1/Kicked Out
Thank you to Jessie, Kelley, Belladonna, swalpole23, veggie'slilangel, and
Destiney for commenting on the prologue.
"Last Resort" belongs to Papa Roach.
~*~ 1/Kicked Out ~*~
Willow and Oz sat cuddled up together on Willow's couch. They had been
watching a movie, but it ended about an hour ago and neither had the desire
to move from the positions they were currently in: Willow's head on Oz's lap,
and Oz slowly stroking her back.
"When's Easter?" Willow asked quietly.
"Next Sunday," Oz replied. "Why?"
"Just wondering," Willow sighed contently. Then she shifted her weight slightly
so she could look up at Oz. "Bunnies."
"What?" Oz blinked.
"Bunnies," Willow nodded.
Oz rolled his eyes and shook his head. "What about bunnies?"
"They're scary," Willow told her boyfriend. "All fluffy and cute and innocent.
Anything that naive has to be a creation of something pure evilness."
Oz chuckled and kissed her lightly. "You're so cute, you know that?"
"Oh, make fun of me," she grumbled. "Make fun of my bunny-o-phobia."
"It's just cute," Oz explained.
"Whatever," Willow sighed, pouting at him.
Oz shook his head again, smiling.
"Ever since I read Bunnicula I never looked at bunnies the same way."
Oz laughed.
***
"When are we gonna get married?" Buffy asked, doing her homework like a
good little girl while Spike read some out of the history book.
"How's tomorrow?" Spike replied, lifting his blue eyes to look at her.
"Seriously," Buffy pouted.
"After we graduate, pet," he nodded decisively.
"Okay..." she sighed and went back to her homework, but her mind wasn't
on it. She tapped her pen on the worksheet, then chewed on the cap. She
looked back at him. "Yeah, but what month, Spike?"
Spike shrugged, making a note of something on a piece of paper. "Whatever
you want, luv."
Silence engulfed them. Then, suddenly, Buffy spoke again.
"You don't care, do you?"
"Wha'?" he looked at her, bewildered.
"You don't even care that we're getting married."
"O' course I care," Spike frowned. "Why do you think I wouldn't?"
"You were joking about it first, and then you're acting like I need to do all
the planning," Buffy narrowed her eyes.
Spike arched an eyebrow. "Buffy, I'm kinda busy righ' now, I would *like* to
ge' this assignment done so I don't have to repeat my senior year, so we *can*
ge' married."
"You don't give a damn about graduating, I know you don't," Buffy looked at
him, hazel eyes filling with hurt.
*Bloody hell,* Spike cursed internally. "I care about graduatin' now, Buffy, I
know your mum wouldn't like me marryin' you 'less I could provide for us."
"So now I can't get a job? I have to stay home all day and be a perfect little
housewife?" Buffy's voice was growing louder, sparking Spike's temper into
play.
"Tha's no' wha' I said and you bloody well *know* i'!" his voice matched Buffy's
in volume. "Though I'm startin' t' think tha' maybe you *should* stay home...
save me the embarrassmen'!"
Buffy's indignant gasp almost made Spike reel back as if he'd been slapped.
"*Me*, an *embarrassment*?! You dress like we're still in goddamn 80s! In
case you haven't noticed, William, it's 2001!"
"At least I'm not a bloody spoiled *brat*!"
"Bastard!"
"Bitch!"
"Get out of my house!"
"Hate to break it to you luv, but *I* live here too!"
"Not anymore. GET OUT!"
"I shoulda known better than t' think *this* would work ou'!"
Spike stomped out, his ring lying on the floor. Moments later he came back
in with his duffel bag, shoved clothes and his school supplies in it, and left
the house.
"Spike!" Buffy called out the window, throwing it open. He stopped and
looked over his shoulder at her...
...and proceeded to get hit in the face with a boot.
"Bloody hell!" Spike roared, covering his face and stooping down to pick up
the boot.
And got hit on the butt with the other one.
"You bloody bitch!" he yelled at her.
She stuck her tongue out at him. "And don't come back!"
