Part 7:

*********************************

I was becoming comfortable, maybe a little too comfortable…

Liam wasn’t so much a guest in my home anymore as he was a part of it. Sort of like the dog you come home to find jumping up at the gates from the sight of you. Uh, not that Lee’s like a dog, for one he’s never barked or pissed on my furniture. It’s just, somewhere along the way he became a companion of sorts, the person I came home to…

But we never bonded, because like I said before, I bloody well don’t bond with anyone.

"I win!" Lee cried out triumphantly. "Your money’s all mine, sucker."

I frowned, turning my gaze from the cards he’d laid out on the floor to the Bit’s grubby little mitts, which were scooping up my cash.

"Wait a bloody minute there, mate. You can’t win a hand with a pair of sixes and a pair of twos! Lee, I’ve been over the rules a million times already…"

"I know," he shrugged, "but the rules are stupid, plus you owe me five bucks."

"I thought we settled the five bucks in question with that banana split I bought you the other day?!"

Liam snorted and shot me a look, his little upper lip curling into a sneer. "Come on, Spike! I’m not stupid."

There is such a thing as having too much influence on a child, isn’t there? Liam was becoming slick, witty, and a fucking crook in training; in short he was a much shorter version of me.

Great, now I’ve created a sodding clone. Spike bloody version 2.0…

I should’ve known when I lost a hand of poker to a cheating ten-year-old that the rest of my day was doomed to be blown to hell.

Once upon a time, my father, Rupert Giles was a stuffy, tweed-clad librarian for the London Library. My earliest childhood memories consist of me nearly choking to death from the thick dust among those musty stacks, but his love of books seemed to skip a generation, right over my brother Wesley and straight to me. Though my severe allergies almost made the library a blasted death trap, I loved being there because he was there. The books, his job, they were my da’s passion…seeing him work…I swear the old blighter’s eyes would light up every time the Dewy Decimal System needed explaining.

But, when I was eleven, Rupes decided that the tweed, the books, the sodding Dewy Decimal system, my mum, Wes, and I weren’t good enough. Didn’t make him happy enough, I suppose and he split. High-tailed it for the good ole USA and Sunnydale.

When I caught up with him years later, he was in full mid-life crisis mode. No longer, sweet, dowdy, Rupert Giles, he was ‘Ripper’ a bleeding fifty year old man going on eighteen. He was sporting an earring and every dumb bimbo under twenty-five like it was a fucking package deal.

"Whoa, Spike! Who’s the guy pulling up in the Porsche?!"

"Wha--?" I began, turning around to see the machine that had Lee literally going through puberty before my very eyes. "Bloody fucking hell…" I mumbled, climbing to my feet. I should’ve known it was dear old dad; I could hear Pink Floyd’s ‘Dark side of the Moon’ blasting from a whole mile away.

"What? Who is it?" Lee asked, following me to the door.

"My sodding dad…"

He gave me a quizzical look. "I didn’t know you had a dad…"

"I don’t," I sighed, opening the door.

"William, my boy!"

Truthfully, there were only a handful of times when I felt truly helpless. My complete and utter humiliation in front of Cecily, my one and only trip to the DMV, and now in this very moment when Rupes threw his arms around me. I’m not a big hugger, sure at one point in time I must’ve been, since I was as sensitive as a bloody daisy, but now I prefer to initiate the hug if I deem you worthy enough. Being pulled into a bear hug against one’s will, only makes one even less enthused about seeing that person than they were in the first place…

"Dad…" I choked out, "air becoming a bit of an issue."

Rupert quickly let me go, grinning sheepishly. "Terribly sorry, Will. It’s been a while since I saw you last, got a little carried away and…oh my, who do we have here?" He smiled at Lee, exchanging looks from me to the boy. "Will, you haven’t gone too far in sowing your wild oats, have you?"

"No, old man," I ground out, rolling my eyes. "He’s not mine…"

Lee smiled brightly, extending his hand. "Hi, I’m Liam Summers."

"Very nice to meet you, uh, Liam Summers," he smiled, shaking the boy’s hand. "I’m Rupert Giles."

