*****
Chapter 2: Meet the Scoobies
*****
The Bronze. Evidently, it was where people like her hung out on Saturday nights. Andrea squeezed between two guys, trying her hardest to get to the bar. Sitting on a stool, she ordered her drink. The bartender handed her a Pepsi, which she sipped slowly as she scanned the crowd.
She was dressed casually in a tight-fitting blue sparkly halter top and flared blue jeans. Her golden hair hung loose around her shoulders. The band playing was loud and fast. People were dancing, or, more accurately, trying to dance. Andrea stood and was walking to a red sofa on the other side of the room when she was stopped by a man of about 25. "Wanna dance?" he asked hopefully. She forced a smile.
"No, thank you." She moved to walk around him, but he stepped into her way.
"Come on, sweet thing. Dance with me." He put his hand on her shoulder and tried to pull her onto the dance floor. She swatted his hand away.
"Look, I said no, you ignorant -"
"There you are, kitten. I've been looking all over for you." Spike pulled her into his arms so suddenly that she had to grab handfuls of his duster to keep from toppling over. He brought her up to meet his lips with hers, his hands caressing her waist.
"Oh, sorry, man. I didn't know," sputtered the man, backing away to fade into the crowd. Andrea slowly pulled away from Spike, wetting her lips nervously. She felt colour rush to her cheeks.
"Thanks, Spike."
"No problem. You looked like you could use a hand."
"Some guys just can't take a hint."
"Forget it." Realizing he was still stroking her waist, he dropped his hands away quickly, as if she'd burned him. She inhaled deeply.
"Did you want something?" she asked, attempting to regain her composure.
"Uh, yeah. Come with me."
"What?" Her brow furrowed. She looked cute when she was confused, Spike noticed, before shoving away the completely irrelevant thought.
"Please, love. Just trust me." He took her hand and tried to lead her to the door, but she stayed stubbornly still. "Why should I?"
"No reason you should." She saw the challenging glint in his eyes that dared her to refuse. She paused.
"Where are we going?" He smirked all-knowingly and pulled her out of the club.
* * *
"Who's house is this?" Andrea asked suspiciously.
"It's okay. We're friendly. Most of the time." He led her up the walkway by the elbow and pounded on the door. Buffy opened the door and her gaze flickered over Andrea before she moved aside to let them in.
"Hi," greeted Buffy. "I'm Buffy Summers." She stuck out a hand, which Andrea shook absentmindedly.
"Andrea Smith."
"Spike was right," said Dawn. "She is pretty." Andrea shot a sideways glance at Spike, who shrugged. Buffy led her into the living room and introduced her to everyone.
"So," Andrea said after she'd heard the names of everyone in the room. "Not that I'm not grateful for the hospitality, but why am I here?"
"We thought it best to meet you," answered Giles, rubbing the lenses of his glasses with a handkerchief. "Seeing as you claim your the slayer."
"I am," Andrea said defensively.
"Yes, well, so is Buffy." Andrea frowned. She had that oh-so-cute confused look again.
"But she'd have to have-"
"She did," said Willow.
"But she's-"
"We brought her back," explained Anya. "We were sick of her being dead."
"Oh." Andrea seemed to take this amazingly well. She shrugged. "Okay. So. . . what now?"
"We hadn't really thought that far ahead," admitted Xander.
"We could patrol together," Buffy suggested. "Is that alright?"
"Uh, yeah. Might be nice."
"Do you think she's prettier than me?" Anya asked Xander suddenly. Xander looked startled and Spike smirked at his predicament.
"Uh, um, no," he sputtered.
"Good." Anya folded her hands on her lap in a satisfied way. Andrea smiled at Xander's obvious uncomfortableness. "Now that we're done with the intruder, we can get back to Buffy's lack of funds."
"Blunt, isn't she," Andrea mumbled softly.
"She's an ex-vengeance demon," Spike explained, leaning back against the wall.
"Oh." She folded her arms over her stomach, more for lack of anything else to do than for a specific reason. Willow glanced at Andrea apologetically.
"Buffy, would you rather discuss this in private?" Willow asked. "No offense or anything, Andrea, but we did just meet."
"No problem. I can leave."
"It's okay. You don't have to leave. The topic was getting depressing anyway. We can talk about something else. Sit. Get comfortable." Andrea slowly sat down in a chair next to the couch. "You're our guest. What would you like to talk about?"
"Why don't you tell me about yourselves," she suggested.
"I'm in construction," supplied Xander proudly.
"Anya and I own the magic shop down town," said Giles, adjusting his glasses.
