost three months how long have you actually been…together?"

That struck a chord, a pinging in the back of her mind that made her stop short. Purse her lips. Was the question she should have been asking herself? They'd known each other, been working together, for nearly three months. Of those three months, they'd been…well, doing what they were doing for about half that time, at least.

So, a month and a half.

Six weeks.

Buffy frowned, considering. How soon was too soon to know that you loved someone?

Deciding to shelve that particularly wiggly can of worms for another time, she shook her head, frustrated. "This thing with him is real, Dawn."

And Dawn fired back, "I'm not saying it isn't, Buffy."

"Then what are you saying?" Buffy asked, looking away from her sister and around the coffee shop instead. She could feel her cheeks were warm, still frustrated but doing her best to hide it.

Not that she'd ever been much good at hiding anything, and especially terrible at hiding things from her younger sibling.

Across from her, Dawn softened and glanced around, too. Then leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I'm saying I'm your sister and I love you."

"You're saying that you're worried," Buffy corrected, casting a quick side-eye across the table. But she could feel her expression softening, too.

"If you knew what I meant then why'd you ask?" The brunette murmured, raising a brow. Then she dropped her hands down to the metal table, clicked her nails against it a few times and exhaled through her nose. "So you're not worried at all that stuff with Spike is just a little too serious, too soon?"

Buffy shook her head no immediately, squashing the thought entirely. Raised a hand and cut Dawn off before she could say anything else.

"I understand why you're worried but I'm an adult, Dawnie," she said, meaning it. She searched the younger girl's clear blue eyes with her green ones for a moment seriously, making her point, before cracking a small smile. "I think I can make decisions for myself about how soon is too soon, and I think I know better than you do how I actually feel."

"I know that," her sister agreed, and it really sounded like she meant it. The expression on her face was still pinched, though. Furrowed like she still wasn't totally convinced. She shook her head. "It's just…you were with Angel for three years before—"

"And look how well that turned out," Buffy said quickly, cutting that extremely unpleasant stroll down Memory Lane off before it could really get started.

There was nothing about her relationship with Angel that was worth dredging up again. Definitely, absolutely, definitively nothing about her relationship with Angel that was worth comparing to her relationship with Spike. The two men were as different as two men could possibly be, and her relationships with them were even more different than that. It wasn't even apples and oranges, it was apples and…sports cars.

The really pretty, fancy ones dressed in bright colors and Italian leather.

Dawn sighed. "Is cutting me off mid-sentence your way of telling me you're done talking about this?"

"Are you gonna finish that?" Buffy asked, not waiting for a response before reaching across the table to pick off a flaky piece of blueberry scone, popping it into her mouth with a note of finality.

"Fine," the younger girl said, raising her hands up and putting her palms out. "You win. I'll drop it, but let the record show that I'm worried about you." She dropped her hands again. "I don't wanna have to say 'I told you so' here."

Buffy was willing to put money on the fact that, of the two of them, she definitely wanted that less.

So she smiled softly and said, "That makes two of us."

"Well as long as we're on the same page, I guess," Dawn muttered. Then she smacked Buffy's hand away just as she reached for another bite of scone. "Yes, I'm gonna finish this."

"Ow," Buffy complained loudly, rubbing the back of her hand. Making a face. "You can be such a little sister sometimes, you know that?"

"Gonna be a long bloody day if you two are resortin' to violence already."

Just the sound of his voice was enough to bring the blood rushing into her cheeks, a grin to her lips.

Buffy turned to look up and over her shoulder, not surprised to see Spike standing behind her but her skin humming and pleasantly all a-tingle anyway. Dressed in copper-colored denim pants, dark tinted sunglasses hooked casually at the V-neck of his white cotton shirt, he looked as handsome as she'd ever seen him.

Smirking rakishly down at her, resting his hand on the back of her chair, he let the tips of his fingers grazed the back of her neck and she both hated and loved how easily he could fluster her.

Across the table, her sister looked up at Spike with a very wry, very non-flustered expression. "She started it."

Buffy shot the other girl a look.

"Tattle tale," she muttered.

"Scone stealer," Dawn accused.

Spike chuckled and reached for a chair at the nearest table, spinning it around and straddling the back of it. He folded his arms over the top and leaned forward, eyeing the girls respectively. "You want me to go out and come back in again so you ladies can duke it out?"

Dawn shook her head. Picked off another piece of her scone and said, "Nope, I'm good." Popped it in her mouth and chewed defiantly.

"Yeah, I bet," Buffy grumbled good-naturedly. Then she turned her attention on Spike and smiled again. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," he murmured, eyes scanning her face almost hungrily for a moment before he broke eye contact and reached for her cappuccino mug. "You mind?"

She doubted it would have mattered if she'd said yes considering he was already raising the coffee to his lips and taking a sip, so instead she sat back in her chair and said, "Go ahead."

"Thanks, luv." Spike set the mug back down and winked at her. "Didn't have a chance to grab any myself before leavin' the house this morning."

Dawn made a point of meeting her sister's gaze and giving a cursory you two are so gross eye roll.

Buffy rolled her eyes right back, but truthfully, there wasn't much anyone could do or say or…roll that would dampen her current mood. Now that he was there, whenever he was there, all of the potential consequences of being in love with a married man seemed very far away.

An ocean away, to be exact.

It definitely didn't hurt her excitement that she knew her biggest worry was in a different country. Certainly didn't take away from the fact that she was getting to spend an entire day with her sister and the man she loved.

And sure, Henry was going to be there too, which was…something. Definitely something. Whether it would end up being a good something or a bad something, she wasn't sure. She and Spike hadn't talked much about it, hadn't talked much about he and his father at all lately, but he didn't seem overly concerned now. And she wasn't concerned, either.

Except she was. Just a little.

It wasn't that she was worried about how Dawn would behave, or even how she and Spike would behave. And it wasn't that she didn't like Spike's dad. Buffy liked Henry Pratt a lot, and she was pretty sure that Henry Pratt liked her. She was also pretty sure that Henry Pratt knew there was something more than casual friendship going on between herself and his son.

Which was the something she was concerned about today.

But as it almost always did, being with Spike was having a distinctly, almost unnervingly, reassuring effect on her now. His casual smile, the relaxed set of his shoulders, the easy way he was engaging with her kid sister; all of it doing its share to soothe whatever nerves she'd had.

"So what are the people, places and things on the agenda for today?" she asked him, putting the worry about the other Mr. Pratt out of her mind for the time being.

"And are any of them museums," Dawn added, wriggling her fingers in his direction for emphasis. "Because I'm not really into the whole…sit-and-stare thing."

