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If She Craves the Fun

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She woke up the next morning from a dream that still had left pleasant ripples within her. She was smiling to herself as she eased her eyes open, but in the next blink she was wide awake; sitting up and realizing the following moment that she was still fully dressed. Grateful she then recalled the night before. She looked around, but didn't see Spike anywhere. Sighing she got out of bed and checked her watch.

"Oh, holy crap!" she exclaimed.

Five minutes later she burst through the backdoor of her house, entering the kitchen in which Joyce was seated with eyes red from worry. Giles hung up the phone at the sight of the Slayer and Buffy felt like turning and running right back outside.

"I'm sorry," she said to her mother. "I'm sorry," she said to Giles.

"Sorry isn't gonna cut it, young lady," Joyce stated, getting to her feet. "I want a minute-by-minute description of what you've been doing since I went to bed last night and up until this very moment! I want you to remember exactly what you've been doing because I never, ever want you to do any of it again!"

"I woke up early! And I decided..."

"I checked in on you," her mother interrupted, Buffy's eyes widening indignantly.

"You check in on me now!"

"That's far from the issue," Joyce warned, then added: "but yes! And last night I did so at three o'clock in the morning. You weren't there! No note, nothing! And what's worse, you just tried to lie about it!"

Buffy struggled to gather her thoughts, looking from one to the next. After another ten seconds she drew a small breath and said:

"I am sorry. I went for a walk 'cause I couldn't sleep." True. "And then I just lost track of time." Also true. "I ended up at campus and I thought I'd go see Willow to..."

"I just got off the phone with her," Giles stopped her and Buffy paled considerably.

"Buffy Anne Summers," Joyce said, baffled.

Buffy felt as though she was shrinking.

"I was with someone..."

"Someone?" they both said with one voice.

Oh, crap, oh, crap, oh, crap.

"Spike!" she finally confessed. "I was with Spike, alright. Nothing happened. We talked."

Giles was flabbergasted and Joyce looked slightly confused, then a light-bulb went off and she began to adopt the expression of the Watcher.

"The vampire? The vampire that's tried to kill you!"

"You talked? Up until right now?" Giles asked.

"No, I fell asleep."

"You are not to leave this house again without my knowing of it, is that clear?" Joyce demanded and Buffy nodded. "And you cannot socialize with this vampire anymore."

"But, mom!"

"Don't you but, mom me!"

"Listen to your mother," Giles put in and Buffy's eyes went from one to the other again before she pushed passed them and ran up to her room.

She was so angry that she shook, but soon the feeling gave way for frustration and then sorrow as she sunk down on her bed crying.

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That evening she ventured downstairs, wearing the most adorable pajamas she could find, hoping to somehow sway her mother's determination. She peeked into the living room, but it was empty and she continued into the kitchen. Her mother turned her head to her as she entered, the younger not feeling self-assured by the expression which met her.

"Mom," she said hesitantly, "can I talk to you?"

Joyce put the plate she had been drying off down, placing the towel she had been using on top of it and then facing her daughter.

"Go ahead," the older urged.

"Okay. I understand that you're... upset."

"Try livid."

"Still?"

"I will probably not be anything but for quite some time to come."

"Then I understand that you're livid. I get why you'd freak on me, if you'd stayed out without telling me where and when you were coming home I'd have a meltdown too! I'd worry. I get that you worried. And that the worry made you... not really want to look at it from my point of view. But if you just let me try to explain, then..."

"Is this leading somewhere, Buffy?" Joyce interrupted tiredly.

"Yes. I didn't go out to try and hurt you. I didn't fall asleep just to worry you, you know that, right? I've never done anything like that before, and I promise I'll never do it again. I'll always leave a note! We can have a note-place, where you can look if I'm for some reason not in my room..."

"Do you think that I will let you out of my sight after the stunt you pulled?" her mother once more cut her short. "For years I've had to live with the fact that you put your life at risk. It's been bearable because I have seen with my own eyes that you're very good at what you do. But you are not nineteen years old anymore. From what Giles tells me your fighting skills are back to basics and you could get seriously injured. I see that your Slayer side is something extraordinary to have to carry by yourself, and that it drives you to do things that you normally wouldn't; but you are not leaving this house until you are back to your former age."

"But..."

