Disclaimer: see chapter 1 (not prologue)

A/n: I am soooooo sorry. I meant to get this chapter up around the 22nd of September. Now I know you're probably thinking 'wait a sec, that was like 3 months ago what the hell happened?' Well I went away the day after my B-day so I was away on the Sep. 23 I planned to post it when I got back from retreat a had a busy weekend so no luck there. Then Tue. of the next week I come home and boom my house has been broken into and both computers are gone. The insurance took forever to fill out and there was a ton of price issues since my specific comp isn't made anymore and I just got my new comp last night so I figured I would catch up on my fic reading last night and type this up for my magnificent fans in the morning. Not that the people reading this story are necessarily fans. However if you are a fan or have helpful advice or I know you or visa versa (wow that's a ton of ors isn't it) please leave a review because they make me immensely happy and it keeps me posting. By the way not that you care but as I sated earlier I had a B-day so I am now 17 so my bio is slightly wrong and I don't want to go through the trouble of changing it right now. This chapter concentrates on Wes and Mel from last chapter so if you are looking for Spuffy I'm sorry but wait about a week and I will try and get the next chapter up before the holidays are over since I've already started on it I also have a new story started 2 actually check them out one is going to be a BtVS/HP crossover (with a plot this time) and the other is a Fred/Wes fic because there are so not enough of those. I know I know stop blabbering and get on with the story.

Much love intofire101 ; )

Chapter 8: What the Morning Brings

I woke up with puffy red eyes this morning. Memories came flooding back. Spike danced with Fred, Wesley got very drunk, I had formed a plan, I kissed Spike. Wait, I kissed Spike! Why the hell did I kiss Spike? Damn alcohol! Wait I didn't drink that was Wes. Damn English men. That Prick! Why did I kiss him? I know why. I kissed him for vengeance. I needed revenge on him for ruining my night of fun, and the only love life I have, which is messing with other people's love lives. At this point other people are basically Wes and Fred, pathetic right. I need to put this plan into action before things go any further.

Spike was awoken by a shrill ring. Mate it's Saturday why is the alarm on? He thought about that for a second. It was the phone not the alarm. Wes was probably somewhere with his head in a toilet so he might as well pick up the phone. It might be Buffy.

"Wes I need to mock you now I just had this horrid man come and …" A female fussed on the other end to a groggy Spike.

"Listen luv I don' know what the …" Spike started to chide the lady on the other end.

"Great you're still hung over did you even get my note? Never mind it doesn't matter. At least you are using your real accent instead of that fake upper class one you've adopted. If you were then I would have to hang up because you would sound exactly like that pounce who came to lecture my class. The nerve! He smart mouthed me. He is wearing this brown tweed suit, and he smart mouthed me. The prick …"

"Well I'm terribly sorry about that, but since I am merely a house guest and not Wesley Wyndom Pryce (thank God). I am afraid I can not help you resolve this dreadful dilemma, but I offer my deepest condolences to you in your current predicament and wish you plenty of luck in the future to better equip yourself against other such horrid situations." Spike was surprised to hear the upper-class accent he had fought so hard against slip back into his voice.

"Listen I have had more than my fill of snooty British men today and with that accent you just put on if I didn't know better I'd say you were the pounce who came to lecture my class today, so tell my cousin to get his stuffy English ass on the phone now!" The female verbally whipped Spike worse than he thought possible. Thankfully, Wesley had picked up the phone in the house so Spike could just hang up and go back to the dream he was having. Suddenly, one word came to his mind, Gunn. Gunn? I don't have a gun? Spike thought wondering at the word that had popped up. It hit him. Gunn, Charles Gunn. Spike turned around so quick it was a miracle he didn't get whiplash. There on his makeshift table sat his old friend Charles Gunn.

"I see you still have trouble with that accent of yours, Spike." The dark man teased his old friend about the outburst he had just overheard on the phone.

"Well, you know, drives the girls mad and I can't always be surrounded by gorgeous women. It gets so tedious after ten years." Spike, always the smart aleck, had to get a word in before greeting his friend properly.

"What are you doing here, mate?" Spike asked in a much friendlier tone now.

"Dad got a transfer, so down to Sunnydale we came. I thought I'd check on my old buddy, English, and see he wasn't stirring up too much trouble in such a little town." Gunn and Spike embraced in that manly handshake hug thing they do.