"Gladly!"
***
Xander tore himself away from the TV and answered his door, which
someone was incessantly pounding on. As soon as he had the door
open, the caller shoved past him and sat down on Xander's bed. Xander
looked out the door, closed it, and turned around. "Spike? What are you
doing here?"
"Buffythrewmeou'," he said quickly.
"Huh?" Xander replied ingeniusly.
"She threw me ou', Whelp," Spike told him despairingly.
Xander looked at Spike oddly. "Buffy threw you out? Why?"
"Because I 'didn' care abou' our wedding'," Spike scoffed.
Xander walked over and turned off the television. He felt he owed it to
Spike to listen to him, since the peroxide-blond man had come to him in
the first place. Which, logically, meant that Spike had no one else to
turn to. "So...what brought that on? What were you two talking about?"
"I was doin' my homework," Spike started, earning a snort from Xander.
"Sorry," Xander waved him on. "Continue."
"And she asked me when we were gonna ge' married," Spike continued.
"I proposed tomorrow, and she told me to be serious, so I told her after
we graduate. Then she asked me what month and I told her whatever
month she wanted, and then she got her bloody knickers in a twist."
"Sounds to me like all you have to do is apologize for being a man," Xander
told him.
"I don' have t' apologize for anything," Spike said defensively. "I' was her
faul'."
"Oh just swallow your ego, Peroxide Boy," Xander clapped the older man on
the back. "Just apologize to her and she'll let you live in the house again.
Preferably soon, 'cause I don't think my parents will enjoy having you down
here. Neither will I."
"Thanks for lettin' me stay, mate," Spike smirked.
Xander rolled his eyes and thrust his phone at the other man. "Call her."
***
The following day, Tuesday, found Spike and Buffy sitting as far away from
each other as they could at the small table-like desk they shared in science.
They barely spoke a word to each other, and Cordelia didn't like this devel-
opment at all. Monday morning they'd been fine. What had happened
yesterday morning that would make the two so angry with each other? Cordy
would have to ask Xander and see if he knew anything.
Soon, the class was engrossed in a lab the teacher assigned.
"That's *not* how you do it, dumbass."
"Oh, and you're a bloody scientist."
"No, I just pay attention in class, unlike you."
"I *was* paying atten--where's your ring?"
"Why do you care?"
"We're still engaged, Buffy."
"Is *that* why you threw your ring down on my floor and left the house in
a hissy?"
"I still don' know wha' the bloody hell caused tha' bloody fight--I love you more
'n anything, you know tha'."
"You just don't care about our wedding."
Cordelia whirled around and gave them both looks that could kill. "Stop it. You
two love each other, you're going to get married soon, kiss and make up already!
God! What are your childhood traumas!"
She turned back to her lab partner and continued the lab.
The two stared at Cordelia's back, then looked at each other, then went back
to gaping at Cordy's back.
Cordelia turned to face them again. "Spike, Billy Idol called. He wants his look
back. And Buffy, *please* get a Tic-Tac and shut your mouth, your breath
stinks."
***
"Your girlfriend is bloody bint, Xander," Spike told the dark-haired boy, doing his
homework while Xander's stereo blared next to him.
"What does that mean, anyway?" Xander asked. "'Bint'. I know it's...ah...not
exactly flattering, but..."
"Druther not tell you," Spike muttered, marking an answer down on his paper.
"But your girl's one. She got all...Queen Cordelia today."
Xander laughed. "That's funny. Cordy's not 'Queen Cordelia'."
"She was t' me and," a wistful look crossed Spike's features, "Buffy. She said
some not very nice things."
"I do believe you're talking like one of the gang, Spike," Xander told him. He
glanced at the digital alarm clock next to his bed. "Damn. I gotta go. Gotta
meet the others for a study date--wanna come with?"
"Is she gonna be there?" Spike asked, genuinely considering going with Xander
to a study date with Willow, Oz, and Cordelia with him.
Xander nodded. "It would be a perfect time to apologize to her..."
