fanfiction by sienna

E-MAIL: [email protected]
DISCLAIMER: You know the drill.
RATING: PG....NC-17 eventually.
PAIRINGS: B/A first and foremost, A/D, a bit of B/S (probably).
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Completely AU, because canon sucks these days. Everyone is human and living like regular joes. I'd like to point out that Cordelia doesn't exist. It's more fun that way.
SYNOPSIS: Alternate universe -- Buffy meets Angel, Darla and Spike in a completely different set of (human) circumstances.

1.

++ Wednesday, 27th February

Apartment 619.

Buffy bit her lip, studying the shiny gold numbers apprehensively. It was a nice door. A very nice door. The hallway was nice, too. With nice blue carpet.

She was twenty-two years old. She should have mastered door-knocking by now. After all, it was pie compared to leaving her home and flying clear across the country to a major city with no friends or family or particularly clear intentions of what she was going to do once she got there.

Yeah. See? Easy.

Steeling herself, she lifted a closed fist and knocked firmly. Then immediately regretted it. These people could be...anyone. They could play kinky BDSM games and have creepy fetishes, or be antisocial hermits, or listen to country music 24/7, or hate her, or...

Be a gorgeous man with absolutely nothing on.

Oh god.

It was so *typical* that something like this would happen, as if it were some cheesy romantic comedy. She swallowed, trying to find her voice, and made sure she looked anywhere but his chest, which was still dripping from his shower. She felt an incredible urge to wipe the tiny rivulets away and clenched her fist.

He looked at her for a moment, and she imagined him going through his mental rolodex to check if he knew the blonde girl staring intently at his chest-- *Not* staring at his chest, but his...face. *Face*.

Which didn't exactly make it easier for her."Hi," he said, holding a towel around his hips to preserve his dignity.

// Don't look at the towel. Don't look at the towel. Don't look at the towel. //

It didn't work, obviously, because whenever you told yourself not to look at something your eyes would be drawn to it out of pure spite.

"Uh, hi...I'm Buffy. The ad. I mean, I read the ad about the roommate...thing...and I'm sorry I didn't call first, it's just that I was on the bus with the newspaper and I realised that the apartment was in the same direction..." she faltered when he simply stared at her, and she had a horrible feeling that she had gotten everything wrong. "This is the place, isn't it? I-I don't really know New York that well, but--"

"Don't worry, you found the place," he said with a warm smile. He had one of those big, infectious smiles filled with perfect white teeth, and she found herself smiling back. "I'm Angel."

"Summers," she blurted. "My last name is Summers." Buffy felt herself flush and mentally kicked her moronic half. The half that had taken gleeful control of her mouth.

"Right," he said uncertainly, and god, what she wouldn't give for a wall to bash her head against. Well, no, there were plenty of walls but that would probably be rude. "Come in."

The apartment...wasn't what she expected at all. It had space to work with, to move around in, while retaining its cozy quality. It was neat and stylishly decorated, with beautiful hardwood floors and sliding doors that led to a balcony. A *balcony*. It seemed more like a studio loft.

She definitely couldn't afford this.

"The place is...great," she said lamely. He smiled.

"Too great," Angel said, "which is why we needed someone to help shoulder the rent."

"Makes sense," Buffy said lightly. She blushed as her eyes met his and gestured at his towel casually. "Maybe you should...you know...clothes."

He looked down at himself, as if her words were still registering in his mind. "Right. Sorry. I'll uh...I'll just be a second. Have a seat."

"Angel?" came a feminine voice from behind her. Buffy turned around to see a blonde woman holding a sheet around herself to hide her nakedness, obviously having just tumbled out of bed despite the fact that it was five-thirty in the evening.

Maybe this was a nudist apartment. Which was decidedly better than her earlier speculations.

"Hi," Buffy offered.

The woman looked at her guardedly. "Hello."

"Buffy's here about the room," Angel explained.

"Buffy?" she said, an eyebrow raising slightly. Her gaze settled on her again and she straightened. "It's taken."

"Oh." Buffy frowned and turned slightly towards the front door, a little confused at the sudden turn of events. "Well...thanks, anyway."

"No, wait, she's kidding," Angel said quickly, forcing a laugh. He looked towards the blonde woman pointedly. "She's kidding."

There was an awkward silence and Buffy instantly regretted her abrupt appearance. She had obviously come at a bad time. The whole thing was a mistake. It was a stupid idea on her part to show up unannounced.

Before she could say so, Angel gave Buffy a reassuring smile, quickly taking the other woman's arm and leading her into the hallway. "We'll be right back."

Buffy nodded. When they were out of sight, she heard them begin to argue in hushed whispers, causing her to feel even more out of place. Turning, she almost toppled over a few photographs in simple black frames on a shelf. Most of them were of the couple currently in the other room, some with friends and family. They only managed to remind her that she was an intruder, and that she knew nothing about these people.

Buffy sighed and straightened a picture of them grinning at each other. They were a disgustingly attractive couple.