"I thought your dad had moved to a desk job in LA so you wouldn't have to move again." It was almost a question.

"He did. Can you say road trip? Dad didn't like living in the big city and he did most of his work at home anyway. I convinced him to come here and check it out. Home sweet home, right dawg." Gunn was Spike's oldest friend.

"So, I have a friend in Sunnydale now. Things just keep getting better and better. You don't still play the drums, do you mate?" Spike asked, with an idea sparking in his head.

" Of course I still play. I wouldn't give up my drums for the world." Gunn replied a bit defensively to his friend's question.

" Remind me to introduce you to Oz." Spike caught his buddy up on the entire Sunnydale goings on as Wesley was caught up on other going ons.

"Weees, I've had a horrible day. I need mocking material and I need it now! Since you're kind of, actually you're always funny, I thought you could help."

"Melanie, I just woke up, I can't find tea bags, and I think there is something taped to my forehead."

"Oh, that's the note I left you last night with your friend, Fluffy? Read it, you'll feel better I promise."

"Fluffy is a name for a cat, not a person, Mel. And I don't think we have vodka."

"Well, maybe your bloody pounce of a roommate has some."

"Spike…I should have known that bleeding idiot put something in my drink. He was all over Fred."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Your problem not mine. I need to talk about my problem….Spike, what kind of name is that? Never mind, MY problem."

"It's the name of a filthy little bugger who put stickers that make no sense all over my car park. For example, one by one the penguins steal my sanity."

"You know, I'll have to talk to him. But right now, My Problem."

"Fine, I will listen, but it will cost you one advice session without snark."

"Ooo, that's steep. But I just need to whine, so all right, one session, no snark. But full mocking ability in the future."

"Fine."

"Well, it all started…"

FLASHBACK

"Next week there will be a lecture on how magic in Harry Potter differs from magic in the quote on quote, real world."

"Marty!" A girl from the back of the class called with her hand raised.

"That's not her name!" A boy yelled.

"It's her nickname," came a voice from the corner.

"No, her nickname is Ms.McFly," a girl turned around to yell.

"Word in the hall is her nickname is Windy." A jock in the middle said, cocking an eyebrow at the professor.

"All right, although I love the informal atmosphere we've got going on here, I'm going to lay down the law. One, I will respond to the following: Marty, Ms.McFly, or Professor Wyndham. Two if you want to escape this class with your life, I would avoid any mention of the wind, in fact, that's a good watchword for whenever you're around me, avoid the wind." This had to stop before it went too far.

"Hey Windy! How's class going? Brats learn anything yet?" John asked on his way to teach his class in the library.

"Not yet. Just called me Windy" She called. Johnny's head slid back into view.

"You are all dead by the end of the year. I bet ten dollars on it." The entire class looked at him, very worried.

"He should know; he made up the name." The class was spared her wrath for at least a little while since the bell rang. "No homework, be nice to the guest speaker, Yes he thinks there's really magic. Don't mock him till I get there, I want to watch"

30 Minutes Later

"Johnny on the spot, always on time. What's up?" Melanie said when she met him thirty minutes later in the library.

"I need to use a class room tomorrow so my class doesn't have too easy a time cheating on their test. Would you mind using the library for your guest speaker?" He said using puppy dog eyes in a mocking way so as to keep the snarky mood between them. He snarked her, she snarked him, it was a snark-snark relationship.

"If by tomorrow, you mean next week, sure John. For some reason, people not in my class want to see this guy because so many people are interested in mocking magic, who knew?" Mel was trying her best not to laugh. John rolled his eyes at her sarcastic remark.

"Cool Windy. See you next week."

Next Week

As the guest speaker, Rupert Giles launched into a speech about the magic properties instilled by the mark of Eragog, Melanie rolled her eyes for the hundredth time since eight that morning. Giles had arrived four hours before he was due. He wanted to make a good impression. It didn't work.

"Now, the symbol just drawn has no effect but when imprinted into the skin in the form of tattoo or burn, the person is able to be possessed by the demon, which…" As Rupert Giles explained, Melanie gave up any attempt to be anything near civil and finally lost it.

"Look, Mr. Giles, I don't want you to misunderstand, because I have nothing but respect for you, but have I given any indication that I am the least bit interested in what you have been saying for the last four hours? I don't want to be overloaded with too much exposition before your little speech, okay?" Melanie ranted at the British pounce.