"No. I'm not completely momified. I understand that this isn't about being allowed to roam the streets at night. This is about something much worse."

Buffy felt a vacuum open up, threatening to suck her in.

"You cannot see him anymore, under any circumstance. And that's final."

Buffy swallowed, taking a step back under the sturdy gaze of her mother.

"It's for your own good," Joyce said as her daughter quietly left the room.

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Two days later Buffy's mood had evolved back into seething anger. She flat out refused to talk to either Giles or Joyce when they still didn't seem inclined to listen to her side of the story. She was so sick and tired of hearing them nag and tell her that they knew best, no matter what she thought about it, that she'd shut herself in her room, playing complain soft rock and staring at the wall.

When there was a knock on the door she glared at it, waiting until the third knock before she called out an annoyed:

"Would you, please, leave me alone!"

There was a pause, and then:

"It's Willow."

Buffy frowned, a pout on her mouth as she tried to make the girl disappear from behind the closed door with nothing but the power of her own will. She knew, however, it would take a little more than that. And thus she sighed and grumbled:

"Fine, enter at your own risk."

The redhead came into the room with a smile on.

"So melodramatic," she commented, closing the door behind her as Buffy impatiently gestured for her to do so.

The Slayer was lying on her bed, her hair in a sloppy ponytail and she was wearing a worn and torn old pair of pajamas. She looked aggravated and sad at the same time and Willow had a swell of sympathy for her occur in that moment. She hadn't seen Buffy like this since... Since Parker. Willow swallowed her sympathy quickly, replacing it with determination. She had to make Buffy understand the actual situation she was in.

The Wicca approached the bed, Buffy muttering something before pulling her covers over her head.

"Buffy," Willow said reproachfully. There was no answer. "You're being ridiculous."

The covers were reluctantly pushed down and Buffy peered up at her. Willow tried another smile, Buffy not returning it as she pulled herself into a semi-seated position, stroking loose tangles of hair out of her face.

"Alright, what's going on exactly?" Willow inquired.

"Exactly? Want a minute-by-minute description?" Buffy sulked, Willow raising her eyebrows. "I'm grounded. Apparently for life."

"That's not true."

"Oh, right. I may go to sit in Giles' apartment or – if I crave the fun – I can go with mom to the museum. Yay."

"Buffy."

"Would you stop saying my name like that? And what did I do that was so wrong anyway? Tell me."

"Well," Willow replied, "you snuck out of the house; you had your mom and Giles and myself pretty frantic with worry; when you got back you lied twice about what you'd been up to..."

"Okay, okay," Buffy interrupted.

Willow sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I think you know what you did was kinda serious," she remarked and Buffy's gaze shied away from hers stubbornly.

"Great," she murmured, "another round from the firing squad – only this time it's disguised as Friend."

"I'm not here to make you more miserable," Willow disagreed. "I am here to make you get, once and for all, why you'd do better staying away from Spike."

Buffy cocked an eyebrow.

Then Willow told her not the whole story of the Slayer and the Vamp, but a broad recount of the vamp's worse past. She told Buffy of when he first came to town with Drusilla, of the Slayer's clashes with him, of him trying not only to hurt her, but her friends as well. Willow told Buffy all the details she thought were essential for the other to get the full picture of the vampire. How he probably hadn't let her get herself killed simply because there was a more important part she had yet to play.

Buffy listened, her face growing more and more mask-like until she raised one hand.

"I think that about does it," she mumbled with a weak smile.

Willow eyed her for a second, and then she nodded.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine," Buffy assured, her smile not fading. "Just a little... I don't know, weirded out... It doesn't sound like..."

She blinked, shaking her head a little.

"Wanna change the subject?" Willow wondered.

"Yes... No. Know what? I think I'd rather be alone for a little while."

"You sure?" At that, Buffy nodded. "Okay." Willow rose and walked up to the door. "Need anything?" she asked as she was about to close it and Buffy shook her head. Willow stood still for another moment, then said: "I know it's taking some time to fix whatever's happened to you, and I'm sorry about that. Usually we're pretty quick about that stuff. But we're working on it."

Buffy kept the smile on as she answered:

"All I need to know."

