A/N: This story hasn't been updated in a while, but hey – I said I'd get
around to it.
"Okay, kiddo," Cordelia propped her sunglasses on her head, looking around the road for the school-gate. 'Where is this Prep school?" The diminutive redhead sighed, looked bored, and pointed.
"It's right over there. You may pick me up at three thirty precisely. I have you written in for a ten minute slot, and I cannot miss my ballet lesson, or Madame LeNay will start without me. I hate being late," the eight year old declared firmly. She held up a Palm Pilot, and clicked off an electronic item, then suddenly smiled up at Cordelia. "I give huge kudos to the fact that you managed to get me here on time." The smile was gone as quickly as it came, and Cordelia heard the child mutter, 'Did you learn to tell the time yet?'
"Okay, hotshot-"Cordelia began, smiling her own, tight, 'I am Queen C of LA's finest, and no-one messes with Queen C' forced smile,
"It's Willow," the little girl interrupted with a terse little sigh as her shoulders tightened with irritation. Cordelia's smile remained intact.
"I know. So listen here, chica, I get paid to look after you. Which means it's my job. I don't have to like it." She bent down in front of Willow, clasping the girl's arms with her hands, and looked dead straight into Willow's eyes. "But if you make it hard for me, I promise you, I will make your life living hell." Willow blinked.
"Glad we've got that straight, sweetheart," Cordelia finished, with a triumphant quirk to her smile. Willow smiled sweetly back up at her.
"And if you do not do your job properly, I'll make your life living hell," she said, her voice dripping honey. Cordelia blinked, but the child skipped away, her plaid pleated skirt flaring with each little hop of her legs.
"Brat," she muttered, walking away, not without a saccharine little wave from the wrist to Willow. Once inside the gate, Willow leant with her back against the wall, and pulled out her palm pilot once more. She pulled up the small graph.
"Point one to me," she whispered, with a satisfied smirk.
"Hello?" Cordelia called, dropping her keys into the small moulded silver bowl on the mantelpiece especially for that purpose, hoping that the hot boss was still around. "Hello?" she repeated, wandering toward the kitchen.
A huge dog leapt out of the kitchen, barking, and jumped at her. Screaming, Cordelia fell backwards, the giant animal's paws catching on her cashmere sweater.
"Ew, ew, ew,ew!" she moaned, pushing the hairy mutt's face away from hers as it tried to lick her to death. Her new boss loomed above her, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth, his bright blue eyes still as heartstoppingly gorgeous. He bent down, and stuck out a hand.
"Sorry about that," he said, concern in his voice covering the hidden laughter. "That's Ammendment, Willow's dog." Cordelia got to her feet, and stared at the large, panting grey, wiry mutt looking up at her with soulful brown eyes.
"She's an Irish wolfhound," Spike said helpfully. "We call her Amy."
"Dogs weren't part of the job description," Cordelia said weakly. Spike grinned nonchalantly. "Amy's harmless. Really. She only needs a quick walk at lunchtime, the dogwalker comes at five to walk her."
"Right," Cordelia nodded, still fixed on Spike's gorgeous face. "Just a walk at lunchtime." She seemed dazed.
"Great. I knew you'd be perfect," he smiled at her, and she felt her knees go weak. "I've got to do some work. See you." He headed back up the stairs to the top floor. Amy thumped her tail hopefully against the wooden floor. Cordelia glared at her.
"She gets a bonus point for being gorgeous," a skinny boy in a plaid waistcoat put in, leaning over Willow's shoulder as she noted things on her electronic computer. Willow shook her head disdainfully, her two long braids flying.
"My dad doesn't go for the obvious ones," she answered dismissively, screwing up her nose. "He has taste." The boy laughed.
"I saw her from the gate. Trust me, she gets the point," he informed her. Willow rolled her eyes expressively, taking a bite from her sushi.
"All right. Peter says a bonus point for being gorgeous, which makes her more difficult an opponent. Subtract a point for no experience whatsoever with kids-"a wicked little grin spread over Willow's face. Another girl in a plaid skirt, her hair held back by a matching Alice band looked worried.
"What does that mean?" she asked frowning. Willow inspected her nails, neatly trimmed and painted with clear nail polish. "It means that she has no idea what's going to hit her," she informed the girl, with a satisfied smile. "I say, one week. Bets, gentlemen."
