Disclaimer: I only own Buffy's family, excluding Joyce.
Previously: Spike has gotten along with the family--with a few exceptions--and they have all gone to the treelighting together, complete with an almost-kiss between Buffy and Spike...
(--)
"Daddy?" Buffy asked, her voice slightly squeaky.
"Yeah, Buff, it's me," Jim Summers arms were still opened to his daughter.
"What're you doing here?" Buffy asked, then she suddenly felt stupid. Duh! She knew why he was here. Hello, Christmas! Joan invited him! But still she felt the question needed to be asked--as a formality.
"I wanted to spend the holiday season with my favorite little girl," Jim replied.
"I'm not little," Buffy countered, her voice was stony.
"No, I can see that," Jim gave his daughter the once-over before retracting his arms from their still-open-and-waiting-embrace-y-ness. He narrowed his eyes at Buffy, glancing at her hand--which was still clenching Spike's--and then at the vampire.
"Hi, I'm Jim, Buffy's father," he held his hand out to Spike but the blonde just scowled at it.
"Yeah, got that with the 'daddy' part, mate," Spike said, looking at Buffy while he did so.
"Cheery fellow aren't you?"
"Normally. But I have a limited bullshit-tolerance, especially when it comes to Buffy," Spike added. The Slayer's head swiveled from side to side, scanning the area behind her father.
"What's up, baby?" Jim asked, looking in back of him where her gaze seemed to be directed.
"Did Mandy come?" Buffy asked coolly as a diamond encrusted hand slunk around Jim's neck. Following the hand came a head just over his shoulder.
"Actually, my name's Denise," the lanky blonde said, offering Buffy a fake smile and handing Jim a drink.
"What happened to Many, Dad? She fall out of the plane or something while flying over some unknown European country you seem to frequent?" Buffy snipped, placing a mockery of a smile on her face.
"Buffy," Joyce warned from Spike's other side.
"No, Joyce, it's okay. Buffy has a right to speak her mind," Jim raised a calming hand at his ex.
"Jeez, Dad, couldn't have said that when you two were breaking up? 'Cause I sure as had a hell of a lot to say then," Buffy snapped.
"Pet, maybe we should go," Spike coaxed, trying to ease Buffy away. In response, she ripped her hand out of his, turned and punched him square in the jaw. Denise screamed while Jim backed away from his daughter very slowly. Joyce--the only person--stepped forward.
"Don't you dare tell me what to do, Spike," Buffy advised. From his position on the ground, Spike sat up and rubbed his jaw unceremoniously.
"Bloody hell, Pet!" he got to his feet.
"Buffy, you need to calm down," Jim said, stepping near Joyce, though slightly behind in case any of Buffy's blows decided to come his way.
The Slayer turned on him, "How do you know what I need? You don't even know me!" She moved towards her parents, "I'm tired of people telling me what I need or what I want! Angel told me I needed a normal life! Riley told me I wanted someone who could keep up with me! What if I don't want a normal life or someone who's just as strong as me?" Joyce and Jim moved apart as their daughter advanced, "I just want someone! What the--?"
During her rantings, Spike had slipped behind her. He was close enough that when she made her final move he swept her off her feet and into his arms. She flailed for a minute or two--hitting Spike in the face a couple of times--before she finally subsided, quietly slumping into the vampire's arms. Then the tears came. Full-fledged water works. Figures. She had to break down and soak his shirt while he was still holding her. Bloody bint couldn't have waited a few more minutes?
"Spike, why don't you take Buffy home now?" Joyce suggested touching her daughter's cheek softly. The still-adrenaline-filled Slayer slapped the gentle hand away while letting another batch of tears spill onto Spike's cotton tee.
"Sure," the vampire replied.
"You think you can find it?" Jim asked, his hand on Spike's forearm.
"Oh, I think I know where it is," he shrugged the hand away, leaving the Summers' dysfunctional family in mess of their own.
