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Chapter Eleven

Flicking on the lights to her old room, she pulled Spike inside and shut the door. She looked around, surprised that it had pretty much stayed the same. Her king sized bed in the center of the room with a baby blue duvet, matching walls and gauzy yellow curtains on either side of the bed hanging down to the floor. Her desk off to the left against the wall with a shelf full of assorted trophies. To the right were a vanity and a dresser next to the doorway. Her bathroom connected just next to the vanity. Spike took immediate interest in her trophies.

"First place in Second Grade bowling," he chuckled. "How cute is that?"

"Not that cute. I dropped a bowling ball on my opponent's foot so I'd win."

Spike looked over at her. "Cut throat."

"I never grasped the concept of ‘it's just a game.'"

Spike chuckled. "You don't say?" And then he went back to checking out
the shelf. "You won a lot of journalism awards in high school."

"And college. Those are with me at my apartment."

"Always knew you were a smart bird."

"Why do you date floozies?"

The question startled both of them. Buffy shook her head to clear the
thought. Something was nagging at her aside from her family lying to her
about the day of the wedding. Aside from Dawn stealing her shirt and her
mother giving her the cold shoulder. Okay, so maybe she shouldn't have
said some of the things she had said throughout the week. . . So then what
was it? What had inspired such a question to rush from her lips?

"Hello! Are you sleeping yet?" Harmony. That could be what set her teeth
on edge. Could be. She wasn't sure yet though.

Flinging the door open she glared at Harmony. "We've been up here for less
than five minutes Harmony. Unless we suffer from narcolepsy, I highly
doubt we'd be sleeping right about now."

Harmony's face took on a ‘stinky cheese face' as her face scrunched up into
a look of disgust. "Eeeewwww Buffy. What does sleeping with dead people
have to do with anything?"

Buffy thought she heard Spike muffle a laugh.

"That's necrophilia, Harmony, not narcolepsy."

Harmony burst into a fit of giggles. "Oh, I always get those confused!"

"I can't. I just can't—" and Buffy shut the door on Harmony's face.

Spike was laying on the bed, on his back, in hysterics, tears streaming down
his face. Buffy smiled wryly.

"Can you believe she's the one that my parents prefer?" Buffy asked
rhetorically, pointing to the shut door.

"I can't imagine anyone preferring her over you, Buffy."

She opened her mouth to say something about his dating twits just like her
and then snapped her mouth shut. Why bring that up? What was she
thinking about it? Because she didn't like the predatory look in Harmony's
eye—especially considering she was the one getting married in two days. It
boggled the mind.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Spike asked, now standing in front
of her. She blinked at him, apparently having missed the transition from
the bed to standing in front of her.

"I want to show you something," she blurted out and grabbed his hand.
Dragging him to the door, she opened it and poked her head out. She
strained to see if she could hear anyone close by and silence greeted her.
Quietly, she led Spike out of their room and drug him down the hall to the
attic door. Reaching up, she grabbed the key for the door from the top of
the sill and unlocked it. First thing, she flicked the light on to the attic and
the stairs lit up as well. She turned to see Spike watching her curiously. She
grinned at him and continued leading him up the stairs. At the top the site
that greeted them was a basic attic complete with opened boxes and junk
spilling out of it. A rocking horse sat in the corner all dust and cobwebs.
Buffy smiled fondly at it; that had been her favorite toy. Unconsciously, she
placed her hand over her belly as she stared at the toy.

"What do you think we clean that up for the babe, pet?" Spike whispered
in her ear, causing a shiver to run through her.

She nodded. "I used to go on that all the time."

"I can see you as a little jockey. Did you whip it when it wouldn't go
faster?"

Buffy giggled. "No, but I remember praying and begging for it to turn real
so I could just ride and ride and ride."

"I love hearing stories about your childhood. Makes me feel like I'm getting
a closer window into your world."

Buffy regarded him thoughtfully. It was a touching thing to say. "Well. Let
me show you even more of my childhood. Or rather, teenage hood."
Dragging him to a nearby window, she opened it with ease and started to
climb out of it. Spike grabbed her hips and brought her back.

"What the bleeding hell are you doing?" he demanded, his face taking on
one of panic.

"Spike relax. I'm climbing out onto the roof. It's level enough here at the
top that you can sit on it. I used to come up here all the time to get away.
It's nice up here."

Spike let out a sigh of relief. He pointed at her. "Sometimes you bloody well
scare me Summers."

