Title: Only Guy She Trusts
Summery: Xander visiting Buffy after six months spent in Africa.
Disclaimer: They belong to Joss and co.
Notes: I have no idea where Buffy is. I'm more or less following the canon of the season 8 comics. Yes, I consider them canon. I don't know where is Dawn? Is she still living with Buffy? Did she leave for college? You're all free to guess.
This is told completely from Xander's POV.
Thanks to Yosso for the wonderful beta.
His ribs felt like breaking, and he wondered if it was because she knew he had decided to get her a handbag instead of shoes. But hadn't she told him he should never set a foot in the shoe shop for the rest of his life? Women. He could never understand them. Hell, he understood half of the medical stuff George Clooney used to say in ER better than the complexity of the female language. That was why he gave up on dating long time ago.
Still, if he didn't act fast, he would be crushed any minute now.
"Buff…" he choked out, "still human here."
"Really?" Thank God, he was free. "Africa didn't turn you into something shiny and new?"
"Alas, I was too boring to be affected."
"Aww." Comfort pattings were the best. She had always been good at them. "Maybe you should lose the 'alas'. Africa isn't hot on Shakespeare."
"You know, Shakespeare didn't invent the word 'alas'."
Her nose wrinkled. "Was it William Wordsworth?"
He stared at her, knowing perfectly clear that when she started making stuff up, things weren't going well in the Buff land. "Rough week?"
"More than one." She ran her hand over her hair, looking a little tired. He held back a disappointed sigh. He had expected that once they were out of Sunnydale, Buffy would be more relaxed, cheerful and easygoing. It appeared that that Buffy was not coming back. It was the price of growing up on the Hellmouth. It didn't just change Buffy, it had changed all of them.
"I got you a handbag," he blurted out. If there was anything on fashion he could screw less at, it would be handbags. He had memorized that lecture more than Giles' ranting about the irresponsibility of using magic without his assistance.
"Finally," she exclaimed. "I take back what I said, you do learn from your slip ups."
"Handing it right back and sticking it with permanent glue. Orange?"
He grinned. "I was just messing with ya. It's actually Gucci. And not orange."
Buffy grabbed his luggage in a hurry, slamming it down then searching through his stuff. "Africa has Gucci?"
Her eyebrows lifted. "You've been traveling through African countries?"
"Gotta get my girls their presies."
"You're one of a kind, Xander Harris."
"Cordy used to say that. Not sure she meant it the same way though."
She started going through his stuff like a loon until she found the Gucci shopping-bag. She quirked an eyebrow at him. "This is orange. And not Gucci."
"Doesn't Willow deserve a Gucci shopping-bag?"
"Doesn't Willow deserve a Gucci handbag?"
He gave a sheepish grin. "I was short on cash and Willow doesn't care for that stuff."
"Gucci? Probably. But when did Willow start liking orange?"
"Guess you haven't been talking to her lately," he joked.
He hadn't expected to see that look that swiftly passed her face. She rigidly put the handbag down, and started aimlessly looking through his luggage.
"Buffy," he whispered, concerned, "are you okay?"
"Yep. I am." She pulled up the pretty, expensive handbag he bought for her. "Got my Gucci present."
"What African countries have you been to? Jungle country or… the other jungle country?"
He decided to let it go for now and just play along. "You know," he said with a fake smile, "not all Africa has jungles."
"How come high school didn't teach us that?"
"It did. It was one of those days when we ditched class."
She touched the handbag as lightly as possible like it was made of gold. Even though there was some gold-making in there. She looked at him with a big grin. "So, you're up for a girly night of chitchatting?"
"As much as I enjoy these girly-type talks, unfortunately I need some shut eye. Long hours in the plane, hard to sleep when you know you're twenty thousand feet from land."
She pouted. "You're no fun. Here I am all happy that my Xander buddy is here after all these months and you're all like 'yeah, whatever'." Her pout grew, if that was possible. "I want to hear about jungles, wild animals, African-not-Americans, possibly potential love interests who turned out to be demons - those never get old- and maybe some non-demon potential love interests who turned you down… " At his look, she corrected, "Or… you…you turned down."
He was about to huff and puff, but instead he said, "Well, there was this sweet girl in Egypt..."
She laughed, moving to the couch with her precious handbag. "Whoa, Xand, what countries have you not visited?"
"Six months is a long time to spend in one country that is not your country." Which was true. Plus he had spent most of his life fighting evil for the damned world. The world sure as hell owed him some fun time.