"Oh, don't you fret about that," he told her, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a distinctive, deliberate smile. "Sit-and-stare innit exactly Henry's style."

-Saturday, August 17th. 10:08am-

Buffy took a deep breath in, holding it in her lungs for a minute, letting the breeze and the sun and the salt spray from the harbor mist over her cheeks as they moved at an easy, clipping pace through the water. Then she looked front again, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

Smiling, she watched her little sister and Spike's father standing together at what she'd been told was technically the "bow" of the boat; a small-ish, old fashioned wooden schooner with big, billowing sails and painted green sides. It was a historic replica called the Liberty Star, a mid-sized rental Tall Ship that Henry had chartered out of the harbor for the morning.

It was a beautiful "little" boat, and while the creak and groan of the wooden deck and ancient looking sails had given her a minor panic attack when they'd first set sail from the harbor, Henry had assured her laughingly that the schooner had only been built to appear old.

For nostalgia's sake, or something like that.

Relaxed now, used to the rocking of the waves, she watched Henry and Dawn as they looked out over the harbor. Laughing amiably at something Buffy hadn't quite heard from where she and Spike were sitting, side by side on a blanket spread across their section of the main deck. Henry was pointing out across the water, indicating various buildings, iconic images and gorgeous views of the Boston skyline that only being out this far into the harbor could afford. Telling Dawn stories, historical facts, the odd joke here and there. The older man looked completely at home, entirely relaxed, and like he was having a lot of fun.

"Why do I get the feeling your dad's done this before?" Buffy mused, dropping her hand and looking at Spike.

"Oh, only about a hundred times," he agreed with a comfortable sigh, shifting and leaning back onto his elbows. "Rentin' out this old clipper's his favorite for out of town guests."

Liking the idea that Henry would go so out of his way to show them around the city he loved just a little more than she should, she sat up a little straighter. Tucking her legs up crisscross beneath herself, she smirked down at the halo of white-blonde hair. "How many times have you done it with him?"

"Enough that I reckon I could prattle off his little speech there by heart," Spike told her, looking up into her face with shaded eyes.

"He has a speech?" Buffy asked, wrinkling her nose.

She watched his eyebrows go up over the rims of his sunglasses and his mouth curve to the side.

"You're surprised?" He shook his head and turned his face forward, indicating for her to follow his gaze back to the front of the schooner with a jut of his chin. "Told you he loves all this, knows more about the city and its past than anyone'd ever need to. To tell you the truth I'm a bit jealous," he admitted on a chuckle, looking toward Buffy again. "Never been much for blind patriotism myself."

She pursed her lips, finding the whole thing completely adorable. "But…he has a speech?"

Spike turned to answer her just as the schooner bumped once, dipping and weaving into a larger swell and causing Buffy to shift forward, to reach over and brace herself by grabbing his shoulder. He leaned down quick as lightning and brushed his lips over her hand, smirking at the startled, mildly embarrassed expression on her face. Watched her, delighted, as she blushed and steadied herself, sat up straight again.

Then, sitting up again himself, he answered her question like nothing had even happened.

"A speech of sorts, yeah. Normally these little tours come with a professional guide, but Henry's never taken to that." He pulled his sunglasses off and hooked his arms casually around his knees, leaned sideways to murmur conspiratorially, "Fancies himself an expert."

She shot him a flirty, sidelong look and turned forward again.

Henry was pointing out a little to the right, indicating the weathered looking lighthouse on a rocky outcropping up ahead. She could hear better what he was saying now that the schooner had turned course, the salted breeze carrying his rumbling voice back to them as he explained that what Dawn was looking at was a historic site that pre-dated the American Revolution, and the rickety white tower standing there now was the second oldest working lighthouse in the country.

Buffy arched a brow and glanced back at Spike. "He sounds like an expert to me."

"Yeah," the bleached blonde agreed mockingly, turning his head and eyeing her through his lashes. "You who thought Dunkin Donuts was one of Boston's historical sites."

He nudged her shoulder with his to show he was only teasing, the blue of his eyes sparkling brighter than usual as he gazed at her. It might have been the fresh sea air tricking her brain into thinking that. Or it might have been the twinkling reflection of the sunlight off the water, or the sunlight off his skin. It looked different in the bright outdoor light of mid-day than in the fluorescent light of the office or the midnight of her apartment, and she realized this was the first time she'd been with him out in the open. Not…completely out in the open, of course, but the closest thing to it since this whole mess had started.

And she smiled at him, watching as another breeze whipped up, ruffling his un-gelled curls and sending one falling down over his forehead. She felt her fingers twitch, itching to reach up and brush it back the way she would have if they'd been alone.

But they weren't alone.

"Buffy," Henry called suddenly, illustrating that fact to a very sharp T and making the blonde pair start, shift awkwardly apart.

Embarrassed, she cleared her throat and looked front, reaching up to shield her eyes again. "Yes sir?"

She winced. God, like he was her high school principal or something.

On her left, she felt Spike chuckle.

She resisted the urge to elbow him.

But Henry just grinned in a way that Buffy could only describe as roguish, and though she couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, she imagined they were sparkling. Then he made a show of pointing back in their direction, aiming his finger at his son while keeping his attention on her and saying, "If he's over there telling you I don't know what the hell I'm talking about, do me a favor and tell him to can it, will ya?"

"Yes sir," she said again, a little laugh in her voice this time around as her shoulders relaxed and she nodded.

Henry gave her a nod back, then turned his smiling attention back toward her little sister.

Spike waited another moment or so before swiveling his head around, lowering his voice to a seductive whisper and asking, "So you'll say 'yes sir' to my father but not to me?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, mock-scandalized, face and neck warmed from his words now as much as from the sun.

"Jealous?" Buffy asked, teasing him as platonically as possible to cover for the effect his very non-platonic teasing had had on her.

He smirked like he knew what she was doing. Then unhooked his arms from around his knees and leaned all the way back onto the blanket. Closing his eyes, reaching his hands up to pillow the back of his head, he exhaled, "Insanely."

Buffy bit her lip and smiled.

"Yeah," she murmured wryly, watching him fidget a bit to get comfortable. "I can tell."

Spike just grinned, finally settled on the blanket. Tipped his face up toward the sun like a cat.

Neither of them said anything for a little while, listening instead to the sounds around them. Henry's deep voice and Dawn's high one, the occasional bout of mingled laughter. Squawking gulls and rushing water as they clipped along, subtle dips and splashes when the boat cut through the waves. The rocking and creaking of the wooden deck below them and the billowing, wind-whipped sound of the sails overhead.