"Well," I sighed dejectedly, "won’t you come in, Rupes? Help hurry this little visit along."

Dad gave me a look, making his way inside. "I didn’t come here to fight."

"Of course," I snickered.

His hand suddenly shot out, stopping me from shutting the door,

"Wait, Anya’s grabbing her…"

"Hold that door! Pregnant woman with a breast pump coming through!"

Oh, I guess I neglected one little detail as far as Rupert is concerned. For the past year and a half, he’s been shacked up with this bird Anya Jenkins. She’s all right, I suppose, no where near as bad as any of the other bints under twenty-five he’s been with. Six months ago we found out Anya was pregnant, who knew the old bastard still had a few in him?

"Hello, William!" she said brightly, rushing past me. Anya set her sodding breast pump on my coffee table, flopping down onto the sofa, and gave a look in Liam’s direction. "Well, hello little boy whom I’ve never seen before. I didn’t know you had a child, William."

"I don’t. Anya, this is Liam, he lives across the street."

Liam smiled at her as he headed over to the coffee table. He stood there for what seemed like an entire five minutes, closely inspecting the breast pump that was taking up space on my furniture. Finally, he broke out of whatever trance the thing had him under and turned to Anya.

"What in the world is that?"

"That little boy, is a breast pump," She stated matter-of-factly, then laid a hand on her swollen stomach, beaming with pride. "See, when a woman is pregnant, her very perky and well rounded breasts fill with milk for the baby. That pump, takes out the milk so that the woman can store it for the baby to drink, when her nipples have become to sore for her to take it any more."

I also forgot to mention how tactless and blunt Anya can be, but I guess that minor detail can bloody go without saying…

I cocked an eyebrow, "Anya, you’re only six months along, why are you using the pump?"

"Anya had this idea to freeze the milk," Rupert piped up.

"Is uh, that safe, da?"

Anya shrugged, gazing lovingly at her chest. "It’s convenient."

I could almost feel the blood vessel in my brain getting ready to burst, but the sound of my doorbell going off put that on hold, for now at least…

"Hi," Buffy grinned, walking inside, "I figured I’d give you a break from my wayward son and bring him home…and oh, you’ve got company."

"It’s okay," I began, shutting the door. "Buffy this is my father, Rupert and his girlfriend, Anya, dad, Ahn, this is Buffy, Lee’s mum."

She waved shyly, "Nice to meet you, I’m so sorry for barging in like this. Lee and I will be on our way…"

"No, dear it’s no bother at all. In fact, have a seat, I was just about to order dinner."

Dinner? Who the hell said anything about dinner…?!

"Uh, da…"

"Will, you don’t mind if Buffy and Liam join us for dinner do you?"

Great, just bloody great.

**********************************

I think I’m one of those few lucky people who already know what their ninth circle of hell will be. I, William Giles will be forced to sit and listen to my father tell every embarrassing story of my childhood he knows for all bleeding eternity.

"So, Will and Wesley decide to play a game of daredevil," the old man laughed, taking another bite of his eggroll. "Now, they’ve got their mother’s best towels tied around their necks as capes, and their just zipping around the backyard on their bikes, jumping over everything in sight. Will decides he wants to one up his brother, so he sets up the little ramp near the fence, looking to jump it," he chuckled. "He goes racing across the yard heading towards the ramp; and apparently got scared about jumping it, because as soon as Will hit that ramp, he crashed right into the bloody fence!"

I sighed, putting my throbbing head into my hands. Well, maybe that blood vessel will burst tonight after all…

"The poor lad gashed his eye clean open, gave his mum and me quite the fright. And that’s how William got that scar in his eyebrow," Rupert shook his head. "Ten stitches, I remember clear as day."

Liam looked up from his beef and broccoli, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you said you got that scar in a bar fight?"

I laughed nervously, "Bar fight? Bullocks, I never said anything about a bar fight. Hehe; kids, always making up crazy stories…"

What? A bar fight is damn well more manly than crashing into the backyard fence.

****************************

"Buffy, it was very nice meeting you."

