Series: Mortal Allies

Story Title: Episode 3, Postcards From the Edge

Chapter 6: Homewreckers

By: Passion4Spike


Author's Notes:

Thanks to everyone who is reading and extra slobbery doggie-Spike kisses to everyone who has left a comment or a 'like'/'kudos'. It seriously means so much to me, you have no idea!

Some dialogue borrowed from 'Lover's Walk' written by Dan Vebber.

I apologize in advance for the lack of Spike T. Vampire in this chapter. We've got some Buffy POV plot to move along, but we'll get back to The Big BadTM next chapter.

As always, my undying gratitude to Holi117 and PaganBaby for their betaing, encouragement, idea-bouncing, banner-making, and overall awesomeness!


Chapter 6: Homewreckers


"Congratulations! Go away now!" Buffy sneered as she slammed a fist into the newly-risen vampire, sending blood flying from his mouth.

"Uhh...okay," the demon in the baby-blue suit, clearly something he'd worn to prom, replied, licking the blood from his lips and looking around in confusion.

"You should go to college – far away from here!" the Slayer continued, landing a round-house kick to the vampire's midsection and sending him stumbling back.

"I… uh, already went to college," the vampire told her as it recovered, but Buffy wasn't really talking to him, and was, thus, not listening either.

"1430 on your SATs! Congratulations. Good job! Here's your prize! Leave! Never come back!" she continued, delivering a sharp right jab to the vamp's chin.

"Ow!" he cried, rubbing the spot as he landed a right jab of his own, snapping Buffy's head back. "1430 on your SATs? That's impressive!" he congratulated her. "You could get into some good colleges with that."

"No one's talking to you!" Buffy snarled at him, returning the punch, practically cracking the guy's jaw.

"Well, excuse me!" he grumbled, ducking another blow and delivering a kick to her midsection.

Buffy stumbled back into a headstone before catching her balance and closing on him again. "Oh, and by the way, you'll have to leave Spike behind. He'll have to stay with Faith… you know, since she can do anything you can do, probably better. Reward her for going MIA for days on end by crowning her the new Miss Sunnydale in the Slayer Pageant and giving her your dog," Buffy growled scornfully as the two traded heavy body blows. "Anyway, there's no room in college dorms for a mountain-sized Slayer-dog whose hobbies include killing vampires, eating burgers, and peeing in Angel's shoes."

"Wait – there's a dog, too?" Blue-suit asked, ducking the Slayer's high, spinning butterfly kick. "I've never really liked dogs. Not since I was a kid and a Pomeranian nearly bit off my finger."

Buffy stopped a second and blinked at him, recovering from her missed kick. "Pomeranian?" she questioned, side-tracked from her rant.

"It took three stitches!" he defended, holding up said finger for her inspection.

Buffy rolled her eyes and punched him. "Go to a strange town with even stranger people. No friends. Nothing but classes, keg parties, and frat boys… gee! I can't wait!" the Slayer continued, getting back to her diatribe, and delivering a hard left cross.

"I was a frat boy once!" he informed her as the Slayer blocked his retaliating punch.

"Exactly my point!" Buffy grumbled as she ducked a haymaker he threw at her. "Vampires. Frat boys! What's the damn difference?"

"Well, I'm new at this, but I'd say the craving for blood instead of beer – and how amazing you smell," he admitted, sniffing pointedly in her direction.

Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled her stake out for the first time. "Will you vampires ever get over the creepy extrasensory-smell thing?" she wondered as she buried the wood in the white ruffles on Blue-suit's chest with a sharp blow.

"Uhhh—" he began, his eyes wide, but couldn't finish before he disintegrated into dust.

Buffy sighed and tucked her stake back into the waistband of her jeans, looking over at her audience for the first time. "It didn't really help," she complained, walking over to where the big dog with the Angel-shoe-peeing hobby waited.

