Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this is based on.

Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.

Author's Notes: I don't feel clever today, so I'll just keep it brief. Here's a new chapter. I hope you like it. Please tell me what you think. Blah blah blah. I think my brain is malfunctioning, because I can't create a single coherent phrase. Oh, well. Peace, love, and potatoes, dearies.

PS: Today's piece of philosophy. "Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former."- Albert Einstein ____________________________________________________________________________

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Chapter Seven- Everyday Is A New Beginning

Monday mornings are evil. Just when you find yourself relaxing after a hard week of work, they snatch it away from you just as quickly, and expect you to snap to attention like trained soldiers.

But, those who have the luxury, or the curse, of unemployment, find Mondays to be just another boring day of the week.

Sunnydale Main Street was still bustling with late morning commuters when Buffy turned the corner. She found herself in total envy of the businesspeople, in their expensive suits, chatting into their cell phones while they sipped on nonfat mocha lattes with extra foam. They actually had homes, and places to go each morning.

For the young woman, that was only half the case this morning.

Two days after Buffy's tree was planted in Joyce's front yard, Buffy found herself walking to the gallery.

The women had become fast friends, and spent every afternoon together. Then, Joyce asked Sunday evening if Buffy would help out at the gallery on Monday, doing odd jobs. Quickly agreeing, Buffy promised to be at the gallery by nine the next morning.

As Joyce had explained, her store was mainly a tourist destination than an actual gallery. Much of her income came from the sale of prints, replicas of famous pieces by famous artists.

Joyce hadn't explained that the interior of her gallery resembled a museum more than anything else, Buffy discovered as she entered through the glass door.

Movable walls separated the medium-sized area, creating passageways and small, secret sections to place the artwork. One sign hung above a rather large chunk of the room, "Treasures of California", dedicated to various tribal pieces, including a fertility statue who's stomach stood out more than Buffy's.

Having just finished up a telephone conversation, Joyce immediately jumped up from her desk and embraced the girl. After the mandatory half-hour of chatting, Joyce set Buffy to work. First, she dusted the artwork, a fairly easy task. Then, while Joyce attempted to sell one expensive painting to a customer, the girl alphabetized the prints by the artist.

"What now?" asked Buffy after she removed all the dead flowers from a vase on top of the front desk.

"Lunch time," replied the woman, turning the sign on the door to CLOSED.

"Already?"

Shrugging, Joyce began to switch off the interior lights. "It's a slow day, and with you being such a big help, we can take an extremely long break."

Both grabbed their purses, then began to walk down the street after Joyce locked up.

They conversed about nothing in particular while they walked, slowly for Buffy's sake. But, when they passed the library, Joyce suddenly stopped.

"Oh, that's right!" she exclaimed, looking towards the library's entrance.

"What?"

"Giles called me up early this morning. He just received a book that he thought I would be interested in, and he asked me to stop in during my break." Frowning, she thought things over. "No, I can do it another time."

"It's alright," Buffy responded.

Sheepishly turning her gaze back to the library, Joyce sighed. "We won't be there more than five minutes. I'll just see what he wants."

"Take all the time you want. It's not like I have anything better to do today."

Both turned around then made their way up the marbled steps.

"Rupert!" Joyce called out into the empty building as a Bach concerto played quietly from some unknown point.

A head poked out from behind the checkout counter, pulling glasses back onto his face.

"Hello Joyce," Giles responded, hurrying over to give the woman a friendly peck on the cheek. He then noticed Buffy. "Miss Summers, so nice to see you again." She was shocked that he could remember her name.

"Nice to see you too, Mr. Giles." Buffy took the older man's hand, shaking it happily.

He blushed. "Please don't call me Mr. Giles, it makes me sound very old," he requested, all the while smiling at her.

"Well Rupert," Joyce began once the others had exchanged greetings, "You have something to show me, 'Extremely remarkable', as you put it."

"Oh, yes." His eyes lit up as he ran back to the counter. Rummaging around for a second, he pulled out a large, leather book. "This arrived in a shipment yesterday, and I knew that you would be excited by it."

About to respond, Joyce was interrupted by a loud voice.

"Rupes, where did you put the soddin'- Joyce!"

