Buffy awoke in Cordelia's king-sized canopy bed the next morning around 7AM. Had Spike really said he was going to take her to the beach? And had he really kissed her forehead? She foggily recalled feeling very Marcia Brady as she practically floated to bed silently vowing to never wash her forehead again. She stretched and slowly made her way out of the tangle of sheets and comforter.
It only took her a few minutes to shower, brush her teeth and dress. She was sitting on the couch running a comb through her wet hair when Spike emerged from his room.
"Trust you slept well, Love?" he smiled, running his hand through his rumpled blonde curls.
"Well enough," she smiled back. "You gonna be ready by 8?"
She was trying not to stare at his bare chest. He was only wearing a pair of black watch plaid flannel boxers. Note to self... boxers, not briefs, she thought.
"I'll be ready," he winked before heading down the hall to the bathroom.
He closed the door and started the shower. A cold one. When the hell had she gotten so cute, he thought as he stepped into the chilly spray. She wasn't wearing anything special. Just a pair of frayed denim cut-offs and a black t-shirt emblazoned with red and white silkscreen reading "Grimly Fiendish." She had a pair of black flip flops next to her on the sofa. And her toes were painted a deep blood-red. He could see the black strings of her bathing suit peeking out of the collar of her t-shirt, tied in a bow at the nape of her neck. She hadn't been doing anything special. Just combing the knots from her waist-length golden hair with the occasional wince when she hit a snag.
Her turned off the water and stepped out of the shower to quickly towel off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed back to his room.
The only thing separating him from me is that thin, white towel, Buffy thought as she caught a glimpse of him on his way back to his room. Her hair had started to dry a bit and, hoping that Spike would roll the top down on his DeSoto convertible, she went back into Cordy's room to dig through her bag for a scrunchie. She found a black one with little red lips all over it and slid it onto her wrist for future use.
Spike was waiting for her when she came back out, her bag slung on her shoulder, black wayfareres perched on her head. He was wearing a pair of cut-off camouflage cargo pants and a black Sex Pistols t-shirt. She grinned when she looked at him.
"You so need a tan, Will," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Sorry, Pet... I'm kind of like the dog... only catch every third word or so," he told her, with a cheeky grin. "You blah blah blah tan... more blah."
"Whatever," she said, shaking her head. "Are you ready?"
He nodded and opened the door. Buffy gave Max a kiss on the head and pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes as she walked out into the bright sunshine. Thank goodness it's nice out, she thought. The DeSoto was sitting in the front drive and looked like Spike had wiped it with a diaper every day since he acquired it. He adored that car. It was a shiny black 1956 DeSoto Fireflite and was his absolute pride and joy.
Buffy watched as he put the top down and then threw her bag in the large back seat. She wondered just how many lucky girls had been privy to the backseat of Spike's classic convertible. She felt her cheeks flush and quickly shook off any more dirty thoughts that tried to enter her head.
"You gettin' in?" Spike asked as he started up the engine. "Or you gonna stand and stare at her all day, Pet?"
Buffy opened the heavy door and slid into the passenger's side of the bench seat. She found her seatbelt and buckled up before turning to him.
"Ready, Captain!" she smiled, pulling her hair up into the scrunchie she'd procured earlier.
She loved the low growl of the DeSoto's engine. She felt much safer in its sturdy strength than she did in the lighter, newer vehicles. Cordy often made comments about Spike's 'boat' and how it would float away if it ever rained hard enough. Buffy had always been partial to the nostalgic vehicle. She knew that it had a lot of stories to tell.
"Have I ever told you how much I love this car?" she asked him.
He smiled widely. Fastest way to his heart was through his car.
"Bet she's seen a lot in her day," she continued, dreamily.
He raised his eyebrow and pretended to be hurt.
"You makin' her out to be a trollup, Pet?" he asked. "Or just me?"
Buffy felt her cheeks redden at his insinuation.
"No, uh... I just meant that..." She was stammering. It was so embarrassing.
He could see her out of the corner of his eye. She was stammering. It was so adorable.
"She's a classic... she's seen a lot. I didn't mean--"
"Just teasing you, Love," he told her with a wink.
He leaned in to switch on the radio and flipped through the stations before settling on one that was actually playing music instead of commercials. The drive to the beach was about 45 minutes in good traffic. She almost hoped that the traffic was bad just so that she could spend more time riding in the DeSoto with Spike. He'd taken her home from Cordy's several times after she'd been ditched. And he'd even been the one to pick her up from dances and football games after she'd been left behind. She was always getting left behind.
"I saw a real estate sign in front of your house last time I passed by," he mentioned, keeping his eyes on the road.
When had he passed by?
"Yeah... Mom's moving to New York when I graduate," she told him. She was glad her wayfarers were shielding her eyes. Just the thought of her mother leaving her behind made her want to cry.