Buffy smiled brightly as dad shook her hand. "It was nice meeting you too, Giles…" she made a face, shaking her head. "Uh, I mean, Mr. Giles. I dunno why the hell I called you ‘Giles’."

"It’s fine," he laughed. "I rather like Giles, sort of like Sting or Madonna, isn’t it, Will?"

"More like, Bon Jovi, da," I sighed as I plopped down on my couch. "You and Anya have a safe trip back home, make sure that bint doesn’t get to carried away with that pump."

My head made its way back to my hands as I heard the door close and the nearly sweet purr of that Porsche pulling out of my driveway. I had survived another unwanted visit from my dad; I swear I could almost taste the bloody freedom. I lifted my head up in utter relief only to be met with a semi-glaring Buffy, complete with her hands on her hips.

"What?" I asked wearily.

"I like your dad," she said, taking a seat next to me. "I don’t see why you’re so hard on him."

I gave a little snort, rolling my eyes. Of course she doesn’t see…

"Did he leave you to look after a crying mum at eleven?" I shook my head. "Rupert’s all talk. He’ll leave that crazy bint just like he left my mum. Anya will have nothing but a crying baby and a freezer full of sodding breast milk, mark my words, luv."

"You know, my dad left too," Buffy let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, when I was sixteen actually. Took off for Spain with his secretary, living the cliché. But, you wanna know the difference between your dad and mine?"

"What’s that?"

"Yours still cares," she said softly.

"Well," I laughed, "wasn’t that just Hallmark movie-of-the-week touching."

"I’m serious, Spike," Buffy playfully smacked me in the arm. "You should really consider giving him a chance again…"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Come on," she grinned, "he may let you drive that sweet little car of his."

"The Penile extention?!" I snickered. "That thing practically runs on semen, no way I’m driving that."

Buffy laughed, rolling her eyes before casting a glance down at her son, who, was currently unconscious in the middle of my living room floor.

"I should wake him, huh?"

"Nah," I smiled, "he looks so peaceful and innocent. Plus, knocked out this way, he can’t ask fifty million bloody questions."

"Oh, don’t I know it…" she sighed, climbing to her feet. "As tempting as it is to let him sleep, I just can’t leave him in the middle of your floor," Buffy threw me a wicked grin over her shoulder as she bent down to gently shake Lee. "From what he told me, there’s no telling what could be crawling around in your place."

"Ha, bloody, ha."

She managed to wake the boy, helping him up on his feet as he groggily wiped at his eyes. Buffy carefully led him over to the door.

"Thanks for dinner, Spike."

"Hey, Buffy," I called out, "is freezing breast milk a good thing?"

TBC…

Part 8:

******************************

"… ‘Said you a gangsta, but you ain’t never popped nothin’; said you a wanksta and you need to stop frontin’…" Xander bobbed his head as we made our way into the Espresso Pump.

All I could do was shake my head as he continued to make a very white attempt at rapping. That’s something I never understood; Eminem comes out and all of a sudden every kid in Malibu whiter than Casper thinks he’s straight out of Compton. Sadly, Harris included…

"You are the whitest bloke in America, you know that?"

He shrugged giving me a goofy grin. "You’re just jealous because I’m down and therefore more gangsta than you."

I laughed. "Slim Shady, why don’t you go grab us a table before the girls get here."

Xander rolled his eyes and gave me the finger before he walked away, scouting the café for a good spot. It’s bloody unavoidable, between this and Harris’ stirring rendition of Nelly’s ‘Pimp Juice’ on the way over, I’m going to have to find a new best friend…

"What can I get for you today, sir?"

I plastered on a smile for the overly perky chit behind the counter. I realize she’s in the customer service end of the business and all, having to smile and rubbish like that, but the sun was practically reflecting off of this bint’s teeth. I’m pretty sure she’s been guzzling coffee grounds for the better part of the morning.

"Yeah, luv," I drawled, leaning forward. "Give me three mochas, all with whipped cream. One light on the chocolate, one medium chocolate, and one heavy. I also want one regular coffee, cream, no sugar, and two chocolate chip muffins." I wet my lips just a bit and gave her my most winning smile. Suddenly, I felt like flirting with ‘Coffee Grounds Girl’. Sometimes the male ego needs to be fed to be able to keep going.