Eventually, Buffy closed her eyes as well. Put her hands on the deck behind her and leaned back. Mimicked Spike by tilting her own chin upward, feeling the sun full on her face and in her hair, warming her scalp. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed the feel of the sun on her skin until she felt it again.

Only opening her eyes again when she felt Spike shift beside her, she glanced toward him.

He'd rolled over onto his side to face her, his head propped in one hand while he brushed the fingertips of the other against her knee and somehow made it look like an accident. He was staring at her, smiling at her, but it was more in his eyes than on his lips.

Buffy smiled back. Narrowed her eyes and asked, "What?"

"How is it we've never come out to the harbor before?" Spike asked the question almost more to himself than to her. Brushed the tips of his fingers over her sun-warmed leg once more, then dropped his hand. Murmured, "You were made for this. Never seen a woman look so natural in the sunlight."

And that was what Buffy knew for certain she would miss the most, when and if and God forbid this thing between them imploded and came tumbling down around them. The way he looked at her. Like something out of a dream.

She paused and stared down at him, feeling a weird mix of perfectly content and perfectly worried. Forgetting for just a moment, just one, that they weren't alone, that Spike's father was only a scant fifteen or so feet away from them, she leaned a little closer to him. Wanted to say something but she honestly didn't know what.

"Come here," Spike said suddenly, rolling back over onto his back and patting the spot beside him. "Lay down next to me."

Buffy sat back again just as suddenly. Blinked a lot. Frowned. She shot a glance toward Henry and Dawn who were now leaning against the railing at the bow, engaged in conversation, looking relaxed and casual as ever.

She shot a glance back toward the man on her left and wondered if there was something she'd missed.

"I can't, Spike," she told him, frowning deeper. "Your dad is right there."

Spike surprised her by laughing.

Shaking his head and looking up at her like she was adorable, he said, "Let me worry about my dad, Buffy. Now come here." He rested his hand on top of his stomach and settled in again, closing his eyes. "Don't make me ask again."

It wasn't the first time he'd spoken those words to her. Once in his office, what felt like years ago. More than once in the bedroom. And now, just like then, a subtle tingle of indignation shot down her spike, outweighed only by the not so subtle tingle of something else.

She rolled her eyes but moved to do as he'd asked. Figuring if he didn't seem to be worried about his father then she wasn't going to be, either, she shifted back onto the blanket. Not all the way down onto her back, because she wasn't about to tempt fate quite that much, but down onto her elbows.

"Anyone ever tell you you're incredibly bossy," she complained, crossing her ankles out in front of her.

Spiked smirked, eyes still closed. "Yes."

"To your face?" Buffy countered.

"You think you're so clever," he chuckled, low and deep, the sound coming from his chest. A beat passed. Then he rolled over again and propped himself back up, reached over and brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. Eyes steady on hers, he said seriously, quietly, "I love you."

The declaration had come out of nowhere and everywhere all at once.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, liking the way the words felt on her lips when she said them in that order.

His answering smile was sweet. Soft and wide, almost shy, and the way his angled cheeks dimpled made him look boyish.

Young.

Spike never really looked his age. Actually, he consistently looked about ten years younger than the thirty-seven Buffy knew he was. But he always looked a little bit hard. A little tired or…heavy, like his sister had said. The weight of the whole world balanced precariously on his shoulders.

He looked light now.

A lightness that seemed to dim just a little as he continued to search her eyes, then sighed. Glanced back toward his father again.

"Wishin' right about now that I'd pulled the trigger and told Henry about us before today," he murmured thoughtfully, wistful. Answering the unspoken question Buffy'd had running through her head all morning. "Would'a made this all a bit easier, in the short term anyway." He paused, and his brow furrowed. "What d'you suppose they're chattin' about?"

Buffy hurried to reassure him. "Dawn knows not to say anything, Spike. You don't have to worry about that."

That had him turning his attention on her once more.

"Not worried, sweetheart," Spike promised, voice low and his brow smoothing over again as he scanned her expression. "Just thinkin'."

"About?" Buffy asked, scanning his face in return.

She wondered for a moment if he was going to tell her what he was thinking, but he didn't. Didn't get a chance to.

"Well now, you two have been awfully quiet," Henry said, his voice booming on the breeze and drawing both their eyes forward in an instant. He and Dawn stopped just in front of them, the older man putting a hand on the mast there and leaning into it. Smiled and asked, "Everything alright over here?"

Buffy noticed that he aimed the question at her as he pulled his own sunglasses off and tucked them into his polo shirt, a teasing sort of glint in his eye that reminded her almost painfully of Spike.

She sat back up again and re-crossed her legs, nodding. "Everything is perfect over here."

Henry perked a skeptical brow, his lips curving to match.

"Now that…the sails have stopped making all those wiggy noises," Buffy admitted, smiling sheepishly.

He grinned. "You're having fun then?"

"A whole lot of it," she told him truthfully. Then she gestured more broadly to the outing as a whole. "Thank you, again. This really was way too much."

Spike chuckled and sat up himself. "Trust me, pet, he's more'n happy to do it."

"You know Buffy, he's right. I never get to show off like this," Henry admitted, playing along. Then he looked at Dawn and sighed plaintively. "Just hope I haven't bored your sister to tears."

"Are you kidding?" Dawn asked, grinning. "This is great." She turned her excited smile on Buffy. "Mr. Pratt told me I can steer the boat."

Henry groaned, turning and pressing his forehead into the mast dramatically.

"For the last time, kid, it's not a boat. It's a schooner." He pulled his forehead off the mast and shot the younger girl a look. "And I said we'd ask the captain if you can steer for a bit. You ever steer a schooner before?"

Dawn pretended to think it over for a minute, pursing her lips. Then she shrugged and said, "I drive my car a lot."

"You also crash your car a lot," Buffy reminded her, raising her eyebrows high.

The Pratt men shared a very specific look, Spike like he was fighting the urge to burst out laughing and Henry like he was fighting the urge to wince.

"Right," Henry said, making a face at Buffy and Spike even as he reached out and put his hand on Dawn's back, ushering her toward the stern of the schooner. "Let's go ahead and leave that part out when we ask the captain."

-Saturday, August 17th. 6:37pm-

"Was there anywhere else you girls wanted to go?" Henry asked, leading their foursome out of the cobbled back alley they'd been navigating through and out onto the main street, stopping when he came to a section of less-crowded sidewalk. "Anything you still want to see?"

Buffy glanced at Spike and made a face, widening her eyes as if to ask is there anything even left to see? They'd been walking all afternoon, taking all kinds of "historical" shortcuts to various historical sites around the downtown area, then the botanical gardens, and to Buffy's personal favorite, the duck pond at Boston Common. They'd seen more than half the places on Buffy's original list, and some she never would have considered. Truthfully, they'd squeezed more sight-seeing into the last four hours than she would have thought possible, which was great.

