Chapter Twenty

Buffy opened up her closet. Her hands remained on the handles of the doors, her mind was too occupied with the problem of finding the perfect outfit. Her eyes skimmed the spagetti strapped shirts, short skirts and dresses. "This is impossible."

"You have tons of clothes."

Buffy's head turned to Willow. "Exactly. The decisions are too various and too many. First I have to figure out if I want to wear a dress or not. If I don't, then what skirt do I wear? Or should I wear pants? Then I have to find the right shirt and the right shoes."

"Buffy," Willow got up from the floor and put her arm around her, "you're just thinking too much about it. Just reach in, pull something out and then, there ya go."

"Is that how you get dressed for school?"

"No," Willow quickly denied.

"Then I couldn't possibly consider doing that for a party," Buffy whined.

"Well why don't you flip through everything and pull out the stuff that might work. Then we'll take it from there."

"Okay."

"Okay." Willow turned around and picked up their cereal bowls. "I'm just gonna bring these downstairs."

"All right," Buffy plopped a dress on the floor with a pile already made up of five dresses and eight shirts.

Willow walked into the hall and headed down the stairs. She watched her steps until she made it to the bottom. She shuffled towards the kitchen and to the sink. "Hey Willow."

Willow revolved to head back upstairs. "Hey Spike."

"Uh, how's it goin'?"

"Good," Willow said slowly, unsure of where this was going.

"You goin' to this New Year's thing too?"

"Uh huh." Willow stood there, waiting for him to say something. After a thirty-second silence she started walking past him.

"Willow," Spike forced out. She stopped immediately and faced him. "Is Buffy still into Angel?"

"Last I knew." She smiled and headed up to Buffy's room.

"Bloody fantastic." Spike slammed his fist down on the island.

Buffy was sorting the clothes into piles. "There you are. Okay, I'm separating them into piles of t-shirts, skirts, dresses, jackets, spagetti straps, long sleeves, and sweaters."

"Buffy, the point of this exercise is so you don't have that many piles," Willow commented.

"But you said you wanted to see all the might works. Well, these are them and their might workiness."

"Is that half your closet?"

"I'd say a close two thirds."

Willow sighed and put her face in her hands. "Okay. I'm gonna look through and downsize, unless you think you can do that."

"I can do that." Buffy looked at her clothes, lips pursed. What to do. What to do. "Ah, okay. The sweaters and long sleeves can go because it isn't that cold and sweaters can make you look bigger than you are."

"There we go. Two piles down." Willow helped Buffy out by hanging them back in the closet."

"This dress makes me look short. This one makes my thighs look like tree trunks." Buffy tossed two black dresses to the side. "The rest are good." Buffy fiddled through the rest of the wardrobe choices leaving two t-shirts, three skirts, three dresses and two jackets.

"Okay I suggest this cute sideways striped skirt and this light green top that'll reveal your shoulders. And possibly this dusty jean jacket for cover-up."

Buffy looked at the outfit placed on the bed for her. "This is great. Thanks Willow." She gave her a big hug in gratitude. That saved me a major headache. "Now I will repay the favor, and pick out your outfit."

"Uh, Buffy, can I add that these clothes aren't really my thing."

"I know, but this is a New Year's party. Ring in the New Year with a new you. Oh, unless you don't want to," Buffy changed her voice, realizing she hadn't considered her best friends thoughts on the subject.

"I just want to feel comfortable."

"I understand."

Nine hours later after primping, showering, dressing, reprimping, strategies, Joyce and Giles's departure, and Oz's arrival, Willow and Buffy were ready for Angel's party. Buffy walked out of her room wearing the sideways striped skirt, light green shirt and dusty jean jacket. Her hair was down and she was wearing knee high black boots. Willow was wearing a dark jean skirt that cut off just below the knee, a rusty orange t-shirt with long white sleeves underneath and white sneakers.

"Hey," Oz greeted Willow before their quick kiss.

"Hey." Willow looked at his typical jeans and rock band t-shirt. "You look good."