Spike shook his head. "No. We had another figh' this mornin', I'm no' ready
t' apologize to her ye'."
"Your loss," Xander shrugged. "Don't trash the place," he warned and left.
"Like I would do that, you bloody pillock," Spike grumbled. He just turned the
radio up louder.
---
Cut my life into pieces
This is my last resort
Suffocation, no breathing
---
Spike found himself singing along. And he realized then he spent fifteen
hours away from Buffy from Monday afternoon to Tuesday morning, and
now he'd just spent the last three hours away from her. And when he'd
seen her, he rarely talked to her, especially after the episode in their science
class.
---
Don't give a [censored] if I cut my arms bleeding
Cut my life into pieces
I've reached my last resort
Suffocation, no breathing
Don't give a [censored] if I cut my arms bleeding
---
Spike looked at his homework and decided it wasn't so important right now.
His head was starting to hurt anyway.
So he jumped up and began to play air guitar.
---
Do you even care if I die bleeding?
Would it be wrong would it be right
If I took my life tonight
Chances are that I might
Mutilation out of sight
And I'm contemplating suicide
---
Spike slid out of Xander's walk-in closet in nothing but his socks, boxers, his
T-shirt, and a pair of sunglasses.
This was definitely risky business.
---
'Cause I'm losing my sight, losing my mind
Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine
Losing my sight, losing my mind
Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine
---
He played the air guitar, singing along with the song. He jumped up on
Xander's unmade bed and pretended like he was at a concert.
---
I never realized I was spread to thin
Till it was too late, and it was t--
---
"Spike?"
He froze.
"What the *hell* are you doing?"
***
She prowled down the sidewalk as soon as it was dark enough to go unnoticed
if she dressed in black. She was looking for a specific car. An old black DeSoto.
The one she'd tried to get the other day.
She could *not* find the damn thing for the life of her. And now she had a qualm
with the owner of that certain DeSoto.
She was going to kick his ass.
If she could find him, that is.
How hard should it be to find a peroxide-blond git with a DeSoto?
Harder than finding a microscopic Waldo, apparently.
Thank you to Jessie, Kelley, Belladonna, swalpole23, veggie'slilangel, and
Destiney for commenting on the prologue.
"Last Resort" belongs to Papa Roach.
~*~ 1/Kicked Out ~*~
Willow and Oz sat cuddled up together on Willow's couch. They had been
watching a movie, but it ended about an hour ago and neither had the desire
to move from the positions they were currently in: Willow's head on Oz's lap,
and Oz slowly stroking her back.
"When's Easter?" Willow asked quietly.
"Next Sunday," Oz replied. "Why?"
"Just wondering," Willow sighed contently. Then she shifted her weight slightly
so she could look up at Oz. "Bunnies."
"What?" Oz blinked.
"Bunnies," Willow nodded.
Oz rolled his eyes and shook his head. "What about bunnies?"
"They're scary," Willow told her boyfriend. "All fluffy and cute and innocent.
Anything that naive has to be a creation of something pure evilness."
Oz chuckled and kissed her lightly. "You're so cute, you know that?"
"Oh, make fun of me," she grumbled. "Make fun of my bunny-o-phobia."
"It's just cute," Oz explained.
"Whatever," Willow sighed, pouting at him.
Oz shook his head again, smiling.
"Ever since I read Bunnicula I never looked at bunnies the same way."
Oz laughed.
***
"When are we gonna get married?" Buffy asked, doing her homework like a
good little girl while Spike read some out of the history book.
"How's tomorrow?" Spike replied, lifting his blue eyes to look at her.
"Seriously," Buffy pouted.
"After we graduate, pet," he nodded decisively.
"Okay..." she sighed and went back to her homework, but her mind wasn't
on it. She tapped her pen on the worksheet, then chewed on the cap. She
looked back at him. "Yeah, but what month, Spike?"
Spike shrugged, making a note of something on a piece of paper. "Whatever
you want, luv."
Silence engulfed them. Then, suddenly, Buffy spoke again.
"You don't care, do you?"
"Wha'?" he looked at her, bewildered.
