"Hey Willow," Oz smiled. "Guys, this is Willow. The one I was
telling you about."

Willow blushed lightly and said hello to the rest of Dingoes Ate
My Baby and went back to packing things up.

"He talks about you *all* the time," Devon, one of the band
members, offered.

Oz rolled his eyes and packed up some cable. "Not *all* the
time..."

Willow blushed again and snapped a guitar case shut.

"Since Oz is such a wuss, I'm going to ask for him. You wanna
go out with him, Willow?" Devon asked, picking up the guitar
case lugging it over to the drums.

Oz groaned. "I planned that much more romantically. Trust
me."

Willow smiled and brushed her hair from her eyes. "I'd love to,
Oz."

Oz grinned lopsidedly. "All right then."
***

Spike raced along the park sidewalks nervously. He had been
taking a nap earlier during detention--he didn't have quite the
escapade he'd had last week--but while napping he'd had a
dream, a quite disturbing dream. One about Buffy. Let's leave
it at that.

Since they'd made out in the broom closet the previous week
he couldn't get her out of his mind. Whether it was lazily
thinking about the kiss or trying to deny what he felt for her,
she was usually on his mind. And he could barely stay in the
house with her without starting to stutter, or without his palms
sweating, and acting like a twelve-year-old with a crush on
an older girl.

And Buffy had been giving him strange looks.

Spike groaned and kicked a nearby tree. "Damn it! Bloody
princess, drivin' everyone up the bloody wall..."

A woman in her twenties passed by, eyebrow raised, and edged
off into the grass to avoid him. Spike shook his head and
hurried down the sidewalk. It wasn't long before he was knocked
flat on his back out of carelessness.

"William," the speaker--male--sounded surprised. "What are you
doing here?"

"Maybe I should be askin' you that, mate," Spike shook his head
clear of the cobwebs and jumped to his feet. He glared at Liam.
"Bloody poofter."

"Nice to see you too," Liam retorted.

"Sod off," Spike muttered, starting past him.

"She's back in town, you know," Liam told him.

"'She'?" Spike repeated. "Mind elaboratin'?"

"Darla," Laim looked at Spike. Spike's eyes went wide. "Thought
that name would sound familiar to you."

"What the *bloody* *hell* is that wench doing here?" Spike
demanded.

"Ask her yourself," Liam nodded over Spike's shoulder.

The eighteen-year-old boy spun around and nearly passed out.
The blond woman stood not seven feet away. "Spike," she smiled.
"What a pleasant surprise."

Spike looked back over his shoulder to see if Liam was there--
surprise, surprise, he wasn't--and he looked back at Darla. "What
are you doin' here, Darla?"

"Came to see how my favorite cousin was doing," she answered.
"And clean up some business. Spike, you didn't tell me you were
here, and you knew I was right in LA."

"Maybe that gave you the hint that I didn't want to see you,
Dar," he replied, trying to shove past her. But she moved into
his way. "Move, Dar. I don't have time to play your games."

"Liam told me something interesting," she continued, as if Spike
had never spoken.

"I don't care. I don't have time for this," Spike stepped the
other way but she blocked him again.

"He told me you're involved with his ex," Darla said.

"Ha! Not bloody likely," Spike snorted. "Look, if you got a point,
please get to it, Dar. I don't wanna keep...her waiting."

"He knows you know about him and Drusilla," Darla glared.

"I think that merits a bloody happy dance," he answered dryly,
sparking up a cigarette. "Wait--how do *you* know about
them?"

Darla smiled innocently. "Who do you think told Liam about you?"

"Bitch," Spike growled, throwing his cigarette down and stomping
it out, pushing past her.

"You can't walk away from me, Spike. I know where you live,"
Darla told him.

"What are you, nine? 'I know where you live'?" Spike continued
walking.

"Liam wants to know why you haven't turned him in yet," Darla
caught up with him.

"Because I'm not exactly best mates with the law enforcers,"
Spike growled, starting to walk towards Revello Drive.

Darla rolled his eyes. "Look--you probably won't, but meet me
at Starbucks tomorrow morning. I gotta get going."

"Won't miss you," Spike picked up the pace as Darla turned off
onto another street.

"Ugh. Spike, there you are," Buffy called to him. "Mom's getting
worried about you. Thought you got hit by a car or something."

Spike just grunted in response.

Buffy ran over to him. "You okay?"

Spike shrugged. Buffy frowned, "You're all bad moody...what's
up?"

"Nothing," Spike muttered.

"It's not nothing--you're never like this. You've been acting
weird all week..." Buffy followed him inside.

"It's nothing," Spike insisted.

"Spike! Thank god," Joyce enveloped him in a hug. "I thought
something had happened to you."

Spike shook his head, "I'm fine, Joyce, thanks for your concern
though. If it's all the same, I'm tired, and think I'm gonna go
hit the hay."