"Ms.Wyndom, I don't think…" Giles was cut off.

"Professor. Professor Wyndham. Dr.Wyndom if you prefer. I had to spend eight years in your stuffy British educational system so I think I've earned it." She was starting to draw the attention of bystanders in the hall.

"Fine, Professor Wyndham. I believe you have little to no right to talk to me like that. I have done nothing to you and you are obviously repressing something I don't want to know. If you are so uninterested, why did you invite me here? I was in the middle of closing a very large account when I got this invitation." Giles was starting to get agitated. It was clear from how often he was polishing his glasses.

"I invited you on the recommendation of a friend who I am considering demoting to an acquaintance just because of the fact he knows you. You could just be an acquaintance of his, in which case you would be the acquaintance of an acquaintance in which case you are not worth my time. I have every right to talk to you however I choose because you have been lecturing me on nonsensical, nonexistent things for the past four hours. And if I were repressed, would I be having this scene in the middle of a hallway? How does that little factoid sit with you?, you stuffy-shirted, glasses-cleaning, pouncy, flaming, pansy!"

"I'm not a pansy. And my shirt isn't stuffy, it just looks that way because of the jacket. I happen to be a very respected banker with a masters in business and accounting." Pulling Melanie into a secluded classroom, he continued. "What I teach isn't nonexistent and if you would just open your eyes to the what's around you, you would see the magic that fills our world." He was getting passionate as Melanie continued to rile him up.

"If I look around me where? Where on campus am I going to find a map of Erawhatsis? Who would be stupid enough to take it that far? And if they were, would they put it on display to look like an even bigger numbskull? And am I supposed to be going out of my way to look for the supernatural? I am sorry but I barely have enough time to grade my term papers, much less search for Bigfoot." Although she didn't want to admit it, he riled her up almost as much as she riled him.

"You. You invite me here under false pretenses and insult me verbally. You have insulted something I take very seriously. Plus even though it was in a backwards and roundabout way, you called me a stupid numbskull. I don't even want to go into the things you said earlier which were completely uncalled for. For your information, you don't need to look for Bigfoot, he is in an asylum for the extremely hairy, so you can look for him then." She wasn't sure if he was being serious or sarcastic.

"Wow. Not many can hold their own with me, but you just went for the jugular, so I hope you won't mind if I pay you the same courtesy. I never flat out called you a numbskull, but thank you for volunteering the information yourself. Personally I find you not only a stupid numbskull but a pathetic lost sorry excuse for a pseudo-intellectual grasping at the flimsiest evidence of nonexistent, nonsensical garbage in a vain attempt to find meaning in a stuffy life that you have made even stuffier simply by being yourself." She finished in a calm cool and collected manner with an overly chipper grin.

"That's it. So this is nonexistent!" He yelled. Giles had removed a talisman from his right pocket. It was pewter with a small green stone and looked like something bought at a Renaissance fair, not a magical amulet. He started chanting "Nunquam futue te callaballum titilandus." There was a huge puff of green smoke, which filled the room. Next thing they knew, Giles was choking on the smoke and Mel was on the floor laughing her ass off as the smoke cleared.

"AH," Mel sighed as she wiped tears from her eyes. "Come on Mr. Magic, let's get you to the library before you hurt yourself. OH, Too Late." He stood up and dusted off his now slightly green suit.

"Fine, but be warned, when you start sprouting green hair, I will be the one laughing." He sounded confident that his spell had worked which started Melanie laughing again.

"Babe, I don't know if you noticed, being enveloped in that cloud of smoke, but you were the only one that got blasted. SO, when you sprout green hair in a week, do give me a call. I can always use a laugh." She walked off toward the library.

"I having cast the spell am immune to its effects. And it takes a month, Ms.Smartypants." Giles said as he trailed after the professor.

"Hey Bobby, get John for me." She was now ignoring the tweed-clad banker.

"Hey, what's up? Wow, talk about your stuffy British dude." John had noticed the banker trailing his friend.

"Johnny on the spot, would you take Mr. Giles to where he'll be lecturing?"

"Whatever you say, Windy" John saluted Melanie in a mocking way. "But if I may be so bold, why should I show him? You know the room."

