[A/N: This is a personal challenge for myself. I’m attempting to see if I can write a short story limiting myself to three chapters. Well, I’m going to try anyway. . . . . I have no idea how long each chapter is going to be, but hey, I’m gonna write it anyway. . . . Title is from and . . . I don’t know if I’m gonna use quotes. . . but if I do, they are as attributed. My thanks again, to Tam, who did a stellar beta read-through on this, and any mistakes left are mine and not hers. Disclaimers prove that all belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and anyone else that has a piece of the corporate pie that is BtVS.]


One


“Mommy?” Her son came careening through the house calling for her at the top of his lungs. “Mom! Mom!”

Buffy looked up from the window seat where she’d been resting after a rough day at work, catching the dark brown eyes of her son Xander. “Hey, big guy. What’s up?”

“Guess what? Camping trip is this weekend!” His enthusiasm was infectious and despite her fatigue, Buffy could feel herself picking up on his emotions.

“I know, sweetie. Are you all packed and ready to go?” Buffy ran an affectionate hand over Xander’s dark hair. He looked nothing like her or her ex-husband. Instead, Xander looked like her ex’s mother, Jenny.

But that was fine with her, because she almost wanted no reminders of her brooding, hulking ex to infect her new life.

“Yup. All packed. I even remembered underwear.” Buffy smiled, trying to hide the laughter that was bubbling just below the surface.

“Well that’s a good thing, sweetie. Did you remember socks too?”

His face fell a little bit, but then the smile reappeared. “I’ll go now, Mom.” And he headed back toward the stairs. “Oh, Mom? Is Wesley going?”

“I’m pretty sure he is, sweetie.”

“Cool. I like him.” Xander raced for the stairs, his voice trailing behind him.

Buffy watched him go, a smile on her face. He was much better this year. Last year he hadn’t wanted to go at all, complaining and just being all-around grumpy, probably also picking up on her own reluctance to go. At least until the night they got there, then he’d been all excited and hyper.

But really, it had all worked out in the end. Really well. Better than either of them had expected. Leaning her head against the wall, Buffy closed her eyes and thought back over the last year.

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She was tired. It had been a really long week and she didn’t need to be camping. Not with a bunch of parents she didn’t really know very well, nor with a bunch of over-active eight and nine year old boys. Xander was practically bouncing in the seat beside her, excited and over-sugared and Buffy was exhausted. Night was falling and it would be full dark before they even got to the campground, where she still had to find where Xander’s troop was and set up the tent.

This wasn’t what she wanted to be doing with her weekend. Stealing a glance at the eight year old boy, she shrugged off her aggravation and determined that she was going to have a good time and not bring down her son’s mood.

That theory was tested an hour later as she was trudging through the dark with Xander trailing uselessly behind her while she dragged the tent and some of their supplies. Her arms were aching and her back hurt and . . . huffing out a breath, Buffy blew her hair off her face and paused for a moment. Xander plowed into her from behind, knocking the sleeping bags out of her hands and Buffy lost her temper.

“Xander, dammit! Watch where you’re going. You walked right into me.” Trying to juggle everything proved fruitless and it all dropped out of her hands.

“Hey, Xander! Uncle Will! Xander’s here!” Buffy looked up to see another little boy running toward them, followed by a tall, dark shape behind him.

“Wesley, you need to slow down. Get back here.” A deeply accented voice reached Buffy’s ears and her body reacted instantly.

The form came closer and Buffy kept her eyes away from the moving flashlight and tried picking up everything she’d dropped. “Here, pet, lemme get that for you.”

Buffy mumbled something, watching while this strange man somehow got two little boys to help him carry everything to their campsite, taking the majority of their stuff. “My name’s Will. Wesley’s m’nephew.”

“I’m Buffy. Xander’s my son.” He was quiet, then turned to the boys who were starting to trail too far behind. “Oi, lads, get moving’. Need to get your kit set up an’ all.”

The two little boys tried moving faster, almost tripping over themselves to catch up with the two adults. “Right then, mates, step on it.” Will turned around to look at the boys as they trudged up behind them.

Guiding them through the dark, Will unerringly led them to the pack campsite. The boys were chattering behind them, talking animatedly about what was going to happen over the course of the next two days. Buffy was searching her mind, trying to find a way to start a conversation with this man with the delicious voice who was walking beside her. “So, you said Wesley is your nephew.”

“Yeah, m’sister’s boy. His dad’s a right bugger an’ she’s sickly, can’t leave her girls alone.” Angling toward a nicely burning campfire and a couple of large canopies, Will pointed her in that direction. “We’re over here. There’s a good spot right next t’my tent.”