"So?" she asked, casting him a weird look.
"Egypt girl." She raised both hands and made beckoning motions for him to be more forthcoming. "You dated her and…"
"Ah, dated her. And have her father shoot me with a bazooka? No thanks."
She grimaced. "How old was she?"
"Uh… ew. I don't go out with underage girls. She's twenty two, but still living with her parents. It's the girls-who-don't-get-to-leave-home-until-they're-married kind of family."
Buffy shuddered and he assumed it was because of the thought of being a member of such a family. Even though she did live with her mother after high school, to be fair, she moved back in mostly for Dawn's welfare.
He went on, "And since I'm not going through that again any time soon -possibly ever- I've merged us into the guy and girl who are nothing but good friends' side of the road."
She looked skeptical. "That doesn't usually work."
"Well, what about us?"
"A Michael Jackson song?" she perked up.
"No, Buff, you and me. A guy and a girl who're just friends. No smoochies, or happies, or shippy fights that usually end wrong yet sometimes lead us to a sweaty kind of ending."
She gazed at her new handbag for the twentieth time like it was the key that opened the doors to several dimensions. He cringed, that was a disturbing thought if someone was him.
"Didn't we have shippy fights?" she asked, pondering.
"Yeah, but all of them are about you being with a guy I want to kill or me being with a girl you wanna kill. So it's not really an us shippy fighting."
"That's probably for the best." She opened the zipper and started throwing the wrapping paper that was inside the handbag out. "Us in a shippy kinda situation will end with one of us killed or leaving town." She threw the last rumpled paper outside of the handbag. "Plus we wouldn't have been this comfortable with each other if…"
"Buff, I'm already over you so you don't have to let me down easy," he joked.
She gave him a light smack on the upper arm, which to someone else it wouldn't be considered as a light smack because ouch. However, being a person who lived among the supernatural crowd, he knew it was a light smack for a slayer.
"What about you?" he asked. "No shippy fight in the last six months?"
"There was a guy… two guys actually… but not together… I mean, one guy first, things didn't work out, other guy next, things didn't work out." At his amused look, she glared at him. "I'm not slutty."
"Well, you've been with two guys last time I saw ya, and I've stopped flirting with an Egyptian girl from an uptight family before the relationship even started. So what does that tell ya?"
"I'm better looking than you?" She stared at him innocently.
"We've already covered this. You can't compare guys and girls according to looks. Different body parts. And everybody knows boobs always win." He watched her try the handbag and look at the mirror. His gaze cut past her ponytail and focused on his reflection. The eye patch was the first thing he laid eyes -eye- on. "Besides, with the eye patch I went ten points up. Chicks dig the pirate look more than I thought."
She grinned at his reflection in the mirror. "The tan and the fitness help, too."
"Been hitting the gym in Cairo, let Sameera see what she's missing on."
"You really liked her?"
"She was cute and smart. She had principles which I admired. But… I'm not sure I want to date again. I mean… there are factors."
She turned around, looking at him with a worried expression. "Anya factors?" she asked gently.
"That and… I've been doing some reflecting when I was dancing Kpanlogo in Accra," he ignored her lifted eyebrows and went on, "I came to the conclusion that Xander and relationships just don't blend well. When I'm not dating demons who want to kill me, and I'm actually happy with a devoted girlfriend, I end up screwing things up."
He looked closely at her with a bitter smile. "So to save me from future headaches and breaking someone else's heart, I've decided to devote my life to use searching the world for slayers as a cover to travel around the world." He let out a fake goofy grin to lighten the mood.
Buffy, however, was gazing down on the floor, lost in another world. From the looks of it, a world with handbags of badness.
"Is something wrong?"
She gave him a sad smile. "Some Giles type problems."
He thought that Buffy and Giles had resolved their issues just fine. Seemed that a new bump had appeared down the road while he was away. Knowing Buffy, he was sure she'd keep it inside instead of sharing the pain with close friends. So he wouldn't push, if it was really big, she'd tell him. At least he hoped. "If you want to talk, I'm right here."
He yawned in exhaustion. "Now if you excuse me, it's passed my bed time."
She looked at the clock on the wall. "It's four o'clock in the afternoon."
"Plane? Can't sleep inside something that's not attached to the ground? Remember? I need my beauty sleep."
"But I'm bored!" she whined, a glint of life coming back to her eyes. That was a relief.
"Look, how about we do something tonight?"