"Yes, but I've already verbally whipped his ass up and down every hallway and I want to get him out of my sight before I am forced to do it physically." She smiled and turned to leave.

"Pleasure meeting you, Professor Wyndham. I can see we will have further encounters in the future. Trust me, I am a wizard." Giles yelled at her retreating back, as one last attempt to be civilized which he had passed a long time ago.

"Whatever your crystal ball tells you Magic Boy."

2 Hours Later

Melanie had just walked into the parking lot when a stunning specimen caught her eye. "Well, hello gorgeous, and I'm not just talking about the car. What is it? Porsche, circa 1960ish?" Melanie had gone straight for the car. IT was a candy apple red convertible, with black leather interior and fully loaded. Shortly after, the very enticing man loading up the car caught her eye. He was wearing slightly tight black jeans with an emerald t-shirt under a dusted leather jacket. He was fairly tall, nice build and definitely in her age group. Then she saw his face.

"Oh, god, don't tell me you own this gorgeous specimen of an automobile. I don't suppose you'd let me drive her. Take her out and see what she can really do. I'm a really careful driver, I promise." She said with an almost convincing innocence.

"Your friend Johnny seems to swear by the contrary, Windy." He said. He was obviously mocking her with the use of the old nickname, having to do with her driving skills, among other things.

"You know, if your car weren't so gorgeous, I would be off killing him now. Doesn't that show…OOOO Ducati! Go away, I'm done with you now." She said as she skipped across the street to look at the flame-covered bike.

"I finally understand why Spike wanted a bike. I need to stop being so bloody practical. Damn, now I'm even talking like him." Rupert Giles grumbled as he slid into the driver's seat of his convertible.

End Flashback

Wesley had waited patiently as Mel finished her story as he found the teabags and his parent's rather large store of liquor, which included vodka. When Mel finally stopped with a so, all Wes could say was, "Wow. You insulted Rupert Giles. He is the most prestigious banker in Great Britain."

"Wes, if you spend your time learning the names of British bankers, we need to find you a hobby." From her tone, it was clear she was rolling her eyes.

"That is what Spike said." Wes was talking more to himself than to Mel.

"I need to talk to him. Wait, I already said that. Remind me that I want to speak to what's his name. I have to go and prepare for my next class. I'm only a phone call away if you need me. Bye, Wes." Mel hung up before he could even say goodbye.

"She seems a might touchy that one." Spike said as he came through the patio door with Gunn. Wes glared at him.

"You were listening? Now I know why people hate their siblings. You do not have the right to invade my life like this. You get me drunk, you listen to my phone conversations you keep me up with your music, and you steal my g…friend." Wes had been ready to call Fred his girlfriend, which she wasn't.

"Ok mate, but I just answered the phone 'cause it woke me up. I pick up and this insane bit starts yelling to me about some insane British in tweed. Who was she anyway?" Spike raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"No Spike." Wes replied to the raised eyebrow. "She lives in England and we swap stories and advice. Actually she gives me advice and is free to mock me when she needs cheering up." Wes finally grasping why he was called felt depressed and used.

"I hate to break up this little fight because I love to see Spike angry, but we have to be on our way." Gunn had decided to speak up because it was almost noon and Spike had said he wanted to catch Oz at home.

"Who is this Spike? You have apparently invaded my life in yet another way." Wes eyed the chocolate colored man skeptically.

"I'm Charles Gunn. A friend of Spike's from way back." Gunn stuck out his hand.

"Though I do not expect to enjoy your company, welcome to Sunnydale." Wes looked at the outstretched hand for a bit before shaking it.

"Bye Wes, don't wait up. Not that you would. Really need to work on this welcome wagon persona." Wes took a gulp from the bottle of vodka still clutched in his left hand. Spike and Gunn arrived at Oz's at about noon forty-five. Spike informed Oz he had found a drummer for his band. He introduced Gunn to Oz and the rest of the band members who were present. Gunn then had a short audition. The audition was short due to the fact that the other drummers who had tried out were not at all talented. The rest of the band, Gary and Brian, quickly took to Gunn. Gary was being forced to move to Pennsylvania and Brian was starting college and wasn't sure he could stick with the band. But Oz felt it was still important to have their approval on a new member. Oz and the rest went out to celebrate at the Bronze. On the way back, Spike asked to be dropped off at the bank. There was something he had to pick up.

End Chapter