"Think you got all that, pet?"

She giggled, blushing slightly. I may have put my self out of commission as far as dating is concerned, but it’s always good to know I’ve still got it…

"I think so. Your order will be ready in just a minute."

"Think you got all that, pet?" a mocking voice called from behind me.

I rolled my eyes as I turned around, a little glad to see her so early in the morning but still wanting more than anything to call her every four-letter word in the sodding book.

"Does that shit actually work?" Buffy smirked at me as she slipped off her sunglasses, her perfectly arched brow quirking upwards.

Funny, Buffy always seemed to leave me wanting to spout every curse I ever learned. Even the ones that weren’t in fucking English…

I shrugged, grinning, "What are you doing here, Summers? Shouldn’t you be spraying that bloody awful bactine on some poor little bastards knee, or throwing sawdust on vomit or something?"

" ‘Little bastard’, huh? My, Spike, you’re going to make a great father someday," she snickered, giving me an eye roll of her own. "Three glorious words everyone who works at a school longs to hear: ‘Teacher’s In-Service’," she smiled. "That means no school for the ‘little bastards’ as you put it, for today and Monday; Liam’s in LA for the extended weekend, and I have four days of Buffy alone time." Buffy frowned suddenly and punched me bloody hard in the arm.

"Ow, woman!" I glared, clutching my now throbbing arm. I swear to god, this chit’s half superhero or something. "What the hell was that for?!"

"Sawdust on the vomit is the janitor’s job, not the nurse."

"Jesus, two months of knowing you and it’s a fucking wonder I’m not a walking bruise," I snorted. "You might wanna look into some anger management classes, luv. Winning friends through broken bones and internal bleeding never works."

Buffy opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by ‘Coffee-Grounds Girl’, who managed to repeat my order back to me at the speed of light. In all honesty, I’m a little worried about this bint; she looks as if either her heart should stop or she should start foaming at the mouth at any second.

"Here you go, sir. Three mochas, whipped cream, one light, one medium, and one dark; one regular coffee, cream no sugar, and two chocolate chip muffins."

I smiled at the cheerleader behind the counter doing my best to suppress a groan. Maybe I over did the charm just a bit. She was giving me that schoolgirl in love look and it was enough to make me want to heave…

"Thanks ever-so, luv," I said, slipping her a twenty.

"Gee, that’s a lot of coffee for a man with no friends," Buffy snickered, moving up to the counter. "I’ll have a regular coffee, cream no sugar, please."

I frowned, "Are you always this bloody funny on your off days? See that table over there with the adorable little redhead, the poncy looking guy with the floppy hair, and the Rodeo Drive fashion queen?" I sighed, "Those are my friends. Yes, I have adult ones, no they’re not finger puppets, nor did I make them up."

"That was one regular coffee, cream and no sugar," Perky interjected once again, "that’ll be $3.50, Miss."

"I never thought they were finger puppets," Buffy grinned.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Do you wanna join us for a bit? See how they talk and breathe just like normal folk…"

"Sure," she smiled. "I’d love to meet the kind of people brave enough to put up with you on a regular basis."

"You’re bloody full of ‘em this morning, aren’t you?"

"Mmm-hmm…" she smirked at me.

We made our way over towards the gang and I almost wish I had a blasted camera to capture the moment. Their expressions were a mixture of awe and pure shock like one might get if he were to walk in on his Gran getting out of the tub.

Is it that fucking shocking to see me with a woman?!

"Guys, this is Buffy Summers, Liam’s mum…"

"So this is ‘Neighbor Girl’," Cordelia smiled warmly at her. "It’s nice to finally meet the chick Will goes on and on about…"

"I don’t go on and on, Cordelia. I’ve brought her up, I’ve relayed stories, conversations, but I’ve never, ever gone on and on about her," I said in a clipped voice, turning to face Buffy. "I don’t go on and on…"

"Yes you do…"

I narrowed my eyes. "Shut your gob, woman."