(--)
"Spike," Buffy whispered a bit later. They were just coming up on Rivelo.
"Not too much longer, Pet," Spike sighed, continuing his walk.
"Sorry I hit you," Buffy's tiny fingers traced the bruise she had left on his jawbone.
"It's okay, Luv," Spike assured her, jostling her slightly as he tried to get comfortable, "it's just a bruise. You were in a spot, that's all."
"I hit you."
"Yes, Pet, you did."
"But you're not my dad."
"Very good, Luv. You really are a genius," Spike replied sarcastically. Boy, the Slayer was rivaling Dru in the Miss United Crazies Pageant.
"My mom'll be mad. She says to be nice to Spike," Buffy said quietly.
"I don't need you to be nice to me, Slayer," Spike said trying open the door with Buffy still in his arms--which proved to very complicated-- without hurting the poor Slayer, "I need you to be sane to me." He finally resulted to kicking in the door.
"My dad doesn't love me," Buffy let Spike place her on the couch.
"Bollocks."
"He said so when he left."
"I'm willing to bet he said nothing of the sort."
"I miss Angelus."
"No, you don't Pet."
"Yes, he and Drusilla were fun. They always made me laugh."
"If you sprouting tears every time you saw the bloody bastard or having to kill your teddy bear is laughter then I've been doing the wrong for far too long," Spike thought for a moment, "well okay, killing him would make me laugh too--but that's beside the point--."
"Spike," Buffy put two fingers to his lips, silencing him further. To add to things, Buffy leaned forward and kiss him softly. Without really thinking, Spike slipped his hand to Buffy's jaw, stroking it with his knuckles. She moaned softly sending him spiraling back to the present and a very strange-acting Slayer.
With great hesitation and a lot of disappointment, Spike pushed Buffy away. Upon breaking the kiss, Buffy looked up at him--realization sprung to her eyes--as she pulled farther away and covered her mouth with her hands, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Oh god."
Spike still on his knees was thrown completely to the floor as Buffy pushed past him, darting up the stairs avoiding his ever-watching gaze. His rolled his eyes went into the kitchen, deciding hot chocolate would probably help. The Slayer's family wouldn't be back for another couple of hours, so they'd be all by themselves for at least a bit longer.
(--)
I'm killing the poor thing. All it wanted was to help me. It's like a mini slayer. A slayer that fights gum disease and plaque, Buffy still couldn't seem to scrub her teeth hard enough. Not that kissing Spike was a bad thing- -it had actually felt good--but she had been exhausted and then vented out her frustration, which had turned on her--into passion!
Why did crap keeping happening to her? Yes, she was the Slayer, but that didn't mean she was chosen to deal with all the extra Slayer/Buffy crossover shit! Spike was supposed to stay on the Slayer side of the equation. He wasn't supposed to cross with things like Willow, Giles and Xander and now mom! But his very presence at her home for this not-very- Buffy-Christmas was crossing a line she didn't like to toe.
"Pet," he knocked softly. She sighed, spit out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth before answering.
"Yeah?"
"I made hot cocoa. You want some?" his voice was muffled through the door but she was sure she heard hot cocoa come form her vampire's mouth. Not my vampire, she mentally corrected.
"Yeah," she opened the door, facing him bravely, "I'll have a cup--or two."
Spike smiled lightly, "Best be careful there, Luv, a second cup could add a few unwanted pounds to that Slayerized figure of yours."
"Shut up, Spike," she snapped with an extremely small amount of menace.
"I see you changed already," he pointed to her, flannel pants and wife beater ensemble, complete with flower-shaped slippers.
"They're my pajamas," Buffy said defensively.
"They're cute, really," Spike replied, holding his arms up in mock surrender as they walked down the stairs.
"Oh, yeah, well, what do you wear to bed?" Buffy asked.
"I sleep in the nude, Pet," Spike answered, his eyebrow raised in a very suggestive manner. Buffy felt her cheeks redden as Spike handed her the mug of hot chocolate. She lifted it too her mouth, nearly taking in the hot liquid when Spike stopped her.