"You don't even care that we're getting married."
"O' course I care," Spike frowned. "Why do you think I wouldn't?"
"You were joking about it first, and then you're acting like I need to do all
the planning," Buffy narrowed her eyes.
Spike arched an eyebrow. "Buffy, I'm kinda busy righ' now, I would *like* to
ge' this assignment done so I don't have to repeat my senior year, so we *can*
ge' married."
"You don't give a damn about graduating, I know you don't," Buffy looked at
him, hazel eyes filling with hurt.
*Bloody hell,* Spike cursed internally. "I care about graduatin' now, Buffy, I
know your mum wouldn't like me marryin' you 'less I could provide for us."
"So now I can't get a job? I have to stay home all day and be a perfect little
housewife?" Buffy's voice was growing louder, sparking Spike's temper into
play.
"Tha's no' wha' I said and you bloody well *know* i'!" his voice matched Buffy's
in volume. "Though I'm startin' t' think tha' maybe you *should* stay home...
save me the embarrassmen'!"
Buffy's indignant gasp almost made Spike reel back as if he'd been slapped.
"*Me*, an *embarrassment*?! You dress like we're still in goddamn 80s! In
case you haven't noticed, William, it's 2001!"
"At least I'm not a bloody spoiled *brat*!"
"Bastard!"
"Bitch!"
"Get out of my house!"
"Hate to break it to you luv, but *I* live here too!"
"Not anymore. GET OUT!"
"I shoulda known better than t' think *this* would work ou'!"
Spike stomped out, his ring lying on the floor. Moments later he came back
in with his duffel bag, shoved clothes and his school supplies in it, and left
the house.
"Spike!" Buffy called out the window, throwing it open. He stopped and
looked over his shoulder at her...
...and proceeded to get hit in the face with a boot.
"Bloody hell!" Spike roared, covering his face and stooping down to pick up
the boot.
And got hit on the butt with the other one.
"You bloody bitch!" he yelled at her.
She stuck her tongue out at him. "And don't come back!"
"Gladly!"
***
Xander tore himself away from the TV and answered his door, which
someone was incessantly pounding on. As soon as he had the door
open, the caller shoved past him and sat down on Xander's bed. Xander
looked out the door, closed it, and turned around. "Spike? What are you
doing here?"
"Buffythrewmeou'," he said quickly.
"Huh?" Xander replied ingeniusly.
"She threw me ou', Whelp," Spike told him despairingly.
Xander looked at Spike oddly. "Buffy threw you out? Why?"
"Because I 'didn' care abou' our wedding'," Spike scoffed.
Xander walked over and turned off the television. He felt he owed it to
Spike to listen to him, since the peroxide-blond man had come to him in
the first place. Which, logically, meant that Spike had no one else to
turn to. "So...what brought that on? What were you two talking about?"
"I was doin' my homework," Spike started, earning a snort from Xander.
"Sorry," Xander waved him on. "Continue."
"And she asked me when we were gonna ge' married," Spike continued.
"I proposed tomorrow, and she told me to be serious, so I told her after
we graduate. Then she asked me what month and I told her whatever
month she wanted, and then she got her bloody knickers in a twist."
"Sounds to me like all you have to do is apologize for being a man," Xander
told him.
"I don' have t' apologize for anything," Spike said defensively. "I' was her
faul'."
"Oh just swallow your ego, Peroxide Boy," Xander clapped the older man on
the back. "Just apologize to her and she'll let you live in the house again.
Preferably soon, 'cause I don't think my parents will enjoy having you down
here. Neither will I."
"Thanks for lettin' me stay, mate," Spike smirked.
Xander rolled his eyes and thrust his phone at the other man. "Call her."
***
The following day, Tuesday, found Spike and Buffy sitting as far away from
each other as they could at the small table-like desk they shared in science.
They barely spoke a word to each other, and Cordelia didn't like this devel-
opment at all. Monday morning they'd been fine. What had happened
yesterday morning that would make the two so angry with each other? Cordy
would have to ask Xander and see if he knew anything.