A small pile of dollars grew as the small chalkboard beside Willow was checked off with different bets. The grin spread over her face.
"She wants living hell? I see no reason to disappoint her," she said lightly. The kids giggled.
"Amy, heel," Cordelia ordered, trying to keep up with the wildly excited hound at the same time as not stepping in anything distinctly icky while in her favourite pair of Choos. "Amy, heel!" The dog ignored her, loping on and dragging an ineffective Cordelia behind her.
"Amy, you dumb, stupid, horrible mutt, heel!" she yelled, finally losing her tenuous grip on the very end of the dog's lead. Amy gave a joyful bark and plunged ahead, bowling right into another dog owner whose cute Labrador looked rather worried and was licking his hand as Cordelia finally caught up, breathing hard after her impromptu run.
"God, I am so sorry," she covered her hand with her mouth, her eyes widening, "I didn't know she was going to do that. She's like, sausage material, really, I have no control over her." There was a laugh, and the guy she'd just knocked over with her dog clambered to his feet, dusting himself off.
"It's okay, really," he assured her. "Darla does it all the time to strangers." Cordelia looked at the yellow Labrador sitting beside him as he bent, tying his shoelaces. Darla panted, gazing up at Cordelia as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
He straightened, as she asked, 'Darla?" Then her mouth dried as she looked at him. He was tall, broad shouldered, dark with smouldering eyes, currently grinning at her.
How lucky can one girl get?
"Darla," he confirmed. "I named her after an old girlfriend. The dog is prettier." Cordelia laughed flirtatiously, gathering up Amy's lead.
"So nice to meet you, what was your name?" she asked, smiling at him. He stuck out a hand.
"Angel. Angel O'Connor. And you?" he grinned at her. Her smile broadened. Things were looking up when even a stupid mutt brought hotness a plenty. She glanced at the dog. Well, Amy had taste.
"Cordelia," she answered.
A/N: Tell me if you want more of this story! Next time, Willow tries to make life vee-ry difficult, Spike explains a little of their background, and Cordelia is late to school...
Coming up soon, a 'makeover' goes awry, Willow runs away, and a hot date for the nanny...
"Okay, kiddo," Cordelia propped her sunglasses on her head, looking around the road for the school-gate. 'Where is this Prep school?" The diminutive redhead sighed, looked bored, and pointed.
"It's right over there. You may pick me up at three thirty precisely. I have you written in for a ten minute slot, and I cannot miss my ballet lesson, or Madame LeNay will start without me. I hate being late," the eight year old declared firmly. She held up a Palm Pilot, and clicked off an electronic item, then suddenly smiled up at Cordelia. "I give huge kudos to the fact that you managed to get me here on time." The smile was gone as quickly as it came, and Cordelia heard the child mutter, 'Did you learn to tell the time yet?'
"Okay, hotshot-"Cordelia began, smiling her own, tight, 'I am Queen C of LA's finest, and no-one messes with Queen C' forced smile,
"It's Willow," the little girl interrupted with a terse little sigh as her shoulders tightened with irritation. Cordelia's smile remained intact.
"I know. So listen here, chica, I get paid to look after you. Which means it's my job. I don't have to like it." She bent down in front of Willow, clasping the girl's arms with her hands, and looked dead straight into Willow's eyes. "But if you make it hard for me, I promise you, I will make your life living hell." Willow blinked.
"Glad we've got that straight, sweetheart," Cordelia finished, with a triumphant quirk to her smile. Willow smiled sweetly back up at her.
"And if you do not do your job properly, I'll make your life living hell," she said, her voice dripping honey. Cordelia blinked, but the child skipped away, her plaid pleated skirt flaring with each little hop of her legs.
"Brat," she muttered, walking away, not without a saccharine little wave from the wrist to Willow. Once inside the gate, Willow leant with her back against the wall, and pulled out her palm pilot once more. She pulled up the small graph.
"Point one to me," she whispered, with a satisfied smirk.
"Hello?" Cordelia called, dropping her keys into the small moulded silver bowl on the mantelpiece especially for that purpose, hoping that the hot boss was still around. "Hello?" she repeated, wandering toward the kitchen.
A huge dog leapt out of the kitchen, barking, and jumped at her. Screaming, Cordelia fell backwards, the giant animal's paws catching on her cashmere sweater.