"Oh, I know this really nice club down at the…"
"Yeah, yeah, we'll go there. Now would you just let me sleep?"
"You got it."
As he walked to the guests' room he slept in last time he was here, he stopped by the door. "And, Buffy," he started, turning around to look at her. "I'm sure that whatever Giles did, he was trying to do what's best for you."
Buffy stared at him quietly for a moment, before turning her attention back to the handbag. He let out a soft sigh and walked into the bedroom.
Inside the "whatever its name was" club, the night was alive. The air was scented with fog and sweat, and throbbed with the beat of the band, singing something unrecognizable but very upbeat. They had secured a good table on the main level, positioned to provide a good vantage point but far enough from the stage that he could hear himself speak. Except he didn't need to, because his partner was more interested in taking long pulls on her drink since they had gotten here.
He stared at Buffy's face grimacing with every swallow of her beer and listened to her commenting on girls' cliché outfits and the disadvantages of short girls dating tall, scrawny guys. He looked at his empty glass. He wasn't the one who finished it. Buffy had grabbed his glass a few minutes ago when she finished drinking the whole bottle. He ended up ordering another bottle while she finished his glass in one long swallow. She was nice enough to return the glass to him. Then came the scary part when she started yelling at the dancers to stop Jackson-ing it and just dance the way people do. Her attempt to swivel was followed by a broken chair and one slayer on the floor.
She pulled herself up with the help of the table, mumbling a number of curses, and sat on another chair. As she reached for another glass, he picked it first, pulling it away from her. She gave him a look that made him withdraw a little before she reached for the bottle, but he grabbed it first and pulled it away. The look in her eyes got more dangerous.
"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.
"Uh… I think you've had enough…uh …" She suddenly reached for the bottle, her slayer strength helped her grab it away from his hand. "Yeah," he weakly concluded.
She removed the pour-spout and drank straight from the bottle. She scrunched her face in disgust. "Blaah!" He watched her with scared, cautious eyes.
She put the bottle down, looking at Xander silently. That made him more wary. She clumsily planted her elbow and rested her chin on her hand, looking at him. "My friend," she slurred. Her shaking elbow slipped and her face fell straight to the table.
"A-are you okay?" he exclaimed nervously.
She pulled her head up, looking at him with a wide, scary smile. "My friend… Xander. My best friend… Xander." Each word was pronounced in a different tone.
He gave a side grin. "That's me. Xander."
"Am I your best friend, Xander?" she asked, her finger drawing circles on the table. "Or do you already have a best friend in Africa?"
She looked at her fingers playing on the table, her face somber. "You probably have a lot of friends in Africa."
"Well, not that many…"
She slammed her fists on the table, glaring at him. "You think you're the only one with friends, Mr. Social?" she said the last part with a disgusted face.
"Well, I've made friends, too!" She brought up her hand, counting on her fingers. "Steve… Willy… Steve…" Her lower lips trembled. Tears started forming while she sobbed out, "and Carpet Giant." She slammed her head on the table and started bawling.
He hesitantly laid a hand on her shoulder and started patting her. "It's gonna be alright, Buffy." She flung her head backwards out of the blue. His hand quickly withdrew in alarm.
She rested her cheek on the palm of her hand, her fingers playing with her key chain on the table. "It's not my fault I couldn't make friends. All girls want to be friends with guys, and all guys want to be friends with vaginas." She giggled. "Vaginas."
"It is funny, and it's getting funnier with you humming it like that." It looked like she was trying to find a word rhyming with vagina. "Buffy, what happened while I was gone?" he asked softly. Something had happened. Something with Giles. He knew it. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was.
"Beer," she answered, looking straight at the empty bottle. "Life's full of beer."
He took the bottle away, watching her whimper in displeasure. "Forget the beer, Buffy." He moved his chair closer to her, grabbing her by the shoulders, looking into her dull eyes. "What happened with Giles? Did he do something wrong?"
She looked at him, blinking heavily. "Giles is overprotective." She glared and pushed Xander away. "He's a snobby, bone-headed, overprotective loser." She looked with narrowed eyes at a punk guy with pink hair. "Sometimes I wanna shoot him."
"Now, now, poor punk guy doesn't have anything to do with whatever Giles did." He frowned. "Did he?"
Buffy looked like spacing out, then suddenly startled. She looked at him as if he was someone else.
"Earth to the Buffster, permission to shoot is denied, put down your guns and come back to reality."