"Wait!" he hurried over to the cupboards and started rifling through the cooking goods--Buffy didn't even know they had half the stuff that was in there.
"What are you looking for?" she asked skeptically.
"Ah ha!" he turned back to her, a triumphant look on his face as he held up his trophy--a half-full bag of marshmallows.
"I don't believe it," Buffy shook her head. Spike was the strangest vampire she knew, 'course she only had a personal relationship with three of them. Usually, it was a stake-now, find-out-who-you-are-later kind of job.
"Come on, pet, who doesn't love these things?" he asked dropping a few into her mug and a handful into his, even adding a few more after that.
"Mom just got you hooked on this stuff, didn't she?"
"What people food?" Buffy nodded, "well, your mum added marshmallows to my list of favorite things but I've always had a hankering for people food. Angelus never liked that 'bout me." Spike slipped three more marshmallows into his cup--when he thought she wasn't looking--before putting the bag back in the cabinet.
"So, Spike, are we going explain why we're doing this for Buffy now? Or shall we wait?" Buffy had an interesting way of bringing up their newest topic of conversation. Course the vampire would've liked to stay on his human food fetish for just a bit longer.
"I thought you'd wanna talk. Whenever your mum thought I needed to talk she'd make cocoa," Spike replied.
"She always did that for me, too, or tasty pancakes if it was morning," Buffy reminisced, getting a faraway look on her face.
"Buffy," Spike poked her hand bringing her back to reality, "you're spending a lot of time in La-La land, aren't you Pet?"
"I'm just tired. You were right about working myself too hard. It's just, this whole weekend was supposed to be a Buffy-rest weekend! Mom and me were going to have Christmas alone and maybe rent some old, black and white Christmas movies and eat popcorn while we were supposed to be stringing it on the tree but then you came and, well, I was planning on doing the same thing, you would be there to help reach the high parts of the tree. But now my crazy ass family's here and I can't help but feel like my holiday season is ruined!" Buffy complained sipping her cocoa.
"Glad I was included in your decorating time but it's not all bad, you know, having you family here and all," Spike started, "okay, yeah, your dad doesn't seem to like me and neither do your uncles and that bloody brat of boy cousin you got sure as hell hates me but other than that--the women like me."
"You just have a way with all Summers women, Spike," Buffy said before she'd completely thought through her thought. Stupid Buffy! All talk and no think!
"Really, Pet? All Summers women, huh?" Spike raised his eyebrow again.
"I know you piss me off so much I have to like you. Otherwise I go insane," Buffy confirmed, smiling at him.
"Well, not an hour ago, you were saying how much you missed Angelus and Dru," Spike replied, "I'd call that insane."
"Things were interesting when they were around, that's for sure."
"Yeah, things like the death of Rupert's bird. What was her name?"
"Jenny," Buffy said softly, her voice faltering at the memory of her old friend, "Jenny Calendar."
Spike saw the traces of pain and sadness and just a bit of guilt in the Slayer's and he immediately felt bad for reminding her of that dark time. He reached out and touched her cheek smoothly.
"Sorry, Pet." He lifted her chin up with two fingers--she didn't resist--so her eyes met his.
"It's okay," Buffy smiled sadly, "I just miss her--so does Giles." Her voice faltered again and she looked away for a moment. When she returned to his gaze, the traces of tears were gone instead sleepiness replaced them.
"You wanna go to bed, Pet?" Spike asked.
"I'm going to ignore the possible sexual connotation in that sentence and say: yes, I want to sleep," Buffy said, getting off her stool and putting her cup in the sink--she'd do the dishes in the morning--then walked into the living and started setting up shop on the couch.
"Why don't you come downstairs?" Spike said from behind her. She turned towards him, this time her eyebrow raised in skepticism, "I wont' try anything! I swear."