"Ew, ew, ew,ew!" she moaned, pushing the hairy mutt's face away from hers as it tried to lick her to death. Her new boss loomed above her, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth, his bright blue eyes still as heartstoppingly gorgeous. He bent down, and stuck out a hand.
"Sorry about that," he said, concern in his voice covering the hidden laughter. "That's Ammendment, Willow's dog." Cordelia got to her feet, and stared at the large, panting grey, wiry mutt looking up at her with soulful brown eyes.
"She's an Irish wolfhound," Spike said helpfully. "We call her Amy."
"Dogs weren't part of the job description," Cordelia said weakly. Spike grinned nonchalantly. "Amy's harmless. Really. She only needs a quick walk at lunchtime, the dogwalker comes at five to walk her."
"Right," Cordelia nodded, still fixed on Spike's gorgeous face. "Just a walk at lunchtime." She seemed dazed.
"Great. I knew you'd be perfect," he smiled at her, and she felt her knees go weak. "I've got to do some work. See you." He headed back up the stairs to the top floor. Amy thumped her tail hopefully against the wooden floor. Cordelia glared at her.
"She gets a bonus point for being gorgeous," a skinny boy in a plaid waistcoat put in, leaning over Willow's shoulder as she noted things on her electronic computer. Willow shook her head disdainfully, her two long braids flying.
"My dad doesn't go for the obvious ones," she answered dismissively, screwing up her nose. "He has taste." The boy laughed.
"I saw her from the gate. Trust me, she gets the point," he informed her. Willow rolled her eyes expressively, taking a bite from her sushi.
"All right. Peter says a bonus point for being gorgeous, which makes her more difficult an opponent. Subtract a point for no experience whatsoever with kids-"a wicked little grin spread over Willow's face. Another girl in a plaid skirt, her hair held back by a matching Alice band looked worried.
"What does that mean?" she asked frowning. Willow inspected her nails, neatly trimmed and painted with clear nail polish. "It means that she has no idea what's going to hit her," she informed the girl, with a satisfied smile. "I say, one week. Bets, gentlemen."
A small pile of dollars grew as the small chalkboard beside Willow was checked off with different bets. The grin spread over her face.
"She wants living hell? I see no reason to disappoint her," she said lightly. The kids giggled.
"Amy, heel," Cordelia ordered, trying to keep up with the wildly excited hound at the same time as not stepping in anything distinctly icky while in her favourite pair of Choos. "Amy, heel!" The dog ignored her, loping on and dragging an ineffective Cordelia behind her.
"Amy, you dumb, stupid, horrible mutt, heel!" she yelled, finally losing her tenuous grip on the very end of the dog's lead. Amy gave a joyful bark and plunged ahead, bowling right into another dog owner whose cute Labrador looked rather worried and was licking his hand as Cordelia finally caught up, breathing hard after her impromptu run.
"God, I am so sorry," she covered her hand with her mouth, her eyes widening, "I didn't know she was going to do that. She's like, sausage material, really, I have no control over her." There was a laugh, and the guy she'd just knocked over with her dog clambered to his feet, dusting himself off.
"It's okay, really," he assured her. "Darla does it all the time to strangers." Cordelia looked at the yellow Labrador sitting beside him as he bent, tying his shoelaces. Darla panted, gazing up at Cordelia as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
He straightened, as she asked, 'Darla?" Then her mouth dried as she looked at him. He was tall, broad shouldered, dark with smouldering eyes, currently grinning at her.
How lucky can one girl get?
"Darla," he confirmed. "I named her after an old girlfriend. The dog is prettier." Cordelia laughed flirtatiously, gathering up Amy's lead.
"So nice to meet you, what was your name?" she asked, smiling at him. He stuck out a hand.
"Angel. Angel O'Connor. And you?" he grinned at her. Her smile broadened. Things were looking up when even a stupid mutt brought hotness a plenty. She glanced at the dog. Well, Amy had taste.
"Cordelia," she answered.
A/N: Tell me if you want more of this story! Next time, Willow tries to make life vee-ry difficult, Spike explains a little of their background, and Cordelia is late to school...
Coming up soon, a 'makeover' goes awry, Willow runs away, and a hot date for the nanny...