She sulked. "Who's shooting?"
"You shooting punk guy. Wrong. Bad. Gets us to trouble."
Her eyes widened. "Punk guy lied to me."
"You know him?" he asked her, confused.
"I thought so," she murmured. "The whole thing is going outta my head."
"As long as you're talking about the song, things are gonna be okay." He pulled her closer, running one hand over her arm in an attempt to soothe her.
"I see a poodle in my future," she mumbled, looking at the distance. "A pretty, cocky, white poodle. A boodle staring at me and my poodle." She scowled. "I don't really like the way my hair looks." She suddenly looked at him, questioning, "Maybe just a doodle of a poodle?"
He gave a plastic smile, knowing full well that when Buffy was going all Willow, it was better to not interfere.
Her questioning look changed into a lost, hollow gaze. "My best friend," she said.
His face contorted in fear. "Yes, best friend who doesn't have many friends in Africa. Come to think of it, he has no friends at all…"
"Things are bad," she muttered, interrupting him, looking very miserable. "Can't handle…" she trailed off vaguely.
"Buffy," he said softly, his arms held her lean body even closer. "What is it?"
She looked up at him. "I just need…" then her face came closer to his.
He was shocked. No, that wasn't the right term. He was 'Dr. Carter getting stabbed, falling to the floor, and discovering Lucy Knight lying, immobile, just out of his reach' shocked. He knew he had to move. He had to make the right move. And without any comment, he pushed her back gently with a small, sad smile. She frowned up at him, confused.
"It's for your own good, Buffy," he said. "C'mon, let's go home." He held her hand and guided her to the exit… then returned back for her key chain and wallet.
He was awake, but didn't want to open his eyes or to budge. He wanted to lay there, enjoying the warmth of his blanket. Back in Africa, he had gotten used to sleeping without a blanket in some countries. The hot weather was unbearable sometimes, it was until he moved to the north side of the continent that he found more suitable weather for an American guy. He learned that living in sunny Sunnydale wouldn't really prepare someone to face sunny Africa.
He tensed, feeling someone was watching him. Since he had lived the last eight years trying to learn how to sleep with an open eye, but failed miserably, he could at least sense when someone was watching him. He had a lot of practice in that area.
Opening his eye, he turned around to see Buffy with arms crossed and a fierce look fixed on her face.
"Were you… standing there with that glare all time I was sleeping?" he asked, perplexed.
"Yes," she answered firmly, her pose not fluttered.
"Uh… care to say why?"
"I don't want you to protect me."
He blinked a few before his eyebrows furrowed. "I…"
"I don't want anyone to protect me. I am not some helpless girl you see walking down the streets. My tomb said, "She saved the world a lot" for crying out loud!"
He raised a hand. "I concur."
"So here's my two cents." He looked at her warily, knowing that when Buffy offered her two cents, she was frighteningly serious. She moved toward him, arms still crossed, face still firm and determined, and then she leaned closer to his face. "I don't. Want. Any protection."
He backed away a little, not only because she scared him, but he feared he'd scare her away with his bad eggs post-sleep breath. On second thought. "Okay," he exclaimed nervously. "Lady doesn't want to be protected. Check. Man though is still hanging on the cliff in complete puzzlement." He ran a hand through his messed up bed hair. "What's going on, Buffy?"
"Last night, you said something about doing it for my own good. Don't deny it. I know I was drunk but I was sober enough to know what's going on. I'm an adult. I freaking know what I'm doing and I'm sick and tired of people stopping me from having what I want just because they think they know what's best for me."
"Right. Uh… what was it that you wanted?"
"Didn't you listen to a word I said?" she complained before pouting. "I know people tend to space out because I suck at the speechifying thing, but I don't…"
"You wanted to kiss me, Buffy."
She gazed at him with her mouth open. "Oh…"
"Yeah," he let out with raised eyebrows. "Now… do you want to kiss me?"
She didn't answer him. She just kept staring at him with an open mouth.
"Exactly what I thought." He threw the blanket away and jumped to the floor, which was a bad idea, because he felt the invisible ants crawling all over his leg. "Now," he said, unable to move because of his numb leg, "better end the crazy gibberish talk and have us a nice jam sandwich, what do you say?"
They were in her living room, drinking soda with the company of yummy Doritos. It was amazing how famous Doritos was worldwide. He never thought he'd find Sweet Chili Pepper in Egypt. Actually, Egypt had surprised him. He never thought it would be this beautiful and exciting. It was probably one of the most civilized and cultured countries in the continent, which was probably why he spent most of his days there.