She fiddled with the strap on her handbag and sank down into the soft cushions of the sofa as she gazed around the apartment. Her place seemed like a cardboard box in comparison. She'd taken it out of desperation; it was the only roof she could afford, but after almost three months, she'd had enough. The place was practically imbued with grime. She was pretty sure that the present grime only cultivated more grime, resulting in grime generations. The day she moved in she had spent hours scrubbing the shower, determined to maintain her personal hygiene even if the apartment itself couldn't. God, and she didn't even want to start on the cockroaches. She had to fight the urge to just strap on a flamethrower and torch the place. The idea had appealed to her when she and Willow borrowed Aliens from the video store.

There was also the part where she had a feeling that there was a ninety-five per cent chance of getting mugged on her street at least once. Or worse. Buffy knew how to take care of herself, but the apartment really wasn't worth the risk.

Craning her neck a little, she peered in the direction of the kitchen. It was small, but perfect. The kitchen in her apartment consisted of a small gas stove and an ancient refrigerator. She could imagine herself in ecstasy just decorating this place.

The couple re-entered the room -- fully dressed, this time -- and she stood, fixing a friendly smile on her lips. Before she could say anything, the blonde woman stepped up to her with an outstretched hand.

"We weren't properly introduced. I'm Darla."

Buffy blinked, surprised, then shook it. "I'm Buffy. It's nice to meet you."

"And the room isn't taken. I was kidding. Of course," Darla said with a sweet smile. There was something insincere in her voice that set off an inner alarm in Buffy, but really, it was that kind of voice. It...oozed.

It was clear from the approval in Angel's eyes that he must have won the argument. She chose to ignore it. If Darla truly had a problem with her, then Buffy wouldn't press the apartment issue.

"Do you want the tour first?" Angel asked.

"There's more?" she joked, following him down the hallway. Darla trailed behind her.

He opened a door. "Bathroom -- the tub doubles as a shower." He gestured at two closed doors further down the hall. "Our room is at the end there, and this is Spike's."

"Your dog?" she smiled, only half serious.

Angel chuckled. "He lives here as well," he replied by way of explanation. He opened another door across from Spike's room. "And this is the spare."

It was empty except for sporting gear and a few boxes.

"We'll get rid of this stuff, of course," he said hastily.

It was a decent sized room, and big enough to easily fit her belongings. Warm sunlight streamed through a large window, giving it that new, comfortable feel the way perfect lighting did for Ikea catalogues. It didn't hurt that it was about the same size as the living room in her current apartment.

"What do you think?" Darla asked, stepping into the room.

"I like it," Buffy said with a broad smile. "And look, great view. Can't complain."

After inspecting the kitchen, which confirmed Buffy's earlier observations, they returned to the living room.

"Would you like something to drink?" Angel offered.

"Water is fine, thank you," she said, sitting down when Darla had made herself comfortable on the sofa opposite.

"So, Buffy, what do you do?" Darla asked. The smile on her face seemed more forced than Buffy's, though she figured she could give her points for trying.

"I work full-time at a bookstore cafe, only it's really more cafe than bookstore," Buffy attempted to explain. "It's called Revello. Actually, it's not far from here."

"I've heard of it," Darla commented.

"It's a nice place," Angel said, handing her a tall glass. Buffy smiled in gratitude and sipped the cool liquid.

"I also teach a martial arts class two nights a week," she added. She'd started learning when she was five and immediately loved it, finding that she had a genuine talent for it.

"You mentioned that you weren't from New York," Angel said, sitting next to Darla, who rested a hand on his leg.

Buffy's eyes flicked from her hand to Angel's eyes and nodded. "Yeah, I just moved here from Sunnydale. It's a town a couple of hours from LA."

She caught the brief look of distaste on Darla's face before it vanished and was replaced with casual friendliness. She frowned with uncertainty and attributed it to her overactive imagination.

"Criminal record?" Darla asked abruptly.

"Not yet," Buffy answered unflinchingly, even though it was a bit of a lie. Her past wasn't as squeaky clean as she liked it to be. Angel gave her a half-smile.

Darla paused momentarily, merely blinking once. "Pets?"

Buffy shook her head. "None."

"We only have a few house rules here," Darla said, leaning back into the sofa. "No uninvited guests, do your chores, keep the place neat, and you cook at least one dinner a week."

Buffy winced a little. "Well, I could learn to cook?"

Angel smiled. "It's not hard. I can help you with that."

Darla gave him a sidelong glance that he missed before continuing. "And rent has to be on time."

They discussed the arrangements for a while longer, and Buffy worked out that she could make rent if she worked at Revello on Sundays as well. Looking around the apartment, she knew that it was worth the sacrifice of her weekend. She just hoped her boss would allow her to work an extra day.

"Are you free this Friday?" Angel asked.

Buffy nodded. "I don't have anything planned. Why?"

"We could all have dinner here," Angel proposed. "That way, we can get to know you and you can get to know us before we make any final decisions."

She glanced at Darla, who added smoothly, "We do that with anyone who wants to move in."

"Sure," Buffy said. "It's a good idea."