"This is the nurse?!" Xander squeaked. I swear, sometimes I think the Whelp is still thirteen years old, spraying his shorts every time a pretty bint comes around. His face settled into that goofy grin he does so well, and he waggled his eyebrows a bit. "Hellllooo, Nurse!"

Off of Cordy’s glare of death, Xander laughed nervously, giving his girlfriend a loving look.

"Uh, not that I meant that in a sexual way," he fumbled. "I was saying ‘Hello nurse’ to um, get Buffy’s attention. I think I pulled a muscle and it might need to be looked at. My intentions were strictly medical, Cordy…"

"Shut up, Xander."

"Buffy," I began, "this dysfunctional threesome is Willow, Xander, and Cordelia, my friends," I paused, smirking. "Well, not Cordelia so much…"

"It’s so nice to finally meet you, Buffy!" Willow piped up, climbing to her feet. "Here, have a seat, I’ll go grab an extra chair."

"It’s nice to finally meet all of you as well," Buffy smiled brightly, taking a seat. "I’ve known Will for about two months and, I’m surprised I hadn’t met any of you before now," she laughed. "I was starting to think he’d made you guys up, and you were all finger puppets or something."

The four of them had a bloody great laugh at my expense as I sipped my coffee. Really, the morning just wouldn’t go right if there wasn’t, a round of drive Spike around the fucking bend…

"So, single-mother, huh?" Cordy said bluntly, taking a bite out of her muffin. "That’s gotta be a total drag. Most of the women I’ve seen in your situation have bags under their eyes deeper than black holes; how do you keep so well moisturized?"

****************************

I think a part of me always looked at my circle of friends as some sort of impenetrable fortress. We were superheroes of sorts, I suppose, doing fantastical things and living lives no one outside of it could comprehend or ever be a part of. Even though said fantastical things consisted of mornings at the Espresso Pump sipping on overpriced Java like we were those soulless wallies on Friends, playing rounds of pool at the Warning, and making fun of B-Science Fiction movies Mystery Science Theater 3000 style on every other Saturday night.

Despite my Super Friend’s lack of, well super…it still felt like we were doing things the other sods in this world didn’t do and wouldn’t get because they wouldn’t be part of this group…

And then there was Buffy.

In spite of what Cordy blabbed earlier, I do not go on and on about the little woman across the street, though, the more I see of her, the more amazed I get.

By the end of the morning, Buffy had effectively made herself one of the gang. She and Willow were gabbing like old friends, she was trading fashion and bloody skin care secrets with Cordy, and when he wasn’t secretly drooling, Xander was cracking jokes and giving off that protective big brother vibe in Buffy’s direction.

How did she do that?

Maybe somewhere in between the introduction and the ‘Hey Buffy, why don’t you come over to Will’s tonight? We’re all gonna hang and watch videos,’ I got turned around. She’d slipped into my circle, made herself a full time part of my life.

Buffy wasn’t just Lee’s mum any more, my mates would want to see her again, she, would want to see them. The days of casual acquaintance were gone. She was a friend now.

Jesus-Tap-dancing-Christ, I’d made another friend.

"Hey, bleach-boy, you’re bogarting the popcorn," Buffy reached for the bowl in my lap with her greedy little fingers. I grinned wickedly and lifted the bowl over my head and completely out of her reach.

"I’d like to see you come and get it, Goldilocks," I waggled my eyebrows at her.

Buffy gave me a look before she scrambled onto my lap in her attempt to reach the bowl. I’m not exactly the tallest bloke in the world, I probably top out at around 5’8, but mercilessly teasing those who are shorter than me, gives me a strange warm feeling. Almost tingly…

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Hey, why don’t you two go grab a room, the rest of us are trying to watch a movie here."

Buffy immediately stopped her reaching and climbed off of my lap.

"We don’t…need a room," we mumbled simultaneously. She scooted away from me as I shifted rather uncomfortably on the couch; the whole playful, friendly climate between us now changed thanks to Queen C.

I glared at Cordy and plopped the bowl in Buffy’s lap. For a second there, I was tempted to see just what kind of sound my boot would make upon impact with a human head, Cordelia’s head in particular…

"You have the attention span of a blasted gnat, Cordelia," I sighed. "Besides, ‘Army of Darkness’ doesn’t require one’s full attention. It’s not like you’ll blink and miss the deeper meaning behind the bloke with the chainsaw hand."