As soon as the door clicked shut the smile was gone and she was out of the bed and at her window. She opened it, swung her legs over the sill and was outside in the blink of an eye. As soon as she hit the grass below the tree she was running. She ran so fast she thought it was unbelievable how soon she found herself on the step of the door of his crypt. She barely had to catch her breath, either. She had to smirk to herself for no real reason, and then she knocked.

No answer.

She didn't wait, she didn't bother to knock again; she went inside.

Spike furrowed his brow deeply as he turned to her where he was sitting in the armchair. The television was on, but she ignored it, coming up to face him properly. He looked quizzical. She didn't know where to start. He waited for a little while longer and then he directed his attention back on the TV. It was her turn to frown, then she went up and twisted the knob, shutting the contraption off.

"Hey!" he exploded, rising to his feet. "I don't see you for two bloody days and then you show up without an invitation! What'd you expect! A welcome back banner?"

"Did you kidnap Xander and Willow? And did you try to bite her? And if you didn't have a thingy in your head, would you try again? Would you kill my mom, Spike? Me? Am I only standing here right now 'cause of some ulterior motive? Did you save me that first night... from being bitten... and probably worse... because of something other than you wanting me safe?"

He ogled her in surprise. This seemed terribly uncalled for. Then he shook his head at himself and looked her dead in the eye as he replied:

"Yes. Yes. Most probably. No, I like the bird. Yes. Yes. ...And yes."

She swallowed. Then she brought her arm up without even realizing it, delivering an awesome strike to the side of his face, which sent him stumbling to the right. He met the kick she delivered next with one hand, swiping it away from hitting his side and then kicking her in the stomach, nearly screaming with the pain shooting into his head. She flew backwards, into the wall, and landed hard on the floor. Rubble broke from the ceiling and rained down on her and she curdled into a ball before she was pulled to her feet by the strong grip he took on her arms.

"What the bugger did you think, Slayer! That I was innocent? I told you, love. That Red's been smartened up, because she knows me."

"I know you," Buffy said. "I know you."

"No," he murmured, "you really don't."

He didn't understand why he was wavering, meeting the grief stricken green of her eyes. The absoluteness of her denial. Why was it even there? He looked down at her and then slowly let her go, taking a step back and actually taking her in. She was disheveled, for starters. And...

She noticed the sudden glitter of amusement in his gaze and when she looked down at herself she understood why it was there. She was still wearing her pajamas. Her hands went involuntarily to her hair and she remembered the lack of make-up.

"Dammit," she muttered and his smirk grew.

Then it disappeared.

"You need to go."

"No, I don't," she said. "I don't wanna go back there."

"Slayer."

She met his gaze and held it, then she came up to him. He fought to keep the decisiveness in his chest, to keep the dislike strong, to remind himself what he still seemed in need of reminding – who he was dealing with here.

"You win," she said. "I'll watch my back. But you're gonna let me stay here. You don't know what they're like. I can't stay in that house anymore... It's like a prison. It isn't my home."

"And you think this is?"

She took a look around, noted the still residing spider and then she smiled one of those bright smiles again. He couldn't figure her out. In a way, it was nearly... tempting. He gritted his teeth. His skin was crawling and he couldn't settle from what.

"They're gonna come looking for you. Mom, surrogate dad, gang, even Captain Cardboard, I bet, once he catches ear of this."

"What do you care?" she challenged. "Think having the Slayer share your digs 'll ruin your rep?"

"Hadn't really thought about that," he grumbled and she smiled again.

"I'm not afraid of you," she stated and the crawling in his skin grew more apparent with a sudden twist of vexation. The look in her eyes somehow soothed him, though. "I've even missed you a little," she shrugged, his eyebrows going up. "I get the left side of the bed," she stated, again twisting the knob of the TV to turn it back on.

He glared at her as she walked passed him and up to the place leading down to the bedroom, but he couldn't quite get the sting into his gaze and he sighed as he sat back down in the armchair.

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Buffy lay in the dark, on the bed she had woken up on two days ago, and wondered what she was doing. She felt revived, and yet scared of this decision. She had never disobeyed her mother this way before, ever; but her mother had never not listened to her either.

So really, it's not all my fault, Buffy told herself.