"Willow and Tara are students at UC Sunnydale. They're witches," said Dawn, who then frowned. "Where is Tara?"
"She went to a convention out of town for one of her classes," answered Willow.
"Tara?" asked Andrea, confused. "My girlfriend."
"Oh." She'd said that a lot in the short span of time she'd been in Buffy's house. These people were just chalked full of surprises.
"Dawn goes to high school, Spike hangs around us for no apparent reason-" started Buffy.
"I bloody well do not," interjected Spike. "I'm helping you fight the big nasties." Andrea smiled at his indignity.
"Sure, you are Spike," she joked. "Just keep telling yourself that." Buffy turned to Giles, grinning.
"I like her already." Spike mumbled something about mutiny, but Andrea couldn't hear him.
"What about you Buffy?"
"I don't really do anything." She frowned.
"She's just pretty much adjusting to not being dead," contributed Dawn tiredly.
"Makes sense." Andrea nodded.
"So, when did you get here?" asked Xander.
"I just arrived in Sunnydale yesterday morning. I spent the day unpacking my junk, then I met Spike when I was patrolling." She crossed her legs unconsciously, unaware that Spike had seen the unintentionally provocative movement. She pushed a stray lock of blonde hair behind her pierced ear. Spike cocked his head and let his intense blue gaze stray lazily over her.
"You're not American, are you pet?" Andrea frowned.
"How did you know that?" she asked softly.
"Last night when you were fighting those vamps, you called them damn Americans." She smiled at his observation.
"I'm Canadian."
"Wow. Did you fly here?" asked Willow.
"No, I drove," she answered patiently.
"You have a car?" Dawn asked, clearly amazed.
"Yeah," Andrea admitted timidly. "Aren't I supposed to?"
"No, it's good. Good to have a car," Buffy said hurriedly. "It's just that Giles is the only one of us who has a car."
"Oh. Okay." Xander leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Where do you live?" he asked.
"Yes," joined Anya. "Do you enjoy your personal space?" she asked with a smile. Andrea grinned.
"Yeah, I guess so. I live just over there." She pointed in the general direction of her house.
"You live in the corner of Buffy's house?" asked Willow, misunderstanding.
"No, I live just down the street."
"Well, that makes things easier on everyone involved," observed Giles Britishly.
The Bronze. Evidently, it was where people like her hung out on Saturday nights. Andrea squeezed between two guys, trying her hardest to get to the bar. Sitting on a stool, she ordered her drink. The bartender handed her a Pepsi, which she sipped slowly as she scanned the crowd.
She was dressed casually in a tight-fitting blue sparkly halter top and flared blue jeans. Her golden hair hung loose around her shoulders. The band playing was loud and fast. People were dancing, or, more accurately, trying to dance. Andrea stood and was walking to a red sofa on the other side of the room when she was stopped by a man of about 25. "Wanna dance?" he asked hopefully. She forced a smile.
"No, thank you." She moved to walk around him, but he stepped into her way.
"Come on, sweet thing. Dance with me." He put his hand on her shoulder and tried to pull her onto the dance floor. She swatted his hand away.
"Look, I said no, you ignorant -"
"There you are, kitten. I've been looking all over for you." Spike pulled her into his arms so suddenly that she had to grab handfuls of his duster to keep from toppling over. He brought her up to meet his lips with hers, his hands caressing her waist.
"Oh, sorry, man. I didn't know," sputtered the man, backing away to fade into the crowd. Andrea slowly pulled away from Spike, wetting her lips nervously. She felt colour rush to her cheeks.
"Thanks, Spike."
"No problem. You looked like you could use a hand."
"Some guys just can't take a hint."
"Forget it." Realizing he was still stroking her waist, he dropped his hands away quickly, as if she'd burned him. She inhaled deeply.
"Did you want something?" she asked, attempting to regain her composure.
"Uh, yeah. Come with me."
"What?" Her brow furrowed. She looked cute when she was confused, Spike noticed, before shoving away the completely irrelevant thought.
"Please, love. Just trust me." He took her hand and tried to lead her to the door, but she stayed stubbornly still. "Why should I?"
"No reason you should." She saw the challenging glint in his eyes that dared her to refuse. She paused.
"Where are we going?" He smirked all-knowingly and pulled her out of the club.
* * *
"Who's house is this?" Andrea asked suspiciously.
"It's okay. We're friendly. Most of the time." He led her up the walkway by the elbow and pounded on the door. Buffy opened the door and her gaze flickered over Andrea before she moved aside to let them in.