But also…the walking. So much walking.

Spike stifled a laugh as he looked at back her and shrugged his shoulders, the expression on his face looking like a what did I tell you?

She shook her head at him but she was smiling, reaching back to pull her hair up off her neck and fanning it.

"I wouldn't mind seeing the inside of…any place with air conditioning," Dawn said, reaching up and wiping a sheen of sweat away from her forehead. Then she grimaced and glanced down toward her stomach. "Preferably an any place with food."

"I thought I heard growling," Henry teased, leaning back on his heels and crossing his arms. He dimple-grinned at her. "Alright kiddo, you pick. Anything you're in the mood for?"

Dawn shrugged. "I'm really not picky. Just starved."

"Buffy?" he asked, turning bright eyes on her.

"I'm not in the habit of being picky, either," she replied. Then felt a large bead of sweat pool between her shoulder blades and drip down her back, down into the waistband of her shorts. Wrinkling her nose up, she added, "Although given the amount of sweating I've done today I'd probably vote for a restaurant with a few less than four stars."

The older man laughed like he understood, then turned and began walking again. "Easy enough." He waved for them to follow, saying, "There're plenty of great little dives to choose from around here."

"Like that one?" Dawn asked hopefully, pointing to the packed looking pub across the street. The one they were obviously not heading towards. She kept her eyes on it as they walked by, adding, "That one looks good."

Buffy frowned and looked toward her boyfriend. "Why's it so crowded?"

"Glad you asked, Buffy."

"Oh, here we go," Spike groaned, looking up to the sky.

Henry continued, undaunted. "That bar in particular is what we call a tourist trap."

"But…" Dawn trailed off, frowning, pointing back toward the crowd milling in front of the door. "There's air conditioning there."

"And burgers," Buffy murmured.

"And beer," Spike added, sounding like he needed one.

"And tourists," Henry finished, a note of finality in his voice as he did.

Father and son exchanged good-natured scowls and the foursome continued walking, Spike shaking his head as he said flatly, "The girls here are tourists, Hank."

"Hey." Buffy smacked his arm, making him look at her. "Tourist? I live here."

He laughed and pulled his arm out of her reach, saying, "You've lived here all of three months, Summers."

There it was again. Three months. That indefinable time limit, a short time to live somewhere, but enough time to fall in love. Enough time to change everything. A very short time and an impossibly long time all at once.

"And?" She challenged, raising both her eyebrows high as they walked side by side. "A lot can happen in three months."

It was probably a good thing Henry wasn't currently looking at the two of them, because the energy that sparked and crackled between them then was anything but friendly.

Gaze softening as he looked at her, Spike smiled. "True enough."

Oblivious, or maybe just playing at being oblivious, to the moment passing between the two blondes behind him, Henry sighed. Directed his gaze down toward Dawn and said, "Being a tourist is more a state of mind than a state of being anyway." Then he laughed and turned to glance at them over his shoulder, raising his voice. "You oughtta know that, Will. Lived here for almost thirteen years and still don't know your way over to Fenway."

Spike reached up and clapped his hands down onto his father's shoulders. "That's less a product of my failure to assimilate and more a result of my general distaste for American baseball."

That brought a loud groan to Henry's lips this time.

"If you weren't so painfully good looking I'd swear you weren't my son at all," he muttered, shaking his head as he turned back around.

Spike chuckled and let go of his dad. Perked a scarred brow in Buffy's direction and teased, "Good thing then, eh?"

The words may have been aimed at his father, but the smoldering eyes that accompanied them were all hers. He winked once and she felt the goofy smile starting to spread across her lips and bit down on the bottom one to stop it. Then, struck again by how young he looked, how relaxed he seemed, she felt the smile slip just slightly.

Because his behavior didn't quite match his words. Hadn't really all morning, if she thought about it. For someone who'd been all with the incredibly insistent that he wasn't ready to tell his dad about the nature of his marriage, or about the nature of their relationship, he sure wasn't doing a whole heck of a lot to hide his flirting.

Because he was very obviously flirting with her now.

And then she had a thought. Wondered dimly as she looked at him if maybe he was doing all this on purpose. Not that he was faking it or being overly flirtatious, any more than he would have been normally, but just that he wasn't trying to hide it. That maybe he was hoping Henry would figure it out on his own and that he'd be the one to bring it up.

And if that was what he was hoping, she realized she really didn't have a problem with it.

Whatever got them talking was just fine by her.

"Where are we going?" Dawn asked, smoothing her heavy hair back away from her face and pulling it back into a ponytail, tightening the rubber band once before dropping her hands again.

"There's another pub not too far from here that's a hell of a lot better than that crap back there. It's only about a block away," Henry assured her, picking up the pace of his gait. Teasing her for her earlier impatience, he added, "If you can make it."

Dawn wrinkled her nose up at him and Buffy smiled as she watched them, sharing an amused side-eyed glance with Spike's dad. Enjoying the fact that somehow, somewhere along the way, the older man had stopped making her feel nervous and had started making her feel like she was in with him on some wonderful, long standing inside joke.

"A block." The younger girl frowned, glancing back at Buffy, too. "What is that, like a mile?"

"You've lived in California too long, honey," Henry told Dawn, giving her long ponytail a teasing tug. Chuckling at her exaggerated teenage eye-roll.

Whether by accident or on purpose, the foursome split into twos again. Henry and Dawn walking just a little faster than Buffy and Spike, a little gap forming between them of about six or seven feet. It didn't feel forced, but easy. Natural. Like everything else that day had been.

"Those two certainly seem to be gettin' on well, don't they?" Spike told Buffy after a minute had passed, the unlikely duo ahead of them still chatting absently about a city block and what it means to use it as a form of distance measurement.

Buffy shrugged.

"I'm not surprised," she told him simply, honestly. Almost surprised at how much she meant it. "Your dad's a really easy guy to get along with."

Spike frowned.

"And I'm not?" he asked, angling himself toward her as they walked.

"Am I sleeping with your dad?" she countered, keeping her voice low.

A beat passed as he considered that.

Then, grimacing, he said, "I'd appreciate it if you never spoke those particular words in that particular order again."

"No problem," Buffy agreed, smirking at the expression on his face.

Spike nodded gratefully and turned forward again. Walked silently beside her for a minute, his eyes traveling subtly back and forth between his father and her little sister. Then he sighed, reached his hand down and let his pinky finger brush against hers.

"You think she'll ever warm up to me?" he asked quietly.