Soon, the class was engrossed in a lab the teacher assigned.
"That's *not* how you do it, dumbass."
"Oh, and you're a bloody scientist."
"No, I just pay attention in class, unlike you."
"I *was* paying atten--where's your ring?"
"Why do you care?"
"We're still engaged, Buffy."
"Is *that* why you threw your ring down on my floor and left the house in
a hissy?"
"I still don' know wha' the bloody hell caused tha' bloody fight--I love you more
'n anything, you know tha'."
"You just don't care about our wedding."
Cordelia whirled around and gave them both looks that could kill. "Stop it. You
two love each other, you're going to get married soon, kiss and make up already!
God! What are your childhood traumas!"
She turned back to her lab partner and continued the lab.
The two stared at Cordelia's back, then looked at each other, then went back
to gaping at Cordy's back.
Cordelia turned to face them again. "Spike, Billy Idol called. He wants his look
back. And Buffy, *please* get a Tic-Tac and shut your mouth, your breath
stinks."
***
"Your girlfriend is bloody bint, Xander," Spike told the dark-haired boy, doing his
homework while Xander's stereo blared next to him.
"What does that mean, anyway?" Xander asked. "'Bint'. I know it's...ah...not
exactly flattering, but..."
"Druther not tell you," Spike muttered, marking an answer down on his paper.
"But your girl's one. She got all...Queen Cordelia today."
Xander laughed. "That's funny. Cordy's not 'Queen Cordelia'."
"She was t' me and," a wistful look crossed Spike's features, "Buffy. She said
some not very nice things."
"I do believe you're talking like one of the gang, Spike," Xander told him. He
glanced at the digital alarm clock next to his bed. "Damn. I gotta go. Gotta
meet the others for a study date--wanna come with?"
"Is she gonna be there?" Spike asked, genuinely considering going with Xander
to a study date with Willow, Oz, and Cordelia with him.
Xander nodded. "It would be a perfect time to apologize to her..."
Spike shook his head. "No. We had another figh' this mornin', I'm no' ready
t' apologize to her ye'."
"Your loss," Xander shrugged. "Don't trash the place," he warned and left.
"Like I would do that, you bloody pillock," Spike grumbled. He just turned the
radio up louder.
---
Cut my life into pieces
This is my last resort
Suffocation, no breathing
---
Spike found himself singing along. And he realized then he spent fifteen
hours away from Buffy from Monday afternoon to Tuesday morning, and
now he'd just spent the last three hours away from her. And when he'd
seen her, he rarely talked to her, especially after the episode in their science
class.
---
Don't give a [censored] if I cut my arms bleeding
Cut my life into pieces
I've reached my last resort
Suffocation, no breathing
Don't give a [censored] if I cut my arms bleeding
---
Spike looked at his homework and decided it wasn't so important right now.
His head was starting to hurt anyway.
So he jumped up and began to play air guitar.
---
Do you even care if I die bleeding?
Would it be wrong would it be right
If I took my life tonight
Chances are that I might
Mutilation out of sight
And I'm contemplating suicide
---
Spike slid out of Xander's walk-in closet in nothing but his socks, boxers, his
T-shirt, and a pair of sunglasses.
This was definitely risky business.
---
'Cause I'm losing my sight, losing my mind
Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine
Losing my sight, losing my mind
Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine
---
He played the air guitar, singing along with the song. He jumped up on
Xander's unmade bed and pretended like he was at a concert.
---
I never realized I was spread to thin
Till it was too late, and it was t--
---
"Spike?"
He froze.
"What the *hell* are you doing?"
***
She prowled down the sidewalk as soon as it was dark enough to go unnoticed
if she dressed in black. She was looking for a specific car. An old black DeSoto.
The one she'd tried to get the other day.
She could *not* find the damn thing for the life of her. And now she had a qualm
with the owner of that certain DeSoto.
She was going to kick his ass.
If she could find him, that is.
How hard should it be to find a peroxide-blond git with a DeSoto?
Harder than finding a microscopic Waldo, apparently.