The TV was on a French channel showing a French sitcom about a bunch of people in a dance school. He wasn't sure what was happening but it seemed that the guy with the afro and the pretty skinny woman were the older brother and sister of the beautifully filled out, shorter girl. It looked like the big sister and the big brother were sending fake love letters to the little sister as a joke. French people's sense of humor was pretty out there.
He looked at Buffy trying to build a pyramid with the chips, of course with no success. He wasn't sure if he wanted to listen to what she was going to tell him, she had been very strange ever since he came back. Something happened with Giles that had upset her and as much as he wanted to know what it was, as much as he begged her to tell him what it was, he knew she wouldn't. That was something the two of them shared. Never talking about their problems.
"I have something to say."
"Another two cents?" he asked.
"More like pennies." She shifted in her seat. "Uh… why did you stop me? I mean… was it because I was drunk?"
It took him a few seconds to understand what she meant. "Maybe I was scared Drunk Buffy would whack me over the head like she did with Parker?" She wasn't laughing and he didn't expect her to. He let out a soft sigh. "If it had happened seven years ago, I'd be really, really happy. I'm not sure how I'd react. Would I take advantage? Would I…"
"I don't think you'd have," she interrupted with a small smile. She was presumably talking about that spell in high school. Library. One Xander. One Buffy wearing just a robe. One Buffy about to take off the robe. How could he forget that moment? The moment that he had dreamt about ever since he had met her. His little porny dream coming to life… yet not as real.
"Many years have passed, Buffy. Girlfriends, fiancées, demon-dates came and went. I've been in and out of love." He looked down at his hands. "My feelings for you had changed long time ago. And…" He looked at the screen. Anything but her eyes. "I'm positive that I don't wanna ruin what we have."
It seemed that the big brother and sister weren't that happy about toying with their sister's feelings after all. Why did it feel like the two older siblings were him and Buffy while the kid sister was Dawn? Was that how he saw Buffy? As a sister? Was that why he started to lose interest in having her as someone more than a friend?
She looked at him intensely, it made him uncomfortable. He knew that whatever she was thinking about was crazy. "You know," she started, putting some Doritos into her mouth. "I've been with vampires, normal guys, commando-type-guys, my dating list is very colorful."
"If you call that colorful, then you haven't seen my list."
"It's just that…" she stopped, staring at the screen. He looked as well.
The younger sister was checking some guy out. Maybe she thought he was the letter sending lover boy. Boy, was she going to be crushed!
Buffy was staring deeply at the screen as if the climax of the plot pulled her in and she had forgotten she was talking to him.
"While we're alive, Buff," he said, expecting her to startle, but she didn't.
Instead, she looked him in the eyes and at that moment she wasn't Buffy the friend. She wasn't the sister. She wasn't the slayer. She wasn't the idol. She was just Buffy. "I'm not sure what it's like to be that close to a friend."
Danger! Danger! Elder siblings had spotted their sister flirting with fake lover. Bad. Bad.
"Buffy…" he didn't know what to say. He preferred to watch TV, to see how the elder siblings would handle the consequences of their dirty playing.
"They'll tell her what they did, then she'll lock herself in the balcony. She won't come out until they promise her to provide all the things in the list she made."
He looked at her with wide eyes.
She shrugged. "Watched this episode three times. Eventually they agree to do whatever she wants on that freaky list of hers."
"I'm flashing back to the time Dawn wanted to date that beach guy." He remembered the summer after Willow went to England with Giles. When they did a trip to the beach, Dawn had met Beach Guy, as he and Buffy called him. He was a Larry in a smaller body with longer hair. He and Buffy knew he was no good for the Dawnster. That of course didn't set well with Dawn, until he and Buffy agreed to fulfill all her demands.
Buffy chuckled. "Remember after her Majesty decided to forgive us, the kissing each cheek thing we did, she loved that moment so much she dragged us to the photocopy center to take a picture."
He smiled. That picture was one of his favorites. Xander was kissing Dawn's left cheek while Buffy was kissing her right. Dawn's satisfied expression. Old times. Good old times.
"So… I've been thinking…" she paused, and he feared what was about to come, "… what it would be like… with a friend?"
"Bad thought, Buff. Remember how things went between me and Will? Nothing good comes out of it."