"And you? You're going to university there, then?" he asked, hoping that she wasn't.
"Um, no. I'll be at UC Sunnydale. Dorms," she replied.
He was quiet for a moment. She was going to UC? With him? Something didn't sound right, though. There was a pronounced sadness in her voice.
"What is it, Pet?" he asked. "Didn't want to go to the big city with Mum?"
"More like wasn't asked to go to the big city with Mum. I mean Mom," she said.
What the Hell? Wasn't asked? He thought about the comment she'd made the night before when he'd asked why she still came to the house. She'd told him because Cordy still asked.
"What about your father? Isn't he in LA?" he found himself asking.
"That's what I hear. Him, his new wife and his new family. No room for Buffy in that nice little family portrait."
He hated to hear her sound so defeated. She was always so bubbly. Like a duck, she was. Let things roll right off her back, or so it seemed. Could his Sunshine secretly have a dark side, he wondered.
"Well, he's a stupid git then, Love. Don't know what he's missing without you to brighten his life," he huffed. Was he speaking for her father or for himself?
"How come you didn't go back to England with your Dad, Will?" Not that I mind you here. Not one little bit, she smiled to herself.
He shrugged and then started searching his cargo pockets for a pack of smokes. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her one.
"Nah, I'm trying to quit," she joked.
"Bully for you, Pet," he grinned as he placed a cigarette between his lips and began searching for his lighter. "Besides, I'd have to take you over my knee if I ever found out you smoked. Too nice a girl to be doing something that naughty."
"Oh, so then you must be the naughty one, huh?" she couldn't help but volley right back.
"Naughtier than you know," he said with a wink.
They fell into a comfortable silence after he found his lighter and put it to use while they were stopped at a red light. She liked that about him. She could just sit and be herself. She was amazed that she actually felt more comfortable around Spike than she did around Cordy.
Cordelia and Harmony had become so judgemental and self-righteous. She thought back to when they were in junior high and had actually hung out together. They spent many a weekend talking about boys, painting their nails and gossiping about the mean girls at school. When had they become those girls, Buffy thought.
"Studying Thomas, I noticed," Spike said, interrupting her thoughts.
"Hmm?"
"Dylan Thomas. Welsh poet. You were reading him last night?" Spike reminded her.
"Oh, yeah. That. Senior English project. I don't even know why I bother to try so hard. Nobody appreciates it," she found herself telling him.
I appreciate it, he thought.
"Do not go gentle into that good night, rage, rage against the dying of the light," he recited.
She was impressed.
"And did Mrs. Calendar berate you for it, too?" she asked him with an air of annoyance in her voice.
"You bet she did. Stupid bint wouldn't know a decent poet if it bit her on the ass," he told her. "But I'll bet you don't choose your projects with her in mind," he added knowingly.
"It amazes me how some of the students outsmart the teachers by leaps and bounds," she groused. "They're supposed to want to help me excel. Instead, they get all pissy and tell me to reign myself in because I'm making some of the other students feel stupid. Bet I'm just making them feel stupid."
He laughed at that. He'd felt the same way she had on more than one occasion.
"I'll let you in on a little secret, Pet," he leaned in conspiratorially. "Isn't that much different in college, either."
"Way to be encouraging," she said, shaking her head. The radio was still playing quietly under their voices, but when Buffy recognized a favorite song, she reached for the knob and turned it up.
That was another issue that made Buffy not-quite-cool material in Cordelia's and Harmony's eyes. Granted, they were never cruel to her. In fact, they treated her pretty decently compared to most of the friends who had fallen by the wayside in the wake of their high school popularity.
Of course, Buffy still did their bidding. Helped them pass classes. Diverted Cordy's mother. She did it out of friendship, out of a loyalty likely best left in the past. And she knew that the kindness she received from Cordy and Harm was mainly out of pity with a bit of reluctant thanks thrown in for good measure. Most of the time, she didn't let it bother her. And some of the times, it just did.
It would catch up with her when a snarky comment was thrown her way regarding the music she liked. Or the fact that she played the snare drum, 'a kind of cool instrument for someone in geeky marching band.' Or she'd get a backhanded compliment for her performance in the school musical... something along the lines of 'wow, Buff! That was great, you know... if you're all into that gay show-tuny stuff... which I'm not, but if I was... yeah. It would be, you know, pretty great.' Or the sweet smiles and invitations to parties she never went to when they'd stop by Double Meat Palace and see her behind the counter. She knew it was just their way of getting free refills on their Diet Cokes.
She had tuned out everything except for the music bleeding from the speakers of the DeSoto and hadn't even realized that she'd begun loudly singing along with the radio in much the same way that she did when she was alone in her mother's Jeep.
You're in the corner, turning your back, you're runnin' away again
The more I give you, the less that you take, tell me, where is it gonna end?