Buffy leaned back on the headstone next to her slaying-buddy and slid down to sit on the pedestal at its base. "No one gets it," she complained dourly as Spike leaned into her, nuzzling his big head onto her lap. The girl scratched his fuzzy ears affectionately, leaning down to rest her forehead against his. "Giles thinks you're a tool… a-a weapon for me to use, like a stake or an axe or something," she continued, taking comfort in the enormous dog's warmth and bulk against her legs. "Angel just plain hates you, so any plan to get you away from me is aces in his book. Willow and Xander… they just think you're a dog, like… like Willow's goldfish or the dust bunnies Xander keeps under his bed."

Spike sighed heavily in wordless disdain, a gesture not unlike those that Buffy often employed.

"Mom sort of gets it, but she's like, 'It's just four years, and you'll be back for summers and holidays…'" the Slayer continued. "But she doesn't really understand what happens out here – and I don't really want her to," Buffy admitted. "I can't tell her how many times I've nearly died. Explaining the one time I did actually die nearly sent her into overprotective apoplexy. She seems to think there aren't vampires and demons in Des Moines or wherever-the-hell she wants me to go to school."

Spike sneezed lightly, more gently than normal since Buffy had her arms around him now, resting her cheek against his massive head.

"Yeah, I know, I can handle them," she sighed in agreement. "I killed Lothos and the Master, after all, and Spike never managed to kill me – stupid vampire – and I survived Angelus, but…" Another sigh fell from her lips. "I'd miss you so much. Sometimes I think my heart will just wither up and blow away when I think about everything that's happened in my life. About being Chosen for this gig without my permission – without even asking me, and then everything with Angel – loving him so much, setting Angelus free, getting him back for just a moment and having to send him to hell, then somehow getting him back again only to wonder if… if he ever loved me at all. Sometimes it's just too much. But then, there you are and…" Buffy's voice broke as tears welled in her eyes. "And you keep me from shattering," she whispered to the dog, hugging him tighter.

"No one understands," she rasped against his thick fur as her tears began to fall in earnest.

Spike keened softly, doing his best to climb into her lap like he could when he was little. He lifted his head and rested his heavy chin on her shoulder as his big body squirmed to settle on her thighs. She did her best to cradle him, letting him pretend to be lap-sized – thank goodness for Slayer strength! Buffy smiled wanly as she breathed in the scent of him. He smelled like the evergreens he'd been running through earlier, and the 'Mango Tango' shampoo from the groomer, with a hint of vamp dust topping it off, but, under it all, he was just her friend. The one person – or, you know, dog – in all the world that could always make her heart feel better.

Buffy was hit with the memory of Spike-the-vampire sending his namesake into the bathroom their first night on the road trip to comfort her. The bleached jerk had hurt her feelings earlier in the evening… which she hated admitting to, but his words had stung her. She'd retreated to the bathroom, to the shower, where he couldn't see or hear, or smell her cry. But he'd known anyway – knew she was hurting, knew the dog could help.

She snorted softly and shook her head, still holding the huge dog like he was still a puppy. "Spike would understand," she murmured. "Annoying vampire… he'd understand."

** X-X-X-X-X **

"Another one, so soon?" Buffy squeaked when she found the postcard from Spike waiting on the table by the door when she got home. She couldn't stop the grin from splitting her face as she thought of the pain-in-her-ass vampire who flung innuendos and insults so freely, but who then seemed to regret when they actually hit a soft spot. Is that what you got when a 'lovelorn poet' got turned into a vampire?

Buffy shook those thoughts off and looked at the card, as always, checking out the picture before the words. This one was from Chichén Itzá. She'd seen the name on the map when she looked up Pisté from the Christmas card; they were nearly side-by-side down on the Yucatan peninsula. She'd heard of Chichén Itzá before, but never knew exactly where it was until Spike's impromptu Mexican geography lesson. The card had a pyramid looking thing in the background and a statue of a guy kinda reclining on his back with his knees and arms bent, hands covering his stomach… or perhaps lower. Her brows furrowed as she looked at the image, her mind wandering off down a naughty path.