Joyce watched him walk up the stairs and heard his door shut
behind him. Then she turned to Buffy, "Why don't you take
him out to the Bronze with you tomorrow, Buffy? He looks so
depressed."

Buffy wasn't the most chipper of everyone either, but she
conceded to Joyce's request. "Okay, okay, I will." She hurried
up the stairs and knocked on Spike's door. "Spike?"

"S'open," he replied from inside, obviously concentrating on
something else.

Buffy opened the door to find him sitting on the bed in nothing
but a pair of sweats with the edge of his boxers peeking over the
top. "I'm rounding everyone up for a group trip to the Bronze
tomorrow. Wanna come?"

"Thanks but no," Spike told her distractedly.

She came into the room and kneeled beside his bed, her arms
resting on the mattress. "Spike, you look depressed."

"How keen of you to notice," he put down the magazine he was
reading and stepped around Buffy to get off the bed.

"I think a trip to the Bronze would cheer you up," Buffy
declared.

"Since when do you care whether I'm depressed or not? Thought
you'd be jumpin' for joy that I was leavin' you be," Spike looked
at her, the only eye contact he'd made all night.

Buffy sighed frustratedly. "Okay, fine. Mom asked me to take
you to the Bronze tomorrow night, and I figured--hey, Spike's not
himself, and I miss that obnoxious smartass jerk, so I might as
well help him get back to himself. If you don't wanna come, fine.
*You* deal with my mother."

She got up and stomped out of the room.

"Buffy," he called.

"What?" she called back irritatedly.

"What time?"
***

Xander and Cordelia were snuggled nicely on the couch watching
Save the Last Dance (Cordy's choice) when the phone rang.
Luckily, it was on the end table next to Xander so he picked it
up and answered it. It was Buffy, asking if he and Cordy wanted
to go to the Bronze tomorrow night with her. He, unfortunately,
had to decline because he and Cordy were going out to dinner.

Then she growled and muttered something about Peroxide Boy and
Willow being the only ones to go, thanked him anyway, and hung
up.

"Who was that?" Cordy asked.

"Buff," Xander shrugged.

"Oh," Cordy snuggled.
***

Willow, Spike, and Buffy all walked into the Bronze together.
They claimed a table underneath the stairs, and Willow looked
around for someone from her seat.

Buffy looked behind her. "You okay, Wills?"

Willow nodded. "I just wish you guys coulda heard Dingoes Ate
My Baby. They're really good."

"Thanks," Oz slid a chair up to Willow's and put an arm around
her shoulders.

Buffy blinked. "You're...Oz, right?"

Oz nodded. "That I am."

"Dingoes ate your what, Red?" Spike tilted his head to the
side.

"Dingoes Ate My Baby," Oz supplied. "My band."

"They're really good," Willow smiled. "I saw them forever, I
should know."

"Wanna dance, cutie?" Oz asked, getting out of his seat and
offering his hand to Willow.

"Definitely," Willow accepted his hand and followed him out
into the warehouse dance floor.

Spike sighed and shelled a couple of the peanuts from the
bowl on the center of the table. "Now what, princess?"

"Would you stop calling me that, Spike? My name is Buffy,"
she shot a look at him.

"Bugger this. I'm outta here," Spike grabbed his duster
from the back of his chair and started to get up.

"You're not going anywhere," Buffy grabbed his wrist, digging
her nails in as he tried to escape.

"Ow! Bloody hell, what do you want me to call you? Buffy the
Man Slayer?" Spike rubbed his wrist. He felt the strangest
sense of deja vu. "I'll just call you that from now on. Slayer."

"You do and I am *so* going to hurt you," Buffy glared.

"Too late," he muttered. "Why don't you just sod off and let
me go?"

"Because Mom'll get mad at me," Buffy sighed. "Listen. Just
dance one time and then you can go, all right?"

Dance? With Buffy? She didn't need to tell him twice.

"Fine," Spike sighed, hoping he sounded as frustrated as he wanted
to sound.

The song just changed.

---
You make me sick
I want you and I'm hatin' it
Got me lit like a candlestick
Get too hot when you touch the tip
I'm feelin' it, I gotta get a grip
And it's drivin' me crazy--
Baby don't you quit
Can't get enough of it
You got me goin' again
Baby, you got me goin' again
You make me sick
---

Buffy closed her eyes and began to bust a groove, letting the
music take her over, not even paying attention to the lyrics. Spike,
on the other hand, heard every word, and was hypnotized by the
way Buffy's body moved.

---
He was doing 8-0 on the freeway
In the 6 double O, bumpin Isley
He was gettin kinda close, kinda touch-ay
Cuz he had a little too much Hennessey
---

Buffy heard the words this time and felt Spike's tentative hands on
her hips and she unconciously backed up into him, molding their bodies
together into one fluid movement.