As they neared the light, Buffy finally got a good look at the man with the voice and nearly choked. He was. . . gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. High cheekbones and dark brows offset by a shock of white bond hair and a . . . he was just gorgeous.

Buffy stood staring up at him, the light from the gas lanterns illuminating her face. Dark blond hair framed delicate features, wide kissable mouth and . . . bloody hell, she’s adorable.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, both of them lost in the moment. It was only when Xander pulled on her arm that their staring contest was interrupted. “Mom? Can I have some chocolate? And marshmallows? Please, can I?”

“Xander, I need your help setting up the tent. Then I have to get the rest of our stuff from the car and. . . “

“I’ll help you do all that, luv, no worries. Let ‘im go with Wes.” Will motioned to her things. “We can set you up right quick.”

Suiting actions to words, together she and Will got the tent up, their air mattress inflated and the sleeping bags together. Piling the two boys into Will’s tent, she and Will trudged the nearly two miles back to her car.

He kept the flashlight trained on the ground in front of their feet, but it didn’t stop her from stumbling. Catching her, Will grabbed her hand and stopped Buffy from ending up on her butt. Her gasped breath gave him an inkling that perhaps she might like him a little bit, and Will said, “So, pet, how come your husband isn’t here?”

“Angel?” Buffy made a noise between a snort and a snicker, then said, “My ex-husband?
He’s so not into this. He barely sees Xander.”

Will grinned to himself, then said, “There’s no . . one else to bring your boy?”

“Nope. Just me.” Buffy thought for a moment, watching him as well as she could in the dark, hoping he was single and. . . . “So, Will, what about you?”

“Me? No woman. . . . not recently. Came here when Dru got sick. Put m’band on hold.”

“You have a band?” Abruptly, she realized her hand was still clasped in his large one and she didn’t really mind. His hand was warm and strong against hers and she unconsciously tightened her fingers around his.

“Yeah. Back in New York.” He downplayed it, giving her brief answers.

“Anything I would know?” She was curious now.

“Doubt it, pet. We play hard alternative rock. Not exactly your style, ‘m sure.” Will gazed down at her, realizing she wasn’t anything like the usual girls he went after, but bleeding Jesus, she's gorgeous. All gold and . . . yeah.

“And you use Will as your stage name?” She was angling toward him, just so she could see his face.

“Ah. No.” He hesitated, reluctant to actually divulge his stage persona to her. She might not have heard the music, but his on-stage antics and sometimes off-stage behavior had gotten his other persona a lot of negative press. Glancing once more down at her, he almost didn’t want to tell her . . . but the openness and trust in her gaze gave him hope. “Go by the name ‘Spike’.”

“You do?” She paused for a long moment, her eyes trained on his features, nothing the tensing of his jaw and the brief flash of fire in his eyes. Buffy smiled a bit, recognizing the name. Oh, she had him now, all right. Now I know where I’ve seen him before!

His entire body tensed, growing more agitated the longer she remained silent. “So, the Big Bad is just that? All image and a persona. Just like I figured.”

Will just stood there staring at her. “How’d you figure that?”

Her brilliant smile lit up his night. “Oh, please. Anyone who uses Nietzsche and Oscar Wilde in the same song can’t be a mindless thug, and no one who quotes Yeats’ letters to Maude Gonne is a philistine.” She giggled a little at his stunned expression.

“How? Wha?” Spike swallowed, gathering his thoughts, then asked, “How did you know all that?”

“I’m a counselor; a trained psychologist, and I work with troubled teens mostly. One of my kids was listening to your band. He recited the lyrics for me and well, I’ve been intrigued since then.”

He had the grace to look abashed. “Really?”

Looking down at her face Spike saw genuine admiration in her eyes. She is . . . bloody brilliant. Smart, witty, adorable and sexy as hell. He really wanted to kiss her.

“Really.” Buffy looked straight up into his eyes, wondering at their real color. All she could tell was they were dark. She’d only just discovered his band a couple of weeks ago, and hadn’t really done more than read lyrics and download a few songs. The internet was great, but she rarely had time to go on-line anymore, especially since the divorce was final. But she made a point of trying to understand her kids, and when Joey had actually been enthusiastic about the music he’d been listening too, Buffy paid attention.

“Do you like the music or the lyrics?” He looked away from her, almost afraid of her answer. He was very sensitive about his lyrics, because they were raw and open and if anyone cared to listen they reflected a lot of his pain and heartache. The music was something hard and not always easy on the ears, but if someone could get past that and just listen, he knew that person was someone he could relate to, could get along with, and form a real relationship with. Not the travesties he’d had in the past.