Whoah-oh - I can see you've felt some pain
Whoah-oh - I know you've been hurt before
Whoah-oh - But I swear you won't get hurt no more - tell me...
Spike felt the smile as it stretched across his face of its own volition. He had no idea she could belt out a song like that. And she was oblivious to the fact that she had a captive audience.
How much love is it gonna take, to prove I'm not another heartache
Till you begin to let your heart give in, how much love is it gonna take
He'd remembered Cordy commenting about how she was 'stuck going to Buffy's stupid play about a bunch of potato farmers in Idaho or something.'
"I think you mean Oklahoma, Ducks," he'd corrected.
I'm reachin' for you, gettin' so close, but you're always a step away
I wanna touch you 'n give my love, what is it gonna take
Whoah-oh - I can see it in your eyes
Whoah-oh - that you want to let me in
Whoah-oh - But you're scared that you'll get hurt again - tell me...
As much as he'd wanted to go and check out her performance for himself, he found himself entangled in another of Dru's messes. He had initially been introduced to her during freshman year at UC Sunnydale. He'd decided to put together a band with a few guys from his Humanities class and she tagged along with the bass player, Oz.
He quickly decided that she wasn't girlfriend material, though. To say Dru had a wandering eye was an understatement. Her eyes wandered even as she held fast to Oz's hand. She had a kick-ass voice, though, and that's what made them keep her around for the better part of two years -- regardless of her constant temper tantrums and the numerous bar fights she started. The final straw had been when she'd nearly knocked a girl's head off with Spike's vintage Strat at Club Demolition. He'd seen her pick it up and weild it like a bat and had managed to jump off the stage and push the shaken girl out of the way.
"That little witch was staring at my lovely toy," she'd ground out as Xander, the drummer, and Oz held her back. Spike kept apologizing to the terrified red-head for Dru's behavior. And that's how he'd met his best friend, Willow.
"I so was not staring at her toy," Willow had told him over and over. "I don't even like those kinds of toys... I mean boys. Gay here, you know."
The toy comment had been the last straw for Oz, too. And Red Rain had been boys-only ever since. Spike had taken to lead vocals, but really missed a lot of the sexual energy behind Dru's powerful voice. He couldn't believe how Buffy's voice surpassed that of the Dark Princess.
Summers had the sunny disposition of her last name. Yet, there she was, growling out the Vixen tune as if it was written just for her. Holy shit, she was about giving him a boner just listening to her sing.
I've been searchin' for an answer, oooh tell me what it's gonna be...She was adorable as she played air drums and air guitar not even noticing that he was sneaking peeks at her on the periphery. Comfortable in her own skin, his girl was. Where the Hell had that come from? His girl? Wishful thinking, lad, he told himself. Buffy Summers treated him like a big brother. Was much too relaxed around him for it to be anything else. Besides, she probably had some boyfriend that he didn't know anything about.
"So, why aren't you hanging out with some lucky bloke this weekend?" he asked, hoping to suss out her current boyfriend status.
"You're a bloke last time I checked," she replied. "Guess you're saying you're not lucky?"
"Har bloody har, Pet. I meant your boyfriend. You've got one of those, yeah?" he tried to dig a little deeper.
"Not last time I checked," she said pretending to open a book and flip through it. "Nope. No boyfriend."
What? They had to be beating down her door!
"Must be because you're smart enough to be selective, that's it, innit Pet?"
"Mmm... selective would imply that there was a selection from which to choose. So, no. That 'innit,'" she mocked him.
There. That should shut him up for awhile. What the Hell was he trying to do? Rub her permanently single status in her face? Well, two could play at that game.
"You still playing with Dru?" she asked, referring to his band.
"Um, that would be a definate NO," he said emphatically. "But wouldn't mind playing with you," he added, not realizing how it sounded until the words had escaped his lips.
She raised her eyebrow at him and crossed her arms across her chest.
"Meaning," he said a little too loudly, "I'm in desperate need of a new lead singer."
Too bad, she thought.
"Is that so? And how would I fit into that picture?" she asked.
"Bloody Hell, woman! Didn't you just hear yourself singing? You're bloody brilliant!" he informed her.
She felt her cheeks fill with blood. Oh yeah. That was me singing... really loud. Guess he noticed after all.
"Whatever," she shrugged, hoping he'd change the subject.
"No, Buffy." He used her real name. "I'm serious. You've got an incredible voice."
She tried to shrug him off again, but he wasn't having it.
"Remember when you came out to Smash Club to see us play? That song Dru did? That other Vixen tune... Cryin'? I saw you singing it over in the corner off the stage. Her voice broke at that top note... bet yours didn't." He shot her a grin and she was shyly smiling as she remembered that night.
Thought so. She could top Dru in the range department any day.