---
He told me that he wanna go home,
with me up on the hill to my condo
Told me he would keep it all on the low-low
But I told him, "boo, I don't really know though"
He got closer to me...it started gettin' deep
He had me in a zone when he started to show me things
I never saw before
---

Buffy turned to face him and looked into his blue eyes. She smiled
when she saw how reverently he looked at her, and realized that was
why he'd been acting so funny that week. The make-out session
was more than that to him. Maybe to her as well.

---
Baby was smooth but I knew it was game
Hell-of-a cool but you men are the same
The way he licked his lips and touched my hips
I knew that he was slick
---

She turned around again, her back pressing against his chest as she
moved. She raised her arms and hooked them around his neck as he
trailed his hands down her sides, their hips moving from side to side
in the same rhythm.

And before they knew it, "You Make Me Sick" by Pink melted into
another song, and another, and another...
***

...and it got to be one in the morning before Willow approached them
and told them she hated to break up the party, but her mother was
expecting her. "It wouldn't do if i came home at 2:30 again. She was
*mad* last time."

"Oh. Well, go then," Buffy said.

"I...kinda can't, I told Oz I would go back with you two," Willow looked
at them and at Spike's arms still wrapped around Buffy.

Buffy gently took Spike's arms off from around her. "Let's go then.
Mom might freak if we're not back soon."

"Let's go," Spike agreed.
***

Prolonged silence occupied the car on the way back to the house on
Revello Drive. Spike glanced at the driveway to see Joyce's car gone.
He shook his head and led Buffy inside, finding a not from Joyce.

"Here," he handed it to her and turned to out the back door to have
a cigarette--

--and was nearly scared witless.

"Spike?" Buffy called from the living room where she'd gone after getting
the note and hearing his yelp.

"Stay there, pet," he called back, glaring at the face of Darla. He
opened the back door and stepped outside. "What do you want *now*
Darla?"

"You didn't meet me this morning. I knew you wouldn't. And I told you
I knew where you lived," Darla told him.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Okay. You found me. Spit it out."

"Liam has something for you to do," Darla held up a think manila envelope.

"You've got ot be bloody kidding me," Spike gave her a look that would've
sent a pitbull running in fear.

"'Fraid not, cousin," Darla shrugged.

"Bint. You think I'm going to be *Liam's* sodding errand boy you're
off your bloody bird," Spike growled, sneering angrily.

Buffy watched from the kitchen window. Next thing she knew, Spike
was slapped by the blond woman and, out of reflex Buffy hoped, Spike
punched the blond in the face. She stumbled backwards, threaten him,
and took off, holding her face.

Spike came back inside, grumbling about the manila folder he carried.

"Spike?" Buffy asked tentatively. His head snapped up and he looked
at her like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Who was
that?"

"My cousin," he sighed.

"What's that?" Buffy picked up the manila folder he'd put on the
table.

"Something that'll pro'ly get me killed if I don't deliver it," Spike sat
down at the table.

Buffy looked at the address it needed to be delivered to. "This is
Mom's gallery..."

"Which means Peaches is running an operation through your mum's
gallery," Spike ran a hand through his hair and hung his jacket
across the back of his chair. "You should forget you saw that, luv."

Buffy shook her head, "No. I don't think so. Spike, I remember
what happened at the Bronze that time. Ang--I mean, Liam has
or had that huge diamond they're still looking for. If he's into that,
and if Drusilla is with him, they're probably dangerous. Not to
mention your cousin is involved, and I don't know about you but
I'm looking forward to paying Liam back for doing that to me."

"It's too dangerous for a cheerleader-type like yourself, Buffy," he
hugged her. "And...your mum as well. So it'd be best if I packed
up and left."

"Don't you dare," Buffy took hold of his shirt in both fists. "If you
leave, so do I."

"No. You stay here. You watch over your mum. And since when
d'you want to help *me* out?" he still had his arms around her
waist.

"Since...last Saturday," Buffy told him decidedly.

"As long as we're clear on that," Spike released her. "I'm still
leaving. And if you follow me, Buffy, I swear--"

She pushed him into the kitchen wall. "You swear what?"

"I'll have to do something drastic," he rasped roughly.

"Like what?" Buffy pressed.

"I dunno," he whispered.

"Let me come with you," Buffy murmured pleadingly. "I can
help you..."

"The only way you can help me is to stay here with your mum,"
Spike finally cleared the Buffy-induced fog from his head and
pushed her away, walking out of the kitchen.

In about ten minutes Spike came down carrying a duffel bag.
"Tell your mum thanks for havin' me, princess."

She stood in the front doorway, looking at him. She had a
bag slung over her arm and her arms folded. "I'm coming with
you."

Spike threw up his arms helplessly. "*Stay* *here*. *Stay*
here, Buffy. Your mum needs you."

"No. I'm going, and that's that," Buffy told him.

Spike turned and went out the back door, climbing up a tree
in the backyard and hoping into the neighbor's yard. From there
he hopped over the fence and took the road back there.

"Damn it," Buffy muttered, tossing her backpack onto the couch
and shaking her head. She sighed. "Be careful, Spike."

My Gift To You