"Hi," greeted Buffy. "I'm Buffy Summers." She stuck out a hand, which Andrea shook absentmindedly.
"Andrea Smith."
"Spike was right," said Dawn. "She is pretty." Andrea shot a sideways glance at Spike, who shrugged. Buffy led her into the living room and introduced her to everyone.
"So," Andrea said after she'd heard the names of everyone in the room. "Not that I'm not grateful for the hospitality, but why am I here?"
"We thought it best to meet you," answered Giles, rubbing the lenses of his glasses with a handkerchief. "Seeing as you claim your the slayer."
"I am," Andrea said defensively.
"Yes, well, so is Buffy." Andrea frowned. She had that oh-so-cute confused look again.
"But she'd have to have-"
"She did," said Willow.
"But she's-"
"We brought her back," explained Anya. "We were sick of her being dead."
"Oh." Andrea seemed to take this amazingly well. She shrugged. "Okay. So. . . what now?"
"We hadn't really thought that far ahead," admitted Xander.
"We could patrol together," Buffy suggested. "Is that alright?"
"Uh, yeah. Might be nice."
"Do you think she's prettier than me?" Anya asked Xander suddenly. Xander looked startled and Spike smirked at his predicament.
"Uh, um, no," he sputtered.
"Good." Anya folded her hands on her lap in a satisfied way. Andrea smiled at Xander's obvious uncomfortableness. "Now that we're done with the intruder, we can get back to Buffy's lack of funds."
"Blunt, isn't she," Andrea mumbled softly.
"She's an ex-vengeance demon," Spike explained, leaning back against the wall.
"Oh." She folded her arms over her stomach, more for lack of anything else to do than for a specific reason. Willow glanced at Andrea apologetically.
"Buffy, would you rather discuss this in private?" Willow asked. "No offense or anything, Andrea, but we did just meet."
"No problem. I can leave."
"It's okay. You don't have to leave. The topic was getting depressing anyway. We can talk about something else. Sit. Get comfortable." Andrea slowly sat down in a chair next to the couch. "You're our guest. What would you like to talk about?"
"Why don't you tell me about yourselves," she suggested.
"I'm in construction," supplied Xander proudly.
"Anya and I own the magic shop down town," said Giles, adjusting his glasses.
"Willow and Tara are students at UC Sunnydale. They're witches," said Dawn, who then frowned. "Where is Tara?"
"She went to a convention out of town for one of her classes," answered Willow.
"Tara?" asked Andrea, confused. "My girlfriend."
"Oh." She'd said that a lot in the short span of time she'd been in Buffy's house. These people were just chalked full of surprises.
"Dawn goes to high school, Spike hangs around us for no apparent reason-" started Buffy.
"I bloody well do not," interjected Spike. "I'm helping you fight the big nasties." Andrea smiled at his indignity.
"Sure, you are Spike," she joked. "Just keep telling yourself that." Buffy turned to Giles, grinning.
"I like her already." Spike mumbled something about mutiny, but Andrea couldn't hear him.
"What about you Buffy?"
"I don't really do anything." She frowned.
"She's just pretty much adjusting to not being dead," contributed Dawn tiredly.
"Makes sense." Andrea nodded.
"So, when did you get here?" asked Xander.
"I just arrived in Sunnydale yesterday morning. I spent the day unpacking my junk, then I met Spike when I was patrolling." She crossed her legs unconsciously, unaware that Spike had seen the unintentionally provocative movement. She pushed a stray lock of blonde hair behind her pierced ear. Spike cocked his head and let his intense blue gaze stray lazily over her.
"You're not American, are you pet?" Andrea frowned.
"How did you know that?" she asked softly.
"Last night when you were fighting those vamps, you called them damn Americans." She smiled at his observation.
"I'm Canadian."
"Wow. Did you fly here?" asked Willow.
"No, I drove," she answered patiently.
"You have a car?" Dawn asked, clearly amazed.
"Yeah," Andrea admitted timidly. "Aren't I supposed to?"
"No, it's good. Good to have a car," Buffy said hurriedly. "It's just that Giles is the only one of us who has a car."
"Oh. Okay." Xander leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Where do you live?" he asked.
"Yes," joined Anya. "Do you enjoy your personal space?" she asked with a smile. Andrea grinned.
"Yeah, I guess so. I live just over there." She pointed in the general direction of her house.
"You live in the corner of Buffy's house?" asked Willow, misunderstanding.
"No, I live just down the street."
"Well, that makes things easier on everyone involved," observed Giles Britishly.