"She already is," Buffy said. At his skeptical eyebrow raise, she had an overwhelming urge to reach out and grab his hand. She didn't. "She is, Spike, she's totally warming. It's not like she's being mean to you."

He inhaled deeply through his nose. "Not bein' particularly receptive to me, either."

It was true, though she'd kind of been trying to pretend like it wasn't.

It wasn't that Dawn had been...cold with Spike during the day. She hadn't been cold in her interactions with Spike at all, actually. She'd engaged with him when he'd asked her questions, laughed at jokes he'd cracked and said yes, of course, when he'd asked if she would ride with him in one of the Swan boats. She liked him, Buffy knew. It was incredibly difficult, if not downright impossible, not to.

But Dawn's priority now was looking out for her big sister, and her worry over both the nature of their relationship and the time in which it had developed was making itself known in tiny, subtle ways that Spike was more than perceptive enough to notice.

Dawn hadn't been cold, but she hadn't exactly been warm either.

"Just give her a little time and she'll get there," Buffy promised, meeting worried, azure eyes with hers. She searched them for a minute. Then smiled and reminded him, "I did."

Because it had taken her a little while, too.

"You had the benefit of seein' me naked," Spike reminded her in turn, a little bit of the spark and smolder she'd seen earlier flashing across his features.

Buffy wanted to roll her eyes.

Instead, she sighed wistfully. Shook her head. "You're right, you are way more likeable with your shirt off."

"I know," Spike said, sounding burdened.

"It's a shame," she murmured.

"A right bloody one," he agreed.

They both slowed their walks and locked eyes, sharing another one of those flirtatious, secretive looks. The perfectly smooth skin across his cheeks and jaw were sun kissed, the bridge of his nose showing just the hint of red from where he'd rubbed the sunblock away earlier. His eyes were tender on hers, the golden haze of pre-sunset light making them shine. Making his lips look soft.

If they'd been alone, she would have kissed him.

But they weren't.

"Here we go," Henry announced, stopping under an old looking painted sign that had "nostalgia factor" written all over it. He grinned at the blondes as they turned to face him. "Best burgers in Boston, right here. Have you been here before, Buffy?"

She didn't answer him right away, still too busy reading and re-reading the name of the pub emblazoned on the hanging sign above. The Sevens.

The bar where she and Spike first met.

"Uh, yeah," Buffy answered now, nodding. Turning her eyes to his. "Once, when I first moved here."

Henry smiled at her and opened the door for Dawn. Looking like he might have had a legitimate twinkle in his eye, he said, "You really aren't a tourist then, are you?"

With that, they disappeared inside the bar.

"No, I guess not," Buffy murmured to herself, then looked at Spike. "Did you…?"

He answered before she could finish the question. "I had no idea."

And he for sure had a twinkle in his eye as he reached for the door handle and pulled it open for her, gesturing inside.

-Saturday, August 17th. 8:16pm-

Spike made a face at his dad and swallowed, shook his head. Set his beer down on the table and said, "Right, first of all, it wasn't a year. It was a month."

"I think it was all the same to your sister at the time," Henry told him, grinning as he took a sip from his own bottle.

The bleached blonde looked like he wanted to roll his eyes but didn't, instead shooting a wry glance in Buffy's direction. Eyes on her face, like he was looking for her reaction. Pleased when he saw the perma-smile still on her face.

"Like Dru was such an angel?" he asked her, his voice a conspiratorial stage whisper across the table.

She raised her eyebrows but made no comment, sipping on the beer Henry'd insisted on buying for her. She'd already heard the ink tea story from Spike, but hearing his dad re-tell it was even better. Watching the two men bicker and banter back and forth, disputing the finer points of the story's facts, who did what and when, which of the Pratt children had started it all to begin with. They really did love each other, and it was never more obvious than when they were arguing.

In the chair beside her, Dawn gaped at Spike. "You turned your sister's teeth black for a month?"

He looked over at her and frowned.

"Well, I…" he began, then paused. Bit his lip. "It was more dark grey than black." A beat. "It sounds worse than it was." Another beat. "Dru deserved worse than I gave ninety percent of the time."

"It's true," his father agreed on a chuckle. "Still, I'm not convinced she ever forgave you for that one." He took a sip and thought it over, then raised his bottle in mock salute. "Probably the reason she convinced you that bleaching the hell out of your hair was a good idea."

And Spike did roll his eyes now. "She didn't convince me of anythin', old man. It was a bet."

"Which you lost," Dawn teased him, looking vindicated.

"Which she rigged," he told her purposefully. Then smirked and added, "Not that I'm complaining, seein' as how the hair's only made me more devastatingly handsome."

His father shook his head. "Dream on, kid."

Three more stories, several good-natured jibes and another round of drinks later, the sun had gone down and the bar around them was getting gradually more crowded. Over the sound of tinkling glasses and retro music, the four of them laughed and chatted, relaxed. Happy.

Sun tired and pleasantly buzzed, a lightness in her arms and a tingling in her fingertips, Buffy met her boyfriend's gaze from across the table. Smiled.

He smiled back.

And then their waitress returned, setting down a large, hot plate of French fries covered in melted cheese.

"That…smells amazing," Buffy sighed, her stomach growling appreciatively at the sight.

"Tastes even better," Henry told her with a wink, using his fork to scoop some of the fries onto a small plate. "It's the day old grease."

Dawn paused with her hand halfway to the plate, wrinkling her nose. "Ew."

"I'm just gonna go wash my hands," Buffy announced to the table, the buzzing and tingling having reached their fingers up into her brain. She pushed her chair back and stood up, directing the next words at Spike. "I'll be right back."

"Alright," he said. Then leaned back in his chair, reaching around to grab for her hand and stop her as she maneuvered around him. "You want another drink?"

Normally, she would have pulled her hand out his immediately. Probably would have been more aware of the fact that both Dawn and Henry were looking at them, watching closely as they interacted.

The way things were currently though, she wasn't really thinking about it.

Shaking her head, hand still in his, she said, "I can't drink anymore beer, Spike."

She was going to start making some seriously questionable decisions if she drank anymore beer.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "A vodka rocks it is, then."

An hour and a half and her vodka on the rocks later, which she'd let Dawn have a few secret sips of along the way, Buffy and Spike were explaining animatedly to his father all about the manuscript they were working on together. She'd just finished her synopsis of the plot, detailing a few of the editing techniques Spike had been teaching her, when Henry's expression made her stop short.

"He's having you read it out loud?" he asked, a small smirk curling his mouth as he looked back and forth between the two of them now.

Buffy glanced toward Spike. "Surprisingly, it works."