She left the apartment with the promise that she'd be there at seven-thirty for dinner. Not too partial to taking the bus, she hailed a cab and directed the driver to her home.

She really did want to move in, but her biggest concern was... What if they didn't like her? What if they couldn't get along, let alone live together? Then she'd be stuck there with people she didn't like for who knew how long. She'd also have to go through the stress of moving again.

Buffy pushed her thoughts away. They'd have dinner, and if she still wasn't sure by then, she'd tell them thanks, but no thanks. Really, the worst thing that could happen was if they didn't feel she was the right choice and told her to find another place. Which wasn't too bad, because she wouldn't have lost anything.

She paid the driver and got out of the taxi, checking her mailbox and climbing the four flights of stairs to her floor. The lift had apparently broken down one day and never been fixed, which was just perfect after a full day of running around a cafe and demonstrating katas to fourteen year olds. Dropping her handbag onto the couch, she made herself a sandwich and phoned Willow, who was undoubtedly just switching off the news. They had forged a close friendship while working together at the cafe every day, and Buffy knew that her transition from Sunnydale to New York had been made infinitely smoother with Willow's help.

"So what's been happening in the world?" Buffy asked with a smile.

"A woman had quintuplets," Willow said, "And I'm glad you're beyond greeting me now."

Buffy chuckled. "Hi. Guess what?"

"That's a tough one... You discovered your love for sailing and decided to beat the sailing-around-the-world record. With me as your trusty first, of course. Woo hoo! I've always wanted to travel."

"Hmm, close. I found an apartment," Buffy grinned. "Buffy, I said you could move in with me," Willow said exasperatedly.

"Yeah, I know, but Oz practically lives there and I'd hate to cramp your style. Third wheel and all," Buffy said, taking a bite from her sandwich. She frowned. "Or is it fifth wheel? Cars have four. Well, bikes have two--"

"You could never be a third wheel! Or any wheel, for that matter," Willow insisted.

"No, it's cool," Buffy said easily. "I talked to some people and they said maybe and I said maybe and the apartment is Buckingham Palace compared to this dump."

"'They' meaning people who live there as well?" Willow asked skeptically.

Buffy kicked her shoes off. "Uh huh. But they seem okay and did I tell you how great the apartment is?"

"I remember, it's a palace. So who are they?"

Buffy smiled in spite of herself. "Well, there's this one guy Angel--"

"Ooh!" Willow said excitedly.

"--And his girlfriend Darla."

"Oh. Yay."

"And another guy I haven't met. Spike."

"Spike?"

"Spike," Buffy confirmed.

"I can't imagine you with a Spike," Willow said.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Will, they're supposed to be my future roommates, not prospective boyfriends."

She heard the grin in Willow's voice. "You know, the two aren't mutually exclusive."

"In this case, I'm counting on it," Buffy said dryly. "Darla had this 'touch my man and I'll remove your face' look, so I plan on keeping my man-snatching hands to myself."

Willow sounded worried. "She doesn't like you? I'd take it as a sign to find another place. You could stumble upon mine."

Buffy chuckled. "I don't know, she seemed nice enough. Besides, I'm only using her for the apartment. I'll make her love me."

"You'll win her over with your charm and wit," Willow agreed.

"Of course."

"And Angel?" Willow asked.

"What about him?" Buffy said, her tone light.

"Nice? Hump-backed?" her friend said impatiently.

"Very nice. No humps, as far as I could tell." She laughed a little incredulously. "He answered the door in a *towel*."

Willow giggled. "Definitely a keeper, then," she joked.

"Ugh, enough about boys. Do you think Giles would let me have a Sunday shift?"

"I wouldn't have a clue. Don't worry. He likes you," Willow said brightly.

"Gee, thanks." Buffy sighed. "It's just this stupid money thing and this stupid apartment thing is stressing me out."

"You need money?" Willow asked, concern in her tone.

"Well, no. Maybe. It'd just make things a whole lot easier." Buffy made a disgusted sound. "Sorry. I'm whining."

"It's okay, I'm the one who's supposed to hear this stuff... Oh, except Oz kinda just walked through the door. He says hi."

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow," Buffy said knowingly. They said their goodbyes, Willow telling her not to worry, and Buffy dragged herself to the tub for a long, hot soak.

-----

++ Thursday, 28th February

"Hey, Giles," Buffy said brightly.

The owner of Revello turned at the sound of her voice as he lined up a few poetry books on a shelf. "Buffy," he said in surprise. "You're early."

"Ten minutes," she said proudly, taking off her coat. She usually had difficulty getting to work on time, which she blamed mostly on her shower's inability to stay at a constant temperature for more than a few minutes. "And I was hoping to talk to you about something."

Giles walked past her to the counter, turning on the cappuccino maker. "Ah. I knew you had an ulterior motive."

"See, I might be moving out of my apartment soon--"

"You're finally moving out of that dump?" Giles said, looking up with interest. They had all gotten used to her almost daily complaints.