Xander’s head shot up from the pillow he was resting it on, and he turned it ever so slightly, tossing me a dirty look over his shoulder.

"I’m gonna pretend that you didn’t just indirectly insult the ‘Evil Dead’ series, in your attempt to insult my girlfriend."

Willow giggled, "Cordy, do you even know what’s going on?"

Cordelia shrugged. "Nope," she sighed as she climbed to her feet, taking the popcorn bowl away from Buffy. "There’s no creepy bushes in this one, right?" she shuddered. "Those bushes were just…wrong."

"Cordy, did sort of have a point…" Wills, gave, me a knowing smile, alternating her look between Buffy and I.

"About the bushes?" Buffy asked.

"No," Wills rolled her eyes, "about you two. You did look all snuggly wuggly a minute ago. Is there something you guys aren’t telling us?"

"Come on, Wills, you know Spike doesn’t date," Xander said, stuffing popcorn into his mouth. "Remember, yadda, yadda, yadda, all women ever do is hurt me, yadda, yadda, yadda, they’re all wicked bitches, yadda, yadda, yadda…"

"You really feel that way?!" Buffy’s arms were starting to cross over her chest and I could see that look forming in her eyes. Silly me for actually thinking I could make it through a sodding day with her and not get that look.

"No…I don’t really…" I stuttered a bit, desperately trying to save face. Maybe my boot/head noise question will be answered tonight after all… "Look, Xander’s just spouting all the crazy things I’ve said post breakup. I don’t think all women are like that, if I did, Willow and I wouldn’t be friends."

"Darn tootin," Willow gave me an affectionate smile.

"But your whole ‘Women are the devil’ attitude was practically the driving force in your book…"

"My book was about relationships in general," I shrugged. "They all either crash and burn or you end up with two extremely bored people who are in it simply because they don’t know anything different; like a bloody worn out shoe it all is. It’s not worth it, so I remain alone."

Cordelia grinned wickedly. "Hence why Will’s right hand and Katie Couric are his best friends."

I scowled at Cordy before turning to Buffy, "Pay no attention to Cordelia," I smirked, "the syphilis makes her talk crazy."

"Fuck you, William!"

"I haven’t found a woman worth making a fool out of myself for," I continued talking to Buffy, completely ignoring the endless stream of curses flowing out of Cordelia’s mouth. "And I don’t really expect to…"

Buffy suddenly turned away from me. "Xand, did you get ‘Killer Klowns From Outer Space’?! I haven’t seen that movie in years, and I suddenly have the desire to never look at cotton candy the same way again."

"Hey! I thought we were having a bloody conversation here!"

"We were," Buffy grinned. "But you’re still trying to rename your ‘women are the devil’ point of view, and I’d much rather watch a bunch of oogly clowns kill unsuspecting teenagers with balloon animals, than to the shit you’re trying to spin on me, Spikey." She patted my thigh patronizingly, and I could literally feel the climate between us shifting back to the comfortable/friendly air it had before Cordelia and her mouth.

Humph, Buffy actually saw through my bull shit.

"Don’t call me Spikey," I playfully pulled her hair. "Goldilocks."

Amazing…

TBC…

Part 9:

Author’s Note: A thousand humble apologies about the long wait. Writer’s block is a pain. Anyway, as soon as I finish my other fic ‘The One’, I’ll be focusing full time on About a Boy, so new chappies won’t be months and months apart *cross your fingers*. So, enjoy the new-ness, and keep reviewing…it helps feed my ego - uh I mean my muse… *grin*

*************

Family’s a funny thing. In a perfect world, you’d get to choose the people who’ll spend the rest of your life royally fucking you up, but God’s got a sense of humor. Gives us a mixed bag; an alcoholic uncle here, a deranged, mutant cousin with a crush on you there, and parents whose gross emotional problems bloody far outweigh yours.

"He’s still with that trollop…"

"Anya’s not a trollop, mum," I sighed into the phone, bringing a hand to my temple, "just blunt."

