Life in the Summers' household used to be simple. It really did. There had been a father, mother, older daughter, younger daughter and it had all made sense. Then the father ran off with another woman, and forgot the other three women already in his life, except to mail a check now and then, and life got a little complicated. Rules shifted, responsibilities were reshuffled, head of household was always teetering on the precipice and guided by who was PMSing harder.

And what threw all of this off kilter?

Spike. William Pratt. Pain. In. The. Ass!

He had sauntered into their lives when Buffy was twelve at the Summers' quasi-annual family reunion. Even then, the guy had been weird. He dressed in some sort of retro goth attire and had a mouth that would make sailors blush. He hadn't been her favorite person even then, although Dawn had been all over him and Joyce was practically adopting him after the first hour. Even after the divorce, when she really didn't talk to many of dad's family the one person she did habitually keep in contact with was Spike. When she found out where he was going to be going to college…

Well, the fourth room that had previously been a storage area for some of the museum's lesser appreciated what-nots had been cleared out and made into a fourth bedroom, and Buffy's sanity had been put up for sale.

And in an effort to save her friend's sanity, thin and brittle as it must be after March's devastation, she was trying to keep her friends as far away from Spike as she could.

"So," she told her mother as she juiced an orange. "We'll put Dawnie in your room. Giles and Xander can sleep in her room, and Willow will sleep in mine."

Joyce from behind her hummed. "There's not going to be enough room in Dawn's room for two people. We know it's not clean enough to put an air mattress down on the floor." The second comment had a warning edge to it, meant for the twelve year old who had just pranced into the room and taken the juice Buffy had just made.

"I'll clean it tomorrow mom, promise," she said flippantly. Buffy wouldn't be surprised if Dawn had no clue what they were speaking about, but only said that to postpone a lecture. She rolled her eyes and ground another orange half into juice.

Joyce continued on after a derisive snort. "I was thinking we'll put Mr. Giles in Dawn's room. We'll put Xander on the couch down here, and Willow can sleep with you."

Buffy stopped mid-juice, her brows reaching for her hairline. "Xander, sleep on the couch? Mom, he has a broken arm! He's in a cast. You can't expect him to sleep on a couch! It's completely uncool!"

Joyce stopped stirring pancake batter, with a sharp intake of breath. She turned around, a completely repentant look on her face. "Oh, that's right. Oh, why do I keep forgetting that? I'm sorry, honey. You know I would never do that to Xander, or any of your friends." Buffy's pout didn't go completely away, but her mother continued on lifting her hands and pressing them together as she talked. "Okay, so here's what we'll do." Buffy felt a sense of foreboding. "We'll ask Spike to pull out the trundle from his bed, and Xander will bunk with Spike."

Which foiled all of her plans on keeping her friends away from the blond menace.

Thinking quick, Buffy said, "Or we could put Xander in Dawn's room and ask Giles to sleep on the couch."

Joyce rolled her eyes, dropping her hands down to her side as she gave Buffy and exasperated glare. "No one should have to sleep on the couch if we can offer them a bed," she said as if that was that.

"You were going to put Xander on the couch!" Her mother sighed. "Why don't we put Xander in my room with Willow and I? My bed's big enough for the three of us and Xander isn't going to do anything to set off your mommy-no-no senses…" She trailed off at Joyce's look.

"I don't think so," she said, in her version of a 'no-nonsense' tone. "Spike won't mind sharing his room."

Joyce turned back to the pancake batter, mixing it with an air of finality around her slim form. Buffy sulked for a few moments longer, trying to think of something she could say so that Xander didn't have to be subjected to the terror that was her unwanted houseguest. When she could think of nothing immediately she went back to the juicer, coming up short as she noticed that the juice she had made was missing.

"Dawn!" she huffed, looking at her little sister who held the glass with smug satisfaction. "Can I make some juice for myself without your sticky fingers stealing it from me?"

Dawn shrugged. "You didn't look that interested in it. I didn't want it to spoil."

Buffy glared and grumbled turning towards the fridge to grab the milk. At least she didn't have to milk the cow for that.

As she poured her glass, she glanced at the clock on the stove. It was nine-forty. When she had spoken to Willow last night, she had said they would be leaving Sunnydale at about noon. It would be quite some time before they arrived at four, in which time she may just be able to convince her mother that no one should have to experience the nightmare that was Spike so up close and personal. Maybe she could convince Spike that he didn't want to share his room for the summer, which she knew already wouldn't happen. The moment her mother asked Spike for something, he would destroy entire armies to make sure she had it, and that was nothing compared to what he would do for Dawn.

She should probably just apologize for any sanity Xander lost over the summer as soon they arrived.