By S_Star

Rating: R for now, but it could change in either direction depending on the circumstances. Summary: College fic with (hopefully) some till you see , the gang live in an apartment building at 298 Bleecker Street, New York (see Author's Note), and attend NYC, New York College (see AN). Of course, there are new and old faces, good and bad times, a stalker- like obsession and plenty of Spuffy lovin'! Disclaimer: *sniff* I don't wanna talk about it.

AN: I'm gonna get this done now so I don't need any more explanations or whatever later on. I'm not the world's greatest authority on American Universities, living in England and all, but it's my fic, so all errors etc can be taken as deliberate faults. And what I say goes, no matter how surreal or badly worded. Gottit? ^_~

1) 298 Bleecker Street, New York, is not an apartment building, but a restaurant called 'Cucina Stagionale' ('Innovation Italian Cuisine', open 7 days, lunch and dinner, 212 - 924-2707). I am also aware that it is NOT the greatest location for an apartment building. It's a fantasy fic, isn't it?

2) New York College is in Greenwich Village, within walking distance of the apartments, not in the same place as the real University of New York, but still near enough to Starbucks, which, as I'm sure you know, is a real establishment. If my imagination invented those caramel frappacinos I've got a better mind than I , NYC is NOT taken from the 'College of New York' in Kantayra's amazing fic 'Blue Horizons', and, as far as I am aware, does not actually exist. I also invented the Lambda Psi fraternity and Theta Rho sorority.

3) The title is taken from the Bowling for Soup Song 'On and On (About You)', which you should either download or at least get the lyrics to, cuz it's basically the fic and may help it make sense later on.. Oh, hey, look, here's a handy URL where you can get the lyrics! How convenient.. ? bowling-for-soup-on-

4) I know the Spice Girls went to America, and there was I time when I would've known how they did but they're quite well-known in this for the purpose of one line. Also, irony. Say it with me now, I-RO-NEE. On Declamatio's recommendation (*cough*, demand), things aren't as they seem.

5) Please suspend your disbelief. This is transcribed directly from a dream I had, so it's bound to be a little it's also much, MUCH lighter than William the Ripper. Mostly.

~ This is for Silver, who let me off my chapter of 'Remember' because of a history essay. Anyway, I felt so guilty I thought I'd try and write an extra-special fantasy fic just for SA! Plus I needed something happy to fill in the void after 'The Musical Misadventures of Legolas Greenleaf - The Final Lament' where I killed off the Elf and his lover.*sniff*. ~

Flores Cada Dia

At first glance, 298 Bleecker Street seemed like any normal Greenwich Village building. It only had 5 storeys, smaller than the silver spears that dominated the skylines both north and south of the niche in which the Village stood, yet not out of place amongst the brick buildings surrounding it.

There was an air of friendliness, a companionship between the motley samples of buildings that made up Greenwich Village which the harsh business district and the glowing Central district always seemed to lack, despite their prefabricated glory, and it was partly that which had led the equally motley assortment of students to their present situation.

Well, not all of them were there yet, but those that were appeared a worrying sight for passers-by, especially the tourists who , dawdling, down the street, enraptured by the 'quaint atmosphere' as one of an obviously British group put it. They were rather annoyed by the bunch , the English man who'd spoken before seemed to have plenty of names for them, at least.

But only two of the four who were currently congregating outside the building actually noticed; the other two being too busy having their 'passionate reunion' to notice anything short of the apocalypse.

' 'Ey, lovebirds!' Or that. The two girls, Willow and Tara, broke apart with identical looks of embarrassment tinged with mirth on their faces as they turned to hug the blond blur who'd snuck up on them while they were indisposed.

The blur, who went by the name of Spike on weekdays for some reason that no one really wanted to know, shot the couple a dazzling grin before engulfing the other two girls in their own embraces, hugging the first, Buffy, so hard she could hardly breathe, which, at the sight of his familiar smirk, she felt sure was deliberate, only way to put it was 'planted a wet one' on the other, his long-time girlfriend Cordelia Chase.

It was so strange to see the normally fluid, slinky creature bounding around like a wallaby on Prozac that Buffy felt compelled to make some comment. Luckily, when it came to Spike, Buffy could always think of something to say, no matter how lame. 'I take it you've been down to Coffee Central already?' she asked dryly, raising an eyebrow at the figure who was now bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, the barely- contained energy radiating from him in , more like tsunamis.