"Surprisingly," he echoed drolly. Beneath the table, he nudged her knee with his.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Another couple minutes later and Henry very politely excused himself to the restroom.

Dawn grabbed for the glass of diet soda in front of her and said, "You guys are the most non-subtle secret lovers ever."

Buffy frowned at her little sister. "What do you mean?"

"Aren't secret relationships supposed to be kind of secret?" She asked by way of explanation, setting her drink back down. She looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment, then sighed when they didn't seem to get it. "You guys have been all over each other all day."

Buffy sat back in her chair and frowned, the buzzing in her blood making her forget for just a second that she didn't need to be denial girl with her sister.

"We so weren't all over each other," she muttered at the exact same moment Spike asked, "Noticed that, did you?"

They looked at each other and exchanged sheepish looks.

Dawn raised an eyebrow and gave a little half laugh, then held her hands up in surrender. "You guys are adults, you can do what you want." She shrugged. "It just seems like for two people with such a huge secret you aren't trying to be all that secretive, that's all."

-Saturday, August 17th. 11:33pm-

Spike and Buffy were alone.

Finally.

They were back in her apartment. Dawn had said goodnight, thanked Spike for the day and disappeared into the bedroom, and for the first time all day they were alone in the living room.

Spike sat down on the couch and leaned back into the cushions. Sighed. Shut his eyes.

"Tired?" Buffy asked, eyeing him from the kitchen sink.

"The good kind," he murmured in response, popping one eye open. "Forgot how much the sun can take it out of you."

"No kidding." She finished stacking the three ice cream dishes in the dishwasher and closing it, starting the cycle. "Not that the alcohol probably put much back."

He laughed appreciatively at her and nodded, opened both eyes again. Watched her as she moved out of the kitchen and back into the living room. He shifted over and patted the space on the couch cushion beside him, eyes on Buffy as she dropped down onto it with a contented sigh, tucking one leg up. Angling herself toward him.

"Did you have fun today?" he asked, brushing her hair back from her face.

"I really did." She propped her elbow up on the back of the couch and cupped the back of her neck. "When else do I get to spend an entire Saturday with you…not cooped up in the condo or lying in bed?"

Spike raised his eyebrows. "Since when do you have a problem spendin' the whole day in my bed?"

"Hey, no problems at all with that whatsoever," she explained, laughing. Quieted. Searched his eyes as he searched hers. "I just like being with you. Out there. Like it's really real…" She wet her lip and bit it. "At least for a little while."

Spike's face grew shadowed. For the first time all day, she could see the war going on in his mind. Could see the years and the weight and worry starting to creep back in, clouding his eyes, dimming the lightness she'd seen there that afternoon.

He reached up and ran his hand over the crown of her head. "It is real, luv."

Buffy smiled a little sadly.

"No, I know that. I mean…" she trailed off, chewing on the inside of her cheek. What did she mean? That today was the first time since deciding to be together that she actually felt like they could be together? That getting to be out in the real world for a day had changed things again? That not having to hide for a day was going to make having to hide again that much worse? Buffy couldn't stand the thought of telling him that. Any of that. So she just said, "It was a good day, that's all."

He didn't look like he believed that was exactly what she'd meant, but didn't press her. Didn't want to ruin the day they'd had, either.

"So you didn't mind Henry tagging along then?"

"Nah." Buffy smiled again and shook her head. "It's nice to see the two of you together."

Spike didn't much like the descriptor. "Nice?"

"Yes," Buffy said resolutely, giving him a teasing poke in the sternum. "For all the differences you boys seem to like to point out about each other you're practically the same person. And seeing him with you…it's—"

"Nice," he finished for her, rolling his eyes.

"Like getting this little sneak peek into what you'd be like as a dad," she said on a laugh, purposefully ignoring his snark, shoving his shoulder lightly.

And Spike did that thing.

That thing where he reached up and grabbed her hand before she could pull it away, threaded his fingers through hers. Grinned. Eyes warm, glittering in delight, he pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"Liked seein' that, did you?"

Buffy's lashes fluttered as she looked at him and realized what she'd said. A beat passed between them.

"No comment," she added, her cheeks flushing as she got up off the couch.

"Don't need one," he countered, getting up to his feet, too. Curling his tongue. "You're blushing."

She made a face at him. "You're leaving."

"I am," Spike told Buffy, reaching for her hands. Slowly entwining their fingers. "In a minute."

He tugged her forward and kissed her.

It was their first kiss all day, warm and sweet, and she sighed. Happy. His lips still tasted faintly of sea salt and sunshine, and she ached just a little knowing it might be another three months before she got to taste them on him again.

Maybe longer.

And if she spent too long thinking about that she'd never let him leave her apartment again.

So instead of thinking about it, instead of thinking about anything other than the very real feel of his mouth moving over hers and the pressure of his hands, she held onto him. Wound her arms around his neck and clung to him, kissing him back. Loving him with her lips until her lungs began to burn and she was forced to pull away.

Breathing in, she brushed her nose over his. Asked, "A minute?"

"Mmhmm," Spike hummed, then gave her another slow kiss. "Or…ten." Another. "Twenty." One more, then he pulled back and inhaled deeply, sweeping his hands up her back. "You think Dawn would hate me more'n she already does if I stayed the night?"

Buffy sighed, her hands slipping to his shoulders. Looked at him very seriously through her lashes. "Spike," she began slowly, expression earnest, "for the last time, she doesn't—"

"Hate me," he finished for her, grinning. Smug. "Yeah, I know." He gripped her hips. "But watchin' you get all worked up and overly reassuring does things to me."

Buffy let out an indulgent giggle, letting him pull her tighter against him before lightly shoving at his shoulders and turning away.

"You're insane," she teased him over her shoulder, moving for the door.

"Mmm, I'm in love you mean." Spike caught her around the waist and pressed his lips against her neck. Purred, "It's essentially the same thing in my experience."

She turned her head over her shoulder to meet his eyes. "And your experience with love is…?"

"Limited at best," he agreed, the tone of his voice matching hers. Then he breathed a pleased sigh and lowered his lips to her ear. "Which is likely the explanation for why I can't seem to keep away from you."

Her skin reacted to him before her body did, tingling and covered over in goosebumps as her face warmed. Covering his arms with hers, she leaned further against him. Did her best to block out the faintly aching feeling that hadn't left her chest quite yet. Told him, "I'm feeling decidedly non-complainy about that right now."

"I'm glad," he whispered, squeezing her once. He rocked her against his chest for a silent moment, a gentle back and forth that might have lulled her to sleep if she hadn't been waiting for it. The proverbial but she felt hanging in the air between them. So when he sighed and whispered, "Little sis was right, though" she couldn't say she was surprised.