"Just what exactly is that guy doing with his hands down there?" she chuckled before turning the card over. Spike's note read, 'What do ya reckon this bloke is doing, exactly?'

It was a good thing Buffy wasn't eating or drinking anything at that moment, or she would've done a spit-take. As it was, she nearly choked on thin air as she began to laugh. Even when he was closer to Cuba than California, he took time to be piggy via airmail. The only scary part of that was that her mind had gone to the exact same place.

"Oh, God…" she swore, shaking her head. "Maybe some frat boys and keg parties wouldn't be so bad after all."

** X-X-X-X-X **

"You just need some cheering up," Willow suggested the next day as they walked to class. "You're just a little down-in-the-dumpy. Come bowling with us – me, Oz, Xander, and Cordy are going. It'll get you right back to happy-Buffy!"

Buffy arched a brow. "If I'm so far down that bowling is a step up, then just toss a sheet over the corpse and keep walking."

"Awww, don't be like that," Willow cajoled. "It'll be lots of fun, you'll see!"

Buffy shook her head. "I'd be like a third wheel… or, actually a fifth wheel. Solo Buffy in all her pathetic aloneness."

"Oh!" Willow brightened. "Bring a date! Then we'll be all wheely-perfection."

Buffy snorted. "And who should I bring? My grumpy ex who may or may not have been just using me to break his curse, or the guy I currently live with – the furry one with no opposable thumbs?"

Willow's resolve face emerged. "You just show up ready to bowl your blues away, missy," she instructed her friend. "I'll make sure there's another wheel for you to, you know, roll around in the gutters with."

Buffy arched a brow. "Speaking of 'rolling around in the gutter' with others," Buffy began, looking questioningly at Willow. "Are you ever gonna tell me what's up with you and Xander?"

"Up? Nothing's up! There is no rolling of any kind with Xander, gutters or not!" Willow declared much too vehemently.

Buffy cast her eyes heavenward and gave up. Willow would tell her when she was ready, she supposed. "I think 'no' on the bowling and gutter rolling. I should probably patrol. Faith's been MIA…"

"Do you see this face?" Willow interrupted, pointing to herself. "This is resolve-face. You will come. There will be bowling. There will be date-y-ness, possibly flirting and laughing, and absolute lifting of amazing-SAT-score blues."

Buffy sighed. "Will there be cheeseburgers?"

"Yes… and possibly chili-dogs… I've heard they also have nachos."

"With radioactively-orange cheese?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"What else would any self-respecting bowling alley have?" Willow assured her with a firm nod.

"Well, you should've said so in the first place."

** X-X-X-X-X **

"So, you found a date for Buffy?" Xander asked as he followed Willow into the science lab at school.

"Yeah… well, Cordelia helped," Willow admitted as she began checking the ingredients for the de-lusting spell she was set to perform to stop this… whatever it was, between her and Xander. They'd been able to mostly stop on their own after Spike-the-vampire's accusations a few weeks ago, but then the whole 'romantic snow exception' brought it all tumbling back on them with a vengeance.

"And they're all meeting us here before our night of bowling magic?" he continued.

"There's no magic!" Willow squeaked. "I mean, bowling, yeah. They're gonna meet us here later."

"Hey! What's this? It smells like church in here. No, wait... Evil church," Xander observed, looking around.

"It's just chemistry stuff. An experiment," Willow dismissed.

Xander furrowed his brows as he came to a stop next to Willow. "So, who'd you girls get for this cheering of the Buffster bowling date?"

"Percy West."

"The jock?" Xander squeaked. "With the muscles and the square jaw and the… muscles?"

Willow shrugged, checking over the items on the counter in front of her. "Buffy's pretty strong. We thought she'd like muscles. Plus, Cordy said he has half a brain."

"As if she could tell," Xander scoffed.

Willow turned to look at him. "She's dating you."

"My point exactly!" Xander retorted.

"Your points need to be introduced to a good whetstone," Willow decided, looking confused.

