Title:  Pillow Talk

Author:  Miss Murchison

Rating:  NC-17

Disclaimer:  All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc.  Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine.

Notes:  A Spuffy story that starts in early Season 6 before deviating from canon.   A slight change in circumstances, a different decision or two, and you wind up with very different results.

Thanks: To Keswindhover and revdorothyl for the beta.

The story begins here.

This chapter marks the beginning of Part II of the story. The first part took the story from one kind of pillow talk to another. Part II begins with yet another conversation.

There will be three parts in all. There is a list of links to the individual chapters here.

Part II, Chapter 3

When George came back after his mid-morning break and told Buffy that there were enough leftovers from the breakfast rush for her to snag a free snack, she scooted into the kitchen, scooped up some goodies, and headed to the Magic Box.

Giles and Anya were sitting in back, looking over some papers. 

"Hi!  I come bearing a bag of scones." Buffy held it up.  "Better than a bag of bones, huh?"

"Ah, scones," said Giles, pronouncing the word quite differently.  Buffy frowned with annoyance as she realized it didn't rhyme with "bones" in British.  She was definitely off her form when it came to wordplay.

Anya's reaction to the scones was even more distressing.  "Well, if that isn't the most inconsiderate thing I've ever seen.  Carbs!  Why don't you just get me a cellulite transplant!"  She snatched up the papers on the table and stalked off.

"I have a feeling that this therapy is going to be a long hard road," said Giles.  He added after a pause, "for all of us."

Buffy sat down at the table.  "Well, that first awkwardness of seeing her again has passed.  I think it went pretty well, don't you?"  Even she could hear the strain in her own voice.

Giles gave her a little, worried smile.  "As well as can be expected.  Sit down, Buffy, and I'll make you a cup of tea."  He went to turn on his electric kettle.  "It's not that I don't appreciate the scones, but you really shouldn't be spending your money buying food for me."

"That's okay, because I'm really, really not, mostly because I am suffering from a total lack of money at the moment.  These are my share of what's left over from the morning rush at The Hill of Beans."

"Oh.  You're still working."

"Give me a break, Giles.  It hasn't even been a week.  Even I can hold a job that long.  But in spite of my labors, the Yankee dollar has yet to make an appearance."  Buffy pulled the scones and some napkins out of a bag. "Never fear, though.  My boss promises it will this afternoon.  At least, I hope there will be more than one dollar involved.  I hit Nancy up for an advance." 

As she said the last words, she noticed that his hand had gone to his pocket, but he was now drawing it away.  Poor Giles.  He knows he's a father figure because I keep begging him for cash.  At least this time, I want something else.

While she tried to decide how to raise the topic, Giles poured hot water and said, "So if money is not the reason for your presence and generosity—"  He stopped mid-motion, struck by a thought.  "The social worker's visit!  Dawn.  They aren't taking her away?"

"What?"  Mrs. Kroger and her clipboard seemed to belong to one of her previous lifetimes.  One before she'd spent a very long night with—

Giles was looking at her oddly, and she blushed.  He can't tell you've had sex with Spike just by looking at you.  Still, she avoided meeting his eyes.  "Everything went okay with the home visit.  At least, I think so.  This isn't about Dawn.  I need you to help me with something else." 

He set two cups down on the table and reached for a scone.  "And that would be?"

"I need to find out who owns a certain van.  I've got the license number."

"That's what you want?  Research?" 

He's still with the weird looks.  Buffy picked bits off her scone and crumbled them on her napkin.  "I know getting into the DMV computers is a Willow kind of thing, but she's not feeling real well, and you can do it too, can't you?  I mean, the Watcher's Council has all kinds of resources.  I figured that if they could get you deported, they could find out who owns a car."

"Yes, they should be able to do that."  His smile was warmer.  She didn't know why, but she smiled back anyway.  "Why do you need to know?"

"Oh, there are some idiots who've been following me around.  I want to find out who they all are and what they want.  One of them is, get this, Jonathan Levinson.  Remember him?"

Glasses were polished.  "Oh, dear.  I hope he's not planning to manipulate reality again."

"I don't think so.  It looks like he's found something new and exciting and maybe even stupider to do.  When I went by his house this morning, his mom said she hadn't seen him in weeks, and that he definitely didn't have a van, or any other kind of vehicle, or any money to buy one."  She tore off a corner of her napkin and looked for something to write with.  "So it must belong to one of the other guys.  But I only saw them running away." 

Giles reached into his pocket and handed her a pen.  "Buffy, if these young men are all human, you must take care, no matter what their intentions."

"Probably not honorable.  But, yeah, I know.  Do not fold, spindle or mutilate the non-demons."  She handed him the scrap of napkin.  "I may need advice again, depending on what they're doing."

"Of course, Buffy. I'd be glad to help."

She blinked.  After the past few lectures on Handling Things Herself, she hadn't been expecting this.  Suddenly, he seemed very pleased with her, and she couldn't figure out why.  But she didn't have time to worry about it.  She stood up.  "I've got to get back to work.  How long do you think it will take?  The DMV hack, I mean?"

"It depends on how soon I can reach my contact.  Once that happens, it should take no time at all."

"Thanks!" 

"Oh, and Buffy?"

"Yes?" She was already at the door. 

"Next time you steal scones for me, see if you can't manage some jam and clotted cream as well."

She was smiling as she left the Magic Box.

****

The next few hours were a long slog filled with taking orders, making change, and the smell of panini grilling.  The burst of energy that had sent Buffy to see Giles was fading, and the customers were shrill and irritating.  The third time she handed an order to the wrong person, she realized she was avoiding looking at their faces.  There are too many of them, all wanting things.  Can't they just leave me alone?

When Nancy decreed that more cookies would be needed for the after-school crowd, Buffy was glad to retreat to the kitchen.  Nancy had a paranormal ability to sense that sort of thing.  Or maybe she just checked the high school menu and knew her sales would jump on the days mystery meat was served.

The good thing about the kitchen was that there were no customers around, so she had time to think.  The bad thing was that she had time to think.

Her brain kept running in circles like a deranged hamster, going over and over everything that had happened in the past 24 hours.  The only thing that changed was her reaction.  As she spooned cookie dough onto a sheet, she blushed with shame over the memory of the things she and Spike had done the night before.  When she took the sheet out of the oven, the same memory was making her flush with desire to do it all over again.  At two o'clock she smiled a sappy grin over the memory of Spike smirking up at her in bed that morning, and at twenty past two the same thought irritated her. 

She remembered how happy Spike had been when she said she loved him.  Then she remembered that he hadn't promised to follow her rules.  He'd just distracted her, and—

She didn't know whether to be giddy with happiness or sick with regret, and so managed both in turns. 

And when she remembered that Tara was coming soon, she felt even worse.

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