"Good, cause I don't wanna have to get dust on my new pjs, they're from Willow." Buffy followed him down into the basement. The cot was big enough to fit one--two if they snuggled--and Buffy eyed the small space in concern.
"I don't think we can both fit on that thing," Buffy pointed at the bed.
"Right," Spike said tossing blankets onto the cold, cement floor, "which is why yours truly with have the honor of the floor's company tonight."
"Spike, you shouldn't do that! If I knew you were gonna sleep on the floor-- I can just go back up stairs--I'll be fine," she turned to leave when--once again--Spike's hand closed around her wrist.
"Stay." It was an order, not a request. He wasn't going to let her leave and she was too tired to argue so she scooted around him and lay down on the cot. Looking over the side found him lying on his back staring up at her, a slightly bemused smile on his face.
Buffy rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling for a few minutes before turning back to him, "This is ridiculous. Spike, we'll be fine up here together."
"Slayer," he started to protest but was cut off.
"I'm not in the mood for arguments or doing the gentlemanly thing. Get your ass up here this instant or I'll stake you faster that you can say 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas'," Buffy snapped. Not wanted another bitch-act, Spike did as he was told, climbing onto the cot with her.
She turned so her back was to him as she spooned into him. The comfort levels only got higher when his knee nuzzled it's way between her legs and his hand slipped over her torso in a possessive manner. He pulled her closer to him, lying his head down on his bent elbow, his face almost completely engulfed in her golden curls. He could smell her shampoo--honey and strawberries--as if he was running through a bloody berry patch carrying a bit of honey comb while a massive amount of really brassed-off bees followed behind him.
He let him self fade into the sleep that came easily when Buffy's own heartbeat slowed to a contented, lulling rhythm. Even her pulse was beginning to put him to sleep, which was something he hadn't expected--not that anything this weekend had gone as expected--usually the sound of Buffy's blooding pumping got him excited and hungry--and not just to kill her--now it put him to sleep.
(--)
"Where are we going to sleep, Jim-Jim?" Denise asked sweetly. Joyce cringed at the sugary pet name. If she had to spend one more moment with these two she was going to scream. Thankfully, she and Jim had decided that he and his little friend were going to stay in the office upstairs. They just needed a bed.
"We're going to be upstairs," Jim replied to his honey, "why don't you go up there now? Judy'll show you which one it is."
Denise nodded but looked at him in a terrified manner as if actually talking to these people was frightening. Joyce shook her head in disgust. She'd known Jim was low; she just had no idea how low.
"Joyce!" Jim's voice broke her from her thoughts.
"What?"
"Is that cot still in the basement?" Jim asked, already halfway down the stairs.
"Yeah," Joyce jumped, Spike was down there, "Wait!" But it was too late. Jim stood at the bottom of the stairs, his face a mask of horror and disbelief.
"Jim, I--." Joyce stopped next to him. Sleeping on the cot was not only Spike but also Buffy wrapped into his arms. When I said nicer, I wasn't exactly picturing this, Joyce thought as she tried to move Jim back up stairs. But he would have none of it--any of it.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" Jim roared startling Buffy and Spike from sleep. Spike toppled to the floor in an effort to pull himself away from Buffy.
"Dad?" Buffy threw the blanket off of her and stood up.
"Buffy, care to explain exactly, and I mean exactly, what is going on down here?"
"Uh, sleeping? Resting? Inactivity? Latent-ness?" Buffy suggested.
"Don't get smart with me young lady!"
"Okay, I'll get dumb with you, Dad. You sure seem to understand that much better. Your choice of girlfriends stands as proof."
"Oh, do not make this about me!"
"Don't make what about you?"
"Buffy..."
"Daddy?" the Slayer grinned wickedly, "So, you like the doe-y eyed, dumb blonde gig, don't you?"
"Cut it out Buffy. What were you and HIM," he pointed at Spike, "doing down here?"
"Okay, let's reiterate: sleeping, resting, inactivity, latency...any of it ring a bell?"