Buffy watched him, trying to gauge his reaction and see what it was he was fishing for, what he wanted from her. When it appeared he wasn’t going to give her anything to work with, Buffy just blurted out the truth. “Music isn’t bad. . . . but what really got me were your lyrics. They. . . speak.”

Spike caught her expression out of the corner of his eye and relaxed a bit. She wasn’t playing him, or being anything but sincere. He appreciated that. He got so little of it in the mess that was his life. Record company executives, groupies, sycophants, over-eager fans, his publicist, everyone told him what they thought he wanted to hear, not what they really felt. And he was heartily sick of it. He wanted real.

He’d been on the merry-go-round of the scene for almost eighteen years, and he needed a break. Needed some down time. So when Dru had gotten sick, he’d dropped everything and gone to her. And he didn’t regret a minute of it. Taking care of her and the rugrats was just what he needed. A dose of reality.

They were more than halfway to her car when he realized they were still holding hands. Not wanting to destroy the calm or the level of comfort he felt with her, Spike didn’t focus on their hands, instead he searched his brain for some topic they could talk about. “You work with troubled teens? Mustn’t be easy.”

“No, it’s really not, though it has some rewards. At least the kids seem to listen and the bonus is my case load really lightens in the summer. I get lots of free time.” She answered him quickly, anxious to keep their conversation going. Her hand was still curled up in his and it felt so good. They fell into such a natural rhythm with both their steps and their words that Buffy felt like she’d known him forever. But really? It was his voice that drew her in, the warm deep raspy tones just running through her body almost like an internal caress. Buffy hadn’t been this aware of a man since long before she got married. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever been this aware of Angel.

This guy – Spike, William . . . whatever he was called – made her blood zing.

Sneaking a glance up at him, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He probably had a houseful of groupies waiting for him. . . “Where is home?”

“Originally? London. Lately, though, been livin’ in my sister’s house wi’ her and the kids.” She felt his shrug. “Got a flat in New York, but haven’t been there in nearly a year.”

“What’s wrong with your sister, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Severe depression for one thing. F’r another? Docs don’t rightly know. But she’s gettin’ weaker by the day.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” The concern and caring in his voice was palpable and she felt tears of sympathy flood her eyes. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

It was the first time someone offered their assistance and really meant it. “Oh, pet, that means a lot. Thanks.”

And following an urge that sprang into his head, Spike turned to face her and brushed a kiss on her forehead.


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Half an hour later, while they were unloading the car, Buffy’s forehead still tingled. And despite their easy banter, she could practically feel the tension. Her hands itched to touch him and she could feel her inner muscles clenching every time he spoke. She peeked a bit when he wasn’t looking, trying to get a glimpse of all of him once they were under the parking lot lights, but she couldn’t get a clear look.

Spike was fighting himself, arguing internally over whether he should make another move. She was just . . . . she looked like she fit right against him, all their parts matching perfectly. He knew her skin was soft and fragrant and his lips wanted to suck on hers, wanted to bite on her kissable mouth.

He was distracted by his own thoughts when her small hand touched him on the shoulder as she leaned in next to him to get something from the trunk. Jerking his head back, Spike banged it on the underside of the trunk hatch. “Oh, fuck that. . . ow!”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry! Really sorry. You okay, Will?” Buffy was wringing her hands, then guiding him to the open door, pushing him down onto the passenger’s seat. “Lemme see.”

Angling his head so she could see if it was bleeding, Buffy got her first good look at his eyes and she very nearly forgot everything she ever knew.

The unforgiving parking lights shone directly down into his unforgettable blue eyes.

They were blue. Just blue. Sky blue and robin’s egg and indigo and midnight. Lapis and cerulean, sapphire and topaz, ice and fire and she realized blue would never ever be the same.

Her hand cupped his face gently, brushing away some of the grime from the trunk, and she couldn’t help herself, Buffy leaned in and kissed him.

The first touch of their lips was tentative, gentle and almost soothing. But that was before his tongue snaked out, lining her lips, coaxing her to open up for him. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her between his legs. Her free hand gripped his shoulder while the other slid around to grasp his curls.

Breaking for air, Will gulped heavily, his chest heaving as he rested his head in between her breasts. He could feel the tremors and shuddering breaths she was trying to control and he tightened his hold on her.

“Oh. . .” Buffy tried to hide her face when he looked up at her, but he wasn’t going to put up with that.