She wanted to say something, but he spoke before she had the chance, "And when did I start to become irresistible Xander? I thought I was unattractive, big brother Xander."
Why didn't she come to this epiphany years ago? Why now? Stupid universe that hated him.
She pursed her lips. "I never said you're attractive." He gave her a look and she cocked her head to the side. "I'm just curious about it." She leaned closer. "We didn't even kiss when we were under the mistletoe that Christmas."
He sent her a mocking glare. "And whose fault was that? As I remember, I didn't mind at all, even Anya respected the Christmas kissing tradition." He pointed an accusing finger at her. "Someone didn't respect Christmas."
"Well, I didn't do it 'cause of Riley."
"You weren't dating Riley at that time yet." He crossed his arms. "You weren't interested, and it's always been that way." His eyebrows furrowed. "What changed?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. All I can think of is… what would be wrong about kissing Xander?"
"Everything," he exclaimed. "Didn't you hear my Xander-speech? Being a Harris, ruining every good relationship I'm ever in, wanting what I can't have…"
"I don't remember that part," she said with a frown.
"Well, it's true. Xander Harris wants what he can't have. When he gets it, he loses interest. One of the many disadvantages of being a Harris."
"Huh. When did you ever want what you can't have?" she asked.
"Um… Willow when she wasn't available."
"Isn't that enough?"
She rolled her eyes. "Xander, I'm not asking for a relationship, I just want a kiss."
"Because you're Xander."
She bit her lip, her hand moving slowly toward his. "Xander is safe," she said. "Xander is sweet and… caring." She looked at him, moving her chair closer to him. "He won't try to hurt me. He's not threatened by my power. He's…" she looked deeply at him and didn't finish that sentence.
A gentle, lingering touch of lips that made him breathe heavily, caused some hesitation on her part. Then slowly her lips returned to his, so slow and gentle as if she feared she'd break him. She started teasing and touching his lips, tenderly urging them to part. He did, and her tongue started feeling out his lips, slowly entering inside. She was certainly the one taking the lead here. He didn't mind, he rarely took the lead in the past. He wondered if she was this gentle with those before him. Maybe she was extra careful with him because he wasn't as strong as her previous interests.
Suddenly, he pushed back into her mouth, apparently stunning her. Though as he expected, she seemed to like the aggressive change. He slowed his attack to give her back the lead. She started going back and fourth, exploring the inside of his mouth, this time not so gently. Her hands started wandering around his body, her chest crushing against his. All he thought was 'Wow, this is what it's like to kiss Buffy.'
Their lips parted, and he stopped himself from breathing heavily in her face, afraid she'd turn around with a grimace. Yeah, all these years and he was still the same insecure sixteen year old boy with the Buffy crush.
She raised a confidant eyebrow. "What do ya know, kissing a friend isn't so bad after all."
"Not sure it'll feel like that when the Harris jinx starts."
She chuckled and he smiled. "Really, Buffy, why?" he asked. Did it have something to do with Giles? Was what he had done so awful to the point where Buffy needed to take a comfort kiss from Xander?
She beamed. "You were so determined not to kiss me, it made me want to."
He blinked. "Do you have Harris genes in your system?"
She shuddered in disgust. "I wouldn't be kissing you if I knew." Her expression turned serious. "Right now… you're the only guy I can trust."
He looked at her as seriously. "Trust me enough to tell me about Giles?"
"Giles… Angel and Spike, too," she said with a sad, painful smile.
"Angel and Spike?" he asked with a frown.
He watched as her gaze switched toward the TV, her eyes lingering there for awhile. He knew that was all she was going to reveal now. But he wanted to know more. What did Angel and Spike do? Wasn't Spike dead anyway? Too many questions that needed some answers. Maybe he would call Giles later. No, better wait for Buffy to tell him. He didn't want to hurt her more. Especially not with all the strange developments that started to happen in their relationship.
Eye on the TV, he noted the youngest French sibling coming out of the balcony, looking very superior. The older brother huffily grabbed the list of orders from her hands.
"So um… this show comes on TV everyday?" he asked.
"These are the reruns. It's not that much of a funny sitcom, but the dancing is cool."
"I didn't notice any dancing."
"That's because you were more interested in Chloe's nicely shaped boobies."
"Who's Chloe?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the youngest sibling's breasts.
She smiled sweetly and then her lips approached his. Before his eyelid slid down, he could see from the corner of his eye the elder siblings kissing their younger sister, each lip on each cheek.