Buffy suppressed a smile. "Yes, Le Dump may be a thing of the past. The thing is, I need more cash to pay for the new place, and I was wondering maybe, you know, as long as I'm not kicking anyone out, unless you decide to fire someone which I'm not entirely sure I want to take responsibility for, but I really need more hours to pay for this really, really great new shiny apartment that I really want to live in--"

"Did I miss the question?" Giles said, already confused.

Buffy took a deep breath. "I just wanted to know whether I could take a Sunday shift."

He didn't say anything for a moment, and Buffy had the urge to cross her fingers. "Well..." he began.

She looked at him hopefully. "Yeah...?"

Giles gave her a small smile. "You *are* due for a raise."

Buffy frowned. "I am?" Then her eyes widened, realising what he was implying even though she'd been working there for barely three months. "I am!"

"So I don't think you'll be needing to work on Sunday at all," he said. "Besides, I can't imagine that you'd want to."

She beamed. "Thank you so much," she said, giving him a quick, excited hug.

"As long as you start getting here on time," he warned.

Buffy grinned. "Giles, I'm gonna be here before *you*."

"I don't think that's possible," Giles pointed out with a smile.

Buffy started placing chairs around the tables, still beaming. "Yeah. Me neither."

-----

++ Friday, 1st March

"Nice, but a little...bold," Willow commented. Buffy looked at her reflection's red sundress.

"Well, I want to make an impression, right?"

"True. We'll keep it in mind."

Buffy rummaged through her closet. "How about this camel skirt and this black sleeveless top?" she asked, holding them up in front of her. "It's got a bit of a plunging neckline, though."

"Try it on," Willow said, going through Buffy's various hair accessories and make up. She placed a clip in her hair then immediately pulled it out with a grimace.

"What do you think?"

Willow turned around. "Ooh, good. The neckline's fine, it dresses you up a bit more. And I like the skirt."

Buffy gazed at herself. "You think? I got it for twenty bucks."

"God, you find the best deals." Willow handed her a necklace. "Wear this with it. You look great, don't worry. The dinner will be fine and if you don't hurry up you're gonna be late."

"What's the time?" Buffy asked, panicked.

"Seven," Willow said, checking her watch.

"I haven't even done my hair yet!" Buffy said, grabbing her comb.

"Leave it. It's fine the way it is," Willow said, taking the comb away and holding up a tube of lipstick. "Here." Buffy applied it quickly, blotting her lips and slipping the tube into her bag. "Don't be so nervous."

"I'm trying," Buffy said. "Thanks for helping me out."

"I wanted to. And no, you haven't forgotten anything."

"Sure?"

"Positive." Willow opened the bedroom door. "You sure you don't want us to pick you up?"

Buffy waved her hand. "It's okay. It's out of your way, and I don't know when I'll be done. It's enough that you're getting me there."

They entered the living room and Oz stood up. "Ready to go?"

Buffy nodded. "Sorry about making you wait."

"Don't be," he said, helping Willow into her coat. "You look great."

Buffy smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

Willow locked the apartment door on their way out, instinctively knowing Buffy would forget, and they piled into Oz's van. The Dingoes had a gig at nine, so Oz had offered to drive Buffy to the apartment on their way to the club.

Buffy had begun worrying when she realised that the dinner with Angel, Darla and Spike was a test. And tests weren't really her high point. There were a million things that could go wrong. She could knock over a glass, she could spill things on herself or on *them*, or spend the entire evening with a green vegetable between her teeth. Her jokes could fall flat, or worse, she could become so self-conscious that she couldn't crack any jokes. They could drill her for hours about her bad habits, like that she sometimes left the dishes to soak in the same mucky water for days at a time or that once, she'd put off doing the laundry for three weeks and ended up forgoing underwear until she couldn't stand it.

Okay, so maybe she wouldn't share that particular gem.

"We're here," Oz said, pulling up in front of a six storey building. He turned off the engine and the trio sat in the darkness for a moment.

"We're early," Willow added.

"Maybe we should just...sit here for a while," Buffy suggested.

"You'll be fine," Willow said immediately. "From what you've told me, they seem friendly enough. I've got my cell phone, so you can call me any time."

Buffy sat back, saying after a contemplative moment, "I'm not worried any more."

"Yes, you are," Willow said knowingly.

"I am, but...really, what have I got to lose?" Buffy said.

Willow smiled. "Exactly."

Buffy sighed, rolling her eyes. "I don't know why I'm so nervous."

"It'll be nothing," Oz assured her. "You go in, smile, eat their food, come out."

Buffy nodded. "Right. You're totally right." She tidied her hair, running her fingers through imaginary tangles. "I'm going."

"Good luck," Willow said brightly.

"Thanks," she smiled, stepping out of the van. "See you guys tomorrow."

"Remember, call if you need a ride home!" her best friend quickly yelled before she shut the door. Buffy nodded and waved. She made her way to the building, knowing they would only leave once she was safely inside. She fidgeted in the elevator, checking her reflection in the mirrors that covered the walls, and closed her eyes as the doors slid open.

Straightening her back, she walked confidently down the hall and before she could debate further, knocked firmly on the door of Apartment 619.