"You two were doing something! I know!"
"So what if we were--and we weren't--I'm hardly a virgin anymore!"
"Yeah, Angel saw to that." Spike chimed in.
"Oh, my god!" Jim threw his hands in the air, "Buffy how many men have you slept with anyway?"
"Two."
"And calling Captain Cardboard a man is stretching it." Buffy shot him a glare.
"My daughter is a whore!" Jim rubbed his eyes.
"Hey!" Joyce exclaimed while Buffy and Spike had their own comments to add.
"Don't even start! Look at you!" Buffy added.
"Watch your bloody mouth!" Came from Spike.
"I don't believe this," Jim sat down on a box.
"What don't you believe, Jim? Buffy's not a kid anymore," Joyce said softly.
"And you just let her do this? Prance around like this?"
"I hardly prance," Buffy countered.
"She struts actually," Spike replied.
"Besides," Joyce interrupted, "I didn't even know about Angel until after the fact and while she never actually told me about--with Riley, I just assumed."
"Great. Now we can assume that our daughter is having sex!"
"Say it louder," Spike said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, "I don't think those people in New York heard you."
"You," Jim got to his feet, "stay the hell out of this." He began to advance on Spike when Buffy stepped between them.
"Don't even think about touching him, Dad," Buffy warned.
"Fine. But he better keep his goddamn mouth shut. This is a family matter anyway!"
"And he's who you're blaming the sexcapades on!"
"Buffy, didn't you ever ask?"
"What?" Spike laughed, blowing out smoke, "Ask to shag somebody? What's she gonna do, call up mum and say, 'hey, mum, I was just wondering, could I have sex tonight'? Do you call up your mum when you wanna have a good shag?"
"I am an adult," Jim said, slightly flustered, "Buffy is not."
"I'm nineteen, Dad! Therefore, I am over eighteen, making me an adult!" Buffy snapped.
"I don't give a frickin' damn how frickin' old you are! You are not an adult in my eyes!"
"Oh, I was hopin for 'frickin' eyes', you let me down Jim." If this whole scene had been some T.V. show, Spike would've been the comic relief. He seemed to be pissing Jim off more with every comment, and Buffy had to admit, some of those were pretty funny.
"What the hell is going on down there?" Grandpa Jack's voice rang angrily from upstairs.
"Nothing, Dad, go back to bed!" Joyce called.
"I'll go back to bed when I find out what the hell y'all are bitching about down here!" Jack said, lumbering down the stairs.
"Oh, Dad's just chewing me out, is all. I feel like bubble gum, except not so pink and tasty," Buffy said sadly.
"It's al right, Pet, you look tasty to me," Spike replied, patting her on the back.
"Buffy and Spike were snuggled up tight on the bed when I came down," Jim explained.
"Well, what the hell are you coming down her for anyways? Joyce said no one was allowed to come down here unless they saw Spike in the house--and only if it was something real important they were looking for--'cause Spike sleeps in the nude!" he turned to Spike, who would've blushed if he could've, "You weren't in the nude, were you boy?"
"No sir, fully clothed as you see me here," Spike confirmed, his jeans and black shirt complete the assurance.
"Then what the hubbub?" when know one answered, Grandpa Jack started giving out orders, "Jim, Joyce, upstairs. Buffy, you and friend have to stay fully clothed, but you two stay down here. Let's go people!" He herded Joyce and Jim up the stairs before turning to Buffy and Spike. Buffy kissed his cheek lovingly.
"Thanks Grandpa."
"Anytime, Sweet Cakes. You two be good now," he walked back up the steps, closing the door behind him.
"What a long a very fun night! I feel so happy! This family get-together was just what the doctor ordered for Tired-Buffy-Syndrome," the Slayer flopped onto the cot, suddenly exhausted again.
"I hate parents," Spike said, crawling back over to her.
"Me too," Buffy agreed...
TBC in Chapter 6: Pretty Paper