She grinned, "I like to keep you on your toes," and she started climbing
out.

"That you do, kitten, that you do," he muttered as he followed close
behind.

Crawling up a ways, Buffy spun and laid on her back with a heavy, relaxing
sigh. She stacked her hands behind her head and watched Spike crawl up
beside her and take in the view. He let out a low whistle.

"I can see why you like it," he told her appreciatively. "Makes you feel
away from the world."

"Yup."

"Came up here a lot you say?"

"Yep. I used to come up here and write."

"Journalism pieces?"

"No. Poetry."

"You wrote poetry?"

"Still do."

His eyes widened as he gazed down at her. "I never knew that!"

There was a twinkle in her eye. "I never shared the information. Gotta
have some secrets. Even from you."

He poked her thigh. "I want to read some."

She looked back up at the sky blanketed with stars. "Maybe."

"You ever write about me?"

She laughed lightly. "I think Willow's wrong. You don't have a big ego at
all."

Spike chuckled and lay on his back next to her. Silence fell as they gazed up
at the stars.

"So, we're sharing a room," Spike said after a while.

Buffy turned her head to find him staring at her intently. "Is it odd that I
didn't even think of it until now?"

"You did tell your mother to make sure we had the same room so we could
go at it like bunnies," Spike reminded her.

Buffy groaned and sat up. "Please don't remind me. It's one of the many
things I'll be paying for and hearing about this weekend." Then she let out a
big yawn, her limbs starting to feel heavy.

"I think it's time you got some sleep."

"I think you're right."

"Am I sleeping on the floor?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. If anyone helps themselves to coming into my
room and see you on the floor that'll open a can of worms."

"Then--?"

"Guess we're sharing a bed."

Was it her or did Spike look nervous. Odd but she'd never seen that look
before on him.

"You don't seem concerned by it," he observed.

"I think I'm officially too tired to care. We're adults and best friends. I've
fallen asleep ON you before and drooled. I'm thinking this will be fine."

Spike smiled sardonically. "You say the nicest things."

"I know. It's part of my charm."



Spike lay on his back, one arm under his head. He wore boxers and no
shirt. He looked the perfect picture of calm but inside his heart was racing
and he felt so nervous he thought he was going to lose his dinner. He was
sharing a bed with Buffy. That was the only thought running through his
mind. And what was more? She didn't seem to mind. But she also didn't feel
what he felt. She'd once told him that she considered him sexless. He'd been tempted to show her just how ‘sexed' he was. But she'd explained to him how it was a good thing; how she felt so close to him that she didn't consider him to be a typical guy. It meant she trusted him immensely. He hoped sharing a bed didn't make her lose that trust if she should ever discover the erection he'd be sporting the size of Gibraltar. It'd give new meaning to the term ‘solid as a rock'.

She opened the door to the bathroom, and she looked aglow. It could have
been the light from the bathroom illuminating her from behind, as well as
the soft pink tank and matching flowered shorts, but when beholding your
beloved, didn't they always seem to glow? Didn't she own any moo- moos or
robes that covered her from head to toe? Oh yeah. It was the dead of
summer. And suddenly it felt a hundred degrees hotter. As if reading his
mind, Buffy flicked off the bathroom light and flicked on the air conditioner
in the window on low.

He watched her as she tried to make some order out of her suitcase. Her
face freshly scrubbed, her nose shiny –which she took great pains to cover
during the day—and her mascara a thin line under her eyes as if it hadn't all
been washed away.

He'd never seen her more beautiful.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked him, looking down at him.

He thought fast. "You dropping a bowling ball on an innocent girls foot to
win a second grade gym bowling competition."

"Innocent? Bitch had it coming," and she laughed at her own joke. Spike
laughed along with her. God, he'd never laughed like he did when he was
around her. She crawled into bed as if it were the most natural thing in the
world and flicked off the light.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"When are you going to stop thanking me?"

"Probably never."

"When are you going to tell them?"

"Probably never."

"They might catch on when you start bringing a kid around."

"I could tell them I'm babysitting."

"And when he calls you mommy?"

"I could teach HER to call me Buffy."

"Practical."

"I'm sayin'."

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for giving me a family for a weekend."

"You can have them. Except for my Dad and Angel."

"So I get Harmony, Dawn and your mother?"

"Nope. Just Dawn and my mother."

"Why not Harmony?"

She rolled to her side away from him. "Good night Spike."

Apparently conversation was over. "Good night Buffy."












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