It opened without much delay and the million thoughts running through her mind stopped abruptly at the sight of Angel. He looked amazingly good, barefoot in his black sweater and pants.

"I hope I'm not too early," she said with a small smile, and silently congratulated herself on sounding perfectly normal.

"You're on time," Angel said. "Come in."

She entered, finding the apartment awash in a dim golden glow. The soft scent of vanilla wafted gently underneath the smell of cooking food, most likely from the various candles burning on side tables and shelves.

"Let me take your coat," he said, already drawing it from her bare shoulders. Buffy couldn't help but blush, biting the inside of her lip. She was being ridiculous. "Darla's almost done in the kitchen."

"Smells great," she said, suddenly feeling hungry. She hadn't eaten much for lunch, too anxious about dinner.

"Wine?" he asked, walking towards the kitchen. She followed, not knowing what else to do.

"Sure," Buffy answered, leaving her bag on the sofa as they passed.

They found Darla in front of the stove, lowering the temperature on a pot of pasta. She turned as they entered, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

"Buffy. Hi," Darla greeted with a curt smile, before frowning at Angel, who was opening and closing cupboard doors one after the other. "What are you doing?"

"Where are the wine glasses?" he asked, looking stumped.

"I didn't buy any wine," she said shortly.

Angel grinned, looking pleased with himself. "I did. Today." He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of white wine.

"I didn't think we needed it," Darla said, opening a cupboard under the counter. "And the glasses are here."

"You moved them?" he asked, taking out three glasses.

"Months ago," she said, as if she expected him to know. "Spike said he was going to be a bit late."

Angel shrugged nonchalantly, uncorking the bottle with practised ease and filling the glasses. Buffy watched the couple, unsure of what to do as she stood in the doorway.

"Here," he said, handing her a glass. Buffy accepted it and followed him as he moved past her into the living room. She felt like a puppy as she trailed behind him, and cast another look at Darla's back before leaving the kitchen.

"Should I give Darla a hand?" she asked, hoping to make a good impression, despite the fact that she didn't know anything about cooking.

Angel sat on the sofa. "Don't worry. She's fine. Have a seat," he said, gesturing at the sofa opposite him.

She did so, sipping the wine cautiously. It was the way she liked it, not too dry, the taste of fruit slipping over her tongue.

"You haven't told me what you do," she said, the wine coaxing her to become warm and relaxed. She crossed one leg over the other and leaned back into the cushions.

"I'm an artist," Angel answered, settling back as well. "Even though it's presumptuous to say so."

Buffy noticed a framed charcoal drawing hanging on the wall behind him. "Is that yours?"

He nodded without looking. "One of them."

"It's beautiful," she said sincerely, taking in the sweeping strokes and dramatic shades of the nude female form. She couldn't resist her next question. "Darla?"

This caused him to smile. "No. Just a model."

"So you draw?" Buffy asked.

"Mostly," Angel answered, "I like painting and photography as well. Different things."

"My mother owns an art gallery in Sunnydale, but I was way too cool for that," Buffy said, flashing a sly smile to show she was only joking. She missed her mother. She'd have to remember to give her a call. "But I've never been the artistic type," she confessed. "I'm better at using my fists."

"Martial arts," Angel recalled with a hint of a smile. "I'll remember not to cross you. I used to box a long time ago."

"What made you stop?" Buffy asked, though she was partly glad he did because she would have hated to see him battered and bruised.

"I got more interested in girls," he grinned, and Buffy couldn't help but return it. "I was twelve."

"No wonder," she teased.

"Do you like New York?" Angel asked.

Buffy shrugged a little. "It's growing on me. It was a little daunting at first, and the traffic sucks, but I don't regret moving here. And I like it better than LA."

"I didn't really like LA either," Angel agreed.

"How long have you lived here?" Buffy asked.

Angel thought about it for a moment. "Darla got a job here about three years ago, so we moved from LA. But I grew up in Ireland and came here during my senior year at high school."

"You lost the accent," Buffy said, stating the obvious.

"Forced myself to," he admitted. "It was easier to fit in that way. Actually, I originally wanted to live in Rome."

"The art?" Buffy guessed.

"Yeah," Angel said. "But it seemed to make more sense to come here."

Darla called Angel's name from the kitchen, interrupting their conversation. Angel looked at Buffy apologetically.

"She probably wants me to set the table."

Buffy just smiled and watched as he left, knocking back the rest of her wine and feeling the alcohol warm her throat. She was doing fine. Nothing catastrophic had happened so far. The food smelled delicious from where she was sitting and she briefly wondered how much longer Darla was going to put her in suspense. She'd finally gotten there and the dinner was still a haze in the distance. Buffy wanted the whole thing over and done with.

"You won't believe the bloody wankers I've had to deal with today."

Buffy quickly stood and whirled around, seeing a man with platinum blonde hair locking the front door with his back to her. She recognised him from a couple of photographs, the hair obviously being a dead giveaway, and assumed he was Spike.

He turned around and stopped abruptly, looking her up and down with little subtlety. Buffy shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry. I thought you were Darla."