About three times a month, I’m treated to a phone call from my mum. A rousing hour or so where the first thirty minutes are spent discussing the typical mundane telephone conversation crap (How’s the weather? Did you finish your book yet? When are you gonna get married and give me fat grandchildren?!), and the next thirty is used to chat me up about Da before spending the last five minutes calling Anya every offshoot of the word ‘whore’ the old bird can think of.

"Promise me, William, that you won’t become a big wally like your father when you get to be his age."

I smiled. "I promise, mum. I’ll stop sleeping with women half my age the second I hit fifty."

I’m fully convinced it was the psychotic influence of the family that led to the invention of things like cigarettes and heroin. The type of shit that takes the edge off; makes a bloke think twice about standing in the middle of a crowded room waving a gun a around while he screams at the top of his fucking lungs --

And since I bloody hate needles, I go for the cigarettes.

For the last two years Willow’s been launching a campaign to get me to quit. I swear Red’s got a nose like a sodding Basset Hound, sniffing the air in my flat periodically to check for staleness. So, I’ve had to resort to having a fag outside and discarding the butts in the road as if I was a kid again, hiding his bad habit from his folks.

I usually only light up after stressful situations. Random visits from Da, and calls from mum constitute as stressful and are a hair away from suicide inducing.

As mum continued to blather on about Anya and her disgust over the ‘breast pump information’ I’d just given her, I padded through the house, turning over various cushions and piles (with Lee gone, things quickly got dirty again), looking for my smokes…

"Who in their right mind ever heard of freezing breast milk?!" she scoffed. "Rupert deserves her. He’ll have someone in the home to keep him company in his old age; although, that loony bint’ll probably try freezing his medication."

"Mmm-hmm…" I mumbled, rumbling through my desk drawer. And like the sodding Holy Grail, there it was. My pack of Marlboro Reds, shiny, glorious sticks of tar and rat poison-

"Well, mum, I gotta go. Get to work on that book and all," I lied, easing my way out of the front door. I breathed a sigh of relief once I heard that tiny click on the other end of the line. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mum, but there’s only so much I can take.

I made my way to the end of the drive, carefully steering my bare feet away from the various rocks littering it. The things one has to go through just to enjoy a little cancer inducing pleasure…

"Fancy meeting you here," Buffy shouted, grinning at me from the end of her driveway.

I finally looked up, having found my lighter (damn things always seem to get buried in the depths of your pockets), and gave her a smirk of my own, slipping the fag between my lips.

"I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me, Summers."

"Oh yeah," she laughed sardonically as she headed towards me. "I’m always watching you. Just waiting for you to come out of your house so I can make it all look like one giant coincidence."

I frowned. "You don’t have to be that sarcastic about it," I sighed in mock hurt. "Jesus, spare a fellow’s ego."

Buffy rolled her eyes at me and snatched the cigarette out of my mouth.

"Hey!"

"How bout I spare a fellow’s lungs," she said sternly, cocking her head to the side. "These things will…"

"Give me loads of unspeakable cancers, blah, blah, blah, have me hooked up to thousands of machines and talking through the hole in my ass, blah, blah, blah," I glared, snatching it back. "I’m taking the opportunity to not care."

"You’re impossible," she shook her head.

I shrugged, smiling. "I like to think of it as ‘imperfectly endearing’." I lit my fag, ignoring the snort of disgust that came from Buffy; sometimes the chit’s a little too ‘holier than thou’ if you ask me. "So, what are you doing taking in the quiet moment of reflection outside? Figured you’d be soaking in a tub with those stupid cucumber slices on your eyes."

She shoved her hands in her jean pockets. "I dunno…I mean, I was all game for ‘Buffy-alone-time’ yesterday, but I’ve come to discover that ‘Buffy-alone-time’ is really…" she paused and smiled sheepishly, "lonely."

"Missing the Bit, huh?"

"Well, when you give birth to them, you do get all attached and used to having them around," Buffy quipped. "It’s the first official ‘weekend at dad’s’," she sighed. "So, yeah I’m missing my baby and trying hard not to be one those mom’s who call every five seconds."