“No, sweets, don’t hide from me. Tha’ was bloody wonderful.” His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, and she didn’t remember him standing up, but he must have because now he was looking down into her eyes. “So sweet. Been wantin’ to do that. . . . “

She still couldn’t really find her voice, so she stared up at him, her eyes wide and stunned. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow.“ He grinned, then squeezed her butt, “Unless you wanna stay here all night an’ snog, we best see to the boys.”

That spurred her to movement. “Oh my God. The boys. I completely forgot where. . . anyway, yeah, let’s get back.” Quickly collecting her stuff and locking the car, they headed back to the campground.


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Stowing their back packs in the tent while Will delivered the cooler and foodstuffs she was required to bring, Buffy found herself watching him warily interact with a couple of the other parents and the scoutmaster. It was very clear that Will – or Spike – wasn’t comfortable around these people, aware that he was a fish-out-of-water in this world. Well, so was she, sort of.

She was a single parent in a sea of happily-marrieds and very out of step with her peers. Truth was, most of them were older, and she was a psychologist, which also set her apart. Yet she and Will, the odd ones out had been totally comfortable with each other. Almost too comfortable. Buffy’s blush covered most of her face and it worsened when Will glanced in her direction then headed toward her.

“Bloke says it’s gonna get chilly tonight. Didya bring enough blankets?” Will stopped right in front of her, blocking her from anyone else’s view.

Buffy stared up at him. “I don’t know. I brought our sleeping bags, but that was it.”

“Might want to zip them up together so you and the nipper can share body heat, then.”

“Right.” Ducking back into the tent, Buffy tried shifting things around and found herself having some difficulty because her reach wasn’t so long. She huffed and blew out a breath, poked her head out of the tent flap and meekly asked, “Will, can you give me a hand?”

“Sure thing.” Crouching down, Will pushed aside the flap and got into the tent with her. Her face was all flush and she had bright rosy spots of red on her cheeks. He stared at her for a few minutes, his eyes focused on her. He wasn’t sure . . . “You are a vision, pet.”

The rosy spots grew, covering her entire face. “I’m sure you see beautiful women all the time.”

He shrugged, saying, “Yeah, but isn’t a one of them that’s all real. Most of ‘em have enhanced what little God and genetics gave ‘em. Makes me appreciate the real thing when I see it.”

There wasn’t anything she could say to actually refute that, so Buffy just remained silent, her thoughts focused on him. Sounds like he’s a bit tired of the craziness that has to surround his life. Wonder what that’s really like. . . Can’t be easy living in a fishbowl. Everyone watching you all the time.

Working together, they got the tent situated, the sleeping bags zipped up together, and the two duffle bags stowed in the corner.

“Thank you, Spike, for all your help tonight.” Buffy smiled at him, and though the tent was shrouded in flickering shadows, he could see her clearly.

“My pleasure. Couldn’t leave you out there without any rescue.” He moved to the tent flap, gazing down at her. “Care to sit by the fire a bit?”

Forcing away a yawn, Buffy smiled again and followed him from the tent.


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Most of the other parents had drifted off to bed, leaving Buffy and Spike as the last two up, except for the scoutmaster and his wife. They were blowing out the lanterns, making sure the coolers were all closed and foodstuffs packed away, when Spike observed, “Looks like it’s time for lights out.”

Despite her fatigue, Buffy didn’t want to go to bed. She wanted to spend all night talking and just being in his company. She hadn’t felt this alive in years and she didn’t want to let it go.

He caught a glimpse at her face and knew she was feeling the way he was. How can I keep her out here? Keep her talking? “Gonna head to the loo. Do you want to. . . “ Before he was finished talking, she was up and waiting for him.

“Great idea. Which way?” Buffy knew she was far too perky, but she wanted more time.

“Lemme grab a torch and we’ll go.”

After a quick word with Scoutmaster Finn, Spike joined Buffy and they headed toward the bathrooms. The walk through the woods was quiet, both of them preternaturally aware of each other. Spike was on her left, their hands accidentally brushing together every couple of steps. Each contact sent tingles racing through her and she could practically hear the blood zinging through her veins. Oh, my God. . . I feel like a little girl on her first date. . my palms are sweaty!

Spike was searching for something to say, anything, and found himself strangely tongue-tied. This girl – no this woman – had him tied up in knots and he’d only known her for a few hours. What the bloody hell was that all about?

Too soon for either of their liking, they reached the bathroom cabin. Splitting up, each headed for the gender specific door. Buffy made it inside only to discover the women’s room was out of toilet paper. “Ugh.”