She held out her hand. "I'm Buffy."

"The new girl," he said, shaking her hand. "I'm Spike."

"Bad day at work?" she asked with a grin.

Spike shook his head, slipping off his leather jacket to reveal a tight black shirt. "You won't believe."

He studied her for a moment, and she studied him right back. Buffy decided that she liked his brashness, feeling that he wasn't about pretences. The first thing she had noticed were his prominent cheekbones, and it seemed as if everything about him was angular and harsh, but his dark eyes told a different story.

"So what do you think about the place?" he said abruptly, breaking their gaze and putting a pack of cigarettes and a Zippo lighter on the side table.

"I love it," Buffy said immediately. "It's perfect."

Spike grimaced. "It's pretty bloody obvious that Peaches decorated it. Not really my style."

"Darla?" Buffy asked, unsure of who he was talking about.

"Angel," Spike corrected.

"He has good taste," Buffy insisted."The man is so far in the closet he's got no *idea* that it's a closet," Spike declared, moving towards the kitchen. "I mean, you only have to look at his clothes."

Buffy couldn't help but laugh. "You are so wrong."

Spike rolled his eyes. "You're a broad. Of course, you like him." Buffy followed him into the kitchen and he took out a beer from the fridge. "Want one?"

"I'll pass," Buffy said. Spike shrugged, twisting off the cap and easily polishing off half the bottle.

He turned and saw the dining table adorned with candles and decked with food and wine. He let out a low whistle. "Looks like someone's trying to impress you, pet."

Buffy said nothing, gazing at the beautiful scene in front of her. Spike reached down to steal a piece of ham but was stopped with a hand on his wrist.

"Get your hands off my pig," Darla said.

"Gee, Darla, all this for me?" Spike drawled. She snatched his beer and took a gulp before giving it back to him.

"In your dreams," she scoffed, plopping herself down on a chair. Spike sat opposite her, so Buffy took it as a welcome to join the table.

Angel appeared from the hall as Spike began heaping food onto his plate.

"I thought I heard you come in," Angel said to him, taking his seat across from Buffy. Spike merely grunted in response, already digging in. Angel waited for Buffy to get her food, who waited for Darla.

"This is really great," Buffy said to Darla, realising she hadn't had food this good since she left Sunnydale and quality home cooking behind.

"Thank you," Darla said with a fleeting smile, twirling her pasta on her fork before delicately placing it into her mouth. Buffy met Angel's eyes and looked away with a light flush.

"So, Buffy," Spike said conversationally. Buffy suppressed a smile. She was thankful for his laid back manner in a dinner that seemed destined to become awkward.

"Yes, Spike?" she said sweetly, waiting as he swallowed his mouthful of chicken.

"What can you bring to the house?" he asked, imitating a game show host, complete with a bad impression of an American accent.

Darla looked up with interest, and Buffy opened, then closed her mouth. Damn, that was a good question. She couldn't cook, the apartment seemed complete -- who would want her ratty furniture anyway? -- and she hardly knew them well enough to know what they liked.

"Coffee," Angel answered for her with a grin. Darla looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face, and Buffy silently thanked him for saving her from an awkward moment. "Buffy works at a cafe, after all."

"True," Spike said contemplatively. "I wouldn't have a clue about the stuff. Angel refuses to make me one first thing in the morning when a bloke really needs it and Darla's coffee is brown water disguised as caffeine."

Darla glowered at him and he held up his hands. "Only stating the truth, sweetness."

"What do you do, anyway?" Buffy asked him curiously.

"I'm a bartender at Cygnet," Spike said. "I like to think that grog's my forte."

The name was familiar to her. "That's a club, right?"

"You haven't been there." It wasn't a question. Spike grinned gleefully at Darla and Angel. "I found a virgin!"

Buffy looked at him, unimpressed. "Excuse me?"

He pointed at her. "You and me. Come down to the club next Friday night, I'll show you around."

She thought about it for a moment. She missed the Bronze back in Sunnydale, though she had a feeling that the Bronze was going to be a yacht club compared to Cygnet. And she could use some fun.

"Okay," Buffy nodded. "Next Friday." She looked at Darla and Angel. "You two gonna be there?"

Darla opened her mouth to answer, her lips already twisted in a sneer, but Angel got there first. "We'll be there."

Spike raised an eyebrow at Buffy, then shrugged. "Sure. The whole family's welcome. It'll be a double date."

"Hah," Buffy shot back.

They finished dinner and a bottle of wine, making idle talk. After a while, Buffy stood up and took Spike's plate.

"I'll put these away," she said, reaching for Darla's. Angel beat her to it.

"You don't have to. I've got it," he said, standing as well. Spike and Darla watched them, a little bewildered.

"No, it's okay," she smiled, moving away before he could take the plates from her. He followed her into the kitchen with the rest of the plates and she placed them in the dishwasher.

"You're supposed to play the guest," Angel mock-glared. Buffy merely grinned.