'Coffee Central' was the name the gang had affectionately given to the Starbucks round the corner when Spike had started to work there, as the obscene discounts he gave them had driven them to spend nearly all their free time there guzzling frappuccinos to get them through the night as they struggled with the truckloads of work that had been dumped on them earlier that day.

'What, can't a guy be excited to see his friends again?' This sounded so out of place coming from Spike, especially with his accent extra-strong after a month back home in England, that Buffy, Willow and Tara couldn't help but laugh, Willow burying her head on her girlfriend's shoulder to try, completely unsuccessfully, to muffle her giggles.

Spike was glaring at them now, and Cordelia took the opportunity as only she could, grabbing his arm and beginning to lead him along the road. 'Oh, good, I thought you'd be all jet-lagged and everything! I can't wait to start our pre-school shopping trip, I've been planning it all summer.'

It was amazing how quickly a person could go from bouncing off the walls to so exhausted he was unable to stand.

Picking up the last of Spike's suitcases, Cordy followed him into the building with her 'woman on a mission' expression on, hellbent on claiming the shopping trip that had been so brutally torn from her.

This left Buffy alone with Willow and Tara, who were once again completely wrapped up in each other.

'Honestly, you'd think you two hadn't seen each other all summer!'

Tara at least had the decency to look sheepish as she pulled away from her lover. 'Sorry, sweetie, it's just.y'know, new year reunions and , we haven't seen each other for a week since we got back from vacation!'

Buffy smiled at this. 'I know, but Angel isn't here yet, and I just feel kinda left out amongst all the happy new school year lovin'.'

'I would offer to let you join us, but I guess your loyalties lie elsewhere.' Willow trailed off with a sly smile.

'Well, for some reason I don't think Angel would really object too much, but better safe than sorry,' Buffy replied. 'Thanks for the offer, though.'

The friends exchanged smiles before Will and Tara also went inside, still hand in hand, and Buffy decided she wouldn't go back up to their apartment just yet.

This left the petite blonde all alone on the sidewalk, leaning against the wall casually, enjoying the feel of being back in the city.

It was weird how easy it was to return 'home' like that. She'd always felt that going away from what she was used to, for any amount of time, seemed to make the return to reality feel like a jolt out of a fantasy, but this felt like the fantasy was what she was returning to.

The gang had been at college there for a year now, and the apartments were their home. Tara's mom owned the place; she'd moved there after the divorce in Tara's junior year, and it was less like an apartment complex and more like a private the size and the rent, but Mrs Maclay had cut that down considerably for them, and treated them more like guests than tenants.

Finally tiring of listening to the awed exclamations of yet ANOTHER group of tourists, Buffy turned and entered the building herself, greeted by the familiar lobby-entrance-general-congregation-area, the same calm magnolia paint, fresh autumn poppies in the corner, and the framed photo portrait of the group at their graduation ceremony from Sunnydale High what seemed like decades ago, but was, in reality, just over a year ago. Yep, this was home.

After allowing herself to linger just a moment longer, she set off up the steps, stopping at the first landing she came to and stopped outside the door. This was Cordelia, Faith and Anya's apartment. It was hard to remember when Faith and Anya had really become parts of the group. They were completely different people, both from each other and the rest of the that was kinda the point of the 'Scooby Gang', as they'd dubbed themselves in a temporary fit of insanity: they were a bunch would be the simple term, who just happened to share interests (in most cases), senses of humour (in some cases), , that was actually about it, but they were still best friends. The only real difference between them and the original Scoobies were that there were more of them and there wasn't a dog, unless you counted Spike, but with that name he was kinda asking for it.

Faith , Faith. She did what she felt when and where she felt like it, and that was that. It didn't really bug her housemates, and Anya was even keeping a log of all the 'prospective sex partners' she'd found wandering round the living area, but that was just Anya. She was another one who couldn't be analysed or described. She was blunt, capitalist, and had a penchant for vengeance. Her long-term boyfriend, Parker Abrams, had dumped her in their senior year at Sunnydale High, and since then she'd made it her business to protect women from the evil that men do, earning her the label 'Vengeance Demon'.

Actually, Spike had given them all nicknames, très varie in creativeness and suitability, yes, but nicknames nonetheless. Buffy recalled spending that whole conversation wondering which one was going to be Posh Spice.

It was Cordelia.