"My point is, if someone with half a brain and a pulse is good enough for Buffy, then why'd she shoot me down like a gooney bird in a no-fly zone?" he explained.

A hurt expression settled on Willow's features; her de-lusting mission temporarily forgotten. "You still like Buffy in a, you know, kissing sense? I thought I was your kissing buddy," she pouted.

"You are… you so are," Xander assured her, reaching out and cupping her cheek with his hand. "Can I kiss your earlobe?"

"Yes." Willow leaned toward him, then jerked back, her eyes going wide. "No! This is wrong!"

"So, so wrong," Xander agreed, leaning in closer. "Can I?"

"You… you don't kiss Buffy like this, do you?" Willow wondered, the little green jealousy monster getting the better of her.

"No," he whispered, his lips hovering over her earlobe, his breath tickling her skin. "Can I?"

"M-maybe… j-just once more…" she agreed. This was it, though! Then the de-lusting spell and then everything would be back to normal! No exceptions for snow or trauma or tiredness or even imminent death situations. No Xander kissing, or inappropriate touching, or… oh… nibbling.

Xander's mouth pressed down gently on her skin, pulling her earlobe between his lips, and nipping lightly.

"Mmmm," Willow moaned, tilting her head to the side. "You swear… no Buffy kissage?"

"I swear," Xander breathed, moving his mouth down to kiss her neck, drawing another moan from Willow.

"Pinky swear?" Willow murmured as her hands wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him to her.

"Every part of me swear," Xander replied breathlessly as his lips found hers, silencing any further demands or objections, if she'd had any.

** X-X-X-X-X **

"Oh, God!" Cordelia's voice cut through the fog clouding Willow and Xander's hormone-addled brains.

The two life-long friends jerked apart, guilt rolling over them like radioactive rain in Chernobyl.

"Oh, God," Xander echoed Cordy's declaration, his wide, horrified eyes meeting hers.

"Oh, God, Oz..." Willow added a moment later, taking a step toward her boyfriend.

"Oh, shit," Buffy muttered from behind Cordy and Oz, breaking the prayer chain.

Percy, standing beside the Slayer, peered into the room to try and see what was happening, but couldn't make out anything. "What's happening?" he asked Buffy when his efforts resulted in only confusion.

The jock was looking down at her with yummy, chocolate-brown eyes, though, admittedly, there didn't seem to be a lot going on behind them. Buffy had been suitably impressed with the gutter-rolling date Willow and Cordy had found for her. Tall, but not too tall, with a strong jawline that looked like it could take a punch, and strong hands that seemed like they could deliver one, (are those things she should be looking for in a prospective date?). He had rich, chestnut-brown hair that was long enough to run your fingers through, but not so long to be a handicap in a fight (again… is that a normal thought?), and muscles… such nice muscles.

"I think the 'gutter rolling' just kicked my friends in the ass," Buffy said cryptically, as all the air in the room seemed to turn to shards of ice.

"Cordy, I..." Xander started, taking a step toward his girlfriend.

"Don't you dare!" Cordelia seethed, spinning on her expensive heel.

"Cordy, wait!" Buffy tried, grabbing her arm. "Where are you going?"

Cordelia jerked her arm and Buffy released it, not wanting to hurt her. "As far away from you losers as I can get!" she growled, pushing past Buffy and Percy as she began to run, her angry steps clicking down the empty hall.

"Oz…" Willow tried, before he, too, turned and, without a word, disappeared down the hallway.

"Does this mean bowling's off?" Percy asked, looking between the three remaining prospective bowlers.

"Half a brain, my ass," Xander huffed as he started down the hall, following the other two.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the end of the passage; a surprised shriek from Cordy was followed by thuds of impact.

"Cordelia!" Oz's voice sounded out in what constituted a frantic outcry for the laconic werewolf.

The tone of Oz's voice alone had Buffy and Willow following quickly behind Xander. When they arrived at the top of the stairs, they found Oz and Cordy at the bottom, the redhead crouched over the cheerleader's crumpled form. He looked up, concern etched in his normally stoic features. "Call an ambulance. She fell the whole way down… I don't know what's broken … other than her Louboutins – can't move her."

