The Road Home
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat.

A/N: Feedback. Let me know what you think.

6. A New-Age Goldilocks

Willow cleared her throat, once. Willow cleared her throat, twice. The third time, Willow resorted to coughing, really loud, and then grinned as the two blondes sprung apart.

Will let go of Buffy's arms, and she fell on top of him, hitting her forehead on his chin. Both cried out in pain and disentangled themselves from one another as Willow tsked. "Oh, my, that's got to hurt." As Buffy sat up on the stairs, glaring hard, Will made an attempt to get off, and move to where Willow was. "Nuh-uh, Will, say where you are. Broken glass all around." And she rushed into the kitchen to get a pan and broom.

Deciding not to risk her new mules, Buffy yelled out to Willow from the stairs, "I thought I asked you to keep an eye on my house!"

Willow's responding yell was muffled when it reached her. It sounded like, "Bugh fi dfid!"

"Yeah? Well, then, why did I come home to find this . . . guy sleeping on the stairs with my cat!"

Will couldn't take this. How dare she talk as though he wasn't in the room? "Hey! D'you doubt my bein' a guy!"

"Willow! Come here, he's talking!"

Oh, for god's sake," Willow grumbled as she entered the foyer again. "Of course he's talking, Buffy; he's a man, and an extremely talkative one at that. Now, you're wearing shoes, so come and help me clear up this mess! Quit acting prissy."

Crossly, Buffy came down from the stairs, ignoring the bottle blond behind her. She gingerly picked up the bigger pieces of the glass as Willow swept up the smaller ones. Pontiac, meanwhile, jumped delicately over Buffy's bent back and into Will's arms.

Straightening up, Buffy glared at the striped cat. "Traitor," she said, her eyes narrowed. Will stopped in his petting the cat and opened his mouth to say something, but Willow interrupted him.

Leaning against the broom, she said, "Okay, Buffy, you can stop overreacting now." Buffy whirled to face her friend, but shaking her head, Willow continued, "You left the cat for two weeks. He's been taking care of him for two weeks. You tell me, he may miss you, but he does have to punish you for abandoning him, now doesn't he?" Then, as though she's just realized something, she cocked her head inquisitively, and said, "By the way, what're you doing back so early?" Eyes narrowing, she asked her, "You haven't murdered the guy have you?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Quit it," she said, "and tell me what's going on."

"Simple." Willow picked up the broom, and motioned it toward Will. "Buffy, meet William Giles: your house sitter. Will, Buffy Summers, owner of this house." Sighing, she started sweeping again and said, just loudly enough, "Now let's see who clears out first."

Half an hour later found them sitting silently on the dining table, sipping hot coffee. Well, at least two of them were. Buffy was inspecting the shelves for dust, dirt or any kind of grime she could attack Will with. She even bent low, searching the carpet for stains, giving the two on the table a good view of her tanned back. When she got up, she seemed reluctant, almost, to say, "Well, I must say, the house is cleaner than it's been for months." She cocked her head at the two on the table and said, "You two seem to get along amazingly." It was a statement, with the merest hint of a question in it.

As Buffy slipped into her seat, Willow quipped, "Yeah, well. You know my rule with cute guys. If you can't have

'em . . ."

"Rope 'em in anyway," Buffy finished. The two girls broke into giggles and Will rolled his eyes.

When the chuckles subsided, Will ventured, "So, Bitsy, ' thought you're in London, gettin' hitched. Wha' went wrong?"

Buffy scowled. With a glance upwards for help, Willow intervened, in what seemed like the thousandth time, "Will, need I remind you of Spike? Get it right: it's Buffy. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Will colored, and said, "Righ', then. Buffy. Same question."

"Same answer," she said and gave him a one-fingered rude gesture.

Willow whacked her own head with her hand and, as Will's eyes narrowed, broke in, "Actually, Buff, I was wondering too. I though you'd be back, what, midway next month?"

Buffy cringed inwardly. She wanted to share it with Willow, but not in front of . . . "It's nothing, really. Angel has to stay in Rome for an extra while, and Anya and Xan couldn't put off their tour. I wasn't in the mood to go, so I decided to come back for a while."

Willow nodded, but seemed reluctant. She could tell Buffy was hiding something.

An awkward silence fell on the three. Then, quietly, Will offered, "So the wedding . . ."

". . . is on indefinite hiatus." Buffy's tone was the slightest bit apologetic. She caught Will's eyes and, for a second, was amazed at the deep, clear color of the blue she saw. Her eyes softened, and that was enough of an apology for Will.