And there was Spike. The mere thought of him sent butterflies into her stomach, and pleasurable goose bumps up her arms, and she had been told to give that feeling up. She didn't want to. She couldn't. She had tried, she really had. For the first twelve hours of her self-afflicted confinement she had told herself that it was the right thing to do. That she had felt it in the crypt when she and Spike had spoken of their true nature: they were enemies. She told herself that nothing could come of it. She was too young, and he... she didn't even know how old he was. He was certainly older. And he was a vampire. She was the Slayer. There wasn't supposed to be any form of attraction, any sort of understanding.

And then she had though of how angry he had been with her that night when he saved her outside the Bronze. She had though of how he had smiled at her jokes and listened intently to everything she said, no matter how he tried to tell himself and convince her that he didn't. That he hadn't. He had consented to her idiotic ramblings of redecorating his spot of the world, and he had let her fall asleep next to him without so much as touching a hair on her head.

Now she smiled in the darkness.

She had made the right choice coming here.

She couldn't give this up, whatever it was. It was too fresh, too unexplored, and something deep, deep down inside her spoke of treasures hidden just within reach. All she needed to do was prod very gently.

She rolled over on her side and wished she'd brought a candle with her down, though the room lay in a soft glow which she could only deduce was some form of night vision it might have been nice to have had some normal source of light. She had to like the perks that came with this Slayer deal.

She wasn't tired, it was broad daylight outside.

She heard the creaking of the ladder and soon Spike's form sunk down on the bed. He tugged at the sheet and she watched him close his eyes. She narrowed hers.

"Are you gonna sleep?" she asked.

"Creature of the night," he replied.

She rolled her eyes.

"I can hear that," he muttered, which made her smirk.

"What were you watching?" she asked. "In the afternoon... For an hour... Oh, my God, don't tell me, I don't wanna know."

She saw the corners of his mouth curl up.

"Gonna destroy the image for you, pet?" he inquired.

"Don't wanna know," she repeated and he smiled before yawning.

Stretching he moved to lie on the side, facing her, and since his eyes were still closed she took to studying him. She wondered why he was alone. She wondered why Drusilla had left him... or kicked him out, whatever. She wondered a lot of things when it came to him, and she mused whether or not she would ever have all the answers. She had the most instinctive feeling that something was missing for him, that he was... waiting. If she could only figure out what he was waiting for.

She woke up from the sound of the door opening upstairs. She hadn't even noticed falling asleep. The tiredness cleared as she got to her feet and walked up to the ladder. She could hear Giles' voice. She climbed up without hesitation, almost eager to face him; leaving Spike still asleep on the bed. Giles turned around as she ascended; his eyes sharp as flint.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice booming with quiet rage. "Get dressed."

"I came here in this," she replied calmly.

"Why did you come here at all?"

"Because I needed to," she began to explain.

"Not another word. You are coming with me."

She crossed her arms over her chest, raised her chin a little and said:

"No."

"What?"

"I'm not leaving."

"Buffy..."

"I'm staying here. Tell mom I'm really sorry, but this is something I have to do."

"Spike? Is that what you have to do?"

"What's it to you?" the vampire's voice rang out right before he emerged up the ladder as well, stopping a few feet behind the Slayer.

Giles directed his gaze on the being, but Spike didn't so much as blink.

"You're not seriously telling me that she is welcome to stay here, with you?" the Watcher asked and Spike had trouble holding back the satisfaction in his expression as he replied:

"'S long as she keeps outta my way."

"This is a ten-by-ten tomb, how the bugger's that even supposed to be possible!" Giles exploded, then he drew a breath and steadied himself, focusing back on his protégé. "Stop this nonsense," he pleaded. "You're not yourself. It's only a matter of time before you will be. Do not complicate matters by acting so out of character! You would never..."

"I am going to ask you, very politely, to get out," Buffy stopped him. "Right now you're not welcome here."

"As if he ever was," Spike huffed and Giles stared from one to the other, looking completely disbelieving.

"You will regret this," he then said to Buffy, though it wasn't a threat, more of a sad truth.

Then he turned and left.

Spike couldn't grasp it. He felt like jumping up and down with pure glee. This was too good to be true. He wanted to throw her up in the air and dance around with her in his arms. Had she any idea how good he felt in this moment? She had just done what he had wanted to do for... ever!

She turned to him and he didn't even try to hide the grin plastered all over his face. At the sight of it she laughed. He couldn't help it. He joined her.