"Oh, God! Cordy!" Xander cried, hurdling down the stairs to her while Buffy ran for a phone.

Willow was rooted to the spot, her entire insides ripped and shredded with guilt, her arms wrapped around her torso, trying to simply hold herself together. She'd done this – her and Xander. It had been wrong – so, so wrong – and she'd known it and hadn't stopped. And now Cordy… God! The brunette's face was already blooming with bruises and lumps and she just looked completely broken. My fault, my fault, my fault…

"So," Percy began, looking at the distraught witch. "If there's no bowling, do you think Buffy would go out with me another time?"

** X-X-X-X-X **

"So, on a scale of one to infinity plus a thousand, how much are you hating me right now?" Willow asked Buffy as they walked home after school the next day.

"Zero. Zero hating," Buffy replied. "I mean… it's not like I haven't kept secrets and done things that maybe weren't Mensa-worthy."

"Yeah, but your thing didn't put Cordelia in the hospital with a concussion," Willow pointed out.

"No, it got Ms. Calendar, Kendra, and who knows how many other people killed," the Slayer replied glumly.

"Oh," Willow gulped. "The sleeping with Angel thing… I was thinking about the running off with Spike thing."

"I didn't run off with—" Buffy began defensively, but then sighed and shook her head. "I guess my point is, we all make mistakes."

"Yeah," Willow agreed, looking down at the sidewalk. "But… well, once is a mistake, when you keep doing something when you know it's wrong… that's… well, really stupid."

"Let he who is without stupidity cast the first shadow," Buffy extolled sagely.

"Uh," Willow stuttered, looking at her friend. "I think you mean, 'Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.'"

"Do I?" The blonde shrugged. "Whatever. My point stands. Cordy's gonna be okay – just bumps and bruises."

"And a concussion," Will interjected. "And lack of any communication with Xander."

Buffy nodded sadly. "What about you and Oz?"

Willow shook her head. "I never knew there was anything inside me that could feel this bad. For the longest time, I didn't know what I wanted. I wanted everything. And now... I just... I just want him to talk to me again, but I totally can't blame him if he never does."

"He will," Buffy assured her. "He cares for you a lot. He just needs some time… and possibly groveling."

"I can grovel. I'm all over the groveling, but he trusted me and I just… I broke it. It's all Humpty-Dumptied and there aren't even any king's men, let alone horses, and I don't know if it can be fixed," Willow admitted.

"I'm so sorry," the Slayer said gently, stopping and pulling her friend into a hug.

"I feel so dirty," Willow admitted, accepting the hug, burying her face against the Slayer's shoulder. "I'm a rotten cheater! A floozy! A harlot! A homewrecker! I should have a scarlet 'A' on my chest! Oz should never speak to me again!"

"A homewrecker? I didn't know Cordy and Xan had started picking out china patterns," Buffy teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"You know what I mean," Willow sniffed morosely, pulling back to look at Buffy. "I suck."

"You don't suck. And you aren't a bad person. You just…" Buffy didn't know what to say that didn't sound judgmental, and she wasn't judging. She was not a judge of anything… Okay, well maybe Faith's slaying habits, or lack thereof, but absolutely not the judge of relationship problems. "You just made a mistake," she decided after a small pause, unable to think of anything else.

"Yeah, over and over and over again," Willow sighed, and they started walking again.

"I know just what you need," Buffy offered brightly, hooking her arm in her friend's.

"A thousand lashes?"

"Noooo… hot cocoa and doggie cuddles…oh! And Ben & Jerry's. Helps me every time!" she announced. "C'mon," the Slayer encouraged, pulling Willow ahead more quickly. "You're coming home with me."