"Sorry 'bout that." He said, in the same quiet tone as though if he spoke loudly, he might stir her temper again.

She shrugged a slim shoulder. The thin cotton of her blouse moved over the golden skin, exposing her collarbone. Will swallowed, and put all his attention to her words. "Nothing you can do about it." She looked into her coffee as though it held answers to all her questions. Upon the brown liquid's refusal to satisfy her, Buffy turned back to Will and said, "So, what did you and Anya agree on?

He blinked. "Sorry, but . . . what?"

"How much? How much would she have paid you when she returned?" Buffy fought to suppress an eye roll.

Will looked at Willow, surprised. He didn't know what to say. Willow bit her lip, then said, "Well, actually, Anya told me he's a friend who. . ."

At the same time, Will said, "How much are you willin' to shell out?"

Buffy blinked. "I'm sorry," she said, with a shaky laugh, "But I didn't understand a word you both just said, so if you can . . ."

"He's a friend who needs a place to stay."

"How much are you willin' to give me?"

Again, they spoke simultaneously. Again, Buffy blinked. Willow and Will glared at each other. Buffy looked on as they seemed to communicate with their eyes, locking in a contest to see who'd blink first. Suddenly, Willow turned towards Buffy and said, "He's a college friend of Anya's who needs a place to stay. Anya said he can stay here for a while, at least till she gets back."

Buffy was having a hard time processing this. She stayed silent for a while, then perked up. "I don't have to pay him?" She asked, eagerly.

As Will rolled his eyes in this display of miserliness, Willow said, "No . . . but you do have to let him stay with you."

For a moment, Buffy comprehended the meaning of Willow's words. Then she said, "No freaking way."

"WHAT!"

"You heard me. No freaking way."

Angel tried Buffy's number, but all he got was a busy signal. With a sigh and a glace towards the bathroom door, behind which Cordy was bathing, he booted up his laptop and signed into his account.

Desperate times, desperate measures.

"Why?"

In all honesty, Buffy didn't know why she was saying why. She did, however, come up with good reasons. An artist's mind isn't just creative on the canvas.

"I don't know you, Will. I mean, I can't really live with strangers, now can I? And don't you think Anya should have asked, nay, told me you were going to stay here? I mean, apart from the Jack Daniels and my wine and champagne and chocolate being gone, you've done a fantastic job with the house and kept Mr. Pointy so amazingly well, but I don't know you. I can't—"

"Who's Mr. Pointy?"

"The cat, of course," She said, surprised he'd ask such a question while she was saying: "So, I do understand your problem, but honestly, I can't help you with it. I mean, I don't know whether you can identify with my hitch, but you do understand what I'm trying to say, right?" She rubbed her eyes. Startlingly, the coffee had made her sleepy.

"Why Mr. Pointy?"

"Oh, for Lord's sake!" Buffy burst out, her thinning patience disappearing. "You try calling a cat Pontiac! And have you seen his teeth? What about his claws, eh? Your hand seems familiar with them!"

Will rolled his eyes. "Gosh, pet, now isn't the time to talk about cats. I'm telling you, I'm only waiting for my things to arrive in San Francisco so I can get 'em here to L.A. and shift them—"

Unbelievable. This man was unbelievable . . . "Shift them where? Have you found an apartment?"

Will shrugged his black-clad shoulders. Willow's eyes volleyed back and forth between the two blondes, and she said, "I could've let him stay with me, but you know- renovation. I'm sleeping on the couch in the living room myself."

Buffy nodded, a hand over her closed, tired eyes. She mumbled something, which made Will sigh. He said, "Look, pet, if it bothers you so much, I'll get a motel or something. Really. Don't worry about it."

Buffy's mumble was a little louder, but still unintelligible. Willow, deciding she'd had quite enough of this, said, "Damn it, Buffy, I'm telling you, he's a good guy!"

"Aw, Red, let it be."

"No way, Will. She doesn't even know you; how can she judge you that way! It's so—"

"I said 'okay'."

Both, Will and Willow, looked confused for a second, then looked down at the tired, sleepy blonde who was ready to go to sleep on the dining table any moment. Arguing, apparently, wore her out. Buffy repeated, eyes still closed, "I said, fine. He can stay."

As Willow let out an excited yelp and hugged Will, Buffy mumbled, so quietly nobody heard, just before she slipped into la-la-land, "Plus, he's probably gay, so not like it matters.