"What she said back at the bar," Spike continued softly, his arms still tight around her like he was a little afraid to let go. "Reckon I've been a bit more cavalier than I should be where you're concerned, especially of late."

Buffy froze for a minute, letting the words sink in. Letting what they meant sink in.

The ache in her chest pulsed once.

Then she turned around in his arms and sighed, "I figured that was coming."

"You disagree?" he asked, voice quiet, tilting his head to the side.

Yes. "No."

Spike tilted his head to the side. "Terribly convincing, sweet."

"No, I mean…no, I don't disagree." She bit down on her lip and looked down, thinking it over. "I think we broke every 'rule' this week at some point."

"Barring the time you refused to let me shag you on my desk, o'course."

"Of course."

Spike laughed along with her before pulling back. His expression growing clouded again, thoughtful. His brow furrowed. Again, Buffy knew what was coming before he said it.

"All kidding aside, we should be more careful, pet." He lifted her hand and kissed the pad of her thumb. "I should be more careful."

It wasn't rocket science. Wasn't brain surgery. She knew what being more "careful" translated to where they were concerned, and even though it was so often her that argued they weren't being careful enough, she hated the idea right now. Of not seeing him as often as she wanted to. Not seeing him whenever she wanted to. This was the part she'd been dreading all day long, the part where their relationship took that dreaded turn back into feeling like an affair, the secretive territory where every action they made toward one another had to be carefully calculated.

She wondered if it wouldn't have been quite so hard to swallow if she hadn't let him break so many rules the week before.

"If this is just about what happened tonight," she began slowly, "what Dawn said—"

But Spike shook his head.

"It's not, Buffy. Not really. It's about me comin' here. About us sharin' an office." He sighed and brushed his thumb over her cheek, clearly feeling as torn as she did. "As much as I cherish every blessed second I spend with you, and as much as I love seeing you sittin' across from me every day, it's getting harder and harder for me to separate the two." Wrapping his arms slowly around her waist to illustrate, he said, "Where I can be like this with you and where I can't."

Buffy pressed her lips together, knowing he was right. Not liking that he was right. Then she nodded once and looked up. "Hence, all the rule breakage."

"Exactly," Spike said, like he knew even though she was agreeing with him that she didn't really want to be. He reached up and cupped her face between his hands like she was something painfully precious, his voice honeyed. "Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me the lines between what we do in private and what we do in public aren't blurrin' just the tiniest bit for you?"

No.

Of course she couldn't.

There wasn't a thing, not one single thing, about them and their togetherness that wasn't blurring every line she'd ever had the good sense to draw. That's what they did, she realized. Blurred lines. Crossed lines. Took things that were supposed to be all neat and tidy and wrapped up in pretty black and white bows and turned them all around. Mixed them up.

It was all grey area now.

And Buffy was beginning to worry she was getting too comfortable inside of it.

-Monday, August 19th. 9:45am-

Monday morning came too fast.

After an extremely lazy Sunday morning, a huge brunch Spike had come back over and insisted he be allowed to make for "his" girls and a relaxing afternoon of shopping with Faith, Buffy and Dawn had stayed up later then they probably should have on Sunday night. Not doing much of anything at all except watching I Love Lucy re-runs and talking about nothing at all. They'd laid in her bed and eaten junk food, the kind of crap they'd stopped eating ages ago, and talked. Not about Spike, which was both surprising and kind of nice, but about other things. Little things. Memories of their mom, Giles, their childhood. Their futures.

And when Monday morning finally arrived, it came too fast.

Standing just inside the main lobby of the airport now, arms crossed over her chest, Buffy eyed her little sister and felt sad. One weekend hadn't been long enough, and even though the sisters had already planned another long weekend during the beginning of Dawn's Thanksgiving break, three whole months seemed like forever away to her.

"Do you have everything you came with?" she asked.

Dawn nodded, then made a face. "Plus, like, five extra pounds from all the eating. I feel like a sausage or something."

"Well you don't look like one," Buffy promised, reaching out to run her fingers through a lock of the younger girl's silky chestnut hair. "I'm really glad you came."

"Me, too." Dawn reached up and took Buffy's hand. Squeezed it, then raised an eyebrow. "Spike
still think I hate him?"

"Yep." She let go of Dawn's hand.

Her little sister frowned. "Even after I was all complimentary of his breakfast making abilities?'

"Yep."

"He's too sensitive," Dawn told her plainly.

"I know," Buffy agreed. Shrugged. "I think it's cute."

"You would," the younger Summers muttered wryly. Then, glancing over Buffy's shoulder toward the digital Departures board, she sighed. "I should probably head toward security soon, the flight'll be boarding in like thirty minutes."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed half-heartedly. Then, "Hey, do me a favor and tell Giles hi for me?"

Dawn looked surprised.

Then she quickly recovered, covering for the surprise by nodding quickly.

"Sure. Or, and hear me out 'cause I know this is crazy…" She trailed off for dramatic effect, widening her eyes. "You could pick up the phone and tell him yourself."

Buffy tilted her head to the side and deadpanned, in a mimicry of her sister's words the night before, "Baby steps."

"Fine, fine," her sister grumbled. Crossed her arms. "Sissy."

She chuckled and shoved the other girl playfully, pushing her in the direction of the security arrow. "Hey, no name calling."

"Buffy?"

Oh, God.

Buffy froze in place, every muscle in her body locking in place as she nearly tripped and fell into her sister. She swallowed. Hoped against any, every and all hope that she hadn't heard right, that she hadn't heard the voice she'd thought she'd heard. It was possible. Completely. Since she'd only ever heard the voice she'd just thought she'd heard once or twice before.

There was only one way to find out.

Forcing herself to turn around, her heels catching a little in the carpet as she did, her throat closed up.

Cecily Pratt. Right there. In all her tiny, perfectly coiffed, impeccably styled glory. Standing across the airport lobby, looking even more painfully flawless then she had the last time she'd seen her. The petite brunette was smiling, waving. Looking almost relieved.

Then she hiked her purse onto the crook of her slender arm and started heading toward them.

"Oh, God," Buffy breathed out loud this time, eyes going wide.

This wasn't happening. Couldn't be. Hadn't Spike said she wasn't coming back from London until tomorrow? Not that it mattered what Spike had said, because he'd clearly been wrong.

Because his wife was very much here. Now.

"What?" Dawn asked next to her, clearly confused. "Buffy, what…who is that? And why is she coming toward us?" A beat as she looked back at her sister. "And why does your face look like that?"