** X-X-X-X-X **

Buffy woke the next morning thankful that it was a Saturday. She felt a bit hung over from alternately laughing and crying for hours the night before, sharing secrets, and pints of ice cream, into the wee hours of the morning with her best girlfriend. Willow had told her all about her illicit, 'Scarlet Letter' kissage with Xander, about how they'd stopped for a while – mostly – but then the snow was so pretty, and so romantic and it seemed like the stoppage just made the restart worse. So, the witch had planned to do a de-lusting spell, but it had all gone sideways when 'one last time' went on way too long.

Buffy told her about some of the juicier details of her trip with Spike-the-vampire. Like the night they had to share a room. "So, he comes out of the bathroom all glistening wet – head to toe," Buffy had related. "Water dripping everywhere, with nothing on but a towel!"

"On his head?" Willow teased.

"Willow!" Buffy gasped, laughing. "Around his hips! Which, I guess you could say covered his head," she admitted, making both girls giggle.

"Did you know he has super-adorable curls?" Buffy continued confidentially.

Willow arched a brow. "I thought you said the towel covered his curls."

"I wasn't talking about those!" Buffy screeched, turning red. "But, I can confirm that he's a natural brunette," she revealed, grinning. "He's got some really nice muscles, and his skin is just, like, perfect. He could totally model for one of those Greek statues… you know what I mean? But, you haven't heard the best part!"

"He's as hairy as a Sasquatch? Has piercings? Tattoos? Warts? A '666' birthmark? Three nipples?" Willow guessed.

"No! None of the above! He dropped the towel!" Buffy exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Oh, my God! You got the Full Monty?" Willow pressed, her own eyes wide. "Front or back?"

"Front!" Buffy squeaked. "But only for, like, a second – I turned my back on him," she admitted.

"Stupid! Stupid girl!" Willow chastised, smacking Buffy on the arm. "But you saw…"

"I saw…" Buffy moaned, a dreamy glint in her eyes. "There was much seeing!"

Buffy chuckled a little to herself with the memory – both of relating the story and the actual Full Monty experience – as she rubbed her eyes, which felt gritty and swollen. She yawned widely, trying to decide if she really wanted to get up or not. Her mom must've let Spike out that morning and fed him, since his cold nose hadn't nudged her awake at the break of 'way-too-early' like normal.

"Thank you, Mom," she muttered, turning her back on the window and the light streaming in, preparing to take a little nap before braving the day. Something unfamiliar on her dresser caught her eye and she rubbed them again, clearing the blurriness from her vision. Her brow furrowed as she tried to focus on the shiny photo that was propped up against her mirror and figure out what it was.

She blinked.

Not a photo.

A postcard.

Buffy threw the covers off and was across the short space in a heartbeat, snatching up the card from the dresser. Her heart did that little pitter-patter thing it had been doing every time one of Spike's cards arrived, her breath catching in her throat with giddy excitement.

She studied the picture first, has had become her habit, taking in the scene. This one was from the Bay of Banderas, which she'd have to look up on her map, since she'd never heard of it. It was a photo of a wave breaking. The water beneath the crest was glass-smooth, glittering brightly with the reflected sun. The shades of orange and yellow sunlight turned the water into shimmering spun gold, or perhaps liquid fire. In contrast, the mist from the peak of the wave flowed back from the curl, a velvety counterpoint to the silken water.

Buffy was almost afraid to turn it over and see who this one was to. Cujo? Giles? Willow? Xander? Angel? She'd ruled out her mom, figuring if it were for Joyce, she wouldn't have brought it in and left it for Buffy. Unless… unless she just was being nice and sharing it, letting Buffy read it like Joyce read the others.

Buffy sighed, running her hand over the glossy picture. She shouldn't want this to be for her. She shouldn't feel so excited when Spike sent her a card. She shouldn't think about him picking it out, about his hands, or his muscles, or his smirk, and most definitely not about his curls. The blond ones or the brunette ones!