"How about I make some coffee?" she said before the moment became tense, feeling the need to keep her hands busy. Being in a small room with him probably wasn't the best idea. "None of that instant stuff. The real thing."

Angel pretended to think about it. "Sounds tempting..."

She held out her hand. "Coffee beans, please."

Angel insisted on helping her because 'she was the guest' when she told him to go back to the table and wait like everyone else.

"You're just worried I'll steal something," Buffy joked, relieved to be going through familiar motions, even if it was just making coffee.

"Yeah, well, that spatula has sentimental value," Angel said. "Oh, and this coffee grinder? Priceless."

She laughed. "I knew the helping part was just a cover. How do you like it?"

He stopped. "Like what?"

Buffy gave him a 'duh' look. "Your coffee. With milk or without?"

Angel cleared his throat. "With. Darla takes hers black. I'm not sure about Spike."

"Spike!" Buffy called. "With milk?" There was a beat before he replied with a confused, "Eh?"

"Your coffee," Angel called, shooting Buffy an exasperated look.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Spike replied carelessly. "Is that what's taking you two so long?"

Buffy placed the steaming cups on a tray and lifted it, but was stopped by Angel.

"I'll do it," he said, offering to take it from her hands. She rolled her eyes with a smile and moved past him.

"Take a break," Buffy said, patting him on the shoulder while balancing the tray in her other hand. "I'm an expert at this, remember?"

She made her way back to the table, Angel close behind, and placed the tray in the centre.

"Coffee test," Spike said with relish, taking a cup and toasting her.

"Try before you buy," Buffy agreed, sitting down and waiting as he took a sip.

"It's hot."

"As all good coffees are," she said easily. He smacked his lips, taking another sip.

"You do realise that you now have to make me one every morning, without fail, regardless of whether you move in or not?" Spike said seriously, though the glint in his eye betrayed him. "I've tasted real coffee. I can't go back."

"Agreed," Angel said with a half-smile.

"It's not bad," Darla contributed. Buffy noticed that she hadn't said much during the entire evening.

"As long as I'm generously compensated," Buffy said. "I don't come cheap."

Spike leered suggestively. "What did you have in mind, love?"

"Spike," Angel scowled, at the same time as Buffy hit him on the shoulder.

"Geez, it was just a bit of fun," Spike said. "Everyone's so damn sensitive. I'm thinking this needs a bit more punch, though."

He went into the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of whiskey, pouring a generous amount into his cup. Buffy watched and shook her head, giving him a look when he asked if she wanted a shot.

"I've had enough to drink," she said, eyeing the bottle distastefully.

"You can never have enough," Spike declared. The coffee cup and his cocky attitude clashed ridiculously, and she hid a smile.

Buffy changed the subject, discovering that Darla was a lawyer at Wolfram & Hart, a major firm that she seemed reluctant to describe, and that Spike had moved to New York from England six years ago for no real reason other than he was bored.

"That was kinda my reason for moving here," Buffy admitted. "I had gotten out of a relationship, college was great but I didn't know what I wanted to do, and Sunnydale didn't have much to offer."

"New start, eh?" Spike said.

"Exactly."

"So why did you choose New York?" Angel asked.

Buffy shrugged. "Nothing specific. Big city. Different lifestyle. New people. Too many Sex And The City reruns."

Without a word, Darla began to clear the table and Buffy glanced at the wall clock. It was past eleven, and she still had to find her way home. She blanched at the thought of taking the bus. And who knew who was loitering around her building at this hour.

"Did you get enough to eat?" Angel asked.

Buffy chuckled at his concern. "I'm stuffed. That meal could probably last me a few days. I should be getting home, anyway."

"Do you need a ride?" Spike asked as they walked her to the door. "Or did you drive here?"

"I'm taking a cab," Buffy said, turning to Darla. "Thank you for dinner. It was wonderful."

"It was my pleasure," Darla said, giving Buffy her handbag. "Don't forget it."

"I'll give you a lift," Spike insisted. "No point in paying for a cab at this time."

"Believe me, you don't want to get on his bike. I'll drive you," Angel said.

"Come on, a girl's gotta have more excitement than your piece of junk," Spike scoffed.

"You have a bike?" Buffy asked. Judging from the way Spike beamed, it was his pride and joy. "I guess I really couldn't expect anything else. And I'm fine. I'll take a cab."

"It's no problem," Angel said, already putting his jacket on. "I'm gonna pick up something, anyway."

"Like what?" Darla asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Well, as it so happens...orange...juice. For breakfast," Angel added. The other two didn't respond. "So we'll be going now."

He helped Buffy into her coat and grabbed his keys from the side table. She quickly said her goodbyes as Angel shuffled her out.

"Smooth," Buffy said, once they were outside the apartment.

"That bike is an accident waiting to happen," Angel said, both knowing it was merely a lame excuse, but Buffy let it slide.

"There's a 24-hour convenience store just a block from my place," she said, suppressing a smile. "If you still want to buy juice."

"Right," Angel nodded. "Thanks."

"Welcome," she said lightly.

They were silent on the way to her apartment, and Buffy struggled to think of a way to ease the tension.

