Spike and Dawn were sitting in the living room when the clock struck eight. Dawn was painting his nails their usual black (she had noticed that the manicure Harmony had given him weeks ago was in dire need of repair) and yammering about boys. He was pretending to pay attention and nodding and making agreeing noises at appropriate intervals. Then Giles walked in to save him.

“Rupert! My fellow countryman! Please tell me you brought alcohol,” he called as Giles entered the house.

He saw Giles taking in the tableau before him and watched the man give a visible sigh of relief that he would not be alone with a female teenager.

‘Spineless wanker…’

“Spike. It’s so good to see you up and about,” Giles greeted, thankfully carrying two six-packs of beer.

He plastered a smile upon his face. “Well, you know. It takes more than my psychotic ex-girlfriend using my chest as a cutting board to keep me down.”

“Well, yes, I have learned from experience that vampires are remarkably resilient.”

“Yeah, we are. Is that Corona?”

Giles looked at the beer he was carrying. “Yes, it is.”

Heedless of his wet nails and Dawn’s disapproving glare, he held out a hand.

“Pass one over, Rupes.”

Giles came into the room and handed him a bottle obligingly.

“Ta,” he said, opening the bottle with his teeth and taking a swig.

Dawn made a disgusted sound and put away the nail polish. “I’m gonna go do my homework,” she groused sullenly and stalked from the room.

They watched her go.

“Have we been reprieved?” Giles asked.

Spike swallowed his mouthful of beer. “Not a chance. I give ‘er an hour tops. We’re too good of an opportunity to miss.”

“Good lord, I can’t imagine what it must be like to live with a teenaged girl, let alone two other… headstrong women.”

“It’s easy. Ya just gotta remember three things. One: keep your mouth shut and your head down. If they don’t notice you, you’re in the clear. Two: the answer to any question they ask you is ‘yes’, unless of course it’s the dreaded ‘does this outfit make me look fat’ question. In which case, the answer is a vehement NO. Even if she looks like week-old stuffed sausage in it, the answer is still no. Three: if your girl is an insane bitch who wants to destroy the world, bugger outta there as fast as you can,” he explained, counting off on his fingers.

“Thank you for that useful and helpful advice, Spike.”

He took another swig of beer. “Always glad I can be of service.”

Giles came and sat next to him, his face serious.

“I was going through that journal you lent me. The one where you wrote down what you remembered from the other timeline. It would seem that we will learn of Warren very soon.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah. Tonight. His sex-bot crashes a party over at the uni. I was there before. Got tossed through a window. Glad I’m not there now. ‘S good enough if I’m here to learn about it, right? Then I can go contact him to make me one of Buffy.”

Giles nodded uncomfortably. “Yes, that would seem logical.”

“Unless you think we can skip it this time ‘round. Do without the bloody bot.”

Giles pulled out his own beer and opened it. “No. I think it would be best to keep things as they were. As distasteful as the idea is, a robot Buffy to act as a decoy could prove quite valuable.”

“Yeah.” He finished the beer and reached for another. “How we gonna break it to our girl? Buffy’s not gonna take it well and I don’t wanna bugger things up. She knows I love her.”

Giles nodded. “I know. She asked me and I told her. She took it well, I think, all things considered.”

Spike agreed. “Yeah. And things are goin’ okay. Between us, I mean. Last time it was a complete disaster.”

“So I’ve read. Really Spike, did you honestly think chaining her up and offering to kill Drusilla for her would make her believe you loved her?”

Spike looked away. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Giles just shook his head and took another drink. “Speaking of Drusilla, I received word from my contacts in Argentina. Our box arrived safely. They will follow our instructions to leave it in broad daylight and break the lock. She’ll have to wait for sundown before she can escape so they’ll be long gone by then.”

“Thanks, mate. You didn’t have to…”

“Yes, I did. Not even Angel could bring himself to kill Drusilla. She is a tragic, but necessary, part of your lives. Besides, I owed you a life. You no doubt saved mine when you convinced Angelus to stop torturing me 2 years ago, and most likely saved me again when you placed yourself between me and Drusilla four days ago.” Giles gave him a knowing glance. “And yes, I did notice that. I am *Watcher* after all.”

“Still, it meant a lot to me. Thank you,” he repeated, then smiled. “So, is the plan to get completely knackered before Bit comes back down?”

“It’s that bad, is it? I thought you said it was easy.”

“Okay, I admit it. I lied. It’s pure Hell, and us vamps are supposed to like that sort of thing. I swear Dante forgot the tenth level of Hell, in which men are forced to endure the never-ending torments of teenaged girls tittering about clothes, make-up and boys, and throwing hormone-driven temper tantrums.”

“Oh dear. A fate worse than death,” Giles commented dryly.

“Or undeath.”

“Do you need rescuing?”