Buffy went back and plopped down on her bed with the card, leaning back against the headboard, still not turning it over. Fact one: Spike loved Drusilla. There was no doubt about this – it was indisputable, undeniable, irrefutable. Fact two: Buffy was not a 'homewrecker', as Willow had put it. She was not her dad or Willow and Xander, for that matter. And, despite Spike's natural pigginess, innuendos and lewd suggestions, she was sure he wasn't either. Fact three: He was a soulless vampire and she was the Slayer and he'd promised to kill her the next time he saw her. Which, not happening – cos he would totally be dust, but, whatever. Oil and water. Pineapple and pizza. Plaids and polka-dots. These things were unmixy.

So, why had she gotten all tingly and giggly telling Willow about her adventures with him? Why had she looked around for him when Angel was talking to the dog in the cemetery a few weeks ago? Why had she imagined dancing with him at the Bronze instead of Angel on that 'one last dance'? Why did she feel so special when he sent a stupid postcard?

She shouldn't! It was wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong! They were temporary mission allies and permanent mortal enemies and they hated each other. And that's all there was to it.

Anyway, maybe this postcard wasn't even to her.

"Damn it," she muttered, turning it over to find her name alone in the address section. 'Made me think of you, Goldilocks. HYYF –S'

Tears stung Buffy's eyes and she leaned her head back, closing them against the myriad of emotions that swirled through her. Was he trying to make her insane? Was that his new plan for killing her? Make her drop her guard so he could just walk up and bite her the next time they crossed paths? Fucking vampires. Evil… that's what it was. He was just plain evil.

Buffy clenched her jaw, opening her eyes to look back down at the card. "That's so not happening, buster!" she informed it, tapping it against the heel of her palm. "I'm not falling for more vampire tricks. Not this girl, so you can just forget it! Whatever your stupid plan is, it's not working. At all. I mean it. Zero working of evil plan."

She nodded confidently, but her eyes slid over the words again and again… Made me think of you. Made me think of you. Made me think of you.

Buffy forced her eyes over to the bedside table and the slip of paper by the phone. "Hmph!" she grunted, setting the card down on the bed as she reached for the phone and the note. "I'm not thinking of you," she muttered to the card, dialing the number that had been scribbled on the paper. "At all."

The phone rang, a male voice picking up on the third ring. "Yeah?"

"Percy?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah."

"Uh, it's Buffy…" she stammered, suddenly a little nervous.

"Buffy?" he repeated, sounding confused.

"Buffy Summers?" she offered tentatively. Did he really not remember her from the non-bowling fiasco? It was like two days ago.

"From school?" he asked.

Her brows went up. How many Buffy Summers did he know? "Yeah, from school. Listen," she continued. "You mentioned maybe wanting to go out sometime?" she hinted.

"Oh, yeah, totally," he replied.

Buffy waited a beat, then two. When he didn't say anything further, she tried, "Uh, so, did you have any particular 'sometime' in mind?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure. How about tonight?" he suggested.

"Great! What time? Casual or dressy?" she wondered.

"Say, six? Casual?" Percy provided.

"Great! You want me to meet you or…"

"I'll pick you up. You're on Revello, right?" the jock confirmed.

"1630," Buffy provided. "See you at six?"

"Cool!" he said and hung up.

"Cool," Buffy muttered into the dead receiver. She pulled it back, staring at it, and rolled her eyes before hanging it up. 'Spike would so not end a phone conversation like that.'

"Gah!" she exclaimed, flopping down onto the bed and pulling the covers all the way over her head to block the light. "No more thinking about Spike!" she admonished, forcefully adjusting her pillow and flopping around a bit to get comfortable again.

She didn't notice her hand settling gently over the postcard as she fell back to sleep. 'Made me think of you, Goldilocks. HYYF –S'

** X-X-X-X-X **


End Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! I've been loving all the positive comments and 'likes' the story is getting! I really can't tell you how much each and every one of them means to me!

Oh, and so you don't have to look up where Spike and Dru are now (unlike poor Buffy), here is the Bay of Banderas (aka: Bahía de Banderas or Bay of Flags) (If you can't see the photo, it is Puerto Vallarta )