At the silence resonating from the room, she continued up the stairs to the next door, feeling a lot like the wolf in The Three Little Pigs travelling from house to house. This was her apartment, shared with Willow and Tara, or 'Red' and 'Glinda' as Spike sometimes liked to call them, red for Willow because of her hair and Glinda for Tara who always seemed to radiate peace somehow, almost magickally, despite the lack of appropriate dress.

Straining her ears and then regretting it, Buffy made out the familiar Will/Tara sounds and quickly decided once again not to bother them until later. That left only one apartment to go, as the penthouse belonged to Tara's mom herself, and, although she was always welcoming and loved the gang as she did Tara, Mrs Maclay wasn't the kind of company Buffy was seeking. She wanted something -shaped.

Sighing, she sat down on the nearest step and rested her chin in her hands. Okay, so things had never gone well with Angel, but he was her first love, and she didn't want to lose that.

She'd heard countless times the phrase 'love equals pain', and probably had at least fifty songs that used that lyric in her collection, and she had to admit that their relationship was the definition of that adage. But still, it did say that love equals pain. Not lust. Not mindless fulfilment of sexual desires, (not that she'd ever do such a thing), but love. The big 'L' was what Willow used to call it.

Buffy had to smile at that. It was strange how nearly every phrase she thought or name she used seemed to have been coined by one of her friends, usually Spike, who somehow managed to have wicked a sense of humour despite being, well, English.

Wait, where was she? Oh, yeah, Angel. The epitome of tall, dark and handsome. The quintessence of strong and silent. Angel. She'd once asked him where that nickname had come from, but he'd somehow skirted the issue. It was strange, she mused, that where Angel wouldn't tell his name and everyone wanted to know, Spike always seemed eager to explain his nickname's origins but they were never sure they actually wanted to know. It was even stranger when she considered the two names, 'Spike' and 'Angel'. Why would the one with the 'nice' name, if you could call it that, be so reluctant whereas , she thought the Spike thing was probably to try and maintain the bad-ass image he'd worked so hard to maintain - frankly, he couldn't have a romantic particle in his body if Venus himself donated the blood - but Angel was different. Reticent. Again, the strong and silent type.

'I don't really think that's the best place to sit, pet.' Angry to have had her thoughts, as jumbled as they were, interrupted, Buffy glared at Spike as he came to sit next to her.

'I thought you and Cordy were going shopping.'

'Yeah, but Queen C was so shocked when I told her I didn't care if Macy's were having a bloody sale that I decided to make a break for it. It's probably the longest she's ever managed to stay quiet. But that still doesn't tell me why you're sitting here. If you're trying to bump me off, I don't think making me trip over you and fall down the stairs is really gonna cut you all right?' Spike's apparent soliloquy ended and his expression faded to one of concern as he regarded the girl beside him. Slumped shoulders, bent head, arms wrapped round herself. 'Don't tell me you actually miss the Poof?'

'His name is Angel,' she replied icily, instantly raising her head to glare at him.

'Okay, Angel, Gottit,' he said eventually, stunned by her outburst. He and she fought, sure, but only playfully, usually. 'Look, he's gonna be arriving soon, okay? It seems a little late to start missing him now.'

'It's just 're back, y'know? You're all happy families again, paired up, etcetera, etcetera, and my boyfriend isn't back yet, for one, and two, none of the single girls are here to try and relate to me.'

'Well, one, I'm paired up with Cordelia. I think you've got the better deal. And two, Faith can't be called single with love-slaves, and Anya has her money. You'd be better off talking to a brick wall. Like this one.' He indicated the wall next to them. 'It's a great listener, plus it could tell you enough gossip to last you a lifetime.'

This elicited an earnest smile from Buffy.

'That's it, pet, chin up. Everything'll be back to normal soon, I promise. Now, you wanna come in for a drink or something? I don't really wanna face Cordy's wrath-'

Before he could continue, a familiar voice was heard outside, and Buffy was up like a shot, a broad smile on her face and blond hair trailing after her as she practically leapt down the stairs to the door.

'-Alone,' he finished, turning to trail back to his apartment. 'Yeah, everything's back to normal all right.'

AN - that was just an introductory chapter, and they'll be more action soon, as well as the introduction of a whole new still, review this, because it's a completely new style for me, and any hints, tips etc are welcome.

Also, I forgot to mention that the line 'assorted love-slaves' is from Maya's 'Draco Malfoy, the Amazing ?' which is, obviously, not mine.