Rushing to the men’s room, she debated with herself for a minute, then called out softly, “Spike? The ladies room is out of paper. Can you bring some out? Please?”

“Be right out.” His voice came through clearly and she didn’t have long to wait. “Here.”
He started to hand her a roll, then held it just out of reach. “Gotta pay the price, kitten.”

“Spike?” She whined, dancing from one foot to the other, “Geez!. Teenager much? Just gimme.”

“Oh, c’mon, princess. Give us a kiss and you’ll get it.” He teasingly held the paper up over his head, smirking down at her.

“C’mon, lemme go first. I promise.”

Taking pity on her growing distress, Spike dropped the toilet paper into her hands, then laughed as she streaked into the bathroom.


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He hadn’t been able to resist teasing her like that. She responded so wonderfully, her face so pretty in the moonlight, Spike was enchanted with her. She’s a bloody pixie. . . How adorable. . .

Leaning against the cabin wall, Spike stared up at the moonlight and stars, thinking about the changes his life was going through. He’d been tired of it for a while before Dru called him home – touring and the publicity starting to grow boring and the emptiness gnawing at him. Eighteen years was a long time without a break and the last ten years on a roller coaster ride that he’d dreamed of but never expected the reality. At times daunting and others exhilarating, but he was tired.

Drusilla’s illness wasn’t a good thing. The depression was eating away at her and causing all sorts of other problems. His sister was slowly going insane and he feared he might eventually have to fight her idiot ex-husband for custody of their kids. . . .

Buffy appeared next to him, a shy smile on her face. “Hey.”

“Hey there, kitten. Sorry about before, just havin’ fun.” He had the grace to look sheepish.

She looked away, a look he couldn’t interpret on her features. “It’s okay. Not a big deal.”

Buffy stole a glance up at the man who was probably the best looking man she’d ever laid eyes on and had to stop herself from drooling. Oh well. . . I do owe him. . not like it’s a hardship or anything.

With her hand on his arm, Buffy took him by surprise when she leaned up and brushed her lips against his. Still tastes like sunshine . . and that was his last coherent thought as he deepened the kiss.

Buffy knew he could kiss from their first kiss earlier by her car, but there was no way she’d been prepared for this . . . This was . . . His whole mouth participated, lips, teeth, tongue. . oh, God, his tongue. . . and when he nibbled on her lower lip she was lost.


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His hands snaking up under her sweatshirt didn’t set off any alarms, nor did his thumbs brushing across her nipples and if it hadn’t been for the noisy approach of someone else, Buffy was pretty sure they would have been wrapped around each other, regardless of their location.

“We . . should go back.” Reluctantly she pulled away from him, her breasts aching for more of his touch and lungs clamoring for air.

Spike wasn’t in any better shape, his erection was rock hard and straining against his buttons. “Yeah.”

He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the curls. “Yeah. Ah. . . this way.”

He pointed her toward the path and tried to walk. “Gimme a minute, kitten.”

Buffy turned to look at him, a question in her eyes and when she caught sight of the look on his face, her blush got deeper. “Oh. . I’m soo sorry.”

“No worries, sweets.”

Spike didn’t try to hide his body’s reaction to her. A big part of him wanting her to know exactly what effect she had on him. Adjusting himself in front of her, Spike grinned when the blush deepened, then chuckled deeply.

The tension surrounding them broke and Spike took her hand then headed for the camping area. They walked together, talking about nothing in particular, both of them feeling comfortable. Which lasted until they got to their area and all the lights were out and everyone was inside their tents. Before they split for their own tents, Spike grabbed her by the arm and swung her into his embrace, kissing her soundly.

“Go on in, sweets. See you in the morning.”

Fully expecting to find Xander in their tent, Buffy panicked when he wasn’t there. Oh, God. . . Oh, God. . . scrambling from the tent, Buffy plowed right into Spike, who was standing outside.

“Spike, Xander’s gone, he’s not in the tent. . . he’s gone.”

All he did was point his finger at his own tent. “There’s four or five little boys in there.”

The look on his face was priceless. “Can’t tell what – or who’s in there.”

Buffy stuck her head in and saw Xander’s dark head on a pillow next to Wesley, two other boys, plus another suspicious looking lump. “Looks like they all just crashed.”

“Yeah. And I’ve no idea who they belong to or how to get them back to their parents. Which means ‘ve got nowhere to sleep. There’s no way I can fit in there now.”

Before she could really think about the consequences of her words, Buffy blurted out, “You can sleep with me.”



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