“You offerin’ a spot on your couch?”

“If you still need it.”

He thought a moment. “I could use another day or so of rest and there’s never tellin’ who’s gonna pop in to the crypt. But I’m healed up enough to go back if you want to keep your couch open. I just can’t handle any fightin’ or movin’ about too quick. Not for another day at least.”

“Well, we’ll see, shall we? Spend the night at my place and go back to your crypt tomorrow if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Thanks, Rupes.”

“Can’t have you going insane and staking yourself before we defeat Glory, can we.”

He grinned. “I’m not gonna stake myself, and I think I’m already certifiable.”

“Really? What makes you think so?”

“I’ve lasted four days in this house without going berserk, I’m starting to know the difference between Ivory soap and a Dove bar, and I’m actually beginning to recognize some of Bit’s boy bands,” he confessed.

Giles eyed him warily. “A true sign of an unstable mind.”

The loud cacophony of one of Dawn’s said boy bands began pounding from upstairs as Dawn turned up the volume on her stereo. Both men cast eyes to the ceiling, noticing how the foyer light swayed with the beat.

“Oh, for the days when teenagers were hors d'oeuvres,” Spike bemoaned.

Giles sighed and handed him another beer.

Buffy came home around midnight to relieve Giles of Dawn and vampire duty. Giles’ relief was evident on his face, even though Dawn had been sent to bed an hour ago.

“Dear God Buffy, there’s only so much I can take. We're simply going to have to change the system. A fourteen-year-old is too old to be baby-sat. It's not fair to her,” Giles said.

“What did she make you do?” Buffy asked knowingly.

“Well, we listened to some aggressively cheerful music sung by people chosen for their ability to dance, then she painted Spike’s nails while we ate cookie dough and talked about boys.”

Buffy struggled to hold back a laugh and only partly succeeded. “I'm so sorry, but if it makes you feel any better, my fun-time-Buffy party night involved watching a robot throw some guy who hit on her across a table.”

“A robot? That's interesting,” Giles commented.

“A robot? Really?” Spike added, coming to stand beside Giles. He’d dressed and was prepared to leave. “How do you know it was a robot?’

“Well, if she wasn’t a robot, she was a very cheerful, wickedly strong girl able to toss me across a room.”

“Are you hurt?” he blurted.

Buffy waved her hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Just have a bruise. We're going to work on it in the morning. Or, if you wanted to hang out a little longer, we could…”

Just then Joyce came through the door, a happy smile on her face.

“So who wants to hear everything?” she enthused.

“...listen to Mom talk about boys.”

“Yes, right! Must go! See you tomorrow! Good-bye, Joyce,” Giles said hastily, hurrying out.

“Bye, Rupert,” Joyce said, waving one hand.

“I’m gonna go with him, Slayer, Joyce. Ol’ Rupert’s got some scroll or some such he thinks might have some info on that Glory bint, but it’s written in one of the demon languages I know how to read,” he lied smoothly.

Buffy looked taken back. “Really? He didn’t say anything about it to me.”

“He just found it tonight before he came over. I promised to look at it for him and see what I could make of it.”

“Spike, are you sure you’re all right to leave?” Joyce asked worriedly.

He gave her one of his winning smiles. “I’m just going to play over at Rupert’s house and have a sleep-over. I promise we won’t stay up all night reading comic books and lobbing spitballs at each other.”

“Ewwww,” Buffy said.

“Well, if you’re sure you’re up to it…”

He gave Joyce a quick peck on the cheek. “I am. I’ll pop by tomorrow to see you. I’m so glad you had a wonderful time on your date. I do want to hear about it, but if I don’t go now, Giles will leave without me.”

“Dawn traumatized him that much?” Joyce asked.

“She made him eat cookie dough and listen to her talk about her teenage crushes at school.”

“I think she’s scarred him for life.”

He smiled. “No doubt. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Spike,” Joyce said.

“Night, Spike,” Buffy repeated.

He walked out and Joyce closed the door behind him. As he walked to Giles’ car, he heard Joyce joking with her daughter about leaving her bra in her date’s car, and laughed when he heard Buffy’s cry of “Mother!” in response.

He paused and looked back at the house, feeling lightweight for the first time since he had been sent back. Joyce was healthy, Buffy knew he loved her and hadn’t completely shoved him from her life, Dru hadn’t needed to be killed and Giles was actually giving him a chance to prove himself. Maybe things were finally starting to look up.

“Good God! That's horrible! Don't do that!” he heard Buffy gasp.

“I left it in the restaurant,” was Joyce’s reply.

He heard the sound of footsteps as Buffy ran up the stairs, yelling, “No more! No more!”

“On the dessert cart!” Joyce called after her.

Spike shook his head and continued on his way to where Giles was waiting.

‘God I love these Summers women!’

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