"Thanks. You too. A little different," Oz replied.

"Different?" Willow questioned, wondering if it was in a bad way.

"In a good way."

"In a good way like I should dress like this more often?" Willow was always insecure and unsure of herself.

"Which ever Willow is secure enough to hold my hand and once and awhile kiss me, is the one I like the most." Willow smiled at his adorable comment and gave him a kiss a couple seconds longer than the first.

"Will you two stop? You're bloody givin' my cavities," Spike remarked. He and Xander were on the couch eating popcorn and watching some action flick.

"Shut up Spike. Just because you don't have a girlfriend doesn't mean you get to abuse others who do," Buffy spat out.

"You're right, I don't have a girlfriend. I'm stuck with an annoying, loud mouthed fiancée instead."

"I'd rather have that than an arrogant, overbearing drone with bad hair." Buffy stormed out of the house and slammed the door. Willow bit her lower lip and carefully slid out the door, pulling Oz out by his hand.

"That girl's gonna make my veins pop out of head and my hair fall out."

"Look at this. Who goes for a run in the park and decides, 'ya know what, there's too many people here. Luckily I brought my knife for just such an occasion.'"

"I mean, she's the one leavin' to go to some prat's party."

"And killing the hot dog vender? Was that really necessary? So a hot dog is $2.15. You're the one that chose to live in the city. Things tend to be more expensive."

"I don't have bad hair," Spike said, running his hands over his scalp.

"Some how I have a feeling both of us aren't talking about the movie," Xander observed.

"I lost interest once you told me the name of the movie."

"It's somewhere up here. It says 1130," Buffy repeated. She was holding the invitation tightly in her hand so there was no way to lose it.

"1126. 1128. 11…" Oz stopped the car so they could look at the mansion before their eyes. It was three stories with a huge circular driveway around a giant fountain. "30," Willow finished.

"This is amazing."

"Suddenly I feel underdressed. I should've worn a chain or something," Oz quipped. He pulled in and parked his van at the front of the line of cars.

They hopped out of the van and walked to the seven-foot tall doors. Buffy ran her fingers through her hair quickly. When the door opened she quickly faced the aperture. Angel was dressed in a dark grey sweater and black pants. "Buffy." He said surprised. "You made it."

Why do I suddenly feel uninvited. "Well this is our first of many stops tonight," Buffy quickly stated, making him feel like his party wasn't important.

"Oh, well I hope you enjoy it as long as you're here. Hey Willow. Hey, aren't you in that band?" Angel asked, his finger pointed at Oz. "The… the ate my baby-"

"Dingoes Ate my Baby," Oz corrected.

"Yeah. You guys are good."

"Careful, I might blush," Oz wisecracked. He held Willow's hand and walked in first. Buffy followed Willow.

Angel shut the door, keeping his eyes on Buffy. "Wow, lots of people."

"Yeah. There are more out back in the pool and hot tub."

"You're not worried about anything breaking?" Buffy asked, a little uneasy around the expensive looking things.

"No. If something breaks my parents won't notice. I'm also charging admission for the beer. But not the special people."

"Who are the special people?" Buffy asked, realizing he didn't ask for any cash.

"Pretty much…" Angel acted like he was giving it deep thought, rethinking each person that came. "You." He smiled at Buffy, showing off his pearly whites.

"Really?" Buffy face consisted of just a smile right now. Angel placed his hand on the cusp of her back and showed her around.

Spike looked at the clock. It was 11:03. Xander was debating on which movie to pop in next. "I don't' know which one. Sexual content or comedic plot?" Xander held up the two choices.

"I personally wanna crash a party."

Author's Note: Okay, in case you didn't check out the note at the bottom of chapter nineteen, chapter eighteen is new to you. Nineteen, which you know as eighteen, is really nineteen and now is nineteen and the real eighteen is eighteen. Basically you haven't read eighteen yet, so even though you know what happens, please check it out and let me know what ya think. Lata!