"I like your car," she said, admiring his black Plymouth convertible. It was a nice night, so Angel had left the top down.

"Thanks," Angel said. "I've had it for a while. Darla keeps telling me to get rid of it."

Buffy shook her head. "It's a keeper. And there's that sex appeal factor, you're not gonna get a Toyota as sexy as this."

Angel laughed. "True."

"What's her name?" Buffy asked.

He glanced at her. "Whose name?"

"Your car," Buffy said with a laugh.

"I didn't know I was supposed to name it," Angel said.

"I thought guys named everything," Buffy teased.

"I'll let you name it then," Angel said, giving her a smile.

Buffy lit up. "Really?"

"Really."

She thought about it for a while. "How about....Frankie? I think this car could pull off a Frankie."

"I like it," Angel said. "She's very much a Frankie."

"I thought so too," Buffy said with a satisfied smile, pleased with herself. She recognised the street they were on. "Just take a left here."

At her instructions, they slowed to a stop in front of her building. Buffy unbuckled her seat belt.

"Well. This is where I get off," she said when he turned off the engine.

"Sorry about Spike," he said suddenly. "He's obnoxious, but he doesn't mean anything by it."

"I know," Buffy said, slightly surprised that it bothered him. It wasn't really Spike she was worried about, it was the man sitting next to her that made her heart race and cheeks flush. Her body seemed to just relish the betrayals.

"We'll give you a call about the apartment thing," he said.

Buffy nodded. "Sure. You guys just take as long as you need." They sat in silence for a moment, and she had a feeling that it was time to get out of the car now. "I'd ask if you wanted to come up for a coffee, but you know..."

Angel chuckled. "Yeah."

"Thanks for dinner." She hesitated for a second before leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "And for the ride."

Buffy quickly got out of the car before he could say anything. Why wouldn't the ground swallow her up when she really needed it to?

"See you," she said with a forced smile.

Angel gazed at her for a moment. "Bye."

Buffy propelled her legs toward her apartment building, and it took an enormous amount of self-control to not look back as he watched her walk away.

-----

++ Saturday, 2nd March

Buffy blinked as she awoke, squinting through half-closed eyelids. Buzzer. Loud buzzer. She turned over, confused, before realising that it was her doorbell. Hauling herself up, she ran a hand through her hair and yawned, yanking a robe over her slip.

Not bothering to look through the peephole, she opened the door.

"It's me!" Willow said brightly, then she frowned. "You didn't call last night. I got worried."

Buffy rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "Hi. What time is it?"

Willow entered the apartment and flopped onto the couch. "Lunch time. I brought donuts."

"We are so healthy," Buffy said, sitting down next to her to see what she brought.

"I know," Willow said, handing her a jelly donut. "Go us. So are you going to tell me how last night was or am I going to have to confiscate that donut?"

"It was good," Buffy said.

"'It was good'?" Willow repeated, looking wholly unimpressed.

"Sorry. I just woke up. I'm still trying to remember what I did last night. Ooh, we ate food and then Angel drove me home and I got to name his car," Buffy said with a happy smile.

"I take it he's still cute."

"Will, he's way more than cute. Tomorrow we're thinking about eloping in Vienna and having little Austrian babies."

"All in one day? Go SuperMom."

"We work fast," Buffy boasted. "And I met Spike, and Darla cooked. Got one with chocolate icing?"

"Damn, I was hoping you wouldn't ask," Willow said, handing the donut to her. "And?"

"Everything was good. Nothing bad happened at all. They were nice," Buffy said, wiping some icing from her chin.

"Even Darla?"

"Even Darla. Spike's pretty fun. He's got an English accent," Buffy said, still trying to remember the dinner.

"Because he's English or because he's being an idiot?" Willow asked.

"The first one," Buffy said. "But he's a bit of an idiot anyway."

Willow stayed for a few more hours before she had to visit her parents for the weekend. In the meantime, she forced every detail about the previous night out of Buffy with the threat of no more donuts.

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" Willow asked.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I've spent a weekend without you before."

"Yeah, but I know you're going to miss me," Willow said. Buffy laughed and pushed her out the door, telling her to enjoy herself.

The next day, for lack of something better to do, Buffy cleaned her apartment and reorganised her closet. She called her mother, who was rather apprehensive when she heard that her only daughter could be moving in with three strangers. A large part of her wondered whether she really did want to move in with them at all. It was a long term deal; she would be sharing a home with people she didn't know and she wasn't sure she trusted them after only meeting them twice.

Not to mention that she was just asking for trouble if she moved in with a man she was attracted to. Particularly when his girlfriend happened to live there as well. It was probably wise to just stay away from those kinds of situations altogether. Unfortunately, the purely female part of her was secretly thrilled with the idea.

So in the hope of seeing things logically, Buffy cleaned her apartment and reorganised her closet. She was just about to dig into her dinner -- instant noodles -- when the phone rang.

"Hey, Buffy." There was a smile in his tone, and she immediately recognised Angel's voice. "When can you move in?"

--> part 2
<-- fiction