"Shut up," Buffy hissed through the side of her mouth, the painfully bright smile she'd managed to plaster onto her face on instinct. She stood up straighter as the other woman reached them, the nails of her right hand digging down through the fabric of her blazer and into her arm.

"Mrs. Pratt," she said very specifically, hoping Dawn would take the hint. "Hi."

"Oh, good," Cecily breathed, her shoulders sagging beneath the weight of the gauzy, paper-white straps of her dress. "I thought that was you. Would've been terribly embarrassing otherwise."

Oh, yeah, terribly embarrassing.

As opposed to what was happening now.

"Yep, it's me." Buffy swallowed, wet her lips. Tried to remember her normal social cues. "Umm, how are you?"

Good. Polite, good.

"Much better now that I'm on solid ground again," Cecily insisted, digging down into her purse and pulling out a tube of rosy lipstick. Popping the cap and reapplying it in one, smooth stroke, she added, "Air travel might be convenient but it's quite far from natural, isn't it?"

"I've never been a big fan of flying," Buffy agreed.

Or having awkward conversations in airports with my boyfriend's wife.

"So, what brings you to Logan International, Buffy?" The older woman capped her lipstick and smiled, cat like, watchful, and slipped it back inside her purse. "Is Will actually letting you out of his sight long enough for you to go on holiday?"

Well, that sounded a little on the loaded side.

And Buffy didn't know why hearing Cecily talk about her own husband so casually made her skin tighten and itch. It just felt wrong to be standing face to face, listening to her bandy about his common name in a voice that sounded either threatening or affectionate, she couldn't really tell.

And she'd asked her a question.

"Oh," Buffy said, shaking her head. "No. I was just dropping someone off. Uh, my sister actually." She turned toward said sister like she'd suddenly just remembered she wasn't alone. "Dawn, this is—"

Cecily extended her hand out to the younger girl and purred the introduction for her. "Cecily Pratt, lovely to meet you." Her eyes flashed subtly, barely at all, and she added, "Your sister works for my husband."

A long, quiet beat went by without any of them speaking.

Then Dawn let go of Cecily's hand and said flatly, "Oh."

The older woman blinked a few times, puzzled. Or maybe amused. Her pink bow of a mouth was curving slightly.

"Oh?" she repeated.

Buffy pressed her lips together in a tight line, her own lashes fluttering one too many times as she looked down into her bag and pretended to search for something. Fought the urge to elbow her sister in the ribs.

"No, not oh," Dawn amended quickly, talking with her hands now. A nervous habit both girls had picked up from their mother. "I just meant…I've heard a lot about you."

Oh.

God.

Buffy pulled her hand back out of her bag and slapped the first thing she'd found, a pack of sugar free gum she'd never opened, into her sister's outstretched palm. The action, and the accompanying noise, had both Cecily and Dawn turning their attention back toward her.

Smiling tightly, she cleared her throat and said, "Dawnie, you're gonna miss your flight if you don't go now."

Dawn nodded, understanding.

"Right." She took the gum and stuffed it down into her own purse, then turned and reached for Buffy, wrapping her arms tightly around her and squeezing. In her ear, sounding worried, she whispered, "I'll call you as soon as I land."

Which actually meant something along the lines of I'm sorry, everything's fine, just relax. With the added caveat of I want every single detail of what happens after I leave later tonight.

"Okay," the older girl agreed, hidden subtext and all, squeezing her back. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Dawn hugged Buffy for one more long second before pulling away again, hoisting her carryon bag higher onto her shoulder. Then, with just a slightly too-sweet edge to her voice, she said, "It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Pratt."

Cecily either didn't notice the saccharine sharpness, or didn't care. Just smiled at her as she was turning to leave and purred, "You, too."

Neither of the women left behind spoke for a moment, Buffy standing very still and watching her sister wave goodbye, round the corner toward the security gate. She waited it out, muscles and nerves on edge, until she saw Dawn completely disappear from view before she turned back toward Spike's wife. Finding the sweet-looking brunette already gazing at her, she took a deep breath and smiled once more, trying her best to focus on being polite and normal.

You know, instead of cutting and running full tilt toward the nearest exit like she wanted to.

"Well, it was good to see you," she lied, all forced politeness and pinching cheeks. Gesturing with her hand in the direction of the automatic doors, she took a stuttering side step toward them. "I should probably get back to work."

Unmoving, Cecily asked evenly, "Is that where you're headed now? Back to William?"

Buffy blinked, panicking for a heart-poundingly long second before she realized that back to work could technically, appropriately, be interpreted as back to Spike.

Then she nodded.

"Mr. Pratt said he needed me back by noon," she explained, feeling bizarre again for having to refer to him so formally. Not like there was any way in hell she'd call him Spike in front of her, but still.

Bizaroness abounded.

It got worse a moment later when a knowing little smile spread across Cecily's face, both shrewd and somehow also sincere. "Well, you mustn't keep him waiting then."

Buffy nodded again, swallowing.

The older woman turned away from her and scanned the crowd milling around the front of the lobby, waving when she spotted whoever it was she'd been looking for.

"Do you have a car here?" she asked absently, casting Buffy a sidelong glance.

"I was just going to get a cab, actually," she told her, again pointing toward the automatic glass doors and the line of taxis waiting beyond them.

To her freedom.

Something Cecily didn't seem to understand. Or understood too well.

Buffy couldn't quite tell which it was as the brunette scoffed and shook her head, saying, "Nonsense. I'm already heading back in that direction, why don't you let me drop you off?" She tilted her head to the side. "It's the least I can do."

That sounded weird. Felt weird.

Hackles up, Buffy stared at the other woman. The least she could do for what?

"Really, Mrs. Pratt," she insisted, shaking her own head, that strange feeling still fluttering in her stomach and making her knees wobble. "It's fi—"

Cecily cut her off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"I won't take no for an answer," she commanded, the soft expression on her face and lightness in her tone belying the force in the words.

And Buffy found herself stuck.

Caught. Confused. Not knowing what would be more damning in the end, which answer would do more damage. If she insisted and said no, would it look too much like she couldn't stomach being near the other woman for the whopping fifteen minutes it would take to get from the airport to Pratt? Would that make her look guiltier than just biting the bullet and being virtually held captive for those same fifteen minutes? Forced to make small talk and trying her best not to say anything too revealing.

In her mind, the whole thing had begun to feel like a test, and she wasn't sure if she was going to be able to pass either way.

But…fifteen minutes. She could hold her own for fifteen measly minutes.

Couldn't she?

It was with that abnormally self-assured thought that Buffy returned the smile of her boyfriend's pretty wife and said, "Okay, sure."

And right choice or wrong, she was about to find out.