"Heaven forbid," I chuckled.

"What about you?" she playfully shoved my shoulder. "Sneaking out with the ciggies…"

"Just got off the phone with me mum," I sighed, taking a long drag before tossing the butt out into the road. "Plus, Willow always knows when I’ve been smoking in the house."

"Oh, God - don’t tell me you’ve got mother issues, too?! You’re a therapist’s wet dream, Spike, you know that?"

"I don’t have mother issues," I scowled at her. "I have father issues, which happen to cross paths with my mum, every time she gives me a ring. These, take the edge off."

We stood in silence for a moment, my hands unconsciously clenching and unclenching at my side. Sure, my mum spent a lot of time after Rupert left putting pressure on Wes and I, had to be the two strong men of the house; take care of mum, make sure she was alright cause Da had left her fragile and insecure. But I never thought I had anything close to resembling ‘mummy issues’.

I just accepted the fact mum was a neurotic mess. Accepted her ability to weave "So what little girl has your father taken up with now, Will?" into "So how’s everything going son?" Accepted her need to bad mouth Anya, even though I kinda like the chit. I just always figured it was mum being mum and there was nothing wrong with it and that her behavior, no matter how annoying at times, didn’t bother me-

Until now.

I gritted my teeth and briefly shut my eyes, taking in a deep breath.

"Do you play pool?" I asked suddenly, earning a look from Buffy.

"Huh?"

"You know, pool. Two sticks, balls with numbers and colors on them," I sighed. "Do you play?"

She meekly shook her head, seemingly sensing my mood. "Nope. Never played in my life."

"Wanna learn?"

*************

"You break, Summers."

Buffy absently twirled her pool stick while she eyed the various college ponces heading in and out of the Warning. I’d forgotten: Saturday Night = Quarter Drinks which = Pimply Frat boys…

"I suddenly feel very old," she grumbled. "Do I look old?"

"Pet, you’re twenty-four."

"I know," Buffy shrugged, "but that’s like Grad-Student old," she gasped, bringing her free hand up to her ponytail. "It’s the mom hair, right? Oh, God, I’ve got mom hair!"

I shook my head, sighing. "For fuck’s sake, Buffy, you do not have mom hair! You have great, bouncy, shampoo commercial hair! Now, would you just rack the bloody balls and break already?!"

She shot me a withering glance, undoing her ponytail in the process. I don’t want to sound like the wordy, poetic, Nance I once was, but the way her golden hair tumbled onto her nearly bare shoulders, covering the straps of her tank-top - (sigh) I am sounding like a wordy, poetic Nance. Let’s just say, that there was no part of this girl that could come close to being ‘Mom-like’.

"Now, what did you want me to do?"

I bit my lip, taking in a deep breath, trying to gather my wits again. Buffy’s a friend (of sorts), and we’re not going down that path again. That way would only lead to a) complete and utter humiliation, b) she screwing our mailman or c) she deciding to leave me for a Wiccan Lesbian.

"Rack the balls, then I’ll show you how to break."

Buffy quirked a brow, looking puzzled. "Rack?"

"Yes, rack," I sighed. "See that brown triangle in the middle of the table? That’s called a rack. When you pack the balls into it, then lift it up, they form the shape of the triangle," I said sarcastically, waving my hands. "It’s like magic."

She flipped me a bird before doing as told. Once the balls were racked, I moved behind her, carefully positioning the pool stick in her hands.

"What now, teach?" she asked, turning to give me a smile. I could feel my mouth opening to give instructions, but no words were coming out. It was that bloody smell! Intoxicating, made me feel dizzy and kinda weak - Buffy was covered in it…

"Do you use vanilla shampoo?" I heard myself ask her and automatically felt like throwing myself off the top of a building for being such a stupid sod.

She gave me a look, nodding slowly. "Uh-huh. Is shampoo scent in any way dire to the game of pool?" Buffy snickered and positioned herself against me, locking her eyes on the cue ball.

I bit my lip again and silently cursed myself. "Nope. Just curious."

I’m not going down that path, no - not again.

TBC…