All heads looked in the direction of the bookshelves, where a certain bleached blond was emerging from the periodicals. He was beaming when he saw Joyce talking to his uncle.

"Hello, William dear," Joyce laughed, giving the young man a kiss.

His cheerful expression fell the moment he saw Buffy standing behind Joyce.

"Um, William," began Mr. Giles, blissfully clueless at the emotions playing between the two, "You did meet Miss Summers the other day, didn't you?"

"Yeah," gulped the blond, his eyes wide with panic.

"Briefly," Buffy muttered, her phrasing purposely monotone.

Always able to read between the lines, Joyce stepped in.

"Rupert, why don't you show me the book in the back room," insisted Joyce, simultaneously pulling him in the direction of his office. Before she left, she whispered to Buffy, "Please don't kill him."

After the older people left, the two blondes didn't talk for quite some time. Her gaze wandering around the room, Buffy refused to make eye contact. Spike, on the other hand, studied the pregnant girl, racking his brain for something to say that would fill the uncomfortable silence.

"Listen," he attempted, looking down at the floor when she turned her attention towards him.

"What?" She was searching for some reason to hate the man, but was coming up empty.

"'M sorry about Saturday. I was a complete prat, and had no right to yell at you, or to make you cry."

"It's ok." Buffy was shocked to discover that, despite her earlier plans to beat him bloody, she was truly fine with it now.

"You're not just sayin' that to get me off your back, because I really am sorry."

Lightly chuckling at his sad puppy look, Buffy grinned. "No, it's really ok. I suppose it didn't help that I had an attack of the dumb blonde that day, but it's all happy now."

"Really?"

"Really."

He relaxed, sighing heavily as he ran his fingers through his gelled hair. "So, do you think we can start over?"

"Sure." She reached out her right hand. "Buffy Summers, or 'bint' as you called me."

"William Giles, or Spike." He lightly took her outstretched hand. "Professional shithead. Never call me William, or then I will really make you cry."

"Yeah, I believe that," Buffy said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

The uncomfortable silence returned when the greeting ended, both searching for something to say.

"How about we go see what the two old fogies are up to," suggested Spike.

Laughing, the two went off in the direction where Mr. Giles and Joyce headed off.

They were both leaning over Mr. Giles mahogany desk, intensely studying a certain page in the book like it were the secret of life.

"This is amazing," Joyce breathed out. "You say you received two other books like it?"

"Actually, I have a second edition translation that comes from the Burgundy region, and an actual manuscript from the 1400's by a Parisian monk," explained the librarian, turning a page which, at least to Buffy, looked even more boring than the last one.

"Whacha got there?" she asked, making the adults look up.

Giles removed his glasses, polishing the lenses using the corner of his coat. "This is a rare journal from France, describing and classifying religious art."

"Signed up for the Time Life collection?" teased the young woman.

"Um, I . . . pardon me?" Giles was truly confused.

"She's kidding, Rupert," Joyce explained, never taking her eyes off the page. "I can't believe you found this." Finally, she looked up. "We're going to have to cut this short, Rupert. I promised Buffy I'd take her to lunch."

"No, I'll be alright," Buffy exclaimed, seeing that tiny bit of regret Joyce was attempting to mask.

"It's fine, Buffy, we made plans."

"We'll do it some other time."

"But I made a promise to you."

"Don't worry about me."

"I'm not worried about you."

"HEY!" yelled Spike, silencing the two. "Everyone's fine! Do we all understand?" When no one responded, he continued. "Joyce, you stay here and read that god-awful boring book. I will take Buffy to lunch. That way, everyone gets what they want, and no one has hurt feelings. Good?"

Before anyone could answer, he gently grabbed Buffy's arm and quickly pulled her through the library and out the front door. * * *

Imzadi- I'm glad you like this way of portraying Joyce. I do love that woman. She will have a major part in future chapters. Also, an Angel- centric chapter won't happen until #12. I'm sorry hon.

TwiztidJuggalette- Yeah, Buffy has it pretty shitty, doesn't she. Glad you empathize.

Azrielle- First off, your name is awesome! Secondly, glad you like.

Fan Reader- I try to write and update as much as possible. Actually, I have five chapters archived ahead, and I only post when I get to write a new